Absinthe," he said gravely, "you are wrong, quite wrong. And that this
man has an education superior to his apparent position is proved by the
fact that you did not understand his meaning, nor his intention. It was
this single phrase that enlightened me."

Father Absinthe's physiognomy expressed the strange and comical
perplexity of a man who is so thoroughly mystified that he knows not
whether to laugh, or to be angry. After reflecting a little, he decided
to adopt the latter course. "You are rather too young to impose upon an
old fellow like me," he remarked. "I don't like boasters--"

"One moment!" interrupted Lecoq; "allow me to explain. You have
certainly heard of a terrible battle which resulted in one of the
greatest defeats that ever happened to France--the battle of Waterloo?"

"I don't see the connection--"

"Answer, if you please."

"Yes--then! I have heard of it!"

"Very well; you must know then that for some time victory seemed likely
to rest with the banners of France. The English began to fall back, and
the emperor had already exclaimed: 'We have them!' when suddenly on the
right, a little in the rear, a large body of troops was seen advancing.
It was the Prussian army. The battle of Waterloo was lost."

In all his life, worthy Father Absinthe had never made such a strenuous
effort to understand anything. In this case his perseverance was not
wholly useless, for, springing from his stool, and probably in much the