“‘That little Josephine was very fond of finery and display,’ observed Monsieur de Lessay, between two sips of coffee. ‘I do not blame her for it; she had good qualities, though rather frivolous in character. She was a Tascher, and she conferred a great honour on Bonaparte by marrying him. To say a Tascher does not, of course, mean a great deal; but to say a Bonaparte simply means nothing at all.’ “‘What do you mean by that, Monsieur the Marquis?’ demanded Captain Victor. “‘I am not a marquis,’ dryly responded Monsieur de Lessay; ‘and I mean simply that Bonaparte would have been very well suited had he married one of those cannibal women described by Captain Cook in his voyages--naked, tattooed, with a ring in her nose--devouring with delight putrefied human flesh.’ “I had foreseen it, and in my anguish (O pitiful human heart!) my first idea was about the remarkable exactness of my anticipations. I must say that the captain’s reply belonged to the sublime order. He put his arms akimbo, eyed Monsieur de Lessay contemptuously from head to food, and said, “‘Napoleon, Monsieur the Vidame, had another spouse besides Josephine, another spouse besides Marie-Louise, that companion you know nothing of; but I have seen her, close to me. She wears a mantle of azure gemmed with stars; she is crowned with laurels; the Cross-of-Honour flames upon her breast. Her name is GLORY!’ “Monsieur de Lessay set his cup on the mantlepiece and quietly observed, “‘Your Bonaparte was a blackguard!’ “My father rose up calmly, extended his arm, and said very softly to Monsieur de Lessay, “Whatever the man was who died at St. Helena, I worked for ten years in his government, and my brother-in-law was three times wounded under his eagles. I beg of you, dear sir and friend, never to forget these facts in future.’ “What the sublime and burlesque insolence of the captain could not do, the courteous remonstrance of my father effected immediately, throwing Monsieur de Lessay into a furious passion. “‘I did forget,’ he exclaimed, between his set teeth, livid in his rage, and fairly foaming at the mouth; ‘the herring-cask always smells of herring and when one has been in the service of rascals---’ “As he uttered the word, the Captain sprang at his throat; I am sure he would have strangled him upon the spot but for his daughter and me. “My father, a little paler than his wont, stood there with his arms folded, and watched the scene with a look of inexpressible pity. What followed was still more lamentable--but why dwell further upon the folly of two old men. Finally I succeeded in separating them. Monsieur de Lessay made a sign to his daughter and left the room. As she was following him, I ran out into the stairway after her. “‘Mademoiselle,’ I said to her, wildly, taking her hand as I spoke, ‘I love you! I love you!’