ouse
joins on to yours."

"But he is not a native of the Comte," said Monsieur de Watteville.

"So little is he a native of any place, that no one knows where he comes
from," said Madame de Chavoncourt.

"But who is he?" asked Madame de Watteville, taking the Abbe's arm to
go into the dining-room. "If he is a stranger, by what chance has he
settled at Besancon? It is a strange fancy for a barrister."

"Very strange!" echoed Amedee de Soulas, whose biography is here
necessary to the understanding of this tale.

* * * * *

In all ages France and England have carried on an exchange of trifles,
which is all the more constant because it evades the tyranny of the
Custom-house. The fashion that is called English in Paris is called
French in London, and this is reciprocal. The hostility of the two
nations is suspended on two points--the uses of words and the fashions
of dress. _God Save the King_, the national air of England, is a
tune written by Lulli for the Chorus of Esther or of Athalie. Hoops,
introduced at Paris by an Englishwoman, were invented in London, it is
known why, by a Frenchwoman, the notorious Duchess of Portsmouth. They
were at first so jeered at that the first Englishwoman who appeared in
them at the Tuileries narrowly escaped being crushed by the crowd; but
they were adopted. This fashion tyrannized over the ladies of Europe for
half a century. At the peace of 1815, for a year, the long waists of the
English were a standing jest; all Paris went to see Pothier and Brunet
in _Les Anglaises pour rire_; but in 1816 and 1817 the belt of the
Frenchwoman, which in 1814 cut her across the bosom, gradually descended
till it reached the hips.

Within ten years England has made two little gifts to our language. The
_Incroyable_, the _Merveilleux_, the _Elegant_, the three successes of
the _petit-maitre_ of discreditable etymology, have made way for the
"dandy" and the "lion." The _lion_ is not the parent of the _lionne_.
The _lionne_ is due to the famous song by Alfred de Musset:

Avez vous vu dans Barcelone
.... C'est ma maitresse et ma lionne.

There has been a fusion--or, if you prefer it, a confusion--of the two
words and the leading ideas. When an absurdity can amuse Paris, which
devours as many masterpieces as absurdities, the provinces can hardly be
deprived of them. So, as soon as the _lion_ paraded Paris with his mane,
his beard and moustaches, his waistcoats and his eyeglass, maintained
in its