e going to say; it was a case of light travelling faster than
sound; so first came the twinkle and then the words. Jeanne got the full
benefit of the approving twinkle, and was relieved when she found that
it was not followed by a congratulatory speech. He only said--

"I see your brain is struggling for space," and then changed the
subject.

It is surprising how symptoms have a way of begetting symptoms, and what
striking effects they are apt to have on sensitive natures like
Claude's. He became more and more of a gardener, and brought beneficent
sunshine into the life of the budding flower.

On the 15th of August he and Jeanne were together at the Turkish
Embassy. They were amongst the guests invited to witness the grand
spectacle provided for the pleasure-seeking Parisian on that day, the
_Mi-Aout_, as it is called. It was the great Napoleon's birthday,
henceforth to be consecrated as the National Holiday. The newly founded
Empire spared nothing to organise fetes in general, and this one in
particular, on the grandest scale. All the resources of the decorator's
art had been brought to bear on the Champs Elysees, and with such
success that no fields could have looked more Elysian. The sculptor had
contributed colossal figures, the architect triumphal arches, and an
untold number of _lampions_ were suspended in festoons which reached in
gradually ascending curves from the Place de la Concorde to the Arc de
Triomphe de l'Etoile.

A grand review, a military pageant, such as only a Napoleon could call
into existence, was once more to show an admiring universe the
unrivalled superiority of the French army, when marshalled by the
Emperor now representing the greatest of Cesarian dynasties.

The Parisian was overflowing with patriotic emotions; his heart beat
fast and vibrated with legitimate pride, as drums and bugles summoned
him to witness the glorious spectacle. From all sides the people were
streaming towards the Place de la Concorde. There, to your left, if you
turn your back on the Obelisk and the fountains, you see the garden of
what was then the Turkish Embassy (now a club). It is considerably
raised above the level of the Rue Boissy d'Anglais on the one side, and
the Avenue Gabrielle on the other. It was a point of vantage from which
it must have been quite pleasant for the privileged beau-monde to look
down on the struggling plebeian.

Jeanne and Claude had been walking up and down that garden absorbed in
e