In due time, our travellers reached Lyon, having paused on the way only to admire an occasional view and to give their horses time to breathe. But they proposed to pass several days in that city. Young Montreville was very glad of an opportunity to see it and its suburbs, and, above all, to visit the shores of the Rhône; and his two companions consented, with pleasure, to tarry some time in a city where they could live as well as in Paris. They alighted at one of the best hotels. The noise made by Dubourg, the distinguished aspect of Frédéric, and the pains that Ménard took to repeat again and again: "You have the honor of entertaining Monsieur le Baron Potoski, Palatine of Rava, and the young Comte de Montreville," attracted universal attention and consideration to the young men, who seemed disposed to spend money freely, which is the best of recommendations at a hotel. They were quartered in a superb suite on the first floor. Their meals were served in their rooms, and everything had to be of the best. Dubourg was the one who gave all the orders; Frédéric interfered with none of the details, beyond saying to his friend: "Be careful what you do." Whereupon Dubourg would reply: "Never fear," with such confidence that the young count finally allowed him to do as he pleased, without remonstrance. As for Ménard, he was more enthusiastic than ever about the baron, to whom he was indebted for such an agreeable life. Frédéric often went out alone to walk along the bank of the Rhône; fascinated by the beautiful landscape he discovered, he sometimes did not return to the hotel until night or the following day. Dubourg, like those liars who end by believing in their own false-hoods, had so identified himself with the part he was playing, that he would have struck anyone who expressed a doubt as to his rank; he amused himself, during his friend's absences, by displaying his magnificence in the city. Leaning nonchalantly on Ménard's arm, who, with his hat on the back of his head, the better to see and be seen, carried himself very straight, walked with much precision, and strove to assume an air that was both dignified and affable, when he went out with monsieur le baron--Dubourg walked all over the city, with a huge three-cornered hat, adorned with a black plume and a steel buckle, which he wore after the style of one of Molière's marquises. To be sure, the rest of his costume hardly corresponded with his hat; but it was no longer fashionable to wear embroidered coats for walking, and Dubourg had confined himself to having silver tassels attached to his military boots, considering that there was a something Polish about them. He left his coat open, because that gave him a more careless air, and he made frequent use of a huge eyeglass hanging from his neck by a pink ribbon.