On the 4th March, Tunis was _en fête_ to receive General Forgemol. The streets were lined with soldiers, the military band played their most cheerful music, and salutes were fired from the forts. M. Saint- Hilaire’s fiction, however, still survived. The effect of General Forgemol’s triumphal procession was somewhat marred by its being led by a Tunisian officer carrying a large umbrella, apparently for the purpose of denoting that everything was being done by the Bey’s invitation and consent. Two hours later M. Roustan quitted Tunis for ever. The icy coldness which signalised his exit contrasted strangely with the brilliant reception of General Forgemol. M. Roustan’s departure marks an era in the annals of the last Punic War. The Bey sent a special messenger to see that he was really gone, and when he at length learned that the matter no longer admitted of any doubt, gave way to almost childish transports of delight. A week previously M. Roustan had gone to the Bardo to take leave of him, and I afterwards received an account of what had passed at the audience from an eye-witness. It was the most amusing description I ever listened to, and I wrote an account of it at the time, which afterwards appeared in _Vanity Fair_. I cannot expect my readers to regard it in any other light than that of a burlesque, but those who understand the peculiarities of Arab character will at once understand how much of it is really serious:— _Scene: The Kasr-es-Said Palace at Tunis. Time: The 26th February. Dramatis Personæ: The_ BEY OF TUNIS _and his Councillors. Both the Bey and his favourite_, MUSTAPHA, _wear their Grand Cordons of the Legion of Honour. An interpreter announces that_ M. ROUSTAN _is in attendance with_ GENERAL MUSALLI _to take leave. Handkerchiefs are distributed. An order to weep is given_. MUHAMED ES SADIK _loq._—We must be very careful. This is the third time he has gone away, but he always comes back. Roustan is a cat. Roustan has nine lives. (_All begin to weep._ ROUSTAN _enters with his friend_.) BEY _loq._—Good-bye, my dearest friend. (_Here he pauses from agitation, and both he and_ MUSTAPHA _repeatedly embrace the Minister to Washington after the Oriental usage._ BEY _continues, in a voice broken by sobs_)—Allah has sent me many misfortunes, but your going is undoubtedly the greatest of them all. What shall I and poor Mustapha do without you? What will become of my country in your absence? Alas! alas! Tunis is undone! The Almighty is indeed too cruel when He deprives me of my friend and guide. (_The_ BEY _weeps on_ ROUSTAN’S _neck;_ ROUSTAN _and_ MUSALLI _weep in chorus._ ROUSTAN _is conveyed from the room deeply affected_.) ROUSTAN (_aside to_ MUSALLI _on the staircase_) _loq._—Why, he has not even given me a parting present! At least I expected a diamond snuff- box, or another order. Can it be that even with me it is a case of _le roi est mort, vive le roi?_