Roy was in a wild mood, delighted to find some vent for his happiness, and not to be easily checked; and Curtis was drawn in, hardly resisting. First one, then the other, aimed chip after chip at that self-contained face of worldwide fame, sometimes hitting, sometimes missing. When for the third time Roy succeeded in touching the nose, he was hilariously delighted. “Bravo, bravo!” he cried. “Down with the old fellow! _À bas l’Empereur!_” “Sh—h! Roy, be careful. You’ll certainly get yourself into trouble.” “All right—nobody here but ourselves. Now you again. I say, I wish I could do this to the real individual. Wouldn’t it be a game worth playing? _À bas_ the old chap! Now you—down with Nap! Now it’s me.” Roy’s excitement went beyond bounds. He seized a solid ball, belonging to the baby, and aimed with precision. “_À bas l’Empereur._” Down came the bust, with a crash, into the fender, and was smashed. Roy stood still, conscious of having done a very silly thing, and a shriek sounded in his rear. The door had just been opened, the landlady had appeared, and she was now shaking her fists, and executing a dance of rage. “I say, Roy, stop! Don’t go on fooling like this. You’ll get us all into trouble.” Curtis spoke roughly, realising in a moment that matters might become serious. “Tell her you mean nothing by it.” “Mean nothing. But of course I do mean——” “Roy! Will you hold your tongue? Stop this foolery!” Roy obeyed, while the woman, shaking her fists, continued to pour out a torrent of abuse, in the midst of which occurred several times the ominous word “gendarmes.” Curtis went nearer to her, and spoke in his quietest tones. “Madame is mistaken,” he said. “Nothing is intended. Monsieur is but a boy, and Monsieur was but in jest.” “It is an insult to l’Empereur! It shall be made known,” screamed the other. “I beg of you to hear me. It is no insult. This gentleman had no wish, none whatever, to break the figure. He did but aim at it in jest—as English Messieurs love to do. Not because it was a bust of the Emperor, but to have something to aim at,” explained Curtis. He might as well have addressed himself to the winds. “A jest!—and as to the Emperor! Truly a fit subject for a jest! But the thing shall be known. M. le Général Wirion shall hear. Ah—ha, and we shall see what the gendarmes will say to Monsieur’s little jest! Eh—hé, Monsieur, I know a thing or two as to _les Anglais_, I can tell you. And my ornament that is broken—broken all in pieces——” “Madame shall have full value for the bust.” Roy felt in his pockets. “I’ve only five francs here. But it can’t be worth more.” “You won’t get off with the mere market value of the thing,” Curtis said in English. “I have five more, and not a sou besides in the house. Here, offer her the ten.” Roy’s hand was thrust contemptuously aside.