He was clothed in purple and fine linen, as butterflies should be clothed, and fared sumptuously everyday; but whence came his gay colours, or why people fed him with pate and champagne, nobody knew and nobody asked.
Like most Frenchmen of his class, he never talked about himself.
He understood life, and the art of pleasing, and the necessity that he should please, too well to do so.

All that his companions knew of him was that he came from France, and that when the gloomy months came on in England, the months so unfitted for a French butterfly, he packed up his azure wings and sought some more genial climate, certain to return and be seen again when the world of London became habitable.
If he had means of living no one knew it; if he was in debt no one ever heard of it; if he had a care in the world he concealed it.

He abounded in acquaintances who were always glad to see him, and would have regarded it as quite de trop to have a friend.
Nevertheless time was flying on with him as with others; and, butterfly as he was, the idea of Miss Golightly's L20,000 struck him with delightful amazement--500,000 francs! 500,000 francs! and so he resolved to dance his very best, warm as the weather undoubtedly was at the present moment.
'Ah, he was charmed to see madame and mademoiselle look so charmingly,' he said, walking between mother and daughter, but paying apparently much the greater share of attention to the elder lady.

In this respect we Englishmen might certainly learn much from the manners of our dear allies.

We know well enough how to behave ourselves to our fair young countrywomen; we can be civil enough to young women--nature teaches us that; but it is so seldom that we are sufficiently complaisant to be civil to old women.