t. Then a number of chubby-cheeked little boys in semi-ecclesiastical
costume, improvised--no doubt under clerical supervision--by careful
hands at home. Each little boy carried a fuming censer, and it was not
difficult to see that they were well pleased with themselves and their
office. After them came the _doyen_ in full ecclesiastical costume, a
little tawdry perhaps, for the village is but poor and with the best
heart in the world can only imitate the real splendours from afar. Then
following the _doyen_ (who, by the way, marched under a canopy like the
roof of an old-fashioned four-post bedstead) came the male choir of the
church, chanting a musical service, which harmonised indifferently with
the strains of the military band in front. Then the big gun, drawn
by the two big Flemish horses. Then Jacques, Jules, Andre, Francois,
Chariot, Pierre, Joseph, Jean, and all the rest, in sabots, short
trousers, and blue blouses, marching bareheaded with reverent air, and
with them Julie, and Fifine, and Nana, and Adele, and other feminine
relatives, all in their Sunday best, and all devout in mien. Then, at a
little distance--the most astonishing and unlooked-for tail to all this
village splendour and devoutness--Schwartz.

Schwartz himself, but Schwartz so changed, so lean, so woebegone, as
hardly to be recognisable, even to the eye of friendship. Of all his
diverse-raging hairs not one to assert itself, but all plastered close
with an oily sleekness by a slimy clinging mud, the thin ribs showing
plainly, and the hinder part of the poor wretch's barrel a mere
hand-grasp. His very tail, which had used to look like an irregular
much-worn bottle-brush, was thin and sleek like a rat's, and he tucked
it away as if he were ashamed of it. His feet were clotted with red
earth, and he walked as if his head were a burden to him, he hung it so
mournfully and carried it so low.

My young English acquaintance, who, like myself, had been watching the
procession, had posted himself a little farther down the road, with
Scraper near at hand. Near to him, employing all the ingratiatory
insinuating arts she knew, and so absorbed in Scraper that she forgot
even to direct the procession, was Lil. To her, fawning and whining in
such an excess of feeble joy as can be rarely known to dogs or man,
came the half-starved, half-drowned creature. I was already halfway
to Schwartz's rescue, with immediate milk, to be followed by soap
and water, in my m