Presently the door opened, and "My dear Ferrers!" "Well, /mon cher/,
how are you?" were the salutations hastily exchanged.

After the first sentences of inquiry, gratulation, and welcome, had
cleared the way for more general conversation,--"Well, Maltravers," said
Ferrers, "so here we are together again, and after a lapse of so many
years! both older, certainly; and you, I suppose, wiser. At all events,
people think you so; and that's all that's important in the question.
Why, man, you are looking as young as ever, only a little paler and
thinner; but look at me--I am not very /much/ past thirty, and I am
almost an old man; bald at the temples, crows' feet, too, eh! Idleness
ages one damnably."

"Pooh, Lumley, I never saw you look better. And are you really come to
settle in England?"

"Yes, if I can afford it. But at my age, and after having seen so much,
the life of an idle, obscure /garcon/ does not content me. I feel that
the world's opinion, which I used to despise, is growing necessary to
me. I want to be something. What can I be? Don't look alarmed, I
won't rival you. I dare say literary reputation is a fine thing, but I
desire some distinction more substantial and worldly. You know your own
country; give me a map of the roads to Power."

"To Power! Oh, nothing but law, politics, and riches."

"For law I am too old; politics, perhaps, might suit me; but riches, my
dear Ernest--ah, how I long for a good account with my banker!"