of their presence, without any loophole for their unauthorised supremacy. There is no chance for a Pompadour under a Republic, and whatever other abuses may exist to-day, ladies of light morals cannot hope to attain heraldic glory and hereditary wealth by the "primrose path of dalliance" with royal Lotharios. And so social distinctions are now in France more complex and less stringent than under the ancien régime. Complexity lies in the variety of claims not known in former days, when the division between the classes was sharp and infrangible. In the world of toque and robe there are men who count themselves the superiors of the crusaders; in the army there are generals of plebeian origin who think themselves the first of Frenchmen; there are fashionable doctors and surgeons, painters, authors, politicians, men of science, and merchant princes who regard themselves almost as the equals of the crowned heads of Europe.
All these varied ranks of society meet at a general point—social pretension. Wealth is the sole degree they really acknowledge, though "good family" is their vaunted consideration. They are aware that fashion and birth are no longer synonymous terms, that the goal is quickest won by the longest purse. A duchess with a hundred a year may feast on her own prestige in the eyes of a few intimates, but the
