le bit of work--"

"An admirable bit of work!" echoed Isidore, giving a whirl which
brought down the Virgin Mary.

M. Filleul took hold of him round the body:

"Young man, I won't allow you to commit--"

A wise man of the East came toppling to the ground, followed by a
manger containing the Mother and Child. . . .

"If you stir another limb, I fire!"

The Comte de Gesvres had appeared upon the scene and was cocking his
revolver. Beautrelet burst out laughing:

"That's right, Monsieur le Comte, blaze away!--Take a shot at them, as
if you were at a fair!--Wait a bit--this chap carrying his head in his
hands--"

St. John the Baptist fell, shattered to pieces.

"Oh!" shouted the count, pointing his revolver. "You young
vandal!--Those masterpieces!"

"Sham, Monsieur le Comte!"

"What? What's that?" roared M. Filleul, wresting the Comte de Gesvres's
weapon from him.

"Sham!" repeated Beautrelet. "Paper-pulp and plaster!"

"Oh, nonsense! It can't be true!"

"Hollow plaster, I tell you! Nothing at all!"

The count stooped and picked up a sliver of a statuette.

"Look at it, Monsieur le Comte, and see for yourself: it's plaster!
Rusty, musty, mildewed plaster, made to look like old stone--but
plaster for all that, plaster casts!--That's all that remains of your
perfect masterpiece!--That's what they've done in just a few
days!-That's what the Sieur Charpenais who copied the Rubenses,
prepared a year ago." He seized M. Filleul's arm in his turn. "What do
you think of it, Monsieur le Juge d'Instruction? Isn't it fine? Isn't
it grand? Isn't it gorgeous? The chapel has been removed! A whole
Gothic chapel collected stone by stone! A whole population of statues
captured and replaced by these chaps in stucco! One of the most
magnificent specimens of an incomparable artistic period confiscated!
The chapel, in short, stolen! Isn't it immense? Ah, Monsieur le Juge
d'Instruction, what a genius the man is!"

"You're allowing yourself to be carried away, M. Beautrelet."

"One can't be carried away too much, monsieur, when one has to do with
people like that. Everything above the average deserves our admiration.
And this man soars above everything. There is in his flight a wealth of
imagination, a force and power, a skill and freedom that send a thrill
through me!"

"Pity he's dead," said M. Filleul, with a grin. "He'd have ended by
stealing the towers of Notre-Dame."

Isidore shrugged his shoulders:

"Don't laugh