ph!" said he.

Mrs. Ducksmith, dutiful and silent, turned away also.

"This sacred edifice," Aristide began, in his best cicerone manner, "was
built, after a classic model, by the great Napoleon, as a Temple of
Fame. It was afterwards used as a church. You will observe--and, if you
care to, you can count, as a conscientious American lady did last
week--the fifty-six Corinthian columns. You will see they are Corinthian
by the acanthus leaves on the capitals. For the vulgar, who have no
architectural knowledge, I have _memoria technica_ for the instant
recognition of the three orders--Cabbages, Corinthian; horns, Ionic;
anything else, Doric. We will now mount the steps and inspect the
interior."

He was dashing off in his eager fashion, when Mr. Ducksmith laid a
detaining hand on his arm.

"No," said he, solemnly. "I disapprove of Popish interiors. Take us to
the next place."

[Illustration: HE MIGHT AS WELL HAVE POINTED OUT THE MARVELS OF KUBLA
KHAN'S PLEASURE-DOME TO A COUPLE OF GUINEA-PIGS]

He entered the waiting victoria. His wife meekly followed.

"I suppose the Louvre is the next place?" said Aristide.

"I leave it to you," said Mr. Ducksmith.

Aristide gave the order to the cabman and took the little seat in the
cab facing his employers. On the way down the Rue Royale and the Rue de
Rivoli he pointed out the various buildings of interest--Maxim's, the
Cercle Royal, the Ministere de la Marine, the Hotel Continental. Two
expressionless faces, two pairs of unresponsive eyes, met his merry
glance. He might as well have pointed out the marvels of Kubla Khan's
pleasure-dome to a couple of guinea-pigs.

The cab stopped at the entrance to the galleries of the Louvre. They
entered and walked up the great staircase on the turn of which the
Winged Victory stands, with the wind of God in her vesture, proclaiming
to each beholder the deathless, ever-soaring, ever-conquering spirit of
man, and heralding the immortal glories of the souls, wind-swept
likewise by the wind of God, that are enshrined in the treasure-houses
beyond.

"There!" said Aristide.

"Umph! No head," said Mr. Ducksmith, passing it by with scarcely a
glance.

"Would it cost very much to get a new one?" asked Mrs. Ducksmith,
timidly. She was three or four paces behind her spouse.

"It would cost the blood and tears and laughter of the human race," said
Aristide.

("That was devilish good, wasn't it?" remarked Aristide, when t