From time to time, Edward had travelled, hoping to find new sensations amid new scenes. He had visited Switzerland, Spain, Italy, and England; but, unluckily, the man who can scatter gold along his path meets with no obstacles to his desires in any country; women are coquettish, men are selfish, innkeepers have an eye to the main chance, servants are flatterers, everywhere. In Spain, thanks to the national jealousy, the viscount had fought several duels; but as he handled both sword and pistol with skill, he was always victorious, which fact afforded him no pleasure at all.
Once, as he was travelling in Switzerland, and trying to climb some glacier, he fell over a precipice, and lay there nearly six hours before he was rescued by guides, by means of rope ladders. He was half frozen, but well content, and he remembered that day as one of the pleasantest during his travels.
He had returned to Paris, after a trip to Italy, only three weeks before we first meet him strolling about his apartments, smoking cigarettes, which he rarely finished, and followed at a distance by his valet, Lépinette, preparing others. Suddenly he halted in the middle of his salon, and asked:
"What time is it, Lépinette?"
"Nearly three o'clock, monsieur le vicomte."
"Really? Give me a cigarette."
"Here it is, monsieur."
"I will finish dressing.—What in the devil am I going to do to-day, Lépinette? Do you know?"
"I think that monsieur told three of his friends, Messieurs Florville, Dumarsey, and Lamberlong, to call for him to ride in the Bois."
"Ah, yes! you are right. Yes, those gentlemen were to call for me.—This one isn't well made; give me another."