words."

This speech stopped Georges' narrative all the more surely, because at
this moment the coucou reached the guard-house of a brigade of
gendarmerie,--the white flag floating, as the orthodox saying is, upon
the breeze.

"You have too many decorations to do such a dastardly thing," said
Oscar.

"Never mind; we'll catch up with him soon," whispered Georges in the
lad's ear.

"Colonel," cried Leger, who was a good deal disturbed by the count's
outburst, and wanted to change the conversation, "in all these
countries where you have been, what sort of farming do they do? How do
they vary the crops?"

"Well, in the first place, my good fellow, you must understand, they
are too busy cropping off each others' heads to think much of cropping
the ground."

The count couldn't help smiling; and that smile reassured the
narrator.

"They have a way of cultivating which you will think very queer. They
don't cultivate at all; that's their style of farming. The Turks and
the Greeks, they eat onions or rise. They get opium from poppies, and
it gives them a fine revenue. Then they have tobacco, which grows of
itself, famous latakiah! and dates! and all kinds of sweet things that