tesse, tell us the pretty speech," begged the Russian
prince.

"The speech was as pretty as the fan," returned the Vicomtesse, who
brought out the stereotyped remark on all occasions. "He told my
mother that it was quite time that it should pass from the hands of
vice into those of virtue."

The English lord looked at Mme. Camusot de Marville with an air of
doubt not a little gratifying to so withered a woman.

"He used to dine at our house two or three times a week," she said;
"he was so fond of us! We could appreciate him, and artists like the
society of those who relish their wit. My husband was, besides, his
one surviving relative. So when, quite unexpectedly, M. de Marville
came into the property, M. le Comte preferred to take over the whole
collection to save it from a sale by auction; and we ourselves much
preferred to dispose of it in that way, for it would have been so
painful to us to see the beautiful things, in which our dear cousin
was so much interested, all scattered abroad. Elie Magus valued them,
and in that way I became possessed of the cottage that your uncle
built, and I hope you will do us the honor of coming to see us there."

Gaudissart's theatre passed into other hands a year ago, but M.
Topinard is still the cashier. M. Topinard, however, has grown gloomy
and misanthropic; he says little. People think that he has something
on his conscience. Wags at the theatre suggest that his gloom dates
from his marriage with Lolotte. Honest Topinard starts whenever he
hears Fraisier's name mentioned. Some people may think it strange that
the one nature worthy of Pons and Schmucke should be found on the
third floor beneath the stage of a boulevard theatre.

Mme. Remonencq, much impressed with Mme. Fontaine's prediction,
declines to retire to the country. She is still living in her splendid
shop on the Boulevard de la Madeleine, but she is a widow now for the
second time. Remonencq, in fact, by the terms of the marriage
contract, settled the property upon the survivor, and left a little
glass of vitriol about for his wife to drink by mistake; but his wife,
with the very best intentions, put the glass elsewhere, and Remonencq
swallowed the draught himself. The rascal's appropriate end vindicates
Providence, as well as the chronicler of manners, who is sometimes
accused of neglect on this head, perhaps because Providence has been
so overworked by playwrights of late.

Pardon the transcriber's errors.