"Pay?" he said inquiringly, producing from the depths of his pocket a long knit purse, a birthday present from his daughter, in which his scanty savings were carefully hoarded. He wished to settle at once for his breakfast, both because it troubled him to be in debt for even an hour, and also that he might gain some idea from this first payment how much his total daily expenses would probably be. Great was his surprise, however, when the waiter, smiling politely and waving aside the offered purse, assured him that the breakfast was already paid for. "So that young man was right, after all," said the good priest to himself. "Why didn't I ask him his name? But who can it be that is paying my bills?" The unknown benefactor was, of course, none other than Richard Baradlay, who, on leaving the hotel, had handed the head waiter two ducats and bidden him provide for all the old gentleman's wants, adding that he, Baradlay, would pay the bill. After that the young officer repaired to the military riding school and exercised for an hour in vaulting, fencing on horseback, breaking a lance or two, and mastering a vicious horse. Then he went to walk for an hour around the fortifications, looked at all the pretty faces he met, and at length, toward noon, returned to his quarters. He kept bachelor's hall on the fourth floor, occupying a sitting-room and a bedroom, while across the passageway was a little room for his servant, and a diminutive kitchen. His domestic was an old hussar who answered to the name of Paul, and who was rather more inclined to command his master than to receive orders from him. He was sixty years old and more, and still a private and a bachelor. He was serving out his fourth enlistment and wore on his breast the cross given to the veterans of the Napoleonic wars. "Well, Paul, what is there to eat to-day?" asked the captain, unbuckling his sword and hanging it up in his closet, which showed a collection of ancient swords and daggers. The reader must here be informed that Paul was at once body-servant and cook to his young master. "What is there to eat? A Greek rose-garland," answered the old servant, with humourous phlegm. "Ah, that must be delicious," returned Richard; "but what is it made of?" "Angels' slippers," was the reply. "Excellent! And is it ready?" Paul surveyed his master from top to toe. "Do we eat at home again to-day?" he asked. "Yes, if we can get anything to eat." "Very well; I will serve dinner at once," answered Paul, and he proceeded to spread the table--which was accomplished by turning its red cloth, ornamented with blue flowers, so that it became a blue cloth adorned with red flowers. Then he laid a plate of faience ware and a horn-handled knife and fork, together with an old-fashioned silver spoon, first wiping each article on a corner of the table-cloth. He completed these preparations by adding an old champagne-bottle filled, as the reader will have guessed, with cold water.