roast fowl in the
carriage for me? The ill-mannered rabble outside will not permit me
to-day to lunch at home. Hence I must make up my mind to do so on the
road."

"I have not forgotten the wine nor the roast pheasant, your excellency."

"You have packed up a pheasant!" exclaimed Lombard. "If the noisy
gentlemen outside there knew that, they would be sure to assert that the
Emperor Napoleon had sent it to me as a bribe. Now, Jean, come, we will
set out. The street is quiet, I suppose?"

"Perfectly so. All those who have legs have gathered in front of the
house."

"And all those who have fists are hammering at the door," wailed Mde.
Lombard. "Make haste, Lombard--make haste lest it be too late!"

"You are right. I must go," said Lombard, quietly. "Now listen to what I
am going to tell you. So soon as you hear my carriage roll away, be kind
enough to repair to the balcony, of the first floor and address the
people. Their surprise at seeing you will cause them to be silent for a
moment."

"But, good Heaven! what am I to say to them?" asked Mde. Lombard, in
dismay.

"You are to say to them, 'My husband, Cabinet-Counsellor Lombard, is not
at home. He has gone to the governor of Berlin, Count von
Schulenburg-Kehnert, and the bearer of dispatches has accompanied him.'
Your words will have the same effect as though a pistol were discharged
among a number of sparrows--all of them will fly away. You see, my dear,
there is a very impressive and dramatic scene in store for you, and my
father, _de poudreuse memoire_, and your father, the barber, would
rejoice in their graves if they could see you haranguing the people from
the balcony. Farewell, my dear, and manage the affair as skilfully as
possible."

He embraced her hurriedly, and was about to leave the garden, leaning on
his servant's arm, and as fast as his gouty feet would permit it; but
his wife suddenly held him back.

"I cannot go to the parlor," she said in terror, convulsively clinging
to Lombard. "Remember, that they are continually hurling stones at our
house. Suppose a stone should be thrown into the window and strike my
head?"

"My dear," said Lombard, laughing, "I do not believe any stone passing
through the window would be immediately dangerous, for you have a hard
head, as I have found out often enough. Farewell, and do as I have told
you, unless you want the rabble to penetrate into your room. Farewell!"

He disengaged himself rather roughly, and h