Before they reached the banker’s door, driven in the doctor’s elegant brougham, a similar one to which Paul mentally declared he would have, as soon as circumstances would permit, the young man’s mentor spoke.

“Let me say a few words to you.  You have before you a chance which is seldom afforded to any young man, whatever his rank and social standing.  Mind that you profit by it.”

“You may be sure I will,” said Paul, with a smile of self-complacency.

“Good, dear boy; but let me fortify your courage with a little of my experience.  Do you know what an heiress really is?”

“Well, really——­”

“Permit me to continue.  An heiress and more so if she is an only child, is generally a very disagreeable person, headstrong, capricious, and puffed up with her own importance.  She is utterly spoiled by the flattery to which she has been accustomed from her earliest years, and thinks that all the world is made to bend before her.”

“Ah!” answered Paul, a little discomfited.  “I hope it is not Mademoiselle Flavia’s portrait that you have been sketching?”

“Not exactly,” answered the doctor, with a laugh.  “But I must warn you that even she has certain whims and fancies.  For instance, I am quite sure that she would give a suitor every encouragement, and then repulse him without rhyme or reason.”

Paul, who up to this time had only seen the bright side of affairs, was a good deal disconcerted.

“Buy why should you introduce me to her then?”

“In order that you may win her.  Have you not everything to insure success?  She will most likely receive you with the utmost cordiality; but beware of being too sanguine.  Even if she makes desperate love to you, I say, take care; it may be only a trap; for, between ourselves, a girl who has a million stitched to her petticoats is to be excused if she endeavors to find out whether the suitor is after her or her money.”

Just then the brougham stopped, and Dr. Hortebise and his young friend entered the house in the Rue Montmartre, where they were cordially greeted by the banker.

Paul glanced round, but there were no signs of Flavia, nor did she make her appearance until five minutes before the dinner hour, when the guests flocked round her.  She had subdued all her emotions, and not a quiver of the eyelids disclosed the excitement under which she was laboring.  Her eye rested on Paul, and he bowed ceremoniously.  The banker was delighted, for he had not believed much in her self-command.  But Flavia had taken his advice to heart, and when seated at table abstained from casting a glance in Paul’s direction.  When dinner was over and many of the guests had sat down to whist; Flavia ventured to approach Paul, and in a low voice, which shook a little in spite of her efforts, said,—­

“Will you not play me one of your own compositions, M. Violaine?”

Paul was but a medium performer, but Flavia seemed in the seventh heaven, while her father and Dr. Hortebise, who had taken their seats not far away, watched the young couple with much anxiety.