nned Mr. Love, with great attention. "So you are in
Paris again?--Hein!--vous jouez toujours votre role!

"Ma foi!" said Mr. Love, boldly; "I don't understand what monsieur
means; my character is well known--go and inquire it in London--ask
the Secretary of Foreign Affairs what is said of me--inquire of my
Ambassador--demand of my--"

"Votre passeport, monsieur?"

"It is at home. A gentleman does not carry his passport in his pocket
when he goes to a ball!"

"I will call and see it--au revoir! Take my advice and leave Paris; I
think I have seen you somewhere!"

"Yet I have never had the honour to marry monsieur!" said Mr. Love, with
a polite bow.

In return for his joke, the policeman gave Mr. Love one look-it was a
quiet look, very quiet; but Mr. Love seemed uncommonly affected by it;
he did not say another word, but found himself outside the house in a
twinkling. Monsieur Favart turned round and saw the Pole making himself
as small as possible behind the goodly proportions of Madame Beavor.

"What name does that gentleman go by?"

"So--vo--lofski, the heroic Pole," cried Madame Beavor, with sundry
misgivings at the unexpected cowardice of so great a patriot.

"Hein! take care of yourselves, ladies. I have nothing against that
person this time. But Monsieur Latour has served his apprenticeship at
the galleys, and is no more a Pole than I am a Jew."

"And this lady's fortune!" cried Monsieur Goupitle, pathetically; "the
settlements are all made--the notaries all paid. I am sure there must be
some mistake."

Monsieur Bihl, who had by this time restored his lost Helen to her
senses, stalked up to the epicier, dragging the lady along with him.

"Sir, there is no mistake! But, when I have got the money, if you like
to have the lady you are welcome to her."

"Monstre!" again muttered the fair Adele.

"The long and the short of it," said Monsieur Favart, "is that Monsieur
Bihl is a brave garcon, and has been half over the world as a courier."

"A courier!" exclaimed several voices.

"Madame was nursery-governess to an English milord. They married, and
quarrelled--no harm in that, mes amis; nothing more common. Monsieur
Bihl is a very faithful fellow; nursed his last master in an illness
that ended fatally, because he travelled with his doctor. Milord left
him a handsome legacy--he retired from service, and fell ill, perhaps
from idleness or beer. Is not that the story, Monsieur Bihl?"

"He was always drun