And now, my friend, do me a service.

I am a bear, a savage, a ghost! Assist me to return to life.

Let us go and sup with some sprightly people whose virtue is extraordinary." "Agreed! That is recommended by my physician." "From Cairo?
Nothing could be better, my Prince." Half an hour later Louis de Camors, the Prince d'Errol, and a half-dozen guests of both sexes, took possession of an apartment, the closed doors of which we must respect.
Next morning, at gray dawn, the party was about to disperse; and at the moment a ragpicker, with a gray beard, was wandering up and down before the restaurant, raking with his hook in the refuse that awaited the public sweepers.

In closing his purse, with an unsteady hand, Camors let fall a shining louis d'or, which rolled into the mud on the sidewalk.
The ragpicker looked up with a timid smile.
"Ah! Monsieur," he said, "what falls into the trench should belong to the soldier." "Pick it up with your teeth, then," answered Camors, laughing, "and it is yours." The man hesitated, flushed under his sunburned cheeks, and threw a look of deadly hatred upon the laughing group round him.

Then he knelt, buried his chest in the mire, and sprang up next moment with the coin clenched between his sharp white teeth.