as he galloped upon the chasm: The horse dragged him on--dragged him on
--on--on. We, an army, so to speak, stood and watched the Tailor and the
Tragedy! All seemed lost, but, by the decree of fate--"

"The will of God," said the Cure softly.

"By the great decree, the man was able to stop the horse, not a half-
dozen feet from the ravine. The horse and the insensible driver were
spared death--death. So, Messieurs, does bravery come from unexpected
places--see?"

The Seigneur, the Cure, and even the Notary clapped their hands, and
murmured praises of the tailor-man. But the Colonel did not yet take his
seat.

"But now, mark the sequel," he said. "As I galloped over, I saw the
tailor look into the wagon, and turn away quickly. He waited by the
horse till I came near, and then walked off without a word. I rode up,
and tapped him with my sword upon the shoulder. 'A noble deed, my good
man,' said I. 'I approve of your conduct, and I will remember it in the
Legislature when I address the committee of the whole house on roads and
bridges.' What do you think was his reply to my affable words? When I
tapped him approvingly on the shoulder a second time, he screwed his eye-
glass in his eye, and, with no emotion, though my own eyes were full of
tears, he said, in a tone of affront, 'Look after the man there,
constable,' and pointed to the wagon. Constable--mon Dieu! Gross
manners even for a tailor!"

"I had not thought his manners bad," said the Cure, as the Colonel sat
down, gulped a glass of brandy-andwater, and mopped his forehead.