e time, during which
Linton amused the others with a running fire of that gossipry which goes
the round of Parisian society, and takes in the world of politics,
of literature, of art, and of morals. The eventful period was full
of rumors, and none knew better than Linton how to exalt some into
certainty, and degrade others into mere absurdity. "If the bank wins,"
said he, laughingly, at the close of some observation on the condition
of parties, "our friend Rica will be the last Duke in Europe."

"Bah!" said an officer of the Royal Guard, "grape and canister are just
as effectual as ever they were; there is nothing to be apprehended from
the mob. Two battalions of infantry and a squadron of hussars will carry
the 'ordinances,' if the ministry but give the order."

"I wish they would begin the game," said Frobisher, querulously, for he
took no interest in any topic but that of play.

"Has any one given orders that the doors shall be close-barred and
locked?" said another. "The police will be here presently."

"What should bring the police here, sir?" said Linton, turning suddenly
towards the speaker with a look of almost insolent defiance.

"They are making perquisitions everywhere the last few days," said the
youth, abashed by the tone and manner of the question.

"Ah! so they are--very true. I beg your pardon," cried Linton, affecting
a smile. "We are so intent upon our game here, that one actually forgets
what is occurring in the greater game that is playing without."

"If there 's to be no more play I 'm off to bed," yawned Frobisher, as
he stretched himself along the chairs. A group had meanwhile gathered
round a table where refreshments and wine were laid out, and were
invigorating themselves for the coming campaign.

"I remember the last _seance_ with closed doors I assisted at," said
a handsome middle-aged man, with a gray moustache, and short-cut gray
hair, "was in the stable at Fontainebleau. We played for seventeen
hours, and when we separated we discovered that the Empire was at an
end, and the Emperor departed!"

"We might do something of the same kind now, Blancharde," said another;
"it would be no difficult matter, I fancy, to play an old dynasty out
and a new one in at this moment."

"Hush, Rozlan! Marsac is not one 'of us,'" whispered the former,
cautiously.

"He 's going the shortest way to become so, notwithstanding. Nothing
enlarges the sphere of political vision like being ruined! One alwa