lock of his hair, which was long and in richly-flowing
ringlets; and at length the poor artist began to perceive that he was an
object of derision rather than of respect to the rude grinning mob.

It was at this juncture that Madame Fribsby spied the unlucky gentleman
with the train at his heels, and heard the scornful shouts with which
they assailed him. She ran out of her room, and across the street to the
persecuted foreigner; she held out her hand, and, addressing him in his
own language, invited him into her abode; and when she had housed him
fairly within her door, she stood bravely at the threshold before the
gibing factory girls and boys, and said they were a pack of cowards to
insult a poor man who could not speak their language, and was alone
and without protection. The little crowd, with some ironical cheers
and hootings, nevertheless felt the force of Madame Fribsby's vigorous
allocution, and retreated before her; for the old lady was rather
respected in the place, and her oddity and her kindness had made her
many friends there.

Poor Mirobolant was grateful indeed to hear the language of his country
ever so ill spoken. Frenchmen pardon our faults in their language
much more readily than we excuse their bad English; and will face our
blunders throughout a long conversation, without the least propensity
to grin. The rescued artist vowed that Madame Fribsby was his guardian
angel, and that he had not as yet met with such suavity and politeness
among les Anglaises. He was as courteous and complimentary to her as
if it was the fairest and noblest of ladies whom he was addressing for
Alcide Mirobolant paid homage after his fashion to all womankind, and
never dreamed of a distinction of ranks in the realms of beauty, as his
phrase was.

A cream, flavoured with pineapple--a mayonnaise of lobster, which he
flattered himself was not unworthy of his hand, or of her to whom he had
the honour to offer it as an homage, and a box of preserved fruits of
Provence, were brought by one of the chef's aides-de-camp, in a basket,
the next day to the milliner's, and were accompanied with a gallant note
to the amiable Madame Fribsbi. "Her kindness," Alcide said, "had made
a green place in the desert of his existence,--her suavity would ever
contrast in memory with the grossierete of the rustic population,
who were not worthy to possess such a jewel." An intimacy of the most
confidential nature thus sprang up between the milliner