he victim of
a strange delusion. She imagines that she is ugly."

"Well," said the queen, with a malicious grin, "she is right. I never saw
a more hideous object."

Jacinta, at these cruel words, thought she would die of mortification.
Doubt was no longer possible, she must be ugly. Her eyes closed, she fell
on the steps of the throne in a deadly swoon.

But Valentin was affected very differently. He cried out loudly that her
Majesty must be mad to tell such a lie. He had no time to say more. The
guards seized him, and at a sign from the queen the headsman came forward.
He was always beside the throne, for she might need his services at any
moment.

"Do your duty," said the queen, pointing out the man who had insulted her.
The executioner raised his gleaming axe just as Jacinta came to herself
and opened her eyes. Then two shrieks pierced the air. One was a cry of
joy, for in the glittering steel Jacinta saw herself, so charmingly
pretty--and the other a scream of anguish, as the wicked soul of the queen
took flight, unable to bear the sight of her face in the impromptu mirror.

MY NEPHEW JOSEPH

BY LUDOVIC HALEVY

(_Scene passes at Versailles; two old gentlemen are conversing, seated on
a bench in the King's garden._)

Journalism, my dear Monsieur, is the evil of the times. I tell you what,
if I had a son, I would hesitate a long while before giving him a literary
education. I would have him learn chemistry, mathematics, fencing,
cosmography, swimming, drawing, but not composition--no, not composition.
Then, at least, he would be prevented from becoming a journalist. It is so
easy, so tempting. They take pen and paper and write, it doesn't matter
what, apropos to it doesn't matter what, and you have a newspaper article.
In order to become a watchmaker, a lawyer, an upholsterer, in short, all
the liberal arts, study, application, and a special kind of knowledge are
necessary; but nothing like that is required for a journalist."

"You are perfectly right, my dear Monsieur, the profession of journalism
should be restricted by examinations, the issuing of warrants, the
granting of licenses--"

"And they could pay well for their licenses, these gentlemen. Do you know
that journalism is become very profitable? There are some young men in it
who, all at once, without a fixed salary, and no capital whatever, make
from ten, twenty to thirty thousand francs a year."

"Now, that is strange! But how do they beco