"No, no, a thousand times no," cried Delapine, "that I never can agree to. Riches will not buy everything, in fact they will scarcely buy anything that is genuine, or worth having--neither real pleasures, friends, nor genuine love--nor is it essential to success. A man's life should be judged by the results obtained, or by the work he has achieved, not by the amount of money he has accumulated. Happiness is not obtained by money, but is the outcome of conscious usefulness. The accomplishment of good work of any kind produces more solid contentment and satisfaction than all the money in the world. True happiness lies in content, and sweet content finds everywhere enough. Nearly all the really great men have been poor, or at least have begun life handicapped for want of money," continued the professor. "It looks like a decree of nature in order to give them that stimulus and grit necessary to carry them over all obstacles." "I know from my own experiences," said Riche, "the wealthy man does not care for the things which only require his filling in a cheque to acquire; and to the poor man the most acute pleasure lies in anticipation." "That is quite true," added the professor. "If one possessed all, everything would be mere discontent and disillusion. A surfeit of happiness is fatal. If there is nothing left to desire, there is everything to fear." "Everything comes to the man who knows how to wait, but it is no inducement to wait, for no man wants everything," said Villebois. "Yes, he usually wants one thing in particular--just that one thing which he never gets, no matter how long he waits," said Marcel, laughing. "Have you been to the comédie lately?" asked Renée of Madame Villebois who was sitting opposite to her, looking extremely bored, and apparently utterly unable to follow the conversation. "Yes, my dear, we went to see Yvette Guilbert, and she looked just too lovely in a dress specially created for her by Worth. The gown had a white sponge skirt with basque bodice of mulberry satin, and such a love of a bodice carried out in pink geranium brocaded crêpe. The right hip was swathed in black satin, and the left side had the material draped and caught up above the hem with a gold buckle and fringe of black silk. Then Mademoiselle Patel had a delightful three piece gown of pale green poplin, with a corsage of old filigree tissue showing just a touch of chêne ribbon on each side, while the neck ended in a creamy white lace ruffle. And, Renée dear, you should have seen her hat. It was a perfect poem. Just think of this:--Swathed crêpe de chine, with shaded flowers laid flat all along the rim, which she wore slightly tilted up at the back so as to show a pale green lining to match the gown. "Oh! how lovely," exclaimed Renée, clapping her hands, "I wish I had been there, but what I want most to hear is what the play was about, and how you liked it."