ad opposite Bigot's Auberge; a long
low house, with "ICI ON LOGE A PIED ET A CHEVAL," written all across it
in gigantic letters. Riviere was for moving homeward, but Dard halted
and complained dismally of "the soldier's gripes." The statesman had
never heard of that complaint, so Dard explained that the VULGAR name
for it was hunger. "And only smell," said he, "the soup is just fit to
come off the fire."

Riviere smiled sadly, but consented to deign to eat a morsel in the
porch. Thereat Dard dashed wildly into the kitchen.

They dined at one little round table, each after his fashion. When Dard
could eat no more, he proceeded to drink; and to talk in proportion.
Riviere, lost in his own thoughts, attended to him as men of business do
to a babbling brook; until suddenly from the mass of twaddle broke forth
a magic word--Beaurepaire; then the languid lover pricked up his ears
and found Mr. Dard was abusing that noble family right and left. Young
Riviere inquired what ground of offence they had given HIM. "I'll tell
you," said Dard; "they impose on Jacintha; and so she imposes on me."
Then observing he had at last gained his employer's ear, he became
prodigiously loquacious, as such people generally are when once they get
upon their own griefs.

"These Beaurepaire aristocrats," said he, with his hard peasant
good-sense, "are neither the one thing nor the other; they cannot keep
up nobility, they have not the means; they will not come down off their
perch, they have not the sense. No, for as small as they are, they must
look and talk as big as ever. They can only afford one servant, and
I don't believe they pay her; but they must be attended on just as
obsequious as when they had a dozen. And this is fatal to all us little
people that have the misfortune to be connected with them."

"Why, how are you connected with them?"

"By the tie of affection."

"I thought you hated them."

"Of course I do; but I have the ill-luck to love Jacintha, and she loves
these aristocrats, and makes me do little odd jobs for them." And at
this Dard's eyes suddenly glared with horror.

"Well, what of that?" asked Riviere.

"What of it, citizen, what? you do not know the fatal meaning of those
accursed words?"

"Why, I never heard of a man's back being broken by little odd jobs."

"Perhaps not his back, citizen, but his heart? if little odd jobs will
not break that, why nothing will. Torn from place to place, and from
trouble to tro