inclosed, secret, almost sumptuous, as the sun after his slothful
rising began to diffuse softly crimsoned tints, which gave to the mist
enshrouding the rows of houses to their summits the appearance of white
muslin thrown over some scarlet material. One might have fancied it a
great curtain beneath which nothing could be heard save the cautious
closing of some court-yard gate, the tin measuring-cans of the milkmen,
the little bells of a herd of she-asses passing at a quick trot followed
by the short and panting breath of their shepherd, and the dull rumble
of Jenkins's brougham commencing its daily round.

First, to Mora House. This was a magnificent palace on the Quai d'Orsay,
next door to the Spanish embassy, whose long terraces succeeded its own,
having its principal entrance in the Rue de Lille, and a door upon the
side next the river. Between two lofty walls overgrown with ivy, and
united by imposing vaulted arches, the brougham shot in, announced by
two strokes of a sonorous bell which roused Jenkins from the reverie
into which the reading of his newspaper seemed to have plunged him.
Then the noise of the wheels became deadened on the sand of a vast
court-yard, and they drew up, after describing an elegant curve, before
the steps of the mansion, which were surrounded by a large circular
awning. In the obscurity of the fog, a dozen carriages could be seen
ranged in line, and along an avenue of acacias, quite withered at
that season and leafless in their bark, the profiles of English grooms
leading out the saddle-horses of the duke for their exercise. Everything
revealed a luxury thought-out, settled, grandiose, and assured.

"It is quite useless for me to come early; others always arrive before
me," said Jenkins to himself as he saw the file in which his brougham
took its place; but, certain of not having to wait, with head carried
high, and an air of tranquil authority, he ascended that official flight