“Hello!  You have no longer a wolf head!”

“Ha!  Then you know me?” cried Lescande.

“Know you?  Why not?”

“I thought—­I was afraid—­on account of my beard—­”

“Bah! your beard does not change you—­except that it becomes you.  But what are you doing here?”

“Doing here!  Why, my dear friend, I am at home here.  Dismount, I pray you, and come into my house.”

“Well, why not?” replied Camors, with the same voice and manner of supreme indifference; and, throwing his bridle to the servant who followed him, he passed through the gardengate, led, supported, caressed by the trembling hand of Lescande.

The garden was small, but beautifully tended and full of rare plants.  At the end, a small villa, in the Italian style, showed its graceful porch.

“Ah, that is pretty!” exclaimed Camors, at last.

“And you recognize my plan, Number Three, do you not?” asked Lescande, eagerly.

“Your plan Number Three?  Ah, yes, perfectly,” replied Camors, absently.  “And your pretty little cousin—­is she within?”

“She is there, my dear friend,” answered Lescande, in a low voice—­and he pointed to the closed shutters of a large window of a balcony surmounting the veranda.  “She is there; and this is our son.”

Camors let his hand pass listlessly over the child’s hair.  “The deuce!” he said; “but you have not wasted time.  And you are happy, my good fellow?”

“So happy, my dear friend, that I am sometimes uneasy, for the good God is too kind to me.  It is true, though, I had to work very hard.  For instance, I passed two years in Spain—­in the mountains of that infernal country.  There I built a fairy palace for the Marquis of Buena-Vista, a great nobleman, who had seen my plan at the Exhibition and was delighted with it.  This was the beginning of my fortune; but you must not imagine that my profession alone has enriched me so quickly.  I made some successful speculations—­some unheard of chances in lands; and, I beg you to believe, honestly, too.  Still, I am not a millionaire; but you know I had nothing, and my wife less; now, my house paid for, we have ten thousand francs’ income left.  It is not a fortune for us, living in this style; but I still work and keep good courage, and my Juliette is happy in her paradise!”

“She wears no more soiled cuffs, then?” said Camors.

“I warrant she does not!  Indeed, she has a slight tendency to luxury—­like all women, you know.  But I am delighted to see you remember so well our college follies.  I also, through all my distractions, never forgot you a moment.  I even had a foolish idea of asking you to my wedding, only I did not dare.  You are so brilliant, so petted, with your establishment and your racers.  My wife knows you very well; in fact, we have talked of you a hundred thousand times.  Since she patronizes the turf and subscribes for ‘The Sport’, she says to me, ’Your friend’s horse has won again’; and in our family circle we rejoice over your triumphs.”