"You are painfully prejudiced, my son; I would wager that this lady, who appears so miserly and detestable in your eyes, is merely a woman of firm character and economical habits."
"Well, it matters little to me what she is! Only, I must say, there seems to exist singular contrasts in certain families."
"What do you mean?"
"Imagine my surprise in discovering in one of the rooms of this dull house, the portrait of a woman so beautiful, charming and distingué, that it seemed placed there expressly to continually mock and scoff at that wicked red nose. The portrait so closely resembled one of my old class-mates, that I could not refrain from questioning the old miser about it. He then gruffly informed me that the original was his sister, Madame de Saint-Herem, who died some years since. But you would have died laughing had you seen them when I asked if she had left a son."
"Well, what did they do?"
"At the name of young Saint-Herem you would have thought I had evoked the devil. Red-nose grew fiery and fairly glowed; while her worthy father admitted, with a withering glance at me, that he had the misfortune, in fact, to be the uncle of an infernal young bandit known as Saint-Herem."
"This young man must bear a very bad reputation."
"Florestan?—why, he is the noblest and most charming fellow in the world!"
"But his uncle tells you—"
"My dear father, Saint-Herem and myself were close friends at college, and you must judge of him by what I shall relate. I had lost sight of him for years, when, as I was passing along the boulevard six months ago, I saw everybody turn to look at something on the road, and I did likewise. I then perceived two magnificent horses harnessed to a phaeton, with two tiny domestics behind. This equipage was so elegant and rich that it attracted general attention—and who do you suppose was seated in that carriage? My old classmate Saint-Herem, more brilliant and handsome than ever!"