“That’s all one to me.” “Well, my fine fellow,” thought the landlord of _The Orange Blossom_, “you strike me as a mighty queer sort, but there don’t seem to be any harm in you; after all, what risk do I run?” He accepted, and held out his hand to clinch the bargain. “Agreed,” he cried, “hand over your louis.” “Here you are, sir!” “Now, my lad,” continued the boniface, getting on very familiar terms, “go and fetch an apron and a jacket, I suppose you have a clean shirt-front; the meal’s ordered for half past twelve, but I don’t expect our customers before one o’clock; look’ee, here’s where we put the plates; about the glasses, you’d better polish ’em up a bit; as you’ve time to spare, that’ll give you something to do, my boy. By-the-by, what do they call you?” After a moment’s hesitation, the new waiter named himself Daniel. “Well, Daniel, get to work; work’s the cure for boredom, you know.” No sooner was he left alone in the salon where the breakfast was to be served than this volunteer who had got himself taken on in so odd a fashion dropped into a chair and gave a long-drawn sigh! “Ah!” he ejaculated; “here I am, but it’s an expensive treat; a louis! no doubt my poor watch, thanks to ‘my uncle’s’ generosity, raised me the money without over much difficulty—but when shall I ever get my dear ticker back?” Then: “Good Lord!” he groaned, “how this false beard does tickle; if only it don’t come ungummed while I’m waiting at table!” He got up and went over to a mirror to make sure his disguise was holding firm. He gazed long at his reflection in the glass, his eyes full of melancholy. “I did well to adopt this travesty,” he told himself, “I am absolutely unrecognizable”—and he was right. The new waiter of _The Orange Blossom_ was, in fact, no other than Jérôme Fandor. Ever since the dreadful trial he had gone through, since the day of Elisabeth Dollon’s death, the journalist had been plunged in a state of terrible prostration. Wild with grief, he had felt his sanity leaving him; all his high courage, his generous ardour, had departed, and again and again the thought of suicide had haunted his mind. It had called for all the energy that formed the basis of his character to stay him from proceeding to such dread extremities.