who don't cost a penny, but for whom a man spends millions. Give
yourself up to her, body and soul, if you choose; but keep your money
in your hand, like the old fellow in Girodet's 'Deluge.'"

From the tenor of these remarks it was to be inferred that the
princess had the depth of a precipice, the grace of a queen, the
corruption of diplomatists, the mystery of a first initiation, and the
dangerous qualities of a siren. The two clever men of the world,
incapable of foreseeing the denouement of their joke, succeeded in
presenting Diane d'Uxelles as a consummate specimen of the Parisian
woman, the cleverest of coquettes, the most enchanting mistress in the
world. Right or wrong, the woman whom they thus treated so lightly was
sacred to d'Arthez; his desire to meet her needed no spur; he
consented to do so at the first word, which was all the two friends
wanted of him.

Madame d'Espard went to see the princess as soon as she had received
this answer.

"My dear, do you feel yourself in full beauty and coquetry?" she said.
"If so, come and dine with me a few days hence, and I'll serve up
d'Arthez. Our man of genius is by nature, it seems, a savage; he fears
women, and has never loved! Make your plans on that. He is all
intellect, and so simple that he'll mislead you into feeling no
distrust. But his penetration, which is wholly retrospective, acts
later, and frustrates calculation. You may hoodwink him to-day, but
to-morrow nothing can dupe him."

"Ah!" cried the princess, "if I were only thirty years old what
amusement I might have with him! The one enjoyment I have lacked up to