s.

Lo and behold! just as the train emerged from the tunnel the
passenger made a frantic dash at the window, flung it open, and
before any body could speak or move he was half out.

To spring over half a dozen seats, to land behind him, to seize
his outstretched leg, to jerk him in again, was but the work of
a moment. It was Buttons who did this, and who banged down the
window again.

"Sac-r-r-R-R-Re!" cried the Frenchman.

"Is it that you are mad?" said Buttons.

"Sacre Bleu!" cried the other. "Who are you that lays hands on me?"

"I saved you from destruction."

"Then, Sir, you have no thanks. Behold me, I'm a desperate man!"

In truth he looked like one. His clothes were all disordered.
His lips were bleeding, and most of his hair was torn out. By
this time the guard had come to the spot. All those in the car
had gathered round. It was a long car, second-class, like the
American.

"M'sieu, how is this? What is it that I see? You endeavor to
kill yourself?"

"Leave me. I am desperate."

"But no. M'sieu, what is it?"

"Listen. I enter the train thinking to go to Avignon. I have
important business there, most important. Suddenly I am struck by a
thought. I find I have mistaken. I am carried to Marseilles. It is
the express train, and I must go all the way. Horror! Despair! Life is
of no use! It is time to resign, it! I die! Accordingly I attempt to
leap from the window, when this gentleman seizes me by the leg and
pulls me in. Behold all."

"M'sieu," said the guard, slowly, and with emphasis, "you have
committed a grave offense. Suicide is a capital crime."

"A capital crime!" exclaimed the Frenchman, turning pale. "Great
Heaven!"

"Yes, Sir. If you leap from the car I shall put you in irons, and hand
you over to the police when we stop."

The Frenchman's pale face grew paler. He became humble. He entreated
the guard's compassion. He begged Buttons to intercede. He had a
family. Moreover he had fought in the wars of his country. He had
warred in Africa. He appealed to the Senator, the Doctor, to Figgs,
to Dick. Finally he became calm, and the train shortly after arrived
at Marseilles.

The last that was seen of him he was rushing frantically about looking
for the return train.

[Illustration: Horror! Despair!]

CHAPTER IV.

MARSEILLES.

Old Massilia wears her years well. To look at her now as she appears,
full of life and joy and gayety, no one would imagine that thirty
centu