rs, many obsequious schwitzars on the
lookout for tips, many poor creatures sitting against the walls on dirty
benches, desks and clerks, brilliant boots and epaulets of gay young
officers who are telling tales of the Aquarium with great relish.

"Monsieur Rouletabille! Ah, yes. Please be seated. Delighted, M.
Koupriane will be very happy to receive you, but just at this moment he
is at inspection. Yes, the inspection of the police dormitories in
the barracks. We will take you there. His own idea! He doesn't neglect
anything, does he? A great Chief. Have you seen the police-guards'
dormitory? Admirable! The first dormitories of the world. We say that
without wishing to offend France. We love France. A great nation! I will
take you immediately to M. Koupriane. I shall be delighted."

"I also," said Rouletabille, who put a rouble into the honorable
functionary's hand.

"Permit me to precede you."

Bows and salutes. For two roubles he would have walked obsequiously
before him to the end of the world.

"These functionaries are admirable," thought Rouletabille as he was led
to the barracks. He felt he had not paid too much for the services of a
personage whose uniform was completely covered with lace. They tramped,
they climbed, they descended. Stairways, corridors. Ah, the barracks at
last. He seemed to have entered a convent. Beds very white, very narrow,
and images of the Virgin and saints everywhere, monastic neatness and
the most absolute silence. Suddenly an order sounded in the corridor
outside, and the police-guard, who sprang from no one could tell where,
stood to attention at the head of their beds. Koupriane and his aide
appeared. Koupriane looked at everything closely, spoke to each man in
turn, called them by their names, inquired about their needs, and
the men stammered replies, not knowing what to answer, reddening like
children. Koupriane observed Rouletabille. He dismissed his aide with
a gesture. The inspection was over. He drew the young man into a little
room just off the dormitory. Rouletabille, frightened, looked about him.
He found himself in a chapel. This little chapel completed the effect of
the guards' dormitory. It was all gilded, decorated in marvelous colors,
thronged with little ikons that bring happiness, and, naturally, with
the portrait of the Tsar, the dear Little Father.

"You see," said Koupriane, smiling at Rouletabille's amazement, "we deny
them nothing. We give them their saints