"I wish you to understand, Mr. Pujol," said Mr. Ducksmith, "that being, I may say, a comparatively rich man, I can afford to pay for certain luxuries; but I made a resolution many years ago, which has stood me in good stead during my business life, that I would never be cheated. You will find me liberal but just." He was as good as his word. Aristide, who had never in his life exploited another's wealth to his own advantage, suggested certain terms, on the basis of so much per head per day, which Mr. Ducksmith declared, with a sigh of relief, to be perfectly satisfactory. "Perhaps," said he, after further conversation, "you will be good enough to schedule out a month's railway tour through France, and give me an inclusive estimate for the three of us. As I say, Mrs. Ducksmith and I are great travellers--we have been to Norway, to Egypt, to Morocco and the Canaries, to the Holy Land, to Rome, and lovely Lucerne--but we find that attention to the trivial detail of travel militates against our enjoyment." "My dear sir," said Aristide, "trust in me, and your path and that of the charming Mrs. Ducksmith will be strewn with roses." Whereupon Mrs. Ducksmith appeared, arrayed for walking out, and Aristide, having ordered a cab, drove with them to the Madeleine. They alighted in front of the majestic flight of steps. Mr. Ducksmith stared at the classical portico supported on its Corinthian columns with his rabbit-like, unspeculative gaze--he had those filmy blue eyes that never seem to wink--and after a moment or two turned away. "Umph!" said he. Mrs. Ducksmith, dutiful and silent, turned away also. "This sacred edifice," Aristide began, in his best cicerone manner, "was built, after a classic model, by the great Napoleon, as a Temple of Fame. It was afterwards used as a church. You will observe--and, if you care to, you can count, as a conscientious American lady did last week--the fifty-six Corinthian columns. You will see they are Corinthian by the acanthus leaves on the capitals. For the vulgar, who have no architectural knowledge, I have _memoria technica_ for the instant recognition of the three orders--Cabbages, Corinthian; horns, Ionic; anything else, Doric. We will now mount the steps and inspect the interior." He was dashing off in his eager fashion, when Mr. Ducksmith laid a detaining hand on his arm. "No," said he, solemnly. "I disapprove of Popish interiors. Take us to the next place." [Illustration: HE MIGHT AS WELL HAVE POINTED OUT THE MARVELS OF KUBLA KHAN'S PLEASURE-DOME TO A COUPLE OF GUINEA-PIGS] He entered the waiting victoria. His wife meekly followed. "I suppose the Louvre is the next place?" said Aristide. "I leave it to you," said Mr. Ducksmith.