"Will so grave a dignitary renew acquaintance with me? I doubt it." But as De Mauleon said this, he moved from the column, and advanced towards the Prefet. Enguerrand followed him, and saw the Vicomte extend his hand to his old acquaintance. The Prefet stared, and said, with frigid courtesy, "Pardon me,--some mistake." "Allow me, Monsieur Hennequin," said Enguerrand, interposing, and wishing good-naturedly to save De Mauleon the awkwardness of introducing himself,--"allow me to reintroduce you to my kinsman, whom the lapse of years may well excuse you for forgetting, the Vicomte de Mauleon." Still the Prefet did not accept the hand. He bowed with formal ceremony, said, "I was not aware that Monsieur le Vicomte had returned to Paris," and moving to the doorway, made his salutation to the hostess and disappeared. "The insolent!" muttered Enguerrand. "Hush!" said De Mauleon, quietly, "I can fight no more duels,--especially with a Prefet. But I own I am weak enough to feel hurt at such a reception from Hennequin, for he owed me some obligations,--small, perhaps, but still they were such as might have made me select him, rather than Louvier, as the vindicator of my name, had I known him to be so high placed. But a man who has raised himself into an authority may well be excused for forgetting a friend whose character needs defence. I forgive him." There was something pathetic in the Vicomte's tone which touched Enguerrand's warm if light heart. But De Mauleon did not allow him time to answer. He went on quickly through an opening in the gay crowd, which immediately closed behind him, and Enguerrand saw him no more that evening. Duplessis ere this had quitted his seat by the Minister, drawn thence by a young and very pretty girl resigned to his charge by a cavalier with whom she had been dancing. She was the only daughter of Duplessis, and he valued her even more than the millions he had made at the Bourse. "The Princess," she said, "has been swept off in the train of some German Royalty; so, _petit pere_, I must impose myself on thee." The Princess, a Russian of high rank, was the _chaperon_ that evening of Mademoiselle Valerie Duplessis. "And I suppose I must take thee back into the ballroom," said the financier, smiling proudly, "and find thee partners." "I don't want your aid for that, Monsieur; except this quadrille, my list is pretty well filled up." "And I hope the partners will be pleasant. Let me know who they are," he whispered, as they threaded their way into the ball-room. The girl glanced at her tablet. "Well, the first on the list is milord somebody, with an unpronounceable English name." "Beau cavalier?" "No; ugly, old too; thirty at least." Duplessis felt relieved. He did not wish his daughter to fall in love with an Englishman. "And the next?" "The next?" she said hesitatingly, and he observed that a soft blush accompanied the hesitation. "Yes, the next. Not English too?"