elephant that could wag his ears and lift his trunk and snort--and after
the two fellows who formed respectfully the front and hind legs of this
knowing beast had practised sufficiently to proceed with him safely, at
the head of a cortege of slave girls, nautch dancers, and manacled
captives, the big beast created a success in the procession at the
"Quat'z' Arts" ball.

[Illustration: (portrait of man)]

After the ball, in the gray morning light, they marched it back to the
atelier, where it remained for some weeks, finally becoming such a
nuisance, kicking around the atelier and getting in everybody's way,
that the boys agreed to give it to the first junk-man that came around.
But as no junk-man came, and as no one could be found to care for its
now sadly battered hulk, its good riddance became a problem. What to do
with the elephant! that was the question.

At last the two, who had sweltered in its dusty frame that eventful
night of the "Quat'z' Arts," hit upon an idea. They marched it one day
up the Boulevard St. Germain to the Cafe des deux Magots, followed by a
crowd of people, who, when it reached the cafe, assembled around it,
every one asking what it was for--or rather what it was?--for the beast
had by now lost much of the resemblance of its former self. When half
the street became blocked with the crowd, the two wise gentlemen crawled
out of its fore and aft, and quickly mingled, unnoticed, with the
bystanders. Then they disappeared in the crowd, leaving the elephant
standing in the middle of the street. Those who had been expecting
something to happen--a circus or the rest of the parade to come
along--stood around for a while, and then the police, realizing that
they had an elephant on their hands, carted the thing away, swearing
meanwhile at the atelier and every one connected with it.

The cafes near the Odeon, just before the beginning of the ball, are
filled with students in costume; gladiators hobnob at the tables with
savages in scanty attire--Roman soldiers and students, in the garb of
the ancients, strut about or chat in groups, while the uninvited
grisettes and models, who have not received invitations from the
committee, implore them for tickets.

Tickets are not transferable, and should one present himself at the
entrance of the ball with another fellow's ticket, he would run small
chance of entering.

"What atelier?" commands the jury "Cormon."

The student answers, while the jury glance