“No, no,” said Julius. “You’re my guest. The Crédit’s not far off; we can take a cab if necessary. Don’t be flurried. Oh, I wanted to say that if you’re going to Naples this evening you can make use of this circular ticket of mine. It’s in my name, but it doesn’t matter.” (For Julius liked to be obliging.) “I took it in Paris, thinking that I should be going further south; but I’m kept here by this congress. How long do you think of staying?” “As short a time as possible. I hope to be back to-morrow.” “Then I’ll expect you to dinner.” * * * * * At the Crédit Industriel, thanks to the Comte de Baraglioul’s introduction, Fleurissoire had no difficulty in cashing his cheque for six bank-notes, which he slipped into the inner pocket of his coat. In the meantime he had told his brother-in-law, more or less coherently, the tale of the cheque, the Cardinal and the _abbé_. Baraglioul, who went with him to the station, listened with only half an ear. On their way, Fleurissoire went into a shirtmaker’s to buy himself a collar, but he didn’t put it on at once, so as not to keep Julius waiting outside the shop. “Haven’t you got a bag?” he asked as Fleurissoire joined him. Fleurissoire would have been only too glad to go and fetch his shawl and his night things; but own up to the Via dei Vecchierelli before Baraglioul? It couldn’t be thought of. “Oh, only for one night!” he said brightly. “Besides, there isn’t time to go round by my hotel.” “Where are you staying?” “Oh, behind the Coliseum,” replied Amédée at a venture. It was as if he had said: “Oh, under a bridge!” Julius looked at him again: “What a funny fellow you are!” Did he really seem so queer? Fleurissoire mopped his brow. For a few moments they paced backwards and forwards in front of the station in silence. “Well, we must say good-bye now,” said Baraglioul, holding out his hand. “Couldn’t you ... couldn’t you come with me?” stammered Fleurissoire timidly. “I don’t exactly know why, but I’m a little nervous about going by myself.” “You came to Rome by yourself. What can happen to you? Excuse me for not going with you on to the platform, but the sight of a train going off always gives me an inexpressible feeling of sadness. Good-bye. Good luck! And bring back my return ticket to Paris with you when you come to the Grand Hotel to-morrow.” BOOK V: LAFCADIO “_There is only one remedy! One thing alone_ _can cure us from being ourselves!_ ...” “_Yes; strictly speaking, the question is not how_ _to get cured, but how to live._” --JOSEPH CONRAD, Lord Jim, p. 225. I After Lafcadio, with the solicitor’s help--Julius acting as intermediary--had come into the 40,000 francs a year left him by the late Count Juste-Agénor de Baraglioul, his chief concern was to let no signs of it appear. “Off gold plate perhaps,” he had said to himself at the time, “but the same victuals.”