ad on other days granted to us."

"The history to which M. Morrel alludes," continued Chateau-Renaud, "is
an admirable one, which he will tell you some day when you are better
acquainted with him; to-day let us fill our stomachs, and not our
memories. What time do you breakfast, Albert?"

"At half-past ten."

"Precisely?" asked Debray, taking out his watch.

"Oh, you will give me five minutes' grace," replied Morcerf, "for I also
expect a preserver."

"Of whom?"

"Of myself," cried Morcerf; "parbleu, do you think I cannot be saved as
well as any one else, and that there are only Arabs who cut off heads?
Our breakfast is a philanthropic one, and we shall have at table--at
least, I hope so--two benefactors of humanity."

"What shall we do?" said Debray; "we have only one Monthyon prize."

"Well, it will be given to some one who has done nothing to deserve it,"
said Beauchamp; "that is the way the Academy mostly escapes from the
dilemma."

"And where does he come from?" asked Debray. "You have already answered
the question once, but so vaguely that I venture to put it a second
time."

"Really," said Albert, "I do not know; when I invited him three months
ago, he was then at Rome, but since that time who knows where he may
have gone?"

"And you think him capable of being exact?" demanded Debray.

"I think him capable of everything."

"Well, with the five minutes' grace, we have only ten left."

"I will profit by them to tell you something about my guest."

"I beg pardon," interrupted Beauchamp; "are there any materials for an
article in what you are going to tell us?"

"Yes, and for a most curious one."

"Go on, then, for I see I shall not get to the Chamber this morning, and
I must make up for it."

"I was at Rome during the last Carnival."

"We know that," said Beauchamp.

"Yes, but what you do not know is that I was carried off by bandits."

"There are no bandits," cried Debray.

"Yes there are, and most hideous, or rather most admirable ones, for I
found them ugly enough to frighten me."

"Come, my dear Albert," said Debray, "confess that your cook is
behindhand, that the oysters have not arrived from Ostend or Marennes,
and that, like Madame de Maintenon, you are going to replace the dish
by a story. Say so at once; we are sufficiently well-bred to excuse you,
and to listen to your history, fabulous as it promises to be."

"And I say to you, fabulous as it may seem, I tell it as a true on