“You, Marsac, must pay to-night. I forgot I had changed my clothes.” “Certainly,” replied Marsac, clapping his hand to his pocket and producing the two francs--the last they had on earth, which he had taken the precaution to bring with him--and handing them to the waiter. Those two francs made everybody in the restaurant believe the story of Fontaine’s fortune. After the dinner, which lasted for three hours, they went home, and Fontaine wrote a note on the black-edged paper to the editor of their paper, “La Lune,” asking for leave of absence for a few days, owing to the loss of a near relative. Marsac took it to the office. His fellow-workers crowded round him, asking questions about the paragraph which had appeared that afternoon. Marsac confirmed it, but declared they had not got any particulars as to the amount of the fortune. “But I should say it will be under three millions,” he added with entire accuracy. Next day Paris rang with the story. It cannot be denied that both Marsac and Fontaine were a little frightened at the sudden and overpowering success of their little romance. They had not counted upon the instant and enormous sensation it created. But there was now no retreat for them. Being once committed to Uncle Maurice, they had to abide by their own invention; and it taxed even Marsac’s powers to meet the emergency. Fontaine simply declared that he could not face the world in his new character, and kept close to his lodgings, to avoid interrogatories. Naturally that did still more to set the story on its legs; and when he began to receive letters of condolence mixed with congratulations, and was forced to reply to them on paper with a black border an inch deep and signed with inky sealing-wax, even he himself began to believe that his Uncle Maurice had died and left him a fortune. Marsac, who was remarkably clever with his brush, made an excellent picture of Uncle Maurice out of the transformed bull-fighter, and by dint of artistically smoking it, the newness of the paint was taken off. He was, however, simply forced to invent a biography of Uncle Maurice, with names, dates, and events. The first time he was asked how Uncle Maurice made his money, he was obliged to say how; so he represented that it was all made in the wine-importing line. “If I had had a moment to think, I should have said mining operations,” he said to Fontaine afterward; “but taken unawares, I hit upon the wine-business. And then I had to explain that he went against the traditions of his family by engaging in trade, but was immensely successful, so they forgave him. And then I drew a noble picture of Uncle Maurice,--for, look you, Fontaine, as we have profited by the old gentleman, the least we can do is to give him a good character. I have adorned him with every virtue. If he could come to life, I am sure he would be pleased with the reputation I have given him.”