are. But to be sure those were
good-natured devils; ay, that is true, and meant him no harm."

"By my faith, I forget all about it; but what the devil connection have
these demons, blue, black, or red, with your fete?"

"I sometimes think, Blassemare, you are a worse fellow than I am, for
you have no qualms of conscience."

"No qualms of stomach, no fumes of indigestion; as for conscience, it is
an infirmity of which we both stand equally acquitted."

"I did not speak of it in a good sense," said Le Prun, gloomily; "it may
be remorse or superstition, but I fancy the man who has none of it is
already dead, and under his coffin-lid, so far as his spiritual chances
are concerned."

"Faith, it is a treat, Le Prun, to hear you talk religion. When do you
mean to take orders? I should so like to see you, my buck, in a cassock
and cowl begging meal, and telling your beads, and calling yourself
brother Ambrose."

"I have not good enough in me for that," he replied, in a tone which
might be earnest, or might be a sneer; "besides, I dare say that the
grand _melange_ of rapture and diablerie they call religion is
altogether true; but _par bleu!_ my good fellow, there is something more
than this life--agencies, subtler and more powerful mayhap than those
our senses are commonly cognizant of. I say I have had experience of
this truth, and of them. You laugh! and I suppose will laugh on, until
that irresistible old gentleman-usher, DEATH, presents you to other
realities face to face."

"Well, so be it. If they have faces, I suppose they have mouths, and can
laugh, and chat, and so, egad I'll make the best of them; it is one
comfort, we shall all understand religion then, and need not plague our
heads about it any further. But, in the mean time, suppose we have a
game of piquet."

"Agreed! call for cards, and, by the time you have got them, I will
return."

Le Prun took a candle, and opening a door which led through a passage to
a back stair communicating with Lucille's apartments, he directed his
steps thither for the purpose of announcing his arrival, and
ascertaining at the same time the state of his wife's temper.

He tapped at the door, and, having received permission to enter, did so
to the manifest surprise of the occupants of the chamber, who had
expected to see one of the servants.

Julie, who was in the very middle of a story about the Marquis de
Secqville, her intended husband, (to which Lucille was listening,