"

"Yes; my name is Clemenceau, at your service."

"Then, monsieur, I am--where the plague have I put my card-case--I am
Guillaume Cantagnac, lately in business as a notary, but for the
present, at the head of an enterprise for the purchase of landed
estates, and their development by high culture for the ground and
superior structures instead of their antiquated houses. I read in the
_Moniteur des Ventes_, and on the placard at your gates, that you are
willing to dispose of this residence and the land appertaining
thereunto. I am not on business this morning, but taking a little
pleasure-trip--no, not pleasure-trip--God forbid I should find any
pleasure now! I mean a little tour for distraction after a great sorrow
that has befallen me."

The stout man, though he could have felled a bull with a blow of his
leg-of-mutton fist, seemed about to break down in tears. But, burying
his empurpled nose in a large red handkerchief, he passed off his
emotion in a potent blast which made the ornaments on the mantel-shelf
quake, and resumed in an unsteady voice:

"I would have made a note and deferred to another day seeing the
property you offer and learning its area, value, situation, advantages
and defects--for there is always some flaw in a terrestrial paradise,
ha, ha! But your hospitable gate was on the latch--such an inviting
expression was on the face of a rather pretty servant girl on your
porch--faith! I could not resist the temptation to make the acquaintance
of the happy owner of this Eden! and lo! I am rewarded by the power to
go home to Marseilles and tell my companion domino-players in the Cafe
Dame de la Garde that I saw the renowned constructor of the new
cannon--M. Felix Clemenceau, with whom the Emperor has spoken about the
defense of our beloved country!"

Clemenceau could only bow under this deluge of words.

"M. Clemenceau, will you honor me with the clasp of the hand?"

The host allowed his hand to disappear from view in the enormous one
presented, timidly.

"Ah! in case of the universal European War, they are talking about,
France will have need of such men as you!"

The embarrassing situation for the modest inventor was altered for the
better by the entrance of Antonino, who darted a keen glance upon the
genial stranger.

"How do you do?" cried the latter, nodding kindly. "Your son, I suppose,
M. Clemenceau?"

"By adoption. I am hardly of the age to have a son as old as that!"

"I beg your par