‘I was once upon a time the Viscount Alfred de Noe,’ said the other lightly. ‘It was a part my ancestors performed for some seven or eight centuries. Now I change my rôle every night.’
Through all the levity of this remark there was also what savoured of courage, that bold defiance of the turns of fortune which sounded haughtily.
‘I, too, have had my reverses; but not so great as yours,’ said Gerald modestly.
‘When a man is killed by a fall, what signifies it if the drop has been fifty feet or five hundred! Mon cher,’ said the other, ‘you and I were once gentlemen—we talked, ate, drank, and dressed as such; we have now the canaille life, and the past is scarcely even a dream.’
‘It is the present I would call a dream,’ said Gerald.
‘I ‘d do so too if its cursed reality would let me,’ said De Noe, laughing, ‘or if I could throw off the cast of shop for one brief hour, and feel myself the man I once was.’
‘What are you counting? Have you lost anything?’ asked Gerald, as the other turned over some pieces of money in his hand, and then hastily searched pocket after pocket.
‘No; I was just seeing if I had wherewithal to ask you to sup with me, and I find that I have.’
‘Rather, come and share mine—I live here,’ said Gerald, as he pushed a door which lay ajar. ‘It’s a very humble meal I invite you to partake of; but we ‘ll drink to the good time coming.’
‘I accept frankly,’ said the other, as he followed Gerald up the dark and narrow stairs.