sentimental and humanitarian. "In that case, why this name of Nabob?"

"Bah! the Parisians do not look at things so closely. For them, every
rich foreigner is a nabob, no matter whence he comes. Furthermore, this
nabob has all the physical qualities for the part--a copper-coloured
skin, eyes like burning coals, and, what is more, gigantic wealth, of
which he makes, I do not fear to say it, the most noble and the most
intelligent use. It is to him that I owe"--here the doctor assumed a
modest air--"that I owe it that I have at last been able to found the
Bethlehem Society for the suckling of infants, which a morning paper,
that I was looking over just now--the _Messenger_, I think--calls 'the
great philanthropic idea of the century.'"

The duke threw a listless glance over the sheet which Jenkins held out
to him. He was not the man to be caught by the turn of an advertisement.

"He must be very rich, this M. Jansoulet," said he, coldly. "He finances
Cardailhac's theatre; Monpavon gets him to pay his debts; Bois l'Hery
starts a stable for him; old Schwalbach a picture gallery. It means
money, all that."

Jenkins laughed.

"What will you have, my dear duke, this poor Nabob, you are his great
occupation. Arriving here with the firm resolution to become a Parisian,
a man of the world, he has taken you for his model in everything, and I
do not conceal from you that he would very much like to study his model
from a nearer standpoint."

"I know, I know. Monpavon has already asked my permission to bring