lemings; such as are still to be
met with sometimes between the Scheldt and the North Sea.

CHAPTER II.

IN WHICH THE BURGOMASTER VAN TRICASSE AND THE COUNSELLOR NIKLAUSSE
CONSULT ABOUT THE AFFAIRS OF THE TOWN.

"You think so?" asked the burgomaster.

"I--think so," replied the counsellor, after some minutes of
silence.

"You see, we must not act hastily," resumed the burgomaster.

"We have been talking over this grave matter for ten years,"
replied the Counsellor Niklausse, "and I confess to you, my
worthy Van Tricasse, that I cannot yet take it upon myself to
come to a decision."

"I quite understand your hesitation," said the burgomaster, who
did not speak until after a good quarter of an hour of reflection,
"I quite understand it, and I fully share it. We shall do wisely to
decide upon nothing without a more careful examination of the
question."

"It is certain," replied Niklausse, "that this post of civil
commissary is useless in so peaceful a town as Quiquendone."

"Our predecessor," said Van Tricasse gravely, "our predecessor
never said, never would have dared to say, that anything is
certain. Every affirmation is subject to awkward qualifications."

The counsellor nodded his head slowly in token of assent; then he
remained silent for nearly half an hour. After this lapse of
time, during which neither the counsellor nor the burgomaster
moved so much as a finger, Niklausse asked Van Tricasse whether
his predecessor--of some twenty years before--had not thought of
suppressing this office of civil commissary, which each year cost
the town of Quiquendone the sum of thirteen hundred and seventy-five
francs and some centimes.

"I believe he did," replied the burgomaster, carrying his hand
with majestic deliberation to his ample brow; "but the worthy man
died without having dared to make up his mind, either as to this
or any other administrative measure. He was a sage. Why should I
not do as he did?"

Counsellor Niklausse was incapable of originating any objection
to the burgomaster's opinion.

"The man who dies," added Van Tricasse solemnly, "without ever
having decided upon anything during his life, has very nearly
attained to perfection."

This said, the burgomaster pressed a bell with the end of his
little finger, which gave forth a muffled sound, which seemed
less a sound than a sigh. Presently some light steps glided
softly across the tile floor. A mouse would not have made less
noise