ches, and a
more complete military figure? And when he is fully decorated, screwed
in, uniformed, gold-laced, plumed, etc., etc., it is impossible to see a
more glorious, self-satisfied, proud, handsome--animal."

"True, but it is his very good looks that prevent him from having the
appearance of a man of refined and acute intellect."

"Well! and monseigneur says that, thanks to the colonel, he is in the
habit of finding even the dullest people in the world bearable. Before
certain audiences, which are of necessity, he shuts himself up with the
colonel for a half-hour or so, and then leaves him, full of spirits and
light as air, quite ready to meet bores and defy them."

"Just as the Roman soldier who, before a forced march, used to sole his
sandals with lead, and so found all fatigue light by leaving them off. I
now discover the usefulness of the colonel. But the Count d'Harneim?"

"Is also very serviceable to our dear lord; for, always hearing at his
side the tinkling of this old cracked bell, shining and
chattering,--continually seeing this soap-bubble so puffed up with
nothingness, so magnificently variegated, and, as such, portraying the
theatrical and puerile phase of sovereign power,--his royal highness
feels the more sensibly the vanity of those barren pomps and glories of
the world, and, by contrast, has often derived the most serious and
happy ideas from the contemplation of his useless and pattering
chamberlain."

"Well, well; but let us be just, my dear Murphy: tell me, in what court
in the world would you find a more perfect model of a chamberlain? Who
knows better than dear old D'Harneim the numberless rules and strict
observances of etiquette? Who bears with more becoming demeanour an
enamelled cross around his neck, or more majestically comports himself
when the keys of office are suspended from his shoulders?"

"Apropos, baron; monseigneur declares that the shoulders of a
chamberlain have a peculiar physiognomy: that is, he says, an appearance
at once constrained and repulsive, which it is painful to look at; for,
alas and alackaday! it is at the back of a chamberlain that the symbol
of his office glitters, and, as monseigneur avers, the worthy D'Harneim
always seems tempted to present himself backwards, that his importance
may at once be seen, felt, and acknowledged."

"The fact is, that the incessant subject of the count's meditations is
to ascertain by what fatal imagination and direction the