Seraphin and Maurice were still there. They received him as their separate natures dictated, the former with a restrained dignity, the latter with the dignity of a monarch so secure of his title that he can afford to condescend to an air of democracy. Seraphin bowed; Maurice embraced and, embracing, tapped the diatonic scale along Cartaret's vertebræ. Pasbeaucoup, in trembling obedience to a cryptic nod from the caged Madame, hovered in the background. "I have come," said Cartaret, whose French was the easy and inaccurate French of the American art-student, "to order that dinner." He half turned to Pasbeaucoup, but Houdon was before him. "It is done," announced the musician, as if announcing a favor performed. "I have relieved you of that tedium. We are to begin with an _hors-d'oeuvre_ of anchovies and----" Madame had again nodded, this time less cryptically and more violently, at her husband, and Pasbeaucoup, between twin terrors, timidly suggested: "Monsieur Cartaret comprehends that it is only because of the so high cost of necessities that it is necessary for us to request----" He stopped there, but the voice from the cage boomed courageously: "The payment in advance!" "A custom of the establishment," explained Houdon grandly, but shooting a venomous glance in the direction of Madame. Seraphin came quietly from behind his table and, slipping a thin arm through Cartaret's, drew him, to the speechless amazement of the other participants in this scene, toward the farthest corner of the café. "My friend," he whispered, "you must not do it." "Eh?" said Cartaret. "Why not? It's a queer thing to be asked, but why shouldn't I do it?" Seraphin hesitated. Then, regaining the conquest over self, he put his lips so close to the American's ear that the Frenchman's wagging wisps of whisker tickled his auditor's cheek. "This Houdon is but a pleasant _coquin_," he confided. "He will suck from you the last sou's worth of your blood." Cartaret smiled grimly. "He won't get a fortune by it," he said. "That is why I do not wish him to do it: I know well that you cannot afford these little dissipations. I do not wish to see my friend swindled by false friendship. Houdon is a good boy, but, Name of a Name, he has the conscience of a pig!" "All right," said Cartaret suddenly, for Seraphin was appealing to a sense of economy still fresh enough to be sensitive, "since he's ordered the dinner, we'll let him pay for it." "Alas," declared Dieudonné, sadly shaking his long hair, "poor Maurice has not the money." "Oh!"--A gleam of gratitude lighted Cartaret's blue eyes--"Then you are proposing that you do it?" "My friend," inquired Seraphin, flinging out his arms as a man flings out his arms to invite a search of his pockets, "you know me: how can I?"