soldiers--they were dragoons and wore helmets too big for them and long
horsehair plumes--accompanied us with clanking sabres to the gallery of
the theatre, and at Paragot's invitation sat one on each side of
Blanquette, who, what with the unaccustomed bloodshed of the spectacle
and the gallantry of her neighbours, passed an evening of delirious
happiness. In those days I had an aesthetic soul above the 'Eventreurs de
Paris,' and I made fun of it to Paragot, whose thoughts were far away.
When I perceived this, I kept my withering sarcasm to myself, and
realised that a flattened man cannot be blown like a bladder into
permanent rotundity even by the faith and affection of a little
art-student. But I marvelled all the more at his gaiety during the
intervals, when we all went outside into the thronged boulevard and
drank bocks on the terrace of the cafe, and I learned how great a factor
in the continued existence of humanity is the Will-to-Laugh, which I
think the German philosopher has omitted from his system.

I mention this incident to show how Paragot defied the effects of the
steam roller and became outwardly himself again. He did not visit the
Cafe Delphine that night, but went soberly home with Blanquette, and I
believe read himself to sleep with his tattered odd volume of
Montesquieu. The following evening however found him in his usual seat
under the lee of Madame Boin's counter, arguing on art, literature and
philosophy and consuming a vast quantity of ill-assorted alcohols. And
then his life resumed its normal course.

It was about this time that Madame Boin seeing in Paragot an attractive
adjunct to her establishment and, with a Frenchwoman's business
instinct, desiring to make it permanent, paralysed him by an offer of
marriage.

"Madame," said he, as soon as he had recovered, "if I accepted the great
honour which you propose, you would doubtless require me to abandon
certain personal habits which are dear to me, and also to trim my hair
and beard and cut my finger-nails of whose fantastic length I am
inordinately proud."

"I think I should ask you to cut your nails," said Madame Boin
reflectively.

"Then, Madame," said Paragot, "it would be impossible. Shorn of these
adornments I should lose the power of conversation and I should be a
helpless and useless Samson on your hands."

"I don't see what long nails have to do with talking," argued Madame
Boin.

"They give one the necessary thirst," replied