with money you can engage an entire salon for yourself. Hence a waiter was sent ahead as quartermaster, who returned in a few minutes with a beaming face, and said, “All right; the gentlemen can enter." A narrow dark passage led us rapidly to our destination. The salon, in truth, deserved the epithet of "small." It formed an irregular polygon, and the ceiling was so low that it almost alarmed you on first entering lest you should knock your head against it. The walls were covered from top to bottom with mirrors. Four tables covered with damask cloths, and the suitable number of chairs, constituted the furniture, and a darkcoloured carpet covered the whole of the floor. Only one of the four tables was occupied. The company seated at it consisted of three persons-two ladies and a gentleman who all seemed to be merry and well disposed, and did not allow their rather loud conversation to be in the slightest degree disturbed by our entrance. We seated ourselves quietly in a corner, ordered a bottle of Chambertin, which was at once brought in a willow basket by the ministering spirit, talked in a low voice over the glasses, and observed at the same time. We were not long in doubt as to the character of the trio. The two ladies had made themselves thoroughly comfortable for supper. They had probably taken off their bonnets, shawls, &c., in another room, for there was no trace of them in the "small salon." Each of them wore a black merino dress, cut rather low down in front. Their black hair was carefully arranged round a pale and moderately interesting face, which the champagne they had swallowed was beginning faintly to tinge. A smile, that frequently degenerated into a loud laugh, never entirely disappeared from their lips. No doubt but that the couple belonged to the caste very characteristically called by the Parisians "young widows," because, probably in order to make themselves more interesting, they dress themselves like a young widow lamenting her dear departed. There was nothing particularly engaging about their companion, in spite of his tall form, open features, fashionable dress, and pseudo-jovial manner: his eyes, which glided shyly and restlessly from one object to the other, and only became fixed for a moment now and then on the faces of the ladies, did not please me at all. I at once put him down as one of the class of Parisian bon-vivants, while my more experienced companion merely saw in him one of the thousands of fellows who contrive to exist solely on their readiness to fight, and the favour of the fair lady under their pro tection. The conversation of the three, which in the first few minutes after our entrance had turned on indifferent topics, now assumed a more interesting, though not more serious character. The remnants of a very delicate dessert had not yet been removed, and among them rose a very considerable group of bottles. Aglae and Frosine-so the heroines called each other-were passing the time in a noble fashion by bombarding the bottle-necks, as well as the rather prominent nose of their Arthur, with pellets of bread. The latter was leaning with folded arms on the table, and gazing on the work of destruction before him with apparently melancholy glances. "Only to think," he suddenly said, with a hearty laugh and a tremendous shrug of the shoulders, "that we have been regaling like this for two days at this Château Anglais! Come, ladies! there is one more unopened bottle of champagne! We will crack it to the health of Old England, which has offered us such unbounded hospitality. Cheer up, Aglaë, and play the kind Hebe once more, so that our hearts may be refreshed by the fragrant café noir and its spiritual companion." your "Ah, Arthur, or rather Abelard, do you uncork the bottle for Heloise. Just at present I am enjoying my indolence so much. Like a true Englishwoman, I will practise shooting with Frosine." "Ha! ha! ha!" Frosine laughed. And piff! paff! puff! the pellets pattered like hail round the big head of the noble protector. "Rabelais's quarter of an hour will soon arrive, dearest Arthur. Then we shall learn your Croesus qualities, and see whether—” A pop, a stream that struck her right on the mouth, interrupted the pale young lady's speech. Arthur, the rogue, had cut the string of the champagne bottle, and taken a cruel revenge for the bombardment of his nose. He had taken a first-rate aim: Frosine sneezed, and could not recover from her fright for some time; Aglaë, who had also received her share, tittered; Arthur laughed, and poured the rest of the bottle into the tall glasses, so that the greater part of the wine was wasted on the cloth. "That will teach you, dearest Frosine," the pourer said, pathetically, "not to be so impertinent in future. The wife must be obedient to her husband, so says the Code Napoléon." "All right, my cabbage," Aglaë said, sharply; "but if you do not compensate us for the insult to-morrow by a new dress apiece from the Louvre, it will be the worse for you." "Ah, oui-da! how diabolically these princesses attack me. Well, console yourselves, children. So long as Arthur lives and possesses two sous, one of them is