"As the Prince says," replied Mrs. Landry, with many flutters,
"one meets only the most agreeable people in Paris!"

"Paris!" I exclaimed. "Ah, that home of ingenuity! How they
paint there! How they live, and how they dye--their beards!"

You see how the poor Ansolini played the buffoon. I knew they
feared it was wine, I had been so silent until now; but I did
not care, I was beyond care.

"Our young Prince speaks truly," I cried, raising my voice. "He
is wise beyond his years, this youth! He will be great when he
reaches middle age, for he knows Paris and understands North
America! Like myself, he is grateful that the people of your
continent enrich our own! We need all that you can give us!
Where should we be--any of us" (I raised my voice still louder
and waved my hand to Antonio),--"where should we be, either of
us" (and I bowed to the others) "without you?"

Mrs. Landry rose with precipitousness, and the beautiful lady,
very red, followed. Antonio, unmistakably stung with the
scorpions I had set upon him, sprang to the door, the palest
yellow man I have ever beheld, and let the ladies pass before
him.

The next moment I was left alone with Poor Jr. and his hyacinth
trees.