M. Arnault had followed Bonaparte to Egypt. He has related in a very amusing manner, in his memoirs entitled _Souvenirs d'un sexagénaire_, the part he took in that expedition. On his return, he wrote an Ossianic tragedy, called _Oscar_, which was very successful, and which he dedicated to Bonaparte; then _les Vénitiens,_ the catastrophe of which was regarded as so outrageously bold that scrupulous people would not support it, and the author was obliged to please these good people by changing the action, thanks to which, after the style of Ducis's _Othello_, his piece now finished off by a death or a marriage, according to the choice of the spectators. _Les Vénitiens_ was a tremendous success. While M. Arnault was a chief clerk in the University during the Empire, under M. de Fontanes, who was the principal, he took Béranger into his offices as copying-clerk at twelve hundred francs a year. And it was there that Béranger wrote his first chanson, the _Roi d'Yvetot._ Upon the second return of the Bourbons, M. Arnault was proscribed, and retired to Brussels. We have already told how he became acquainted with M. de Leuven, in exile, over a slap in the face the latter gave a foreign officer. It was during his exile that M. Arnault composed nearly all his fables, a charming collection but little known, as very few people read fables nowadays. For this very reason I am going to make my readers acquainted with three of them. Be reassured! these three fables are really by M. Arnault, and not by M. Viennet. Besides, I am answerable for them, and my word can be depended upon in the case of all three. Let us further hasten to add that the fables we are about to read are fables only in title: they are really epigrams. LE COLIMAÇON "Sans amis comme sans famille, Ici-bas, vivre en étranger; Se retirer dans sa coquille, Au signal du moindre danger; S'aimer d'une amitié sans bornes, De soi seul emplir sa maison; En sortir, selon la saison, Pour faire à son prochain les cornes Signaler ses pas destructeurs Par les traces les plus impures; Outrager les plus belles fleurs Par ses baisers ou ses morsures; Enfin, chez soi, comme en prison, Vieillir, de jour en jour plus triste; C'est l'histoire de l'égoiste Ou celle du colimaçon." LE DROIT DE CHACUN