CompteD’HAUSSONVILLE
               de L’Academie Francaise. 
Prince Zilah

BOOK 1.

CHAPTER I

THE BETROTHAL FETE

“Excuse me, Monsieur, but pray tell me what vessel that is over there.”

The question was addressed to a small, dark man, who, leaning upon the parapet of the Quai des Tuileries, was rapidly writing in a note-book with a large combination pencil, containing a knife, a pen, spare leads, and a paper-cutter—­all the paraphernalia of a reporter accustomed to the expeditions of itinerant journalism.

When he had filled, in his running hand, a leaf of the book, the little man tore it hastily off, and extended it to a boy in dark blue livery with silver buttons, bearing the initial of the newspaper, L’Actualite; and then, still continuing to write, he replied: 

“Prince Andras Zilah is giving a fete on board one of the boats belonging to the Compagnie de la Seine.”

“A fete?  Why?”

“To celebrate his approaching marriage, Monsieur.”

“Prince Andras!  Ah!” said the first speaker, as if he knew the name well; “Prince Andras is to be married, is he?  And who does Prince Andras Zil—­”

“Zilah!  He is a Hungarian, Monsieur.”

The reporter appeared to be in a hurry, and, handing another leaf to the boy, he said: 

“Wait here a moment.  I am going on board, and I will send you the rest of the list of guests by a sailor.  They can prepare the article from what you have, and set it up in advance, and I will come myself to the office this evening and make the necessary additions.”

“Very well, Monsieur Jacquemin.”

“And don’t lose any of the leaves.”

“Oh, Monsieur Jacquemin!  I never lose anything!”

“They will have some difficulty, perhaps, in reading the names—­they are all queer; but I shall correct the proof myself.”

“Then, Monsieur,” asked the lounger again, eager to obtain all the information he could, “those people who are going on board are almost all foreigners?”

“Yes, Monsieur; yes, Monsieur; yes, Monsieur!” responded jacquemin, visibly annoyed.  “There are many foreigners in the city, very many; and I prefer them, myself, to the provincials of Paris.”

The other did not seem to understand; but he smiled, thanked the reporter, and strolled away from the parapet, telling all the people he met:  “It is a fete!  Prince Andras, a Hungarian, is about to be married.  Prince Andras Zilah!  A fete on board a steamer!  What a droll idea!”