d chose the easiest means of
extricating himself from a difficulty.

"Milor," he exclaimed, advancing towards him, "I am charmed with your
sentiments, your courage, and your integrity. Take her, Milor--take your
Joan of Arc; I would not attempt to deprive you of her if she were a real
flesh and blood Pucelle, and my own sister."

The Englishman, with a grand oath, seized the Comte's hand in both his
own, and shook it heartily; then scrambling up his paraphernalia of war,
spoke a hurried farewell, and disappeared down the stairs.

The grey of the morning saw Milor in full evening costume, pacing the
Graben with hurried steps, watching with anxious eyes the shop front
where his beloved was wont to hang. He saw her carried out like a
shutter from the house, and duly suspended on the appointed hook. She
had lost none of her charms, and he stood with arms folded upon his
breast, entranced for awhile before the figure of the valiant maiden.

"Herr Wechsel," said he abruptly, as he entered the shop; "Le Comte de
Barbebiche has ceded his claim to me. I repeat my offer for your Joan of
Arc--decide at once, for I am in a hurry."

It certainly does appear surprising that Herr Wechsel did not close in
with the offer at once; perhaps he really had an affection for his
picture; perhaps he thought to improve the bargain; or, more probably,
looking upon his strange customer as so undoubtedly mad, as to entertain
serious fears as to his ever receiving the money. Certain it is, that he
respectfully declined to sell.

"You refuse!" shouted Milor, striking his clenched fist upon the counter;
"then, by Jove! I'll--but never mind!" and he strode into the street.

The dusk of the evening saw Milor in the dress of a porter, pacing the
Graben with a steady step. He halted in front of his cherished Joan;
with the utmost coolness and deliberation unhooked the painting from its
nail, and placing it carefully, and with the air of a workman, upon his
shoulder, stalked away with his precious burden.

Imagine the consternation of Herr Wechsel upon the discovery of his loss.
His pride, his delight, the chief ornament of his shop was gone; and,
moreover, he had lost his money. But his sorrow was changed into
surprise, and his half-tearful eyes twinkled with satisfaction as he read
the following epistle, delivered into his hands within an hour after the
occurrence:--

"Sir,--You will find placed to your credit in the Imperial Bank of