“He’s a fine looking fellow,” said another; “if he had only a comb and hair-grease, he’d take the shine off the gentlemen in white kids.”

“His coat looks almost new, and his boots shine like a nigger’s face. It’s pleasant to have such well-dressed comrades; but didn’t those gendarmes behave shameful?⁠—must ’a been jealous, to tear such clothes!”

“He looks like a big-bug,” said another; “dresses in fine style. And, then, to be here so young! Oh, what larks!”

Meanwhile the object of this hideous admiration approached the wicket, against which one of the keepers was leaning.

“Come, sir,” he said, “lend me twenty francs; you will soon be paid; you run no risks with me. Remember, I have relations who possess more millions than you have deniers. Come, I beseech you, lend me twenty francs, so that I may buy a dressing-gown; it is intolerable always to be in a coat and boots! And what a coat, sir, for a prince of the Cavalcanti!”