with a little more confidence, "and what are you doing at Paris." When I left in '91 he was proprietor of a café at the Petit Carreau.
D'O—— had been brought up by my grandmother and my uncle, the President. He was a tall, good-looking man, with a frank open face, and, when I knew him, very active, strong, and exceedingly bold, though he carried no weapons, offensive or defensive, except a little stick about a foot and a half long, and no thicker than a switch. He looked a little older, but otherwise was externally very much as I had known him. However, I guessed from his character, that he was not likely to have remained neutral during the Revolutionary troubles, and I was doubtful of what he might have become during the ten years which had elapsed since I had lost sight of him. All the difference between us and the characters in Beaumarchais' play was, that I was not a grandee of Spain, that we were on the pavement of Paris, and that honest d'O—— was, has always been, and is still, the best and worthiest of men;—