CHAPTER XIII.
I MAKE MY DEBUT IN SOCIETY.
At ten o'clock on Monday evening, Dalrymple called for me, and by ten o'clock, thanks to the great Michaud and other men of genius, I presented a faultless exterior.

My friend walked round me with a candle, and then sat down and examined me critically.
"By Jove!" said he, "I don't believe I should have known you! You are a living testimony to the science of tailoring.

I shall call on Michaud, to-morrow, and pay my tribute of admiration." "I am very uncomfortable," said I, ruefully.
"Uncomfortable! nonsense--Michaud's customers don't know the meaning of the word." "But he has not made me a single pocket!" "And what of that?
Do you suppose the great Michaud would spoil the fit of a masterpiece for your convenience ?" "What am I to do with my pocket-handkerchief ?" "Michaud's customers never need pocket-handkerchiefs." "And then my trousers..." "Unreasonable Juvenile, what of the trousers ?" "They are so tight that I dare not sit down in them." "Barbarian! Michaud's customers never sit down in society." "And my boots are so small that I can hardly endure them." "Very becoming to the foot," said Dalyrmple, with exasperating indifference.
"And my collar is so stiff that it almost cuts my throat." "Makes you hold your head up," said Dalrymple, "and leaves you no inducement to commit suicide." I could not help laughing, despite my discomfort.
"Job himself never had such a comforter!" I exclaimed.
"It would be a downright pleasure to quarrel with you." "Put on your hat instead, and let us delay no longer," replied my friend.

"My cab is waiting." So we went down, and in another moment were driving through the lighted streets.

I should hardly have chosen to confess how my heart beat when, on turning an angle of the Rue Trudon, our cab fell into the rear of three or four other carriages, passed into a courtyard crowded with arriving and departing vehicles, and drew up before an open door, whence a broad stream of light flowed out to meet us.