an to grow impatient, stamping
her feet and insisting on hearing the story.

"Oh, tell her what she wants," said Lisa, as the child persisted and
became quite unbearable; "she'll leave us in peace then."

Florent remained silent for a moment longer, with his eyes turned
towards the floor. Then slowly raising his head he let his gaze rest
first on the two women who were plying their needles, and next on Quenu
and Auguste, who were preparing the pot for the black-puddings. The gas
was burning quietly, the stove diffused a gentle warmth, and all the
grease of the kitchen glistened in an atmosphere of comfort such as
attends good digestion

Then, taking little Pauline upon his knee, and smiling a sad smile,
Florent addressed himself to the child as follows[*]:--

[*] Florent's narrative is not romance, but is based on the
statements of several of the innocent victims whom the third
Napoleon transported to Cayenne when wading through blood to
the power which he so misused.--Translator.

"Once upon a time there was a poor man who was sent away, a long, long
way off, right across the sea. On the ship which carried him were four
hundred convicts, and he was thrown among them. He was forced to live
for five weeks amidst all those scoundrels, dressed like them in coarse
canvas, and feeding at their mess. Foul insects preyed on him, and
terrible sweats robbed him of all his strength. The kitchen, the
bakehouse, and the engine-room made the orlop deck so terribly hot that
ten of the convicts died from it. In the daytime they were sent up in
batches of fifty to get a little fresh air from the sea; and as the crew
of the ship feared them, a couple of cannons were pointed at the little
bit of deck where they took exercise. The poor fellow was very glad
indeed when his turn to go up came. His terrible perspiration then
abated somewhat; still, he could not eat, and felt very ill. During the
night, when he was manacled again, and the rolling of the ship in the
rough sea kept knocking him against his companions, he quite broke down,
and began to cry, glad to be able to do so without being seen."

Pauline was listening with dilated eyes, and her little hands crossed
primly in front of her.

"But this isn't the story of the gentleman who was eaten by the wild
beasts," she interrupted. "This is quite a different story; isn't it
now, cousin?"

"Wait a bit, and you'll see," replied Florent gently. "I shall come
to