“When?” asked Jacqueline.

“To-day is the 19th; I said the 21st.  Order the dinner from Chevet for fifteen persons, and send for your client Bixiou to make you out the list.  Tell him you want the chief men of the press, a lawyer to settle the terms of the contract, and a pianist to accompany the signora.  Let her know what hangs upon it.  Sir Francis Drake and I will make up the number.  Useless to tell you that I am your friend Comte Halphertius, who, having no house in Paris, gives this dinner at yours.  Mind that everything is done in the best taste.”

In designating Bixiou to his aunt as the recruiting-officer of the dinner, Vautrin knew that through the universality of his relations with writing, singing, designing, eating, living, and squirming Paris, no one was as capable as he of spreading the news of the dinner broadcast.

At seven o’clock precisely all the guests named by Desroches to Maxime, plus Desroches himself, were assembled in the salon of the rue de Provence, when the Negro footman opened the door and announced Sir Francis Drake and his Excellency the Comte Halphertius.  The dress of the Swedish nobleman was correct to the last degree,—­black coat, white cravat, and white waistcoat, on which glowed the ribbon of an order hanging from his neck; the rest of his decorations were fastened to his coat by chainlets.  At the first glance which he cast upon the company, Vautrin had the annoyance of beholding that Jacqueline’s habits and instincts had been more potent than his express order,—­for a species of green and yellow turban surmounted her head in a manner which he felt to be ridiculous; but thanks to the admirable manner in which the rest of his programme had been carried out, the luckless coiffure was forgiven.

As for Signora Luigia, dressed in black, which was customary with her, and having had the good sense to reject the services of a coiffeur, she was royally beautiful.  An air of melancholy gravity, expressed by her whole person, inspired a sentiment of respect which surprised the men who on Bixiou’s invitation were there to judge of her.  The only special presentation that was made among the guests was that of Desroches to Vautrin, which Bixiou made in the following lively formula:—­

“Maitre Desroches, the most intelligent solicitor of modern times —­Comte Halphertius of Sweden.”

As for Sir Francis Drake, he seemed at first inclined to disdain the influence of the dramatic newspapers, whose representatives were there assembled; but presently recognizing Felicien Vernou and Lousteau, two noted men of that secondary press, he greeted them heartily and shook them by the hand.

Before dinner was announced, Comte Halphertius judged it advisable to make a little speech.

“Dear madame,” he said to his aunt, “you are really a fairy godmother.  This is the first time I have ever been in a Parisian salon, and here you have assembled to meet me all that literature, the arts, and the legal profession can offer of their best.  I, who am only a northern barbarian,—­though our country, too, can boast of its celebrities, —­Linnaeus, Berzelius, Thorwaldsen, Tegner, Franzen, Geier, and the charming novelist Frederika Bremer,—­I find myself a cipher in such company.”