CHAPTER VI.
THE HOTEL MARS AND ITS OWNER.
It was between three and four o'clock in the afternoon of the day succeeding the night of my arrival in Paris, when I found myself standing at the door of the Hotel Mars, Champs Elysees.

I had proved the Pension kept by Madame Denise to be everything that could be desired; and on my presentation of Raffaello Cellini's card of introduction, I had been welcomed by the maitresse de la maison with a cordial effusiveness that amounted almost to enthusiasm.
"Ce cher Cellini!" the cheery and pleasant little woman had exclaimed, as she set before me a deliciously prepared breakfast.

"Je l'aime tant! Il a si bon coeur! et ses beaux yeux! Mon Dieu, comme un ange!" As soon as I had settled the various little details respecting my room and attendance, and had changed my travelling-dress for a quiet visiting toilette, I started for the abode of Heliobas.
The weather was very cold; I had left the summer behind me at Cannes, to find winter reigning supreme in Paris.

A bitter east wind blew, and a few flakes of snow fell now and then from the frowning sky.

The house to which I betook myself was situated at a commanding corner of a road facing the Champs Elysees.