"

When Richard Coeur-de-Lion built the tower of Issoudun he raised it,
as we have said, on the ruins of the basilica, which itself stood
above the Roman temple and the Celtic Dun. These ruins, each of which
represents a period of several centuries, form a mound big with the
monuments of three distinct ages. The tower is, therefore, the apex of
a cone, from which the descent is equally steep on all sides, and
which is only approached by a series of steps. To give in a few words
an idea of the height of this tower, we may compare it to the obelisk
of Luxor on its pedestal. The pedestal of the tower of Issoudun, which
hid within its breast such archaeological treasures, was eighty feet
high on the side towards the town. In an hour the cart was taken off
its wheels and hoisted, piece by piece, to the top of the embankment
at the foot of the tower itself,--a work that was somewhat like that
of the soldiers who carried the artillery over the pass of the Grand
Saint-Bernard. The cart was then remounted on its wheels, and the
Knights, by this time hungry and thirsty, returned to Mere Cognette's,
where they were soon seated round the table in the low room, laughing
at the grimaces Fario would make when he came after his barrow in the
morning.

The Knights, naturally, did not play such capers every night. The
genius of Sganarelle, Mascarille, and Scapin combined would not have
sufficed to invent three hundred and sixty-five pieces of mischief a
year. In the first place, circumstances were not always propitious:
sometimes the moon shone clear, or the last prank had greatly
irritated their betters; then one or another of their number refused
to share in some proposed outrage because a relation was involved. But
if the scamps were not at Mere Cognette's every night, they always met
during the day, enjoying together the legitimate pleasures of hunting,
or the autumn vintages and the winter skating. Among this assemblage
of twenty youths, all of them at war with the social somnolence of the
place, there are some who were more closely allied than others to Max,
and who made him their idol. A character like his often fascinates
other youths. The two grandsons of Madame Hochon--Francois Hochon and
Baruch Borniche--were his henchmen. These young fellows, accepting the
general opinion of the left-handed parentage of Lousteau, looked upon
Max as their cousin. Max, moreover, was liberal in lending them money
for their pleasures, which the