raw hat. It was Timbuctoo. He was beaming and was
walking with his hands in his pockets in front of a little shop where
two plates and two glasses were displayed.

"'What are you doing?' I said.

"'Me not go. Me good cook; me make food for Colonel Algeria. Me eat
Prussians; much steal, much.'

"There were ten degrees of frost. I shivered at sight of this negro in
white duck. He took me by the arm and made me go inside. I noticed an
immense flag that he was going to place outside his door as soon as we
had left, for he had some shame."

I read this sign, traced by the hand of some accomplice

"'ARMY KITCHEN OF M. TIMBUCTOO,
"'Formerly Cook to H. M. the Emperor.
"'A Parisian Artist. Moderate Prices.'

"In spite of the despair that was gnawing at my heart, I could not help
laughing, and I left my negro to his new enterprise.

"Was not that better than taking him prisoner?

"You have just seen that he made a success of it, the rascal.

"Bezieres to-day belongs to the Germans. The 'Restaurant Timbuctoo' is
the beginning of a retaliation."

TOMBSTONES

The five friends had finished dinner, five men of the world, mature,
rich, three married, the two others bachelors. They met like this every
month in memory of their youth, and after dinner they chatted until two
o'clock in the morning. Having remained intimate friends, and enjoying
each other's society, they probably considered these the pleasantest
evenings of their lives. They talked on every subject, especially of
what interested and amused Parisians. Their conversation was, as in the
majority of salons elsewhere, a verbal rehash of what they had read in
the morning papers.

One of the most lively of them was Joseph de Bardon, a celibate living
the Parisian life in its fullest and most whimsical manner. He was not a
debauche nor depraved, but a singular, happy fellow, still young, for
he was scarcely forty. A man of the world in its widest and best sense,
gifted with a brilliant, but not profound, mind, with much varied
knowledge, but no true erudition, ready comprehension without true
understanding, he drew from his observations, his adventures, from
everything he saw, met with and found, anecdotes at once comical
and philosophical, and made humorous remarks that gave him a great
reputation for cleverness in society.

He was the after dinner speaker and had his own story each time, upon
which they counted, and he talked without having