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looked from his face to his disabled foot, from his foot to the deepened blue of the sky, and thence to the offending carriage.

would be at his hotel in Paris, for the convenience of his intendant's communications from the chateau here, before visiting, for the first time, this club. It was the proof of a determination still postponed by M. le Comte. I remained unmoved, while mingling with the concourse to the gates yonder -without taking advantage of the last messenger to Paris-but resolved the more, as I perceived the nature, the causes of this proceeding. Had I publicly explained my intention, M. le Comte might have been unjustly accused by you-my motives in personally reaching Paris might have been misinterpreted. I was even aware that to intelligence-to integ-in the act of myself confirming rity to virtue-the whole world is about to become a school!"

At the modest attitude, the unconscious air, touched only by a slight twinge of suffering from his foot, with which their teacher announced his private sacrifice to principles, the whole audience were struck mute; their admiration seemed to struggle silently with dismay. "For me, on the contrary," he pursued, recovering himself by the help of his faded pocket-handkerchief, "had I gained Paris by eight, resorting straight to the Palais Royal before the admission of strangers to the club, I should have obtained the right of the tribune,permitted after nine to speak, I would have publicly expressed the sentiments most congenial to me, which resemble his own,-without seeming to address myself to him, without his expecting it, I astonish him by my boldness, my disregard of private considerations. I expose, next, the mo tives of those who entangle him,-I paint the future which dawns on us so slowly, I should at once have convinced him, my friends-and have retained my school, my position-the relation to my fellow-villagers, which I value the power to consult their wishes, their necessities!"

"It is the plan! Excellent! Yes, the plan of Père Morin!" ejaculated a dozen hearers in delight.

Monsieur Morin's countenance had worked with animation, his gestures had grown quicker in accompaniment; and the hushed crowd burst into scream of approbation, broken only into separate yells as the nearest bystanders

"Yes, it is too late, my friends," admitted he, composing himself. "As it is, however, by myself accompanying Monsieur the young Englishman, before nine, to the hotel of M. le Maire, I should equally gain the object, without having presumed to request an interview, which would have been denied me. I relieve Monsieur and his friends from a contretemps, while observing the law. I detain M. le Comte, at a critical moment, from a danger to his views

them! It is not yet eight-we have still an hour, useless on foot, when lamethat is, if perhaps Monsieur would not object to one's occupying a seat beside his coachman ?

"It is reasonable!" exclaimed fifty voices. "M. Morin is right-yes! yes! Sa-cr-r-ré! do they object?"

The young Frenchman looked quietly and calmly, though with an air of dignity, to Charles Willoughby, who for a moment scarcely comprehended his meaning, or the drift of the whole discussion. Brightening up next instant, however, his eye gave a quick response. "Ah, of course!" he said, springing to assist the teacher up;

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certainly, Monsieur Morin-with all my heart; here, let me give you a hand!" The perplexed gendarmes looked to each other inactively, the innkeeper and his wife alone gloomed on their door-steps; while, as the injured schoolmaster was helped by the very offender himself to mount the dickey beside Jackson, the villagers grew absolutely ecstatic in their applause; the foremost agitators in the crowd were the first to begin dragging the obstacles aside. "Monsieur Jacksong, my friend," called out young Willoughby, in his most scrupulous French, somewhat to the surprise, doubtless, of that grim worthy, while a sudden gleam of enjoyment twinkled once more in the youth's eye, "you will favour me by using the utmost exertions to arrive in time for Monsieur Morin!" He deliberately opened the carriage-door again, took down the steps, and leisurely stepped in, two or three officious pairs of hands

contending which should set all to rights behind him. He took off his cap as he stood, and bowed with profound gravity to the crowd. "That's to say, Jackson," added he in English, all right-drive on like mad!"

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And as Jackson whipped his tedious beasts like a man devoid of all mercy, the creaking barouche rattled off; accompanied by half the crowd, by noisy curs, frightened poultry, and confused shadows from the trees and houses, till they jolted across the other bridge, and rolled out clear into the broad light of evening. All at once, after some silent meditation, Charles tapped the shoulder near him, and the Frenchman turned his face with a slight start.

it would have been impossible to extricate Monsieur from that affair there it was important that I should reach Paris: there is no favour to one or the other-only a compromise."

