“‘You can turn everything into a joke,’ she said between laughing and crying.

“The next morning, at the same hour, the Marseilles express carried away the five Tuareg and Clementine.  The young woman, radiant, was leaning on the arm of Sheik Ahmed, who was beside himself with joy.

“‘Have you many shops in your capital?’ she asked him languidly.

“And he, smiling broadly under his veil, replied: 

“‘Besef, besef, bono, roumis, bono.’

“At the last moment, Clementine had a pang of emotion.

“’Listen, Casimir, you have always been kind to me.  I am going to be a queen.  If you weary of it here, promise me, swear to me....’

“The Sheik had understood.  He took a ring from his finger and slipped it onto mine.

“‘Sidi Casimir, comrade,’ he affirmed.  ’You come—­find us.  Take Sidi Ahmed’s ring and show it.  Everybody at Ahaggar comrades. Bono Ahaggar, bono.’

“When I came out of the Gare de Lyon, I had the feeling of having perpetrated an excellent joke.”

The Hetman of Jitomir was completely drunk.  I had had the utmost difficulty in understanding the end of his story, because he interjected, every other moment, couplets from Jacques Offenbach’s best score.

Dans un bois passait un jeune homme, Un jeune homme frais et beau, Sa main tenait une pomme, Vous voyez d’ici le tableau.

“Who was disagreeably surprised by the fall of Sedan?  It was Casimir, poor old Casimir!  Five thousand louis to pay by the fifth of September, and not the first sou, no, not the first sou.  I take my hat and my courage and go to the Tuileries.  No more Emperor there, no!  But the Empress was so kind.  I found her alone—­ah, people scatter quickly under such circumstances!—­alone, with a senator, M. Merimee, the only literary man I have ever known who was at the same time a man of the world.  ‘Madame,’ he was saying to her, ’you must give up all hope.  M. Thiers, whom I just met on the Pont Royal, would listen to nothing.’

“‘Madame,’ I said in my turn, ’Your Majesty always will know where her true friends are.’

“And I kissed her hand.

        “Evohe, que les deesses
        Out de droles de facons
    Pour enjoler, pour enjoler, pour enjoler les gaaarcons!

“I returned to my home in the Rue de Lille.  On the way I encountered the rabble going from the Corps Legislatif to the Hotel de Ville.  My mind was made up.

“‘Madame,’ I said to my wife, ‘my pistols.’

“‘What is the matter?’ she asked, frightened.

“’All is lost.  But there is still a chance to preserve my honor.  I am going to be killed on the barricades.’

“‘Ah!  Casimir,’ she sobbed, falling into my arms.  ’I have misjudged you.  Will you forgive me?’

“‘I forgive you, Aurelie,’ I said with dignified emotion.  ’I have not always been right myself.’