"How, then?" The Prince, coaxing on his grey gloves, turned narrowed eyes upon him. "In what way do I begin it well?"
Dupontel produced a pocket-book from the breast of his coat. "I have to settle with you over last evening," he said. "Two thousand, wasn't it? I call that beginning any day well."
He dropped the notes upon the little table where the Prince's hat and cane lay.
The Prince picked up the notes.
"Thanks!" he said. He looked at the young man almost with curiosity.
"Sure it's convenient?"
For answer, Dupontel showed him his pocketbook, with still half a dozen thousand-franc notes in it.
"I see," said the Prince.
He still hesitated for a moment or two, as if touched by some compunction, before he put the notes into his pocket. It had occurred to him vaguely that he might propitiate his fortune by sacrificing this money make himself, as it were, by a timely generosity, the creditor of good luck. But it was not the kind of thing he was used to do.
"Eh bien!" he said, and put the notes out of sight.
"And now," said Dupontel, "let us eat."