them on, and the
talking became fast and furious.

I soon found that everybody knew everybody at the Cafe Procope, and that
the specialty of the establishment was dominoes--just as the specialty
of the Cafe de la Regence is chess. There were games going on before
long at almost every table, and groups of lookers-on gathered about
those who enjoyed the reputation of being skilful players.

Gradually breakfast after breakfast emerged from some mysterious nether
world known only to the waiters, and the war of dominoes languished.

"These are all students, of course," I said presently, "and yet, though
I meet a couple of hundred fellows at our hospital lectures, I don't see
a face I know."

"You would find some by this time, I dare say, in the other room,"
replied Mueller. "I brought you in here that you might sit at Voltaire's
table, and eat your steak under the shadow of Voltaire's bust; but this
salon is chiefly frequented by law-students--the other by medical and
art students. Your place, _mon cher_, as well as mine, is in the outer
sanctuary."

"That infernal Martial!" groaned one of the domino-players at the other
end of the table. "So ends the seventh game, and here we are still.
_Parbleu!_ Horace, hasn't that absinthe given you an inconvenient amount
of appetite?"

"Alas! my friend--don't mention it. And when the absinthe is paid for, I
haven't a sou."

"My own case precisely. What's to be done?"

"Done!" echoed Horace, pathetically. "Shade of Apicius! inspire
me...but, no--he's not listening."

"Hold! I have it. We'll make our wills in one another's favor, and die."

"I should prefer to die when the wind is due East, and the moon at the
full," said Horace, contemplatively.

"True--besides, there is still _la mere_ Gaudissart. Her cutlets are
tough, but her heart is tender. She would not surely refuse to add one
more breakfast to the score!"

Horace shook his head with an air of great despondency.

"There was but one Job," said he, "and he has been dead some time. The
patience of _la mere_ Gaudissart has long since been entirely
exhausted."

"I am not so sure of that. One might appeal to her feelings, you
know--have a presentiment of early death--wipe away a tear... Bah! it is
worth the effort, anyhow."

"It is a forlorn hope, my dear fellow, but, as you say, it is worth the
effort. _Allons donc!_ to the storming of _la mere_ Gaudissart!"

And with this they pushed aside the dominoes, took down