d on
his shoulders, to the great delight of a fat Pompier, who stood by in a
bright brass helmet, exactly like a small coalscuttle.

PROTOCOL leads the way to the _foyer_, where a totally different scene
presents itself. This saloon is consecrated to persons in evening dress
and dominoes, no costumed characters being admitted. This is the resort
of all the "swells." Of course the blond children of Albion muster
strongly, and, indeed, rather eclipse the native gentlemen with their
severe hauteur and stately presence. Some of the ladies are in ball
dresses, and hang on the arm of cavaliers; the majority are in that
mysterious envelope which recalls AUBER'S charming comic opera, and
employ themselves in puzzling, or, as they say, "intriguing," whatever
acquaintances they recognise. PROTOCOL is immediately attacked by a tall
black domino, whose eyes sparkle with a lustre no mask can hide. She
whispers something in his ear which heightens his colour, and is gone
before he can demand an explanation. Now, by the shades of RADCLIFFE and
SIR WALTER, there is romance in the nineteenth century! Protocol, you
must practise the guitar and learn a collection of serenades "arranged
to suit a voice of moderate compass." "My dear fellow," replied the
diplomatist, "I thought no one in the world knew what that lovely
creature (I'm sure she's lovely) told me. Just fancy if she should turn
out to be as noble and rich as she is beautiful. Hey?" Ah, PROTOCOL, as
you say, just fancy! Why there she is again. MACHIAVEL is off in a trice
and pursues the fair who flies from him. The Contemplative One
entertains himself with hearing the adventures of young TWEEDLES, who
has just joined the Lancers, and is away on a fortnight's leave. The
poor child was induced to present a white domino with about five pounds'
worth of _sucre de pommes_, which he afterwards saw her resell to the
Marchand, to his infinite disgust. "You know," complained he, "it ain't
the money I care for, but it's such a howwid baw to be an object of
widicule to a dem Fwenchwoman. They widicule evewy one, and wespect
nothing. No wonder they're always having wevolutions and upsetting
weligion, and all that sort of thing. Let's make up a supper party at
the _Cafe Anglais_. You know my cousin SWELLINGS SWELLINGS, and there's
DE FAULTRE, who was in the 20th Black Guards, but wesides in Pawis
now--plays _ecarte_ vewy well--twemendous luck--always turning up the
king. I hope PWOTOCOL will