"Both children of Paris," muttered he, "and both striking examples of the boasted civilization.

The dandy struts along the pavement, while the street arab plays in the gutter." But he had no time to spend in philosophical speculations, as the omnibus that he required appeared, and entering it, in another half-hour he entered Paul Violaine's lodgings in the Rue Montmartre.
The portress, Mother Brigaut, was at her post as Tantaine entered the courtyard and asked,-- "And how is our young gentleman to-day ?" "Better, sir, ever so much better; I made him a lovely bowl of soup yesterday, and he drank up every drop of it.

He looks like a real king this morning, and the doctor sent in a dozen of wine to-day, which will, I am sure, effect a perfect cure." With a smile and a nod Tantaine was making his way to the stairs, when Mother Brigaut prevented his progress.
"Some one was here yesterday," remarked she, "asking about M.Paul." "What sort of a looking person was it ?" "Oh, a man like any other, nothing in particular about him, but he wasn't a gentleman, for after keeping me for fully fifteen minutes talking and talking, he only gave me a five-franc piece." The description was not one that would lead to a recognition of the person, and Tantaine asked in tones of extreme annoyance,-- "Did you not notice anything particular about the man ?" "Yes, he had on gold spectacles with the mountings as fine as a hair, and a watch chain as thick and heavy as I have ever seen." "And is that all ?" "Yes," answered she.

"Oh! there was one thing more--the person knows that you come here." "Does he?
Why do you think so ?" "Because all the time he was talking to me he was in a rare fidget, and always kept his eyes on the door." "Thanks, Mother Brigaut; mind and keep a sharp lookout," returned Tantaine, as he slowly ascended the stairs.
Every now and then he paused to think.

"Who upon earth can this fellow be ?" asked he of himself.