should have been disposed to consider him as a man of large experience
in the best society. The other people who generally attended at
table--travellers, commercial and otherwise, with one or two smart
folks from the town, on the look-out for Parisian gossip, to retail to
the less adventurous members of their circle--were all delighted with
M. Jerome: it was M. Jerome here, and M. Jerome there; and if M.
Jerome happened to dine out, every one seemed to feel uneasy, and look
upon him as guilty of a great dereliction of duty. They could almost
as well have done without their _demi-tasse_.

Although I am an inquisitive, I am not a very impertinent man. I like
to pry into other people's affairs only in so far as I can do so
without hurting their feelings, or putting my own self-love in danger
of a check. If, therefore, I gave the reins to my curiosity, and
devoted myself to studying the more apparent movements of this M.
Jerome, I shrank from putting any direct questions to the _garçon_,
who might probably at once have given me a very prosaic account of
him. On one occasion, I threw in casually a remark, to the effect that
the gentleman at No. 49 seemed a great favourite with the fair sex;
but the only reply was a smile, and an acknowledgment that, in
general, people of fascinating exterior--here the _garçon_ glanced at
the mirror he was dusting--_were_ great favourites with the fairer
portion of the creation. 'We Frenchmen,' it was added, 'know the way
to the female heart better than most men.' The waiter had paused with
his duster in his hand. I felt that he was going to give me his Art of
Love; and opportunely remembering that I had a letter to put into the
post, I escaped the infliction for the time.

I had, indeed, observed that if the public generally admitted the
valuable qualities of M. Jerome as a companion, his reputation was