From the corner in which he had ensconced himself, de Gery was watching
the scene with interest, knowing what importance his friend attached to
this introduction, when the same chance which all through the evening
had so cruelly been giving the lie to the native simplicity of his
inexperience, caused him to distinguish a short dialogue near him, amid
that buzz of many conversations through which each hears just the word
that interests him.

"It is indeed the least that Monpavon can do, to enable him to make a
few good acquaintances. He has introduced him to so many bad ones. You
know that he has just put Paganetti and all his gang on his shoulders."

"Poor fellow! But they will devour him."

"Bah! It is only fair that he should be made to disgorge a little. He
has been such a thief himself away yonder among the Turks."

"Really, do you believe that is so?"

"Do I believe it? I am in possession of very precise details on the
point which I have from Baron Hemerlingue, the banker, who effected the
last Tunisian loan. He knows some stories about the Nabob, he does. Just
imagine."

And the infamous gossip commenced. For fifteen years Jansoulet had
exploited the former Bey in a scandalous fashion. Names of purveyors
were cited and tricks wonderful in their assurance, their effrontery;
for instance, the story of a musical frigate, yes, a veritable musical
box, like a dining-room picture, which he had bought for two hundred