had been built by an architect named Lescande, as a compliment from the deputy to his old friend—­they were received with a winning affability that sent them back to the province with softened hearts.  M. de Camors would condescend to inquire whether their wives or their daughters had borne them company; he would place at their disposal tickets for the theatres and passes into the Legislative Chamber; and would show them his pictures and his stables.  He also trotted out his horses in the court under their eyes.  They found him much improved in personal appearance, and even reported affectionately that his face was fuller and had lost the melancholy cast it used to wear.  His manner, once reserved, was now warmer, without any loss of dignity; his expression, once morose, was now marked by a serenity at once pleasing and grave.  His politeness was almost a royal grace; for he showed to women—­young or old, rich or poor, virtuous or otherwise—­the famous suavity of Louis the Fourteenth.

To his equals, as to his inferiors, his urbanity was perfection; for he cultivated in the depths of his soul—­for women, for his inferiors, for his equals, and for his constituents—­the same contempt.

He loved, esteemed, and respected only himself; but that self he loved, esteemed, and respected as a god!  In fact, he had now, realized as completely as possible, in his own person, that almost superhuman ideal he had conceived in the most critical hour of his life.

When he surveyed himself from head to foot in the mental mirror before him, he was content!  He was truly that which he wished to be.  The programme of his life, as he had laid it down, was faithfully carried out.

By a powerful effort of his mighty will, he succeeded in himself adopting, rather than disdaining in others, all those animal instincts that govern the vulgar.  These he believed fetters which bound the feeble, but which the strong could use.  He applied himself ceaselessly to the development and perfection of his rare physical and intellectual gifts, only that he might, during the short passage from the cradle to the tomb, extract from them the greatest amount of pleasure.  Fully convinced that a thorough knowledge of the world, delicacy of taste and elegance, refinement and the point of honor constituted a sort of moral whole which formed the true gentleman, he strove to adorn his person with the graver as well as the lighter graces.  He was like a conscientious artist, who would leave no smallest detail incomplete.  The result of his labor was so satisfactory, that M. de Camors, at the moment we rejoin him, was not perhaps one of the best men in the world, but he was beyond doubt one of the happiest and most amiable.  Like all men who have determined to cultivate ability rather than scrupulousness, he saw all things developing to his satisfaction.  Confident of his future, he discounted it boldly, and lived as if very opulent.  His rapid elevation was explained by his unfailing audacity, by his cool judgment and neat finesse, by his great connection and by his moral independence.  He had a hard theory, which he continually expounded with all imaginable grace:  “Humanity,” he would say, “is composed of speculators!”