"I am mad, thou art mad, he is mad, we are mad, you are mad, they are mad."

"That is too much!" cries the English officer, beside himself; "it shall not be said that you make a fool of a soldier thus. I hope you handle the sword as well as insult."

"I handle, thou handlest, he handles, we handle, you handle, they handle.”

"Go out, sir!”

"I go out, thou goest out, he goes out, we go out, you go out, they go out," says the stranger, with the same coolness, and at the same time rising.

In going out of the café, our men find themselves in a blind alley, feebly lighted. The insulted officer draws his sword, while his friend gives his to the stranger.

The swords cross: "Parry that!" cries the Englishmen, whom the coolness of his adversary exasperates more and more.

66

“I parry, thou parriest, he parries, we parry, you parry, they parry," replies the stranger. "If I could nail your tongue to your palate!" roars the Englishman.

"I nail, thou nailest, he nails, we nail, you nail, they nail."

And while saying these words he sends the weapon of his adversary flying against the wall. Then he takes a cigar and lights it calmly.

The Englishman, disarmed, stands with a gaping mouth, as if struck by lightning. His friend approaches. "I see you are a gentleman," says he to the stranger," and . . .”

"I am, thou art, he is, we are, you are, they are."

Then in

"But, in short, will you explain yourself?" "I explain, thou explainest. . . .” German: "Do you understand the language of Goethe?" "Yes." "Well, gentlemen, I will inform you that I study English, and that my teacher has advised me, as a very useful exercise, to conjugate the verbs. I then took the resolution never to hear an English verb without conjugating it."

"And it is for that?" "Yes, it is for that." Our three men burst into a loud fit of laughter, and went to dine together.

CXLII.

AN ESCAPE DURING THE REIGN OF TERROR.

A gentleman, called M. de Châtaubrun, had been condemned to death by the tribunal of the Revolution; he had been placed upon the fatal cart, and conducted to the place of execution.

After the Reign of Terror he was met by one of his friends, who uttered a cry of astonish

ment, could not believe his eyes, and asked him for an explanation of so strange a circumstance. He gave it to him, and it was his friend who related it.

He was conducted to execution with twenty other unfortunate victims. After twelve or fifteen executions, a part of the horrible instrument broke; they brought a workman to repair it. The condemned man was with the other victims near the scaffold, with his hands tied behind his back.

The repairs occupied a long time; the day was commencing to draw to a close; the crowd of spectators was occupied with the work which was being done to the guillotine much more than with the victims who were awaiting death; all, even the gendarmes, had their eyes fixed on the scaffold.

Resigned, but weakened, the condemned man allowed himself to lean upon the people who were behind him. Pressed by the weight of his body, they made room for him mechanically; others did the same, always occupied with the spectacle which captivated all their attention. Imperceptibly he found himself in the last ranks of the crowd, without having sought it, without having thought of it.

When the instrument was repaired, the executions recommenced; they hurried the end of them. A dark night dispersed the

executioners and the spectators. Carried along by the crowd, he was at first astonished at his situation; but he soon conceived the hope of escaping.

He repaired to the Champs Élysées; there he accosted a man who seemed to him to be a workman. He said to him, laughing, that some friends with whom he was larking had tied his hands behind his back, and taken away his hat, telling him to go and look for it. He begged of him to cut the cords. The workman had a knife, and cut them, laughing at the trick which was related to him.

M. de Châtaubrun offers to treat him at one

of the taverns which are in the Champs-Élysées. During this slight repast he appeared to be waiting till his companions came to give him back his hat. Not seeing them arrive, he begged his guest to carry a note to one of his friends, whom he wanted to ask to bring him a hat, because he did not wish to go through the streets bareheaded. He said to him also that his friend would bring him some money, as his companions had taken his purse while playing with him. This honest man believed all that M. de Châtaubrun told him, carried the note, and came back half an hour after with that friend.

CXLIII.

STRANGE FATE OF THE PRINCIPAL CHIEFS OF

THE LEAGUE.

It has been remarked that in the time of the League, all the principal party leaders, Catholic or Protestant, died in a melancholy manner.

Henry II. by a lance-thrust in the eye; Charles IX. vomiting blood; Henry III. and Henry IV. assassinated; Antoine de Bourbon, King of Navarre, wounded at the siege of Rouen, died after the surgeon had dressed his wound; Francis, Count of Enghien, was killed by a box which fell on his head while playing with his favourites; Henri de Bourbon, Marquis de Beaupréau, died of a fall from his horse whilst hunting; Louis I., Prince of Condé, poisoned at Saint-Jean d'Angely; the Marshal de Saint André killed in cold blood by Robigni after the battle of Dreux; François de Cléves, killed accidentally at the same battle by his best friend; François de Guise assassinated by Jean Poltrot de Méré at the siege of Orleans; Henri de Guise and the Cardinal de Guise stabbed at Blois; the Cardinal de Lorraine poisoned at Avignon by a monk; the Cardinal de Chatillon poisoned by his valet; the Admiral de Coligni massacred on the night of St. Bartholomew; the Admiral André de Villars-Brancas a pri