pinch of snuff, Monsieur Guillaume, and
excuse me if I inform you that my question referred to public news, and
not to the private affairs of the two families whose household interests
we have the pleasure of promoting."

"I don't understand what you mean by such a phrase as promoting
household interests, Monsieur Justin. I am the servant of Monsieur Louis
Trudaine, who lives here with his sister, Mademoiselle Rose. You are
the servant of Monsieur Danville, whose excellent mother has made up
the match for him with my young lady. As servants, both of us, the
pleasantest news we can have any concern with is news that is connected
with the happiness of our masters. I have nothing to do with public
affairs; and, being one of the old school, I make it my main object in
life to mind my own business. If our homely domestic politics have no
interests for you, allow me to express my regret, and to wish you a very
good-evening."

"Pardon me, my dear sir, I have not the slightest respect for the
old school, or the least sympathy with people who only mind their own
business. However, I accept your expressions of regret; I reciprocate
your 'Good-evening'; and I trust to find you improved in temper, dress,
manners, and appearance the next time I have the honor of meeting you.
Adieu, Monsieur Guillaume, and! _Vive la bagatelle!"_

These scraps of dialogue were interchanged on a lovely summer evening
in the year seventeen hundred and eighty-nine, before the back door of
a small house which stood on the banks of the Seine, about three miles
westward of the city of Rouen. The one speaker was lean, old, crabbed
and slovenly; the other was plump, young, oily-mannered and dressed in
the most gorgeous livery costume of the period. The last days of genuine
dandyism were then rapidly approaching all over the civilized world; and
Monsieur Justin was, in his own way, dressed to perfection, as a living
illustration of the expiring glories of his epoch.

After the old servant had left him, he occupied himself for a few
minutes in contemplating, superciliously enough, the back view of the
little house before which he stood. Judging by the windows, it did not
contain more than six or eight rooms in all. Instead of stables and
outhouses, there was a conservatory attached to the building on one
side, and a low, long room, built of wood, gayly painted, on the other.
One of the windows of this room was left uncurtained and through
it could be seen,