"By George!" uttered the boy, staring," you do not mean to say that long rigmarole account of yours was true?"

The Frenchman betrayed equal amazement. "Is it, then, possible, Monsieur," said he, "that you doubt it-that you imagine these things not to exist precisely-not to bear themselves as I have stated!" Charles surveyed him coolly. "Think you, Monsieur," continued the other, with some vehemence," that one could at all events deceive one's neighbours, who are aware of every circumstance cus--who will to-morrow demand of me the result! The police-who confide in my position, my character! No, Monsieur-it is truth that has happened to involve, as to extricate you

"I say, Mossure Moreng," observed Charles, with more than his tomary force of pronunciation, "I am sorry you got hurt, though."

"The apology of Monsieur is accepted," was the cold answer, as the young man quietly turned away again towards the smoke of Paris before them.

"Oh, it is not an apology," said Charles, leaning over, "but I own we are much obliged to you. Such a set of rascally canaille, to be sure! 'Twas ingenious enough, that story of yours -so far as I understood it! But where are we to take you to keep it up? Into town? Or perhaps you would prefer being dropped at the first comfortable inn!"

"I do not comprehend you, Monsieur," replied the teacher of Charlemont, in evident surprise; "it is to the hotel of M. le Count de Charlemont that we shall go-in Paris."

"And where is that?" asked the youth, drumming with his small cane on his toe.

"In the Faubourg St Germain, Monsieur-near the Quai Voltaire," said Morin.

"Why, I should say it was two or three miles out of our way, then," rejoined Charles, discontentedly. "Well -what after that? Do we finish there-eh?"

"I am unaware of the result, naturally, Monsieur," answered the schoolmaster. "In the case of Monsieur, it will probably be an inconsiderable fine, which the clerk of M. le Maire will no doubt regulate according to law. But for the coincidence,

truth, by which France is at this moment so animated-by which we here are at the instant surrounded, controlled!"

Young Willoughby whistled slightly as he eyed him. "Oh?" was the careless rejoinder. "But for my part, I feel no inclination to trouble your worthy mayor. The whole thing is a humbug. What if I merely refuse to go, Mister Morran-indeed, if I have you set down beside the first fiacre, with your fare paid to the driver?"

"You do not comprehend this France here, Monsieur," said the village teacher, blandly, as he let a voluntary gaze of his colourless eye rest on Charles. "She burns to support the law-to assist it. At a moment they are summoned to its aid-they are roused to complete it the more perfectly-they exaggerate. Besides, even in your house, by tomorrow, you would be traced. The offence would have become enhanced. It is owing to the sublime passion for the philosophical-the consistent, Monsieur!"

The boy eyed Morin with a useless frown; he had turned away. Looking about, and thinking, with a singular sense of antipathy, for which he could scarce find sufficient grounds, Charles sat mute; he began to feel as if, much though he despised this Mo

rin, he would never be got rid of till some serious issue came of it in the end. But they reached the barrier, not yet closed-passed through, recognised and unquestioned; for to enter Paris seemed always easier than to get out of it; and rattled along the chaussée through close streets of a dingy faubourg. Much as it was out of their way, yet, to be finally rid of Monsieur Morin and his case, no course seemed secure but to drive straight to the authority he indicated. At the Rue de St Roche, accordingly, in the aristocratic suburb they at length drew up before a high old house in the row of stately mansions, where lacqueys lounged about the balustraded door-steps and huge portescochère, and the upper casements began to glow with light. "It is the Hotel St Mirel," said the village teacher, as he began with difficulty to get down. He waited quietly for the young gentleman to follow him, and they went up the steps together.

The carriage had not stood waiting many minutes before Charles Willoughby reappeared alone. His face was bright with satisfaction.

