mes of
philosophers and poets, and in talking a little now and then in all
languages.

II

A CERTAIN PREDILECTION

Gilliatt was a child of Nature. Mess Lethierry was the same.

Lethierry's uncultivated nature, however, was not without certain
refinements.

He was fastidious upon the subject of women's hands. In his early years,
while still a lad, passing from the stage of cabin-boy to that of
sailor, he had heard the Admiral de Suffren say, "There goes a pretty
girl; but what horrible great red hands." An observation from an admiral
on any subject is a command, a law, an authority far above that of an
oracle. The exclamation of Admiral de Suffren had rendered Lethierry
fastidious and exacting in the matter of small and white hands. His own
hand, a large club fist of the colour of mahogany, was like a mallet or
a pair of pincers for a friendly grasp, and, tightly closed, would
almost break a paving-stone.

He had never married; he had either no inclination for matrimony, or had
never found a suitable match. That, perhaps, was due to his being a
stickler for hands like those of a duchess. Such hands are, indeed,
somewhat rare among the fishermen's daughters at Portbail.

It was whispered, however, that at Rochefort, on the Charente, he had,
once upon a time, made the acquaintance of a certain grisette, realising
his ideal. She was a pretty girl with graceful hands; but she was a
vixen, and had also a habit of scratching. Woe betide any one who
attacked her! yet her nails, though capable at a pinch of being turned
into claws, were of a cleanliness which left nothing to be desired. It
was these peculiarly bewitching nails which had first enchanted and then
disturbed the peace of Lethierry, who, fearing that he might one day
become no longer master of his mistress, had decided not to conduct that
young lady to the nuptial altar.

Another time he met at Aurigny a country girl who pleased him. He
thought of marriage, when one of the inhabitants of the place said to
him, "I congratulate you; you will have for your wife a good fuel
maker." Lethierry asked the meaning of this. It appeared that the
country people at Aurigny have a certain custom of collecting manure
from their cow-houses, which they throw against a wall, where it is left
to dry and fall to the ground. Cakes of dried manure of this kind are
used for fuel, and are called _coipiaux_. A country girl of Aurigny has
no chance of getting a husband if s