“Only imagine, my dear friend,” replied Lectoure, with the most complete sang froid, “that this gentleman gets into the water up to his neck,--At what time of the year, may I ask, without being indiscreet?” “In the month of December and January.” “It is impossible that any thing can be more picturesque. I was saying, then, that he gets into the water up to his neck, puts a large toadstool over his head, and conceals himself among the bulrushes. This so completely metamorphoses him that the ducks do not recognise him, and allow him to come close to them. Did you not say so?” “As near as I am to you.” “Bah! really?” exclaimed Emanuel. “And this gentleman kills just as many as he pleases.” “I kill them by dozens,” said he, proudly, being enchanted by the attention which the two young men were paying to the recital of his exploits. “It must be a delightful thing for your good lady, if she be fond of ducks,” said Emanuel. “She adores them,” said M. de Nozay. “I hope you will do me the honor to introduce me to so interesting a person,” said Lectoure, bowing. “Undoubtedly baron.” “I swear to you,” said Lectoure, “that instantly on my return to Paris, I will speak of this sport in the king’s dressing-room, and I am persuaded that his majesty himself will make a trial of it in one of his large ponds of Versailles.” “I beg your pardon, dear marquis,” said Emanuel, taking Lectoure’s arm, and whispering in his ear, “this is one of our country neighbors, whom we could not do otherwise than invite on so solemn an occasion.” “It requires no apology, my dear friend,” said Lectoure, using the same precaution not to be heard by the party in question: “you would have been decidedly wrong had you deprived me of so amusing a companion. He is an appendage to the dower of my future wife, and I should have been greatly chagrined not to have made his acquaintance.” “Monsieur de la Jarry,” said a servant, opening the door. “A sporting companion?” said Lectoure. “No,” replied M. de Nozay; “he is a traveller.” “Ah! ah!” exclaimed Lectoure, with an accent which announced that the newly arrived personage was to be the subject of a new attack. He had hardly made the ejaculation, when the person announced entered the room, muffled up in a Polish dress, lined with fur. “Ah! my dear La Jarry,” cried Emanuel, advancing to meet him, and holding out his hand to him, “but how you are be-furred! Upon my honor, you look like the Czar Peter.” “It is,” replied La Jarry, shivering, although the weather was by no means cold, “because, when one arrives from Naples--perrrrrou!” “Ah! the gentleman has arrived from Naples,” said Lectoure, joining in the conversation. “Direct, sir.” “Did you ascend Vesuvius, sir?”