yours. For the present we are enjoying English hospitality, and when that is the case I will not be beaten by an English milord." Saying this, he struck his waistcoat-pocket, whence issued a harmonious sound as if of Louis d'or, which even reached our corner. What cannot such a sound effect, and more especially with the heart of a Parisian lorette! Mesdemoiselles Aglae and Frosine afforded us the most brilliant proof of this. Although just now so annoyed at the unexpected champagne attack, their pale faces all at once displayed such a flow of delight that I was suddenly attacked by a shudder, and thought of a social state of affairs, of which the least said the best. The two ladies heartily seized their glasses, and while Aglaë hummed the refrain, "Bonum vinum lætificat cor hominum," Frosine sang" Buvons donc," and Mr. Arthur struck up " Vive l'amour, le vin et le tabac," the glasses clinked, and the reconciliation was perfect. The table was now cleared by the waiter, and coffee and cognac placed on it. The two ladies greeted their favourite beverage with noisy applause. Four sous' worth of caporal and a packet of cigarette papers were then brought for them, while Monsieur Arthur contented himself with a Londres. The two ladies at once set to work and rolled cigarettes like a Spaniard, three or four a minute. Good gracious! if the father of old Fritz had enjoyed such a sight, he would certainly have founded a tobacco college for ladies. The amiable pair had puffed away their whole pile of cigarettes as if for a wager. Monsieur Arthur's Londres was literally at the last gasp, and Mamselle Aglaë was just preparing to light with a lucifer the cognac poured out in her saucer, when the waiter came in to inquire after the final wishes of the company. 66 "Nothing, nothing more," Monsieur Arthur replied, in the most polite tone in the world, as he lit another Londres. Only a chartreuse and a little biscuit for the ladies; but for me-the bill.” The waiter disappeared like the wind, and Loftus bent over to me and repeated old Béranger's lines laughingly: Oui, dans ton empire, Cocagne, on respire. Du restaurateur. What do my readers suppose the trio talked about during the waiter's absence? The probable amount of the bill. Aglaë thought it would be two hundred francs; Frosine, three hundred; Arthur, four hundred. The honourable company must, indeed, have been carrying on freely for the two days. But perhaps the figures were exaggerated; only a gasconnade intended for my friend and myself. This point would be soon cleared up. The waiter did not return for ten minutes. Judging from the time of his absence, the bill would, probably, be of a decent length. He brought it on a silver salver, and with it a bottle of the liqueur ordered, and glasses. The ladies had the latter, and their companion the bill. Monsieur Arthur took a hasty glance at the foot of it, and smiled to the waiter with evident relief. "Five hundred francs. That is a trifle," he said, as he tapped his waistcoat-pocket and again produced that harmonious sound. "Still I doubt whether I have so much in gold about me. I tell you what, Aglaë, here is my pocket-book, with several thousand-franc notes in it. Give the waiter one of them, and don't forget, in case of my not being back in time, to hand him two Louis d'or for himself, for he has really treated us in the most gentlemanly manner. You will have the kindness, waiter, to fetch down my hat and these ladies' cloaks and bonnets. I will go and look for a comfortable carriage, for we live a long way off, and a bad vehicle is a torture to nous autres, especially with ladies." With these words Monsieur Arthur rose, drove the waiter, who was grinning at the thought of the two Louis d'or, out of the room before him, and disappeared. Mamselle Aglaë had laid the pocket-book, handed to her in a very noble way, upon the table, while she rolled her seventh or eighth cigarette. How could she look for the money directly, in the presence of the waiter and two strangers, too? That would have been most unfashionable, and would have looked as if she cared at all for the paltry money. Hence she quietly and conscientiously finished her cigarette, lit it, and began puffing just as the waiter came in heavily laden. "Here, my ladies! and if I can be of any service in helping you on with your mantillas, you know that you can always command me.' "Come, "Thanks," Mdlle. Frosine said, with fashionable coldness. Aglaë, help me on with my cloak, and I will help you in turn. After that, pay the waiter.” While gracefully smoking their cigarettes, they lent each other a hand. The waiter gazed at the couple with visible pleasure, chivalrously aided now and then in lifting a sleeve, but constantly squinted at the table, as if afraid lest the tempting pocket-book with the thousand-franc notes might disappear. But it still lay tranquilly at the same spot where Mamselle Aglaë had laid it, for Frosine had not touched it. Enfin, Dieu merci! the pair have finished dressing. Rabelais's quarter of an hour has arrived. The waiter fell back a step with satisfaction. His countenance assumed the expression of a man from whose