ng that moment, by the marshal, his daughters, and
the soldier, was interrupted by the barking of Spoil-sort, who suddenly
quitted the attitude of a biped. The happy group separated, looked round,
and saw Loony's stupid face. He looked even duller than usual, as he
stood quite still in the doorway, staring with wide stretched eyes, and
holding a feather-broom under his arm, and in his hand the ever-present
basket of wood.

Nothing makes one so gay as happiness; and, though this grotesque figure
appeared at a very unseasonable moment, it was received with frank
laughter from the blooming lips of Rose and Blanche. Having made the
marshal's daughters laugh, after their long sadness, Loony at once
acquired a claim to the indulgence of the marshal, who said to him, good
humoredly: "What do you want, my lad?"

"It's not me, my lord duke!" answered Loony, laying his hand on his
breast, as if it were taking a vow, so that his feather-brush fell down
from under his arm. The laughter of the girls redoubled.

"It is not you?" said the marshal.

"Here! Spoil-sport!" Dagobert called, for the honest dog seemed to have a
secret dislike for the pretended idiot, and approached him with an angry
air.

"No, my lord duke, it is not me!" resumed Loony. "It is the footman who
told me to tell M. Dagobert, when I brought up the wood to tell my lord
duke, as I was coming up with the basket, that M. Robert wants to see
him."

The girls laughed still more at this new stupidity. But, at the name of
Robert, Marshal Simon started.

M. Robert was the secret emissary of Rodin, with regard to the possible,
but adventurous, enterprise of attempting the liberation of Napoleon II.

After a moment's silence, the marshal, whose face was still radiant with
joy and happiness, said to Loony: "Beg M. Robert to wait for me a moment
in my study."

"Yes, my lord duke," answered Loony, bowing almost to the ground.

The simpleton withdrew, and the marshal said to his daughters, in a
joyous tone, "You see, that, in a moment like this, one does not leave
one's children, even for M. Robert."

"Oh! that's right, father!" cried Blanche, gayly; "for I was already very
angry with this M. Robert."

"Have you pen and paper at hand?" asked the marshal.

"Yes, father; there on the table," said Rose, hastily, as she pointed to
a little desk near one of the windows, towards which the marshal now
advanced rapidly.

From motives of delicacy, the girls remained wh