and utter, in the giggle with which Phileas ended his phrases, a
silvery note. When God desired, in order to place all species of
mankind in this his terrestrial paradise, to create within it a
provincial bourgeois, his hands never made a more perfect and complete
type than Phileas Beauvisage.

"I admire," said that great work, "the devotion of those who fling
themselves into the tumult of political life; he! he! he! It takes
more nerve than I possess. Who could have told us in 1812 or 1813 that
we should come to this? As for me, nothing can surprise me in these
days, when asphalt, India-rubber, railroads, and steam have changed
the ground we tread on, and overcoats, and distances, he, he!"

These last words were seasoned with a prolonged laugh, and accompanied
by a gesture which he had made more especially his own: he closed his
right fist, struck it into the rounded palm of his left hand, and
rubbed it there with joyous satisfaction. This performance coincided
with his laughs on the frequent occasions when he thought he had said
a witty thing. Perhaps it is superfluous to add that Phileas
Beauvisage was regarded in Arcis as an amiable and charming man.

"I shall endeavor," replied Simon Giguet, "to worthily represent--"

"The sheep of Champagne," interpolated Achille Pigoult, interrupting
him.

The candidate swallowed that shaft without reply, for he was forced at
that moment to go forward and receive two more influential electors.

One was the landlord of the Mulet, the best inn in Arcis, standing on