When I had recovered from my surprise, I said:

"I expected you sooner, from your letter."

"Your suppositions were correct. I have been two days here, at the Grand
Hotel. I went there on account of the dining-room, for my friend
Hublette (you remember Hublette at Bourges) told me: 'Mouillard, you must
see that room before you retire from business.'"

"I should have gone to see you there, uncle, if I had known it."

"You would not have found me. Business before pleasure, Fabien. I had
to see three barristers and five solicitors. You know that business of
that kind can not wait. I saw them. Business over, I can indulge my
feelings. Here I am. Does Foyot suit you?"

"Certainly, uncle."

"Come on, then nephew, quick, march! Paris, makes one feel quite young
again!"

And really Uncle Mouillard did look quite young, almost as young as he
looked provincial. His tall figure, and the countrified cut of his coat,
made all who passed him turn to stare, accustomed as Parisians are to
curiosities. He tapped the wood pavement with his stick, admired the
effects of Wallace's philanthropy, stopped before the enamelled street-
signs, and grew enthusiastic over the traffic in the Rue de Vaugirard.

The dinner was capital--just the kind a generous uncle will give to a
blameless nephew. M. Mouillard, who has a long standing affection for