out where the flowing waters were and where the moonlight, so the dark
shades and the hollow sounds and the unwholesomely locked currents of his
soul were vanquished and set free. See to it, Vaubans of your own
hearts, who gird them in with triple walls and ditches, and with bolt and
chain and bar and lifted bridge,--raze those fortifications, and lay them
level with the all-absorbing dust, before the night cometh when no hand
can work!

All went prosperously, and he got into an empty carriage in the train,
where he could lay Bebelle on the seat over against him, as on a couch,
and cover her from head to foot with his mantle. He had just drawn
himself up from perfecting this arrangement, and had just leaned back in
his own seat contemplating it with great satisfaction, when he became
aware of a curious appearance at the open carriage window,--a ghostly
little tin box floating up in the moonlight, and hovering there.

He leaned forward, and put out his head. Down among the rails and wheels
and ashes, Monsieur Mutuel, red ribbon and all!

"Excuse me, Monsieur The Englishman," said Monsieur Mutuel, holding up
his box at arm's length, the carriage being so high and he so low; "but I
shall reverence the little box for ever, if your so generous hand will
take a pinch from it at parting."

Mr. The Englishman reached out of the window before complying,
and--without asking the old fellow what business it was of his--shook
hands and said, "Adieu! God bless you!"

"And, Mr. The Englishman, God bless _you_!" cried Madame Bouclet, who was
also there among the rails and wheels and ashes. "And God will bless you