In due time the vehicle, with its gorgeous yellow wheels, reached the level space upon which the party stood.

The Baron Giraud emerged from the satin-lined recesses of the dainty carriage like a stout caterpillar from a rose, a stumpy little man with no neck and a red face.

A straggling dyed mustache failed to hide an unpleasant mouth, with lips too red and loose.

Cunning little dark eyes relieved the countenance of the Baron Giraud from mere animalism.
They were intelligent little eyes, that looked to no high things and made no mistake in low places.

But the Baron Giraud did not make one proud of the human race.