My duties, it may be well to mention in passing, had no part in the expenditure of the Vicomte de Clericy.
I had only to deal with the income derived from the various estates, and while being fully aware that large sums had been placed within the hands of his bankers, I had not troubled to be curious respecting the ultimate destination of such moneys.

My patron possessed, as has already been intimated, a lively--nay, an exaggerated--sense of the value of money.

He was, indeed, as I remember thinking at this time, somewhat of a miser, loving money for its own sake, and not, as did the Baron Giraud, merely for the grandeur and position to be purchased therewith.
"But I am not like you," said the financier at length.
"No; you have a thousand louis for every one that I possess." "But I have nothing solid--no lands, no estates except my chateau in Var." His panic had by no means subsided, and presently he found himself on the verge of tears--a pitiable, despicable object.

The Vicomte--soothing and benevolent--went on to explain more fully the position of his own affairs.

He told us that on information received from a sure source he had months earlier concluded that the Emperor's illness was of a more serious nature than the general public believed.
"You, my dear friend," he said, "engaged as you have been in the affairs of the outside world--the Suez Canal, Mexico, the Colonies--have perhaps omitted to watch matters nearer home.