er; but in Paris
anything scandalous sells like hot cakes. At ten o'clock in the morning
there was not a copy of the _Messager_ to be had on the street.
Thereupon one of my nieces, a sly hussy if ever there was one, had the
happy thought of looking in the pocket of one of the numerous top-coats
hanging in long rows against the walls of the dressing-room.

"Here you are!" said the merry creature triumphantly, drawing from the
first pocket she searched a copy of the _Messager_, crumpled at the
folds as if it had been well read.

"And here's another!" cried Tom Bois-l'Hery, who was investigating on
his own account. A third top-coat, a third _Messager_. And so it was
with them all; buried in the depths of the pocket, or with its title
sticking out, the paper was everywhere, even as the article was certain
to be in every mind; and we imagined the Nabob upstairs, exchanging
amiable sentences with his guests, who could have recited to him word
for word the horrible things printed concerning him. We all laughed
heartily at the idea; but we were dying to know the contents of that
interesting page.

"Here, Pere Passajon, read it aloud to us."

That was the general desire, and I complied with it.

I do not know if you are like me, but when I read aloud I gargle with my
voice, so to speak, I introduce inflections and flourishes, so that I do
not understand a word of what I read, like those public singers to whom
the meaning of the words they sing is of little consequence provided
that the notes are all there. It was called "The Flower Boat." A
decidedly mixed-up story with Chinese names, relating to a very rich
mandarin, newly elevated to the first class, who had once kept a "flower
boat" moored on the outskirts of a town near a fortified gate frequented
by soldiers. At the last word of the article we knew no more than at the
beginning. To be sure, we tried to wink and to look very knowing; but,
frankly, there was no ground for it. A genuine rebus without a key; and
we should still be staring at it, had not old Francis, who is the very
devil for his knowledge of all sorts of things, explained to us that the
fortified gate with soldiers must mean the Ecole Militaire, and that the
"flower boat" had not so pretty a name as that in good French. And he
said the name aloud, despite the ladies. Such an explosion of
exclamations, of "Ahs!" and "Ohs!" some saying: "I expected as much,"
others: "It isn't possible."

"I beg your pardon