"What an absurd affair, after all," said he, contemptuously: "it cost about ten minutes and as many shillings. An old clerk at a table in an antechamber took down the statements on each side. Of course I allowed the facts; and it seems there's an exact understood price tacked to every sort of assault in France, from a push to a kick, according to the quality of the parties; and if the fellow had pushed me, it would have cost him about double. There were two or three gentlemen talking in an inner room, who all came out together in riding-boots and coats-though which was which, one could hardly see against the large windows this time of night. I only fancy it was the Count that bowed to me, rather a young man, I should say - and looked at Morin rather sharply, giv. ing a slight sort of nod; then he said something to the clerk, who told me I was fined half a louis-d'or, besides the five francs for his own fee, which

he pocketed very graciously, getting up and putting off his spectacles. I only waited another minute to see if I could catch out that Morin somewhere, as soon as the Count called him aside in a hurry to the inner room; but I must say everything seemed to agree well enough with the fellow's harangue at the village-his schoolmastership was evidently in danger-till all at once the Count came out again to tell the other gentlemen he could not go somewhere with them that evening. I believe the one was some celebrated actor at the theatre-which was he the footman couldn't tell-and the other a dook, as John of course expressed it!" "Why, that footman was English, then!" said Rose, gravely.

"Of course. As lazy a selfish dog, with his plump looks and his languid impertinence, as you'd see in all May Fair-old Jackson there's a Roman by comparison-but somehow it refreshed one. I couldn't help giving him my last half-crown, he fawned so about my hat and cane, as if to do something-and as for the coin, he examined it like a portrait. After that Morin, you know, anything's pleasant that one's accustomed to! We're well quit of him. Happily, by the by, they forgot about the passports, and don't even know my name. Being lame-if it's not a sham-why, I fancy the fellow could scarce do otherwise than stay at the Count's, down stairs with John!"

Charles's mother gently reproved him for the violence he had used, and his sister said he was very hardhearted. But the carriage turned the corner near the Rue Debilly; and as they drew up at their own gate, Mr Thorpe, bareheaded, followed by Sir Godfrey, came eagerly out. They had been getting very anxious indeed. The tutor had missed the Baronet, whom business had detained a little later than his expectation, so that he had left the city by a different barrier, then had turned, fancying the carriage already past; while Mr Thorpe had ridden nearly all the way home alone, then back, till he met Sir Godfrey.

CHAP. VII.-THE DILIGENCE OF SIR GODFREY.

"Norfolk. We may outrun,

By violent swiftness, that which we run at,
And lose by over-running-

Buckingham. by intelligence,
And proofs as clear as founts in July, when
We see each grain of gravel, I do know—'"

The Barouet had no sooner written his necessary correspondence that forenoon, and conveyed it, almost as necessarily, with his own hands to the post-office at the British Embassy, than he had turned bridle again toward the Quais, to ride in the direction of the Cité, where it seemed that, after all, the intended legatee of his brother had only exchanged one obscure place of abode for another-48 Rue Chrétienne, au cinquième, in fact, for au septième, num. 80, Rue de la Vierge. He found himself ere long plunged into the centre of that strange heart of a no less strange quarter. He had no sooner found the number he was in search of, than a couple of little sharp-eyed, old-faced gamins, engaged in some game of chance in a doorway, were ready to hold his horse, with a jealousy of each other which was a guarantee for their joint fidelity.

It was an insecure-looking old pile, which might yet have seemed a sort of city in itself; compressed back, as it appeared, and almost held up between others less elevated, though of greater prominence and somewhat more respectable appearance, to the vast height of at least seven storeys: the general outer door stood fixedly open, and the cord which held it so, conducting by staple and pulley along the low entrance-passage, as through the arch of a cellar, turned in on one side to a dark little den, half lighted by a cooking-lamp and partly from a back-yard covered with rank grass and all sorts of rubbish, with an old wooden pump in the midst, to which the passage itself led through. Here an old woman, the portress, sat in a crazy leathern arm-chair that had been gilded once; she was busy trying to boil something by the lamp, and talking in a cross voice to herself, her cat, or some one else not visible to Sir Godfrey; her old features were sour enough, probably from the rheuma

SHAKESPEARE.

