"In truth, he is a very Cicero among thieves. And the advertisements?"
"The alchemist Woulfe announces for sale an elixir which is a panacea for every malady. Samuel Wollmer will loan money to sons-of-family in embarrassment. As he is actuated by pure love of humanity, his terms will be very moderate. Mrs. Cresswell offers false hair, masks, and red pomade for the lips. Oh, oh! here's a gentleman of middle age who desires to meet a young lady of good appearance and amiable disposition, but discreet and lively. He'll find her," added Lebeau gravely. "I am convinced that his advertisement will be answered."
During this time Oliver had dressed and prepared his master, and had tried on the plum-colored coat with the jonquil trimmings. Every trace of the night's fatigue had disappeared; the fresh hue of early youth bloomed again upon Lord Mowbray's cheek. As he was about to go out he gave his final orders to Oliver.
"You will buy for me 'The Tests of Character'; also, you will ask for the fashionable romance, 'The Cadenas.' You will inquire about the new wax which has just been invented by the Prince of Wales; they say it is marvellous. Now let us go and have a game of bowls, after which we will take a turn in the fencing-school."
Lord Mowbray slipped his arm into that of Lebeau, and in this attitude they went out together, which seemed to announce the return of confidence and friendly feeling. Mons. Lebeau was an adept in the art of pleasing, and in order to make good his return to grace he employed all the resources of his wit, which was by no means of mediocre quality. A curious fellow was this same Lebeau, who had almost ceased to be a Frenchman without wholly becoming an Englishman. He had distinguished himself among the tutors who were furnished to lordlings and who were termed "bear-keepers." He was clever, knew the world, was "up" in literature, could recite from the poets, and in case of need was able to turn a verse as easily as one twirled a snuff-box. He had had a tragedy produced and hissed off the stage somewhere, for he had tasted the cup of a man of letters, living by dedications to the great and by writing homilies for churchmen, rich in skekels but poor in intellect. He would frequently say, "Had I delivered all the sermons which I have written, I should be a cardinal." In turn, doctor upon a vessel of the East India Company, actor, professor of mathematics, courier to an ambassador, Parisian correspondent to a German prince who boasted thirty-three subjects, what callings had he not fulfilled? By what sallies had he not attempted fortune? His life resembled one of those old-fashioned romances, filled, as it was, with adventures which we should consider impossible. An event upon which he never cared to enlarge--some sort of an irregular duel with a personage of dignity--had obliged him to leave his native land. In a London brothel he had made the acquaintance of the late Lord Mowbray, who had taken him into his service on condition that he would procure him something new in the way of emotion. "I am bored to death," explained his lordship; "amuse me. I have used up every resource and am used up myself; invent some plan to revive me. Bear in mind your ability as an author and make my life a poem of delights, an unedited romance. Instead of committing your fancies to paper, realize them with my guineas and for my benefit. To begin with, there is my villa, my 'Folly,' which is being built at Chelsea. Give your orders: the mason, the painter, the upholsterer will obey you." Lebeau accepted the engagement and acquitted himself to the perfect satisfaction of his new patron.