"Frederic, how dare you speak thus? My dear fellow, my friends shall
honour you as I do."

"But that will be on your account, not mine. No; honestly that kind of
society neither tempts nor suits me. I am a sort of king in my own walk;
and I prefer my Bohemian royalty to vassalage in higher regions. Say no
more of it. It will flatter my vanity enough if you will now and then
descend to my coteries, and allow me to parade a Rochebriant as my
familiar crony, slap him on the shoulder, and call him Alain."

"Fie! you who stopped me and the English aristocrat in the Champs
Elysees, to humble us with your boast of having fascinated _une grande
dame_,--I think you said a duchesse."

"Oh," said Lemercier, conceitedly, and passing his hand through his
scented locks, "women are different; love levels all ranks. I don't
blame Ruy Blas for accepting the love of a queen, but I do blame him for
passing himself off as a noble,--a plagiarism, by the by, from an English
play. I do not love the English enough to copy them. _A propos_, what
has become of _ce beau_ Grarm Varn? I have not seen him of late."

"Neither have I."

"Nor the belle Italienne?"

"Nor her," said Alain, slightly blushing.

At this moment Enguerrand lounged into the room. Alain stopped Lemercier
to introduce him to his kinsman. "Enguerrand, I present to you M.
Lemercier, my earliest and one of my dearest friends."