As Toto and his companion passed the drawing-room door, the Princesse appeared for a moment and drew the old fellow aside. “Be sure and take care of my boy, Marquis, and give him good advice.” “Princesse, be assured,” replied the gentleman of the old school, placing his hand upon his heart, “_I_ will give him good advice; and,” he whispered, “it is all right in that quarter. She called him a genius, and that tickles a young man’s vanity, and I am almost sure kisses passed between them during my absence from the room. I am not a bad judge of these affairs, and I predict——” He nodded mysteriously, and the Princesse de Cammora smiled under her paint and powder the smile of the happy mother. CHAPTER II. THE GOOD ADVICE OF M. DE NANI. “Tell me, my dear boy,” bleated old De Nani, who wanted to get the affair over and done with before dinner, “could you till the end of next month, when my rents from Normandy will be due—could you accommodate me with a little loan?” “Yes, rather,” said Toto. “How much?” “Seven hundred and fifty francs would save me the necessity of approaching a money-lender,” said the old fellow, trembling in his shoes at the amount for which he was asking. “But——” Toto stopped under the lamp at the corner of the Rue de Courcelles where it cuts the Boulevard Haussmann. He took a note-case from his pocket. “Here’s a note for a thousand. You can let me have it some time. I haven’t anything smaller.” “A million million thanks!” cried De Nani, grabbing the note and gritting his false teeth to think that he might have asked for two thousand and obtained it just as easily—“a million thanks! Why, my dear boy, what a doleful yawn! One might fancy you bored.” “I am, to death.” “May I make you a little prescription?” inquired the old man, in whom the prospect of the coming dinner operated like an elixir of youth. “A prescription for ennui? Yes.” “Get married.” “I have been thinking that myself.” “She is a very charming girl.” “Who?” “Mlle.—what do you call her?—Powhair?” “Bah!” said Toto. “I’d as soon think of marrying the Bank of France.” “_Parbleu!_” murmured De Nani. “What an extraordinary remark! But everything that comes from Prince Toto is extraordinary, even his pictures.” He had the bank-note safe in his pocket, and could allow himself the luxury of a little irony in the guise of praise. “Firstly,” said Toto, “she’s too rich; and secondly, my mother wants me to marry her.” “True,” said De Nani. “She is also _gauche_, and speaks through her beautiful nose like a trumpet.” “She is good enough as a girl,” said the Prince with a frightful yawn as they turned down the Rue Tronchet. “Well, then,” said De Nani, “try a mistress.” “I have four,” replied Toto dolorously. “Dismiss them.” “I have, but they cling on.” “Get drunk.” “Can’t. I was born drunk, and am beginning to get sober. That is what’s the matter with me, I think.” “Try opium.” “Makes me sick.” “Ether capsules.” “Worse.”