into her hair! And all so overflowing with good-nature, with
encouragement for the artist. I tried them at least twenty times, kept
them until five o'clock at night. They left me only when it was dark,
to go and dine! Fancy that wedding-day passed in a photograph gallery!"

While Andre thus jocosely narrated the melancholy incidents of his
life, Paul recalled Felicia's outburst on the subject of Bohemians, and
all that she said to Jenkins concerning their exalted courage, their
thirst for privations and trials. He thought also of Aline's passionate
fondness for her dear Paris, of which he knew nothing but the unhealthy
eccentricities, whereas the great city concealed so much unknown
heroism, so many noble illusions in its folds. The sensation he had
previously felt in the circle of the Joyeuses' great lamp, he was even
more keenly conscious of in that less warm, less peaceful spot, whither
art brought its desperate or glorious uncertainty; and it was with a
melting heart that he listened while Andre Maranne talked to him of
Elise, of the examination she was so long in passing, of the difficult
trade of photography, of all the unforeseen hardships of his life,
which would surely come to an end "when _Revolte_ should have been
brought out," a fascinating smile playing about the poet's lips as they
gave utterance to that hope, so often expressed, which he made haste to
ridicule himself, as if to deprive others of the right to ridicule it.

X.

MEMOIRS OF A CLERK.--THE SERVANTS.

Really the wheel of fortune in Paris revolves in a way to make one's
head swim!

To have seen the _Caisse Territoriale_ as I have seen it, fireless
rooms, never swept, covered with the dust of the desert, notices of
protest piled high on the desks, a notice of sale on execution at the
door every week, and my ragout diffusing the odor of a poor man's
kitchen over it all; and to witness now the rehabilitation of our
Society in its newly-furnished salons, where it is my duty to light
ministerial fires, in the midst of a busy throng, with whistles,
electric bells, piles of gold pieces so high that they topple over--it
borders on the miraculous. To convince myself that it is all true, I
have to look at myself in the glass, to gaze at my iron-gray coat
trimmed with silver, my white cravat, my usher's chain such as I used
to wear at the Faculty on council days. And to think that, to effect
this transformation, to bring back to our brows the