It was late in the afternoon when the intelligence arrived of a decisive
victory for the army of General PALADINES, who had been manoeuvring for
nearly a fortnight to draw the Germans into a sort of _cul-de-sac_
formed by the extension of the French lines from Le Mans to Nogent and
Etamps.

It came from such an authentic source, and had about it such appearances
of probability, that I immediately retired to the silence of my chamber
for the purpose of preparing a graphic review of the French situation, a
review in fact for which I had long sought some such opportunity. I had
made considerable progress with my paper, and was about to enter upon
that branch of the subject devoted to discussing the bearings of such a
victory upon the future prospects of France, when a tap at my door was
heard, and the red head of my landlady's first-born appeared.

"Monsieur is wanted down stairs," said the boy, with an alarmed look. I
hurried down and out into the street, only to be met by a messenger from
the Hotel de Ville, with the information that later despatches
contradicted the victory. The shock to my feelings can only be
appreciated by a writer who feels that he has consumed thirty or forty
pages of foolscap in vain. I had been over two hours at that work. I had
put all the brains I possessed in it. Many of the sentences so pleased
me that I had turned back with pardonable conceit to read them over and
admire them: but now, like a destroying angel, came the news that shook
from beneath my beautiful superstructure its very foundations, and left
me nothing but the humiliation of so much time and labor lost.

I went back to my room, and cast myself on the bed in deep affliction.
If I had been a single man I believe I could have hanged myself without