aid he.--"When I did leeves my Paris beloved, helas! I was
tored from my lofe--my fiancee dat I adore! I leaves her in hopes and
au desespoir. I dreams of her images in my exiles! When I learns at my
acadamies ze young ladees, ze beautifool Eenglish mees, I tinks of ma
belle Marie, her figure, and her face angelique, wheech I sail nevaire
forgets--no, nevaire! And I says to myselfs, `Ah! she ees more
beautifools dan dese!' Mais, mon ami, I was deceives by her all dat
time. Not sooner go I from France, dan she ees marie to un grand, gros,
fat epicier of La Villette--Marie dat was fiancee au moi, gentilhomme!
Mais, mon Dieu; when I was heard ze news, I was enrage--I goes back to
Paris. I fears notings--no mouchard--no gend'armerie--no notings--
although, I was suspect and deporte de France! I sends un cartel--you
comprends--to ze gros bon ami de ma Marie, ce cochon d'un epicier! We
meets in ze Bois: I gives him one leetel tierce en carte dat spoils his
lovemakings for awhile; and, I leeves France again for evers--dat is,
unless ma patrie and ze sacred cause of ze Republique Francaise calls
upon me--but, not till den! So, you sees, my youngish friends, dat
oders suffer like yourselfs. I have told to you my story; cheer oop!
If ze ladees have deceives you, she is not wort one snaps of ze
fingers!"

"But, she has not deceived me," I said.

"Den why are you melancolique?"

"Because, because--" I hesitated:--I was ashamed to say what made me
despondent.

"For ze reasons dat you don't knows weder she lofes you or not?" he
asked. "Ah, ha! Den, why not ask her, my friends? You are young; you
have a deesposeetion good; you are handsome--"

"O-oh, Monsieur Parole," I exclaimed at his nattering category of my
attributes, almost blushing.

"Ah, but yes," he went on--"I am quaite raite. You are handsome; with
un air distingue; reech."

I shook my head, to show that I could not lay claim to being a
millionaire, in addition to my other virtues.

"No, not reech, but clevaire; and you will be reech bye-bye! I see not
why ze ladees should not leesten to you, mon ami, he?--But, if she does
note; why, courage! Dere are many odere ladees beautifool also in
England; and, yet, if you feels your loss mooch, like myselfs with ma
perfide Marie, why you can go aways and be console, as I!"

His words encouraged me:--and, my face imperceptibly brightened.

"Ah, ha! dat is bettaire," he said--"I likes you, Meestaire Lorto