manner without exaggeration, and watch the faces of the two criminals,
you know, without seeming to do so--out of the corner of your eye, or
in a glass, on the sly. This morning we will hunt the hare, this
evening we will hunt the Public Prosecutor."

The evening began with a triumph for Lousteau, who returned the album
to the lady with this elegy written in it:


SPLEEN

You ask for verse from me, the feeble prey
Of this self-seeking world, a waif and stray
With none to whom to cling;
From me--unhappy, purblind, hopeless devil!
Who e'en in what is good see only evil
In any earthly thing!

This page, the pastime of a dame so fair,
May not reflect the shadow of my care,
For all things have their place.
Of love, to ladies bright, the poet sings,
Of joy, and balls, and dress, and dainty things--
Nay, or of God and Grace.

It were a bitter jest to bid the pen
Of one so worn with life, so hating men,
Depict a scene of joy.
Would you exult in sight to one born blind,
Or--cruel! of a mother's love remind