care
to the winds; and in spite of his impecuniosity (of which he made no
secret whatever) the _boute-en-train_ of the company. And this led to
many droll adventures--of which I will tell one as a sample.

A certain Belgian viscount, who had a very pretty French wife, took
a dislike to Barty. He had the reputation of being a tremendous
fire-eater. His wife, a light-hearted little flirt (but with not
much harm in her), took a great fancy to him, on the contrary.

One day she asked him for a wax impression of the seal-ring he wore
on his finger, and the following morning he sealed an empty envelope
and stamped it with his ring, and handed it to her on the Plage. She
snatched it with a quick gesture and slipped it into her pocket with
quite a guilty little coquettish look of mutual understanding.

Monsieur Jean (as the viscount was called) noticed this, and jostled
rudely against Josselin, who jostled back again and laughed.

Then the whole party walked off to the "tir," or shooting-gallery on
the Plage; some wager was on, I believe, and when they got there
they all began to shoot--at different distances, ladies and
gentlemen; all but Barty; it was a kind of handicap.

Monsieur Jean, after a fierce and significant look at Barty, slowly
raised his pistol, took a deliberate aim at the small target, and
fired--hitting it just half an inch over the bull's-eye; a capital
shot. Barty couldn't have done better himself. Then taking another
loaded pistol, he presented it to my friend by the butt and said,
with a solemn bow:

"A vous, monsieur de la garde."

"Messieurs de la garde doivent toujours tirer les premiers!" said
Barty, laughing; and carelessly let off his pistol in the direction
of the target without even taking aim. A little bell rang, and there
was a shout of applause; and Barty was conscious that by an
extraordinary fluke he had hit the bull's-eye in the middle, and saw
the situation at once.

Suddenly looking very grave and very sad, he threw the pistol away,
and said:

"Je ne tire plus--j'ai trop peur d'avoir la main malheureuse un
jour!" and smiled benignly at M. Jean.

A moment's silence fell on the party and M. Jean turned very pale.

Barty went up to Madame Jean:

"Will you forgive me for giving you with my seal an empty envelope?
I couldn't think of anything pretty enough to write you--so I gave
it up. Tear it and forgive me. I'll do better next time!"

The lady blushed and pulled the letter out