Well, perhaps he was right. He bids fair to be a hard bone of contention
between the opposition and the Ministry."

"If I mistake not, Lamoriciere disclaimed all responsibility for
accepting the surrender, and placed it on the Governor-General, the
young Duke, for whom the Ministry is liable?"

"Yes; and Guizot announced that he would send the Emir back to
Alexandria, could security be given against his return to Algeria."

"As to the Emir's surrender, at which you wonder, the real cause is said
to have been not policy, but the universal passion--love."

"He is an Antony, then, instead of a Curtius."

"So it seems. At the moment when, with incredible efforts, he had
effected the passage of the Moorish camp, and was off like an ostrich
for the desert, the firing of the French, who had reached his deira,
struck his ear. Back he flew like the lamiel. Twice his horse fell
under him dead--twice he was surrounded and seized, and twice, by his
wonderful agility, he regained his freedom. At last, perceiving that all
was lost, he turned his face again toward the desert, and, for two days
and nights, continued his flight. But his heart was behind him. Certain
of escape himself, he preferred hopeless captivity with her he loved,
and he returned."

"Quite poetical, on my word! Worthy of Sadi, the Arab Petrarch,
himself!" said Chateau-Renaud.

"He is decidedly a great man, that Abd-el-Kader. They say he bears his
misfortunes like a philosopher--or, better, a Turk--unalterably mild and
dignified, while his wives and his mother wail at his feet. Every
morning he reads the Koran to them, and during the orisons all the
windows are open, and a large fire blazes in the centre of the room."

"He is a decided godsend to the quidnuncs of Paris."

"So would be a Hottentot, or a North American savage," replied
Beauchamp.

"Rather a different affair this from the Ministerial soiree a week ago,
I fancy," remarked the editor.

"Rather. I will confess to you, Beauchamp, I attended that soiree from
curiosity to see whether M. Guizot retained his habitual placidity of
manner amid the clouds every day thickening around him."

"And what was the result?"

"Why, this. He was as polite and courteous as ever, and the same cold,
imperturbable smile was on his thin lip; but he looked careworn, and
upon his countenance was an expression of solicitude, when it was
closely watched, which I never saw there before. Ah, Beauchamp, I envy
not the