her head by the white-haired veteran. A sweet chorus was then
chanted--_Vive, vive la rosière_!--in the melodious verses of which the
signification of the ceremonial and the praises of the fête-queen were
recited.

Thus far matters had proceeded happily, when the attention of the gay
party was attracted by the apparition of a commissaire of police, who,
marching up with the aspect of a man having important and disagreeable
business to perform, exclaimed: '_Eh, bien!_ we are merry to-day! Accept
my best wishes for your enjoyment. Can you tell me, friends, where I am
likely to find a fair _demoiselle_--one Julia, daughter of Mme Veuve
Gostillon?'

'_Voila_, monsieur!' cried several, much surprised. 'Our _rosière_ is
she!'

'Ah, what a fate is mine!' muttered the worthy commissaire, much
affected, as he looked at the beautiful and rose-wreathed Julia. 'If I
had ten thousand francs, I would give them all to be spared this work:
but duty is duty. Courage! all may yet be well. Friends,' continued he,
raising his voice, 'excuse me if I interrupt you some few minutes. I
would not do it were I not bound to. It will be necessary for Mlle
Julia to accompany me to her home. I trust we shall not be absent long.'
He raised his cap, offered his arm; and Julia, amazed and frightened,
descended from her throne, and conducted him to the cottage.

'Pardon, mademoiselle,' said he, when they stood inside; 'I am
instructed to search this house.' Julia, puzzled, confounded, bowed
assent.