ieces and I will get you through."--"How can I be grateful enough?"
cried the poet, although in reality he felt rather humiliated to find
that the grand scene in his fourth act had not succeeded.--"Call the
waiter, and pay the bill." The waiter was called, and the bill paid with
a sigh. "Now give me your jacket."--"My jacket?"--"Yes, this thing in
velvet you have on your back." The poet did as he was bid. "Now your
waistcoat and trousers."--"My trousers! Oh, insatiable coachman!"--"Make
haste will you, or else I shall take you to the nearest guard-room for a
confounded _refractaire_, as you are." The clothes were immediately
given up. "Very well; now take mine, dress yourself in them, and let's
be off." While the young man was putting on with decided distaste the
garments of the _cocher_, the latter managed to introduce his ponderous
bulk into those of the poet. This done, out they went. "Get up on the
box."--"On the box?"--"Yes, idiot," said the coachman, growing more and
more familiar; "I am going to get into the cab, now drive me wherever
you please." The plan was a complete success. At the Porte de Chatillon
the disguised poet exhibited his passport, and the National Guard who
looked in at the window of the carriage cried out, "Oh, he may pass; he
might be my grandfather." The cab rolled over the draw-bridge, and it
was in this way that M ...,--ah! I was just going to let the cat out of
the bag--it was in this way that our young poet broke the law of the
Commune, and managed to dine that same evening at the Hotel des
Reservoirs at Versailles, with a deputy of the right on his left hand,
and a deputy of the left on his right hand.

Shall I go away? Why not? Do I particularly wish to be shut up one
morning in some barrack-room, or sent in spite of myself to the
out-posts? My position of _refractaire_ is sensibly aggravated by the
fact of my being in rather a dangerous neighbourhood. For the last few
days, I have felt rather astonished at the searching glances that a
neighbour always casts upon me, when we met in the street. I told my
servant to try and find out who this man was. Great heavens! this
scowling neighbour of mine is Gerardin--Gerardin of the Commune! Add to
this the perilous fact, that our _concierge_ is lieutenant in a Federal
battalion, and you will have good reason to consider me the most
unfortunate of _refractaires_. However, what does it matter? I decide on
remaining; I will stay and see the end, even