“You are not far out of the way in your guess.”
“But how is the individual received?”
“O, with open arms, to be sure. He gave out on his passage, that he was coming to this country to marry a fortune; that he should do it in about six months, and return to Paris.”
“How excessively condescending! And what credentials did he bring with him?”
“O, he carries his credentials on his face. The only necessary passports now to society are whiskers—moustache—imperial! They are the open sesame to the hearts of the ladies.”
“But what says papa?”
“I understand there was a general meeting of all our millionaires, and that they voted him forthwith the freedom of the city, and suggested that he should do the country the honor to marry some one of their daughters.”
“And what said the count?”
“Why, the count said that he would quarter on ’em a while before pitching his tent; that he would dine about with the old prigs, and drink their good wine, and that as soon as he became well assured in regard to the respective fortunes of the young ladies, he would just fling his handkerchief at one of them, and she is expected to drop forthwith into his arms.”
Not long after this conversation, it was my lot to meet Tousky Wousky on several occasions in society. It seemed to be the prevailing belief among those upon whom he condescended to shed the light of his smiles, that he was the sole remaining representative of a noble and ancient family, and that he was visiting the United States solely in pursuit of relaxation from arduous military duties in Algiers. Such was his own story, and such was the story which his defenders believed.