et the Great Place, and quiet the never-stirring streets; closed the
cafes; huddled together motionless their billiard-balls; drowsy the guard
or sentinel on duty here and there; lulled for the time, by sleep, even
the insatiate appetite of the Office of Town-dues.

Mr. The Englishman left the Place behind, and left the streets behind,
and left the civilian-inhabited town behind, and descended down among the
military works of Vauban, hemming all in. As the shadow of the first
heavy arch and postern fell upon him and was left behind, as the shadow
of the second heavy arch and postern fell upon him and was left behind,
as his hollow tramp over the first drawbridge was succeeded by a gentler
sound, as his hollow tramp over the second drawbridge was succeeded by a
gentler sound, as he overcame the stagnant ditches one by one, and passed
out where the flowing waters were and where the moonlight, so the dark
shades and the hollow sounds and the unwholesomely locked currents of his
soul were vanquished and set free. See to it, Vaubans of your own
hearts, who gird them in with triple walls and ditches, and with bolt and
chain and bar and lifted bridge,--raze those fortifications, and lay them
level with the all-absorbing dust, before the night cometh when no hand
can work!

All went prosperously, and he got into an empty carriage in the train,
where he could lay Bebelle on the seat over against him, as on a couch,
and cover her from head to foot with his mantle. He had just drawn
himself up from perfecting this arrangement, and had just leaned back in
his own seat contemplating it with great satisfaction, when he became
aware of a curious appearance at the open carriage window,--a ghostly
little tin box floating up in the moonlight, and hovering there.

He leaned forward, and put out his head. Down among the rails and wheels
and ashes, Monsieur Mutuel, red ribbon and all!

"Excuse me, Monsieur The Englishman," said Monsieur Mutuel, holding up
his box at arm's length, the carriage being so high and he so low; "but I
shall reverence the little box for ever, if your so generous hand will
take a pinch from it at parting."

Mr. The Englishman reached out of the window before complying,
and--without asking the old fellow what business it was of his--shook
hands and said, "Adieu! God bless you!"

"And, Mr. The Englishman, God bless _you_!" cried Madame Bouclet, who was
also there among the rails and wheels and ashes. "And G