he himself was handsomely taken care of—
mon Dieu! far too handsomely! He, however,
had spent it all, and was now wandering
about the world, a beggar."

"It certainly seemed a curious disposition,"
madame went on to say, "considering that
M. Lemoine was only madame's son —she
having been married before—and that wicked
M. Charles his own child. But nobody could
like him—not even his own father."

"And this M. Lemoine was expected here
that evening?"

"Yes," she said, "in company with his
mother, a cold, haughty woman, that always
went with him, and with mademoiselle his
cousin, to whom he was to be wedded as soon
as his wretched health permitted.  Voila
tout! There was the whole history for me!
Would I excuse her now for a few moments?"

During the last few minutes that madame
was speaking, I had noticed that a glass door
on the right had opened softly, disclosing a
prospect of a gentleman sipping his wine and
smoking a cigar leisurely after dinner. No
doubt the cool evening breeze was found to
enter very gratefully, for the gentleman
presently pushed the little gilt table from him,
and walked out slowly upon the gallery, still
smoking his cigar. He had a diagreeable
simper always put on below his light yellow
moustaches, and he had, besides, a fashion of
keeping his hands buried in his trousers
pockets, which seemed as full and capacious
as a Turk's. He looked down for some
minutes into the court below, simpering
pleasantly at the discussion still going forward
then walked slowly round to where I
was standing, and, bowing low, prayed me to
have the bounty and condescension to allow
him to light his cigar at mine. He had been
so maldroit as to let his own go out.
Curiously enough, I had seen him but a minute
before, slily rub his cigar against the wall
with great secrecy and mystery. The significance
of this act was now quite plain to me.
I should have liked him better if he had
made his advances openly, without any such
trickery. It was a pleasant evening, he
observed diligently lighting his cigar. I too,
he supposed, was waiting to see the heavy
diligence come in. No? Would I forgive
him for thinking so first; for every creature
in that dull place seemed to take surprising
interest in the movements of that huge
machine. "Messieurs there," he added,
simpering contemptuously, on the people below,
"find pleasing excitement in such talk. The
poor souls! They know no better—ha! ha!"
His laugh was disagreeable—very sweet and
hollow sounding. "Have you been here
long?" he went on; "I have been sojourning
here two days."

"I only arrived this evening," I answered,
drily enough.

"Two days; would you believe it—two
mortal days! Why, it is my belief that I
should have expired at the end of the fourth
hour but for la petite Fanchonette yonder,
whom, by the way, you may have seen. A
little Chloris."

I was beginning to find this gentleman's
manner so little to my taste, that I prepared
to turn away and make for my own room,
when suddenly a faint rolling sound,
accompanied with a distant musical tinkling, fell
upon my ears. "Hark!" said he. "It comes,
diligence le desiré, le bien aimé! See, the
gamins are already in ecstasy!"

It was singular—the contempt he showed
for the poor men below. They, by this time,
were all rushing to the great gateway; so
there could be no question but that the great
diligence was approaching. Heavy plunging
sounds, as of concussion against strong timber
doors, with shrill whinnying, denoted that
the fresh relay knew also what was coming,
and were impatient to be led forth. Madame
herself had caught the sounds from afar off
in her little room, and was now tripping
down the broad steps into the court. Lattices
were opened suddenly in the roof and
other parts, and eager faces put forth to
listen. Gradually it drew nearer; the tinkling
soon changed to a sort of harmonious
jangle; there was a vigorous tramping of
heavy hoofs, cheerful cries from the driver
encouraging his beasts, with a stray note
from his horn now and again; then more
jingling and harsh clatter mingled together,
with hollow rumbling now quite close at
hand. The crowd at the archway fall suddenly
to each side, and there appear at the
opening two dusty thick-set horses, one on
the right, of a high cream-colour, with a huge
black patch on his haunch. That must be
Gringoire, beyond mistake, who has thus
nobly vindicated his good name; for M.
Le BÅ“uf is pointing to him triumphantly. After
Gringoire and his yoke-fellow toil two other
great creatures, all four being garnished
with high collars fringed handsomely with
red and blue tassels. And behind them comes
reeling in the great moving mountain itself,
that has journeyed down from Lyons, whitened
over with a crust of dust. There is a great
tarpaulin covering up baggage, high heaped,
well whitened too; and there are many faces
looking forth from rotonde, and coupé, and
intérieur, of baked and unwholesome aspect,
as though they had gathered their share of
the dust also. In the centre of the court it
has pulled up short. The doors are dragged
open, short ladders applied, and many figures
in the blouses and shining belts are crawling
up the sides, making for the roof. Now, too,
are led forth the four fresh and gamesome
animals, who beguile the tedium of yoking
by divers posturings and fierce sweeps of
their hinder legs at unwary bystanders.

But from the coupé—was being assisted
forth, by gentle hands—madame herself, aiding
tenderly—a tall man, delicate-looking and
slightly bent. He seemed a little feeble, but