Let me make my salut in quiet, my good Leonore. My director
answers for me, and plays a game at trictrac into the bargain with me."
Our history has but little to do with this venerable nobleman. He has his
chamber looking out into the garden of his hotel; his faithful old
domestic to wait upon him; his House of Peers to attend when he is well
enough, his few acquaintances to help him to pass the evening. The rest
of the hotel he gives up to his son, the Vicomte de Florac, and Madame la
Princesse de Moncontour, his daughter-in-law.
When Florac has told his friends of the Club why it is he has assumed a
new title--as a means of reconciliation (a reconciliation all
philosophical, my friends) with his wife nee Higg of Manchester, who
adores titles like all Anglaises, and has recently made a great
succession, everybody allows that the measure was dictated by prudence,
and there is no more laughter at his change of name. The Princess takes
the first floor of the hotel at the price paid for it by the American
General, who has returned to his original pigs at Cincinnati.
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