hat "ces messieurs" ought to be ashamed of themselves, and
watched over Barty like a mother. He has often declared he was never
quite the same after that debauch--and couldn't feel the north for a
month.

The house was soon full of guests, and Barty and I slept in M.
Laferte's bedroom--his wife in a room adjoining.

Every morning old Polyphemus would wake us up by roaring out:

"He! ma femme!"

"Voila, voila, mon ami!" from the next room.

"Viens vite panser mon cautere!"

And in came Madame L. in her dressing-gown, and dressed a blister he
wore on his big arm.

Then: "Cafe!"

And coffee came, and he drank it in bed.

Then: "Pipe!"

And his pipe was brought and filled, and he lit it.

Then: "Josselin!"

"Oui, M'sieur Laferte."

"Tire moi une gamme."

"Doremifasollasido--Dosilasolfamiredo!" sang Josselin, up and down,
in beautiful tune, with his fresh bird-like soprano.

"Ah! q' ca fait du bien!" says M. L.; then a pause, and puffs of
smoke and grunts and sighs of satisfaction.

"Josselin?"

"Oui, M'sieur Laferte!"

"'La brune Therese!'"

And Josselin would sing about the dark-haired Theresa--three verses.

"Tu as change la fin du second couplet--tu as dit '_des comtesses_' au
lieu de dire '_des duchesses_'--recommence!" (You changed the end of the
second verse--you said "countesses" instead of "duchesses"--begin
again.)

And Barty would re-sing it, as desired, and bring in the duchesses.

"Maintenant, 'Colin, disait Lisette!'"

And Barty would sing that charming little song, most charmingly:

"'Colin,' disait Lisette,
'Je voudrais passer l'eau!
Mais je suis trop pauvrette
Pour payer le bateau!'
'Entrez, entrez, ma belle!
Entrez, entrez toujours!
Et vogue la nacelle
Qui porte mes amours!"

And old L. would smoke and listen with an air of heavenly beatitude
almost pathetic.

"Elle etait bien gentille, Lisette--n'est-ce pas,
petiot?--recommence!" (She was very nice, Lisette; wasn't she,
sonny?--being again!)

"Now both get up and wash and go to breakfast. Come here,
Josselin--you see this little silver dagger" (producing it from
under his pillow). "It's rather pointy, but not at all dangerous.
My mother gave it me when I was just your age--to cut books with;
it's for you. Allons, file! [cut along] no thanks!--but look
here--are you coming with us a la chasse to-day?"

"Non, M. Laferte!"

"Pourquoi?--t'as pas peur, j'espere!"