rl! I, who--" and a superb smile crossed his features. "Come, come,
monsieur, I'm not such a child as to steal fruit over the hedges when I
have orchards and gardens of my own where the finest peaches ripen. All
Paris knows where my affections are set. Very likely there may be some
young girl in Havre full of enthusiasm for my verses,--of which they are
not worthy; that would not surprise me at all; nothing is more common.
See! look at that lovely coffer of ebony inlaid with mother-of-pearl,
and edged with that iron-work as fine as lace. That coffer belonged
to Pope Leo X., and was given to me by the Duchesse de Chaulieu, who
received it from the king of Spain. I use it to hold the letters I
receive from ladies and young girls living in every quarter of Europe.
Oh! I assure you I feel the utmost respect for these flowers of the
soul, cut and sent in moments of enthusiasm that are worthy of all
reverence. Yes, to me the impulse of a heart is a noble and sublime
thing! Others--scoffers--light their cigars with such letters, or give
them to their wives for curl-papers; but I, who am a bachelor, monsieur,
I have too much delicacy not to preserve these artless offerings--so
fresh, so disinterested--in a tabernacle of their own. In fact, I guard
them with a species of veneration, and at my death they will be burned
before my eyes. People may call that ridiculous, but I do not care. I am
grateful; these proofs of devotion enable me to bear the criticisms and
annoyances of a literary life. When I receive a shot in the back from
some enemy lurking under cover of a daily paper, I look at that casket
and think,--here and there in this wide world there are hearts whose
wounds have been healed, or soothed, or dressed by me!"

This bit of poetry, declaimed with all the talent of a great actor,
petrified the lieutenant, whose eyes opened to their utmost extent, and
whose astonishment delighted the poet.

"I will permit you," continued the peacock, spreading his tail, "out of
respect for your position, which I fully appreciate, to open that coffer
and look for the letter of your young lady. Though I know I am right, I
remember names, and I assure you you are mistaken in thinking--"

"And this is what a poor child comes to in this gulf of Paris!" cried
Dumay,--"the darling of her parents, the joy of her friends, the hope
of all, petted by all, the pride of a family, who has six persons so
devoted to her that they would willingly make a