not shrink from being in the same room with the celebrated woman for whom the Baron de —–­ had blown out the few brains he possessed.  Perhaps the Duchess thought that by employing the same costumier, she might also gain some of the venal beauteous attractions.  Mademoiselle D—–­, of the Gymnase Theatre, who was well known to earn just one thousand francs per annum, took a delight in astonishing the haughty ladies of fashion by the reckless extravagance of her orders.  Van Klopen, who was a born diplomatist, distributed his favors between his different customers; consequently he was termed the most charming and angelic of men.  Many a time had he heard the most aristocratic lips let fall the words, “I shall die, Van Klopen, if my dress is not ready.”  On the evenings of the most aristocratic balls a long line of carriages blocked up the road in front of his establishment, and the finest women in Paris crowded the showrooms for a word of approval from him.

He gave credit to approved customers, and also, it was whispered, lent money to them.  But woe to the woman who permitted herself to be entrapped in the snare of credit that he laid for her; for the woman who owed him a bill was practically lost, never knowing to what depths she might be degraded to obtain the money to settle her account.  It was not surprising that such sudden prosperity should have turned Van Klopen’s head.  He was stout and ruddy, impudent, vain, and cynical.  His admirers said that he was witty.

It was to this man’s establishment that Mascarin conducted Paul after a sumptuous breakfast at Philipe’s.

It is necessary to give a slight description of Van Klopen’s establishment.  Carpets of the most expensive description covered the stairs to his door on the first floor, at which stood the liveried menials resplendent in gold lace and scarlet.  As soon as Mascarin made his appearance, one of these gorgeous creatures hastened to him and said, “M.  Van Klopen is just now engaged with the Princess Korasoff, but as soon as he hears of your arrival he will manage to get rid of her.  Will you wait for him in his private room?”

But Mascarin answered,—­

“We are in no hurry, and may as well wait in the public room with the other customers.  Are there many of them?”

“There are about a dozen ladies, sir.”

“Good; I am sure that they will amuse me.”

And, without wasting any more words, Mascarin opened a door which led into a magnificent drawing-room, decorated in very florid style.  The paper on the walls almost disappeared beneath a variety of watercolor sketches, representing ladies in every possible style of costume.  Each picture had an explanatory note beneath it, such as “Costume of Mde. de C—–­ for a dinner at the Russian Ambassador’s,” “Ball costume of the Marchioness de V—–­ for a ball at the Hotel de Ville,” etc.

Paul, who was a little nervous at finding himself among such splendor, hesitated in the doorway; but Mascarin seized his young friend by the arm, and, as he drew him to a settee, whispered in his ear,—­