heart a heavy burden has at length been rolled. The couple stood there in all their glory, "widows" from head to foot, with black lace veils, black velvet bonnets, black dresses, and black kid gloves. A noble, really distinguishedlooking pair, for do not clothes make the lady? Aglae had just stretched out her hand to take up the bulky pocketbook, when her eye fell on another object which the waiter had just placed close by it. This was a broad-brimmed, rather old fashioned silk hat, of a dubious colour, and possessing a decided brown tinge. Her eye became involuntarily fixed on it, when her hand already held the pocket-book. She was obliged to give vent to her surprise in words: "To whom does that monster of a hat belong?" she asked, turning to the waiter. "Well, it is not very handsome or original," the latter remarked, with a good-tempered, if not ironical smile. "Still so much is certain, that it belongs to the gentleman who has just stepped out to fetch a fiacre." Mamselle Aglaë gave an impatient start, but we could not see her face, as her veil was down. "It is impossible," she at cannot have worn that hat. so at once when he returns. With these words the lady threw back her veil, took the pocket-book from the table with a certain amount of haste, and began opening it. For some time she was unable to do so, for there were three or four folds of elastic passed round it-the bank-note treasure was taken great care of. "At last!" the two ladies said, with a sigh of relief. length said, impetuously; "the gentleman There is some mistake, and he will tell you In the mean while we will settle." The pocket-book flew open in Aglaë's hand, and a packet fell out of it, all that the book contained. The waiter instinctively fell back a step: Aglaë stooped hastily to pick up the fallen article. There were some bits of thread still to unfasten: it was certainly a strange way of carrying bank-notes about with one. At length the last obstacle was removed and the packet came open. Aglaë sat down at the table and Frosine seated herself by her side. The two ladies examined the heap of paper page by page, and their movements constantly grew hastier and their breath shorter. On both cheeks came a flush, which gradually grew darker, and at length entirely disappeared from Aglaë's cheek. "This is scandalous!" she said passionately, turning to the waiter. "Look here! the gentleman has left us a pocket-book of prospectuses instead of his note-case. We must, therefore, delay paying till he returns." The waiter bowed and went out. The two "young widows" sat down in the corner and conversed in a low tone, although violently. In five minutes the waiter reappeared, this time accompanied by the man with the black artillery whiskers and the head waiter. Ladies," the latter said, as he walked straight up to the "widows," who had modestly pulled down their veils, "will you have the kindness to settle the bill at once ?" "The gentleman will come back directly, and we have not a farthing about us," Aglaë replied, rather despondingly. The dark-haired man made a sign to the waiter, who at once left the room. "The gentleman is a swindler, a rogue," the head waiter shouted in a loud voice," and you will either pay at once for what you have had, or I shall send for the police." "Oh, mon Dieu!" could be heard repeatedly from behind the veils. The two ladies wept, and matters were quite changed. They followed the head waiter with lamentations and entreaties when he left the salon with the black-haired man. An hour after we were witnesses of the last act of the drama in the ante-chamber. The waiter who served us told us all that had taken place in the mean while. Inquiries had been made in vain at the fiacre stations in the vicinity; the gentleman had been sought but never turned up. For a whole hour the argument had gone on between debtors and creditors, as may be supposed, without the slightest result. Then two policemen were summoned. The two servants of the Holy Hermandad walked off very politely, each with his protégée on his arm, probably to chivalrously escort their fair prisoners home. I never learnt what became of the trio. But whenever I walk along the Boulevard des Italiens, and look up at the large corner house of the Rue Favart, with its many shuttered and curtained windows, the nocturnal adventure then recurs to my mind. ORIENTAL EMBASSIES. ON September 16, 1600, there appeared at the court of Cassel, where the learned Landgrave Maurice was ruling, a Persian embassy, sent to all the Christian potentates of Europe, but more especially supplied with letters of credit to the Emperor, the Pope, the highest German princes, the King of France, the Doge of Venice, and the Grand-Duke of Tuscany. It was sent by the celebrated though sanguinary and tyrannical Shah Abbas I., who governed Persia from 1587 to 1629, conquered Khorassan, Mesopotamia, Armenia, Candahar, Tauris, Bagdad, and Bassora, rendered Georgia tributary, and, with the assistance of an English fleet, tore Ormuzd from the Portuguese. The object of the embassy was a general confederation against the Turks and their Sultan, Mahmud III. It consisted |