him closely and sees that he is, in very truth, dead. He closes the door between him and the dead man and returns to the banquet hall, where he swoons. Emile did not swoon when Monsieur de Boisguilbault greeted him; but if, instead of saying, "Excuse me for keeping you waiting, I was in my park," he had said, "I was just being buried," the young man would not have been greatly surprised. The marquis's superannuated costume heightened the ghost-like aspect of his face. He had been fashionably dressed once in his life, on his wedding-day. Since then it had never occurred to him to make any change in his dress, and he had invariably given his tailor for a model the coat he had just worn out, on the pretext that he was accustomed to it and that he was afraid he should be uncomfortable in one of a different cut. He was dressed therefore in the costume of a dandy of the Empire, which formed a most extraordinary contrast to his withered, melancholy face. A very short green coat, nankeen breeches, a very stiff shirt-frill, heart-shaped boots, and, to remain true to his habits, a little flaxen wig of the color that his hair used to be, gathered up in a bunch over the middle of his forehead. A very high starched collar, which raised his long snow-white whiskers to the level of his eyes, gave to his long face the shape of a triangle. He was scrupulously clean, and yet a few bits of dry moss on his clothes showed that he had not made his toilet expressly to receive his guest, but that he was accustomed to walk alone in his park in that invariable dress. He sat down without speaking, bowed without speaking, and looked at Emile without speaking. At first the young man was embarrassed by this silence, and wondered if he should not attribute it to disdain. But when he saw that the marquis was awkwardly twisting a twig of honeysuckle in his hands as if to keep himself in countenance, he realized that the old man was as timid as a child, whether by nature or because of his long-continued and persistent abandonment of all social relations. He determined therefore to begin the conversation, and, wishing to make himself agreeable to his host, in order to encourage him in his kindly impulse toward the carpenter, he did not hesitate to be-marquis him at every word, indulging in secret, it may be, in a feeling of contempt for his pride of birth. But this ironical deference seemed as indifferent to the marquis as the object of Emile's visit. He answered in monosyllables to thank him for his promptness and to reiterate his undertaking to pay the delinquent's fines. "This is a noble and praiseworthy act of yours, monsieur le marquis," said Emile, "and your protégé, in whom I am very deeply interested, is as grateful as he is worthy. You probably do not know that at the time of the recent inundation he jumped into the river to save a child, and succeeded in doing it by incurring great risk."