Between ten and eleven that night Sir Nugent Uffington presented himself at the house No. 240 Avenue Marigny, and asked, as he had been instructed, for Madame de Nerval. The porter having told him that it was au premier, Uffington proceeded thither up a broad and splendidly carpeted staircase, and, touching the plated bell, was immediately confronted by an immense huissier in gorgeous uniform. This magnificent creature, whose manners were much milder than his appearance denoted, bowed the guest into the vestibule, and there handed him over to the care of the groom of the chambers. On giving his name, Uffington learned that he was expected, and the servant, begging him to follow, led the way, along a passage brilliantly lighted and decorated with stags'-heads and other trophies of the chase, towards an apartment at the farther end, whence came roars of laughter intermixed with occasional snatches of singing.

So thick was the tobacco smoke in this apartment that on the first opening of the door it was almost impossible to ascertain the features of its denizens; but on hearing the name of the visitor a lady rose from a low ottoman, on which, in company with two or three of her friends, she had been seated, and approaching Uffington offered him welcome, announcing herself at the same time as Madame de Nerval, the hostess.

'Your friend, Lord Forestfield, told me you had promised to do me this honour, Sir Nugent,' said she, speaking in excellent English, 'and I assure you I was quite looking forward to it. I know many of your acquaintance, and have often heard you spoken of, but always as a misanthrope; consequently, you see, I value this honour more highly.'

'Those who described me as such knew that I had not yet had the pleasure of seeing you, madame, and that therefore I hadn't had any temptation to give up my solitary manner of life.'

'Your language is rather that of a courtier than that of a hermit, Sir Nugent,' said Madame de Nerval. She was a tall, handsome, large-framed woman of about five-and-thirty, with bold black eyes, which she used with great effect. 'But come, let me introduce you to my friends--Madame Pierotte, Madame Chauvain--Sir Nugent Uffington.'

Two rather pretty women--both with very fair hair; one in rose-coloured satin, the other in green silk; both very much décolletées, very much powdered, and wearing a vast number of rings--bowed at the presentation.

'Now for the gentlemen,' said Madame de Nerval, continuing the introduction. 'The gentleman on the ottoman is M. le Comte de Gerfuzet; next to him Alexis Eyma, the feuilletoniste, who is of course known to you by repute; and this is,' she added, bending forward and playfully patting the close-cut silver-white hair of a big handsome old man, who stooped his massive head for the purpose,--'this is my grandpapa, the Baron von Höchstadt.'

Each of these gentlemen bowed as his name was pronounced; and when Madame de Nerval spoke of the Baron as her grandfather, there was a universal roar of laughter, in which the Baron himself bore the principal part.

'Zee Count ee eez to me,' said Madame Pierotte, nestling down on the ottoman, and lighting her cigarette from her friend's cigar; 'ee eez mai lofe.'

'Tiens, Rosette; oublie-t-on les convenances ici, par exemple?' cried the Count, elevating his eyebrows, and causing immense delight to his companions by adding, 'Eet eez shocking!'