tism which controlled her motions; but at his appearance and inquiries she became sufficiently alert and communicative, curtseying at every sentence, and trying to nod her head obsequiously, with the utmost eagerness to do anything in the matter of Suzanne Deroux, whom she knew so well, and who was so deservingwho, indeed, was never from home, except to go to mass on saints' days at Nôtre Dame. There was the low fawning cunning and curiosity of old age, joined to the practised manner of some quondam servant, in the portress's desire that he should be saved the flight of stairs, down which, where it wound up from opposite her lodge, came but the dull glimmer of daylight in some high window her little girl, however, whom she had screamed for over and over again, between fits of coughing and fresh suggestions to the visitor, at last appeared with her pitcher from the pump, to be angrily despatched upstairs as a guide to Madame Peltier. That was the appellation expected by the daughter and the son-in-lawthe portress informed him-for they were proud, and respected their mother to an extreme-though, properly, it seemed Madame had no right to that title, not having been married - and, doubtless, the marriage even of her daughter must at best have been à la Jacques, since nowadays it was so with all workmen who had nothing, of course, to inherit or to leave. As for this worthy Suzanne, though she seemed to affect to be religious, her frugality, so unavoidable her simplicity, which was almost hopeless, did not entitle her - nothing but her misfortunes could entitle her

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view, ere Sir Godfrey reached it, almost breathless, counting the storeys. The whole structure, from base to summit, appeared not merely to teem with apartments, but, as it ascended, to rise and open skyward into visible life one pleasant buzz of French vivacity, indeed, had seemed to circulate above till the girl appeared; and her voice could now be heard in eager dialogue behind an adjoining door with the young woman who a minute before had been speaking over the balusters. He knocked, half open although it stood, and was at once answered by the latter. Suzanne Deroux was the name of her mother, she said-who was within. There was something hard and cold, almost sullen, about the young woman's face, though it was well-formed her cheek seemed worn, her eyes dry and lustreless; nor did she make any inviting or inquiring remark, merely making way for and following the stranger as he slowly

entered.

It was a bare garret, with the redtiled floor of such ordinary Parisian abodes, a low yellow-washed ceiling, much narrower than the floor, as on one side the wall slanted with the roof; yet everything was neat, clean, and decently arranged. But the glance took it in at once, without leaving so much as a shadow; neither hearth nor semblance of a closet broke its completeness, to the recess of the upright dormer-window, which seemed a redeeming feature in so bald an apartment, where it rose large and shining out of the slope, beyond the older woman's seat. That was an armchair, indeed, high-backed and easy: her feet were on a patch of carpet; a pot of mignonette was in flower on the window-sill; a small coarselycoloured print of some portrait was stuck with a pin to the opposite wall of the recess; as if the household bloomed a little only in that direction, toward the sunlight, which came flooding with the air through the wideopen window-place. Seated on the floor, beside a deal box in a corner, under the slant of the wall, was a stout young workman with a bootlast, engaged on the second of an elegant pair of riding-boots; while a half-naked infant had been laid on the floor, among the parings of the vegetables which seemed meant for some

afternoon meal-and was taken up by the portress's little niece, to be hushed and shaken, with an air of matronly attention.

At sight of the English baronet's conspicuous figure, stooping to enter, and scarce venturing to stand erect within, the bootmaker had looked up with an absolute scowl of astonishment; showing a strongly-marked haggard visage, rendered the more singularly unprepossessing, despite something of the vivid southern tint and classic decisiveness, by a head close-cropped, in all its native sootblackness, and a chin left roughly tufted below, although the lean tanned cheek had not yet lost altogether its air of youth. Sir Godfrey's first feeling had been one of pity, mingled with sudden pleasure in the commission he had to perform; their perfect want of manners, their very poverty, the absence of any other apartment to withdraw into, joined to the motionless silence of the elderly woman in her arm-chair, who neither seemed to hear nor see him, all increased it to a kind of embarrassment. In the highest drawing-rooms in Europe, nay, in any peasant's cottage of his own country, Sir Godfrey would have felt immeasurably more at ease than he then stood, hat in hand, in the attic of these Parisian work-people. He had hardly begun to address the person before him, too, as Madame, ere the child's fretfulness in the arms of its little nurse became a vociferous squall, to which the elder woman turned her head slowly, with an air of distress, her features working, her body moving and rocking in her chair, as she made a humming, hushing sound to the infaut. Its mother snatched it next moment from the girl's arms, with an angry exclamation. "Why do you remain here under such pretences ?" said she, sharply; and the look of early cunning had betrayed itself on the girl's face by her attempt to seem absorbed in the child, with the hanging of the head that succeeded. "Favour me, little Pochon, by leaving us alone," continued the young woman, following her as she slunk out: "Widow Pochon is too good, inform her!" And she slammed to the fragile door, then returned near the visitor, with her infant quietly held to the breast:

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