seness of the _canaille?_
Is it possible that they who wish to found a new order of things do not
see that all these pantomime costumes and characters denote nothing
but change,--that we are only performing a comedy after all? I scarcely
expect it will be a five-act one. And, apropos of comedies,--when shall
we pay our respects to Madame de Lacostellerie? It will require all my
diplomacy to keep my ground there under my recent misfortune. Nothing
short of a tender inquiry from the Duchesse de Montserrat will open the
doors for me. Alas, and alas! I suppose I shall have to fall back on the
Faubourg."

"But is the step irrevocable, Duchesne? Can you really bring yourself to
forego a career which opened with such promise?"

"And terminated with such disgrace," added he, smiling placidly.

"Nay, nay; don't affect to take it thus. Your services would have placed
you high, and won for you honors and rank."

"And, _ma foi!_ have they not done so? Am I not a very interesting
individual at this moment,--more so than any other of my life? Are not
half the powdered heads of the Faubourg plotting over my downfall, and
wondering how they are to secure me to the 'true cause'? Are not the hot
heads of the Jacobites speculating on my admission, by a unanimous vote,
into their order? And has not Fouche gone to the special expense of a
new police spy, solely destined to dine at the same cafe, play at the
same _salon_, and sit in the same box of the Opera with me? Is this
nothing? Well, it will be good fun, after all, to set their wise brains
on the wrong track; not to speak of the happiness of weeding one's
acquaintance, which a little turn of fortune always effects so
instantaneously."

"One would suppose from your manner, Duchesne, that some unlooked-for
piece of good luck had befallen you; the event seems to have been the
crowning one of your life."

"Am I not at liberty, boy? have I not thrown the slavery behind me? Is
that nothing? You may fancy your collar, because there is some gold upon
it; but, trust me, it galls the neck as cursedly as the veriest brass.
Come, Burke, I must have a glass of champagne, and you must pledge me in
a creaming bumper. If you don't join in the sentiment now, the time will
come later on. We may be many a mile apart,--ay, perhaps a whole world
will divide us; but you'll remember my toast,--'To him that is free!'
I am sick of most things; women, wine, war, play,--the game of life
itself, with all i