d brilliant teeth which
seemed to light up his whole face when his exquisitely modelled lips
parted in a sweet and melancholy smile.

The contrast between him and the second traveller was very striking.
Beneath his cocked hat escaped a profusion of frizzled hair, red rather
than brown; beneath this mop of hair sparkled a pair of gray eyes which
at the slightest opposition grew so fierce that they seemed black; a
fair complexion, thin lips, a tawny mustache, and admirable teeth
completed the description of his face. Taken all in all, with his white
skin, lofty stature, and broad shoulders, he was indeed a _beau
cavalier_ in the ordinary acceptation of the term, and during the last
hour which he had employed in staring up at all the windows, under the
pretext of looking for signs, he had attracted the general attention of
women, while the men, though they may have felt inclined to laugh at his
scanty cloak, his tight-fitting small-clothes, and his old-fashioned
boots, checked their rising mirth with a most cordial _Dieu vous garde_,
after they had more attentively studied his face, which every moment
assumed a dozen different expressions, but never that good-natured one
characteristic of a bewildered provincial.

He it was who first addressed the other gentleman who, as I have said,
was gazing at the hostelry of _La Belle Etoile_.

"By Heaven! monsieur," said he, with that horrible mountain accent which
would instantly distinguish a native of Piedmont among a hundred
strangers, "we are close to the Louvre, are we not? At all events, I
think your choice is the same as mine, and I am highly flattered by it."

"Monsieur," replied the other, with a Provencal accent which rivalled
that of his companion, "I believe this inn is near the Louvre. However,
I am still deliberating whether or not I shall have the honor of sharing
your opinion. I am in a quandary."

"You have not yet decided, sir? Nevertheless, the house is attractive.
But perhaps, after all, I have been won over to it by your presence. Yet
you will grant that is a pretty painting?"

"Very! and it is for that very reason I mistrust it. Paris, I am told,
is full of sharpers, and you may be just as well tricked by a sign as by
anything else."

"By Heaven!" replied the Piedmontese, "I don't care a fig for their
tricks; and if the host does not serve me a chicken as well roasted as
the one on his sign, I will put him on the spit, nor will I let him off
till I have