eeling that even a small spice of malice
might have found food for laughter in the absurdity of my durance, yet
not one there could see anything in the whole affair save a grave case
of smuggled tobacco, and a most unwarrantable exercise of authority on
the part of the cure who liberated me. Indeed, this latter seemed to
gain ground so rapidly, that once or twice I began to fear they might
remand me and sentence me to another night in the air, 'till justice
should be satisfied.' I did the worthy Maire de Givet foul wrong, said I
to myself; these people here are not a whit better.

The company continued to arrive at every moment; and now I remarked that
it was the veteran battalion who led the march, the younger members of
the household only dropping in as the hour grew later. Among these was a
pleasant sprinkling of Frenchmen, as easily recognisable among Flemings
as is an officer of the Blues from one of the new police; a German
baron, a very portrait of his class, fat, heavy-browed, sulky-looking,
but in reality a good-hearted, fine-tempered fellow; two Americans;
an English colonel, with his daughters twain; and a Danish _charge d'
affaires_--the minor characters being what, in dramatic phrase, are
called _premiers_ and _premieres_, meaning thereby young people of
either sex, dressed in the latest mode, and performing the part of
lovers; the ladies, with a moderate share of good looks, being perfect
in the freshness of their toilette and in a certain air of ease and
gracefulness almost universal abroad; the men, a strange mixture of
silliness and savagery (a bad cross), half hairdresser, half hero.

Before the dinner was announced, I had time to perceive that the company
was divided into two different and very opposite currents--one party
consisting of the old Dutch or Flemish race, quiet, plodding, peaceable
souls, pretending to nothing new, enjoying everything old, their
souvenirs referring to some event in the time of their grandfathers;
the other section being the younger portion, who, strongly imbued with
French notions on dress and English on sporting matters, attempted to
bring Newmarket and the Boulevards des Italiens into the heart of the
Ardennes.

Between the two, and connecting them with each other, was a species of
_pont du diable_, in the person of a little, dapper, olive-complexioned
man of about forty. His eyes were black as jet, but with an expression
soft and subdued, save at moments of excitement