"I? Never in my life. Who told you that?"

"Indeed! I thought--" answered the young man; and immediately, a host of
reflections crowding into his mind:

"What, then, have you done to this Baron Hemerlingue? It is a hatred to
the death between you."

For a moment the Nabob was taken aback. That name of Hemerlingue, thrown
suddenly into his glee, recalled to him the one annoying episode of the
evening.

"To him as to the others," said he in a saddened voice, "I have never
done anything save good. We began together in poverty. We made progress
and prospered side by side. Whenever he wished to try a flight on his
own wings, I always aided and supported him to the best of my ability.
It was I who during ten consecutive years secured for him the contracts
for the fleet and the army; almost his whole fortune came from that
source. Then one fine morning this slow-blooded imbecile of a Bernese
goes crazy over an odalisk whom the mother of the Bey had caused to be
expelled from the harem. The hussy was beautiful and ambitious, she made
him marry her, and naturally, after this brilliant match, Hemerlingue
was obliged to leave Tunis. Somebody had persuaded him to believe that I
was urging the Bey to close the principality to him. It was not true. On
the contrary, I obtained from his Highness permission for Hemerlingue's
son--a child by his first wife--to remain in Tunis in order to look
after their suspended interests, while the father came to Paris to found
his banking-house. Moreover, I have been well rewarded for my kindness.
When, at the death of my poor Ahmed, the Mouchir, his brother, ascended