realm is ostentatiously making."

The other journals repeated the paragraph in much the same language. The
evening edition added that the happy inventor would not have to wait
long for his reward. The Emperor, always a connoisseur in artillery, had
sent him ten thousand francs from his private purse simply as a faint
token of appreciation. "Those familiar with what, in these rapid times,
is the ancient history of Paris, may remember that a stain was attached
to the name of Clemenceau. In his son, it will shine untarnished, and go
down to posterity glorious with lustre."

"What a fool I have been," thought Césarine. "I fled with a silly fellow
who had no more sense than to fall into a trap, for a paltry handful of
drafts that may not be paid on presentation, and desert a husband who
will be one of the millionaire-inventors of his country!"

Reflecting in the night, she radically reversed her programme.

Her uncle had recovered from the stroke but the physician warned him
that the next would kill him. He was happy in the cares of the Lesperons
and his grandniece, none of whom would be forgotten when the hour struck
for him to leave his worldly goods. Césarine could quit him in
confidence of a handsome inheritance at not a distant day.

Her flight and absence were commendable in the world's most censorious
eyes. Only one thought perplexed her: was it her husband who had
officiated at the execution of her gallant? If so, her lie would not
hold. But in doubt a shameless sinner chooses to brazen it out.

"I should be a confirmed imbecile to let this chance go and not resume