ts his cocked hat, and bows, and bows.

Madame Delicieuse's balcony was a perfect maze of waving kerchiefs. The
General looked up for the woman of all women; she was not there. But he
remembered the other balcony, the smaller one, and cast his glance
onward to it. There he saw Madame and one other person only. A small
blue-eyed, broad-browed, scholarly-looking man whom the arch lady had
lured from his pen by means of a mock professional summons, and who now
stood beside her, a smile of pleasure playing on his lips and about his
eyes.

"_Vite!_" said Madame, as the father's eyes met the son's. Dr. Mossy
lifted his arm and cast a bouquet of roses. A girl in the crowd bounded
forward, caught it in the air, and, blushing, handed it to the plumed
giant. He bowed low, first to the girl, then to the balcony above; and
then, with a responsive smile, tossed up two splendid kisses, one to
Madame, and one, it seemed--

"For what was that cheer?"

"Why, did you not see? General Villivicencio cast a kiss to his son."

The staff of General Villivicencio were a faithful few who had not bowed
the knee to any abomination of the Americains, nor sworn deceitfully to
any species of compromise; their beloved city was presently to pass into
the throes of an election, and this band, heroically unconscious of
their feebleness, putting their trust in "re-actions" and like
delusions, resolved to make one more stand for the traditions of their
fathers. It was concerning this that Madame Delicieuse was incidentally
about to speak when interrupted by the boom of cannon; they had promised
to meet at her house that evening.

They met. With very little discussion or delay (for their minds were
made up beforehand), it was decided to announce in the French-English
newspaper that, at a meeting of leading citizens, it had been thought
consonant with the public interest to place before the people the name
of General Hercule Mossy de Villivicencio. No explanation was considered
necessary. All had been done in strict accordance with time-honored
customs, and if any one did not know it it was his own fault. No
eulogium was to follow, no editorial indorsement. The two announcements
were destined to stand next morning, one on the English side and one on
the French, in severe simplicity, to be greeted with profound
gratification by a few old gentlemen in blue cottonade, and by roars of
laughter from a rampant majority.

As the junto were departing, spark