“When, in addition to a name and a fortune, a man also possesses such a charming face, it is really inexcusable for him to hide in a village.” “Most assuredly!” murmured Gérondif, smiling at Monfréville; “if Helen had hidden, we should not have had the siege of Troy; if Dunois had remained with his nurse, he probably would not have been called ‘le beau Dunois.’” Monfréville bestowed an ironical glance on the professor, and continued to address Chérubin: “My dear monsieur, my father was a friend of yours, and that made me desire your acquaintance; it rests entirely with you whether we shall be friends as our fathers were. Oh! I realize that the difference between my age and yours may make my suggestion seem absurd to you, but when you know the world, you will find that such differences vanish before congenial tastes and temperaments; I am certain even now that we shall get on very well together. But deuce take it! what sort of costume is this? A good-looking young fellow, with a fine figure, rigged out in such style! It is pitiful!” “My young master employs his late father’s tailor,” murmured Jasmin; “I thought that I ought not to take him anywhere else.” “You were wrong, my faithful servant; a tailor is not a relic to be preserved with respect; evidently this particular one is out of touch with the styles of the day.--Franck! bring what I told you to put under the seat of the tilbury.” Monfréville’s servant soon appeared laden with clothes; he laid out on a table a beautiful coat made in the latest style, a waistcoat of bewitching material, black satin stocks, dainty cravats, and a little blue velvet cap, with gold lace and tassel. Chérubin could not restrain a cry of admiration at sight of all those things. Without asking his permission, Monfréville removed his jacket and waistcoat and made him put on what he had brought; then he put a richly embroidered cravat about his neck and tied it rakishly; and lastly he placed the charming little velvet cap on his head and arranged the curls which it did not hide. Then he led the young man in front of a mirror and said: “Look at yourself! Aren’t you a hundred times better-looking?” Chérubin blushed with pleasure when he saw how comely he was; and in truth his new costume did impart a wholly different expression to his pretty face. He was so handsome that Nicole, although distressed to find that her _fieu_ was to be taken away from her, could not help crying out: “Jarni! how fine he is! Why, he’s superb in that rig! He’s a hundred times better-looking than he was!” “He doesn’t look at all like his late father,” murmured Jasmin. “He resembles the son of Jupiter and Latona, Diana’s brother, otherwise called Apollo,--Phœbus, if you prefer,” cried Monsieur Gérondif, still smiling.