He endeavored to shock neither man nor woman.

Indulgent to defects both physical and mental, he listened patiently (by the help of the Princess Goritza) to the many dull people who related to him the petty miseries of provincial life,--an egg ill-boiled for breakfast, coffee with feathered cream, burlesque details about health, disturbed sleep, dreams, visits.

The chevalier could call up a languishing look, he could take on a classic attitude to feign compassion, which made him a most valuable listener; he could put in an "Ah!" and a "Bah!" and a "What DID you do ?" with charming appropriateness.

He died without any one suspecting him of even an allusion to the tender passages of his romance with the Princess Goritza.

Has any one ever reflected on the service a dead sentiment can do to society; how love may become both social and useful?
This will serve to explain why, in spite of his constant winning at play (he never left a salon without carrying off with him about six francs), the old chevalier remained the spoilt darling of the town.