The banker himself was a very respectable-looking old gentleman of about seventy, with a face gracious to amiability, and at first sight certainly most taking.

Not only the dress, but the whole manner of the man, vividly suggested Talleyrand, one of whose greatest admirers he actually was.

His hair was of a marvellously beautiful white, but his face quite red and clean-shaved, and therefore all the fresher and more animated; his teeth were white and even, his hands extraordinarily smooth and delicate, as is generally the case with men who have had much to do with the kneading of dough.
No sooner did the man of money perceive Abellino at the open door than he put down the paper which he was reading without the aid of an eyeglass, and, advancing to meet him to the very threshold, greeted him with the most engaging affability.
"Monseigneur," exclaimed the young Merveilleux (such was the title of the dandies of those days), "I am your servant to the very heel of my shoe." "Monseigneur," replied Monsieur Griffard, with similar pleasantry, "I am your servant to the very depths of my cellar." "Ha, ha, ha! Well said, well said! You answered me there," laughed the young dandy.

"In an hour's time that _bon-mot_ will be repeated in every salon of the town.

Well, what's the news in Paris, my dear money monarch?
I don't want bad news--tell me only the good!" "The best news," said the banker, "is that we see you in Paris again.
And still better news than that is seeing you here." "Ah, Monsieur Griffard, you are always so courtly!" cried the young man, flinging himself into an armchair.