ng us.'

'Monsieur is heartily welcome,' said another, making room for me; 'we
are only flattered by such proofs of confidence and esteem.'

'Ay, _parbleu!_ cried a third. 'The Empire is coming, and we shall be
well bred and well mannered. I intend to give up the river, and take to
some more gentlemanlike trade than dredging for dead men.'

'And I, I'll never sharpen anything under a rapier or a dress sword for
the Court,' said a knife-grinder; 'we have been living like _canaille_
hitherto--nothing better.'

'A l'Empire, a l'Empire!' shouted half-a-dozen voices in concert; and
the glasses were drained to the toast with a loud cheer.

Directly opposite to me sat a thin, pale, mild-looking man, of about
fifty, in a kind of stuff robe, like the dress of a village curate. His
appearance, though palpably poor, was venerable and imposing--not the
less so, perhaps, from its contrast with the faces and gestures at
either side of him. Once or twice, while these ebullitions of enthusiasm
burst forth, his eyes met mine, and I read, or fancied that I read,
a look of kindred appreciation in their mild and gentle glance. The
expression was less reproachful than compassionate, as though in
pity for the ignorance rather than in reprobation for the folly. Now,
strangely enough, this was precisely the very sentiment of my own
heart at that moment. I remembered a somewhat similar enthusiasm for
republican liberty, by men just as unfitted to enjoy it; and I thought
to myself, the Empire, like the Convention, or the Directory, is a mere
fabulous conception to these poor fellows, who, whatever may be the
regime, will still be hewers of wood and drawers of water to the end of
all time.

As I was pondering over this, I felt something touch my arm, and, on
turning, perceived that my opposite neighbour had now seated himself at
my side, and, in a low, soft voice, was bidding me 'Good-day.' After one
or two commonplace remarks upon the weather and the scene, he seemed to
feel that some apology for his presence in such a place was needful, for
he said--

'You are here, monsieur, from a feeling of curiosity, that I see well
enough; but I come for a very different reason. I am the pastor of a
mountain village of the Ardeche, and have come to Paris in search of a
young girl, the daughter of one of my flock, who, it is feared, has been
carried off, by some evil influence, from her home and her friends,
to seek fortune and fame in this rich cap