La Briere wore the same clothes he had so carefully selected for the famous Sunday; but he now felt like the satellite of planet, and resigned himself to the uncertainties of his situation.

Canalis, on the other hand, had carefully attended to his black coat, his orders, and all those little drawing-room elegancies, which his intimacy with the Duchesse de Chaulieu and the fashionable world of the faubourg had brought to perfection.

He had gone into the minutiae of dandyism, while poor La Briere was about to present himself with the negligence of a man without hope.

Germain, as he waited at dinner could not help smiling to himself at the contrast.

After the second course, however, the valet came in with a diplomatic, that is to say, uneasy air.
"Does Monsieur le baron know," he said to Canalis in a low voice, "that Monsieur the grand equerry is coming to Graville to get cured of the same illness which has brought Monsieur de La Briere and Monsieur le baron to the sea-shore ?" "What, the little Duc d'Herouville ?" "Yes, monsieur." "Is he coming for Mademoiselle de La Bastie ?" asked La Briere, coloring.
"So it appears, monsieur." "We are cheated!" cried Canalis looking at La Briere.
"Ah!" retorted Ernest quickly, "that is the first time you have said, 'we' since we left Paris: it has been 'I' all along." "You understood me," cried Canalis, with a burst of laughter.