from appearing in it."

"In truth it is a noble thing, prestige," admitted Tricotrin; "but,
monsieur, I have never known a man able to make a meal of it when he
was starving, or to warm himself before it when he was without a fire.
Still--though it is a jumble-sale price--let them go!"

"Payment will be made in due course," said the Editor, and became
immersed in correspondence.

Tricotrin paled to the lips, and the next five minutes were terrible;
indeed, he did not doubt that he would have to limp elsewhere. At last
he cried, "Well, let us say seven francs, cash! Seven francs in one's
fist are worth ten in due course." And thus the bargain was concluded.

"It was well for Hercules that none of his labours was the extraction
of payment from an editor!" panted the poet on the doorstep. But he was
now enabled to fete the lady's-maid in grand style, and--not to be
outdone in generosity--she placed mademoiselle Aubray's flat at his
disposal directly he asked for it.

"You have accomplished a miracle!" averred Pitou, in the small hours,
when he heard the news.

Tricotrin waved a careless hand. "To a man of resource all things are
possible!" he murmured.

The next evening the silk manufacturer was warmly embraced on the
platform, and not a little surprised to learn that his nephew expected
a visit at once. However, the young man's consternation was so profound