the habitues, had taken refuge under the table.

"Your dog is poltron," said De Breze; "call him Nap." At this stroke of
humour there was a general laugh, in the midst of which Duplessis
escaped, and Frederic, having discovered and caught his dog, followed
with that animal tenderly clasped in his arms.

"I would not lose Fox for a great deal," said Lemercier with effusion;
"a pledge of love and fidelity from an English lady the most
distinguished: the lady left me--the dog remains."

Duplessis smiled grimly: "What a thoroughbred Parisian you are, my dear
Frederic! I believe if the tramp of the last angel were sounding, the
Parisians would be divided into two sets: one would be singing the
Marseillaise, and parading the red flag; the other would be shrugging
their shoulders and saying, 'Bah! as if le Bon Dieu would have the bad
taste to injure Paris--the Seat of the Graces, the School of the Arts,
the Fountain of Reason, the Eye of the World;' and so be found by the
destroying angel caressing poodles and making _bons mots_ about les
femmes."

"And quite right, too," said Lemercier, complacently; "what other people
in the world could retain lightness of heart under circumstances so
unpleasant? But why do you take things so solemnly? Of course there
will be war idle now to talk of explanations and excuses. When a
Frenchman says, 'I am insulted,' he is not going to be told that he is
not insulted. He means fighting, and not apologising. But what if there
be war? Our brave soldiers beat the Prussians--take the Rhine--return to
Paris covered with laurels; a new Boulevard de Berlin eclipses the
Boulevard Sebastopol. By the way, Duplessis, a Boulevard de Berlin will