“‘Mine. Your astonishment does not indicate a very flattering estimate of my literary capacity. Yes, my friends! I mean to make myself a position, I aspire to become a legislator, and by way of getting my hand in, I write for the _Journal des Chasses_. Electors like to find in their candidate a man of letters, rich in the honours of pica and long-primer. So I flatter the elective weakness; I sacrifice to the parliamentary calf. Ah! only let me get into the Chamber,’ continued Kersent, in the tone of a future tribune, ‘and you shall see me take up a solid position. My plans are formed. Once in the Chamber, I defend the partridge, I plead for the rabbit, I declare myself the champion of fur and feather. Find a college of electors intelligent enough to return me, and you shall have a game-law worthy of Solon. It is already framed in my head. Death for the poacher, death for the snare-setter: the philanthropical system of the Committee of Public Salvation! With such a law, you would soon see prodigious results.... But I arrived only this morning from Plessy, with Marsanne, and we set out again to-morrow for the forest of Orleans. His hunting equipage has preceded us. Any fresh scandal here? Are you successful with Lady Emilia? _Sapristie!_ if she does not look favourably on you after your exploits of last week, her heart must be granite.’ “‘Perhaps!’ muttered Movillez with an air of consummate coxcombry. “‘The _perhaps_ is very significant; but I know your discretion, and will question you no further. And Vassigny, how is he? what is he doing? where is he?’ “‘I know a thing or two about him; and bye the bye, I will tell you what I know. You may be able to help me in my researches.’ “‘I am all ears,’ said Kersent. ‘Ah! there you are, Marsanne! three quarters of an hour late, that’s all: if I have an indigestion, I shall know whom to thank. But hush! Movillez is about to unfold the mysteries of Vassigny.’” Marsanne, who had just arrived, nodded to his friends, and lent his attention to Movillez, who began as follows: