ows, still afraid to open up. Fragments of broken canes,
battered hats, and torn vestments told an eloquent story of political
differences.

"We certainly missed the fun here," thought Jean. "Hello! What's
this?"

He had tripped on a woman's skirt in the shadow of the wall.

"Peste! Why can't our fair dames and demoiselles let _us_ fight it
out? There really isn't enough to go round!"

He paused, then returned impulsively and looked at the dark
bundle,--stirred it with his foot. It was certainly the figure of a
woman.

"Last round," he muttered; "next, the Seine!"

His budding professional instincts prompted him to search for the
pulse.

It was still.

And when he took his hand away it was covered with blood.

"Wait!"

He placed his hand over the heart, then uncovered a young but bruised
and swollen face.

"The cavalry," he murmured. "She's dead; she--well, perhaps it was
better."

He glanced up and down the street, as if considering whether to go his
way or to call the police. There was nobody in sight near enough to
attract by cries. The police were busy elsewhere. Then his face all at
once lighted up.

"A good idea!" he ejaculated,--"a very good idea!"

He saw two cabs approaching.

Calling the first, he began to carry the good idea into immediate
execution.

"What is it, monsieur?" inquired the cabman, seeing the body.

"An accident. Quick, cocher!"

With his usual decision Jean thrust the body into the cab and followed
it.

"Allez!" he commanded.

"But, monsieur,--the--the--where to?"

"Pont de Solferino, to Boulevard St. Germain. An extra franc, my lad!"

Having vaguely started the cabby, Jean had time to think. He knew the
prejudices most people entertain concerning the dead. Especially the
prejudices of Paris police agents and cabmen. To give the Rue de
Medecine would set the man to speculating. To mention Le Petit Rouge
would be to have him hail the first man in uniform.

As to Jean Marot, medical student, du Quartier Latin, in his fourth
year, a lifeless body was no more than a bag of sand. It was merely a
"subject."

"The chief benefit conferred upon society and humanity by a large
proportion of our population," he would have cynically observed to any
caviller, "is by dying and becoming useful 'subjects.'"

He considered himself fortunate, however, in having a close cab, out
of deference to those who might differ with him. They crossed the Pont
de Solferino, where a moment