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One who sat behind the stove said to his neighbor, “This is a better way to come back than that thief Schlunkel’s: he’s been twice to the penitentiary, and has just come back. I wish we were rid of him again.”

Florian ordered a bottle of wine for himself and his comrades, while Josey was regaled with a mug of beer at an adjoining table.

When Babbett brought the refreshments, he remarked, in an under-tone, but yet loud enough to be heard by all, ” Comme elle est jolie! — bien jolie! “

” Qui? ” returned the College Chap. The company nudged each other,–to think they could talk French so well together.

Florian treated the whole company,–to their great satisfaction, for, though frequenters of the tavern, they sat there as dry customers: the stimulus made their hearts glad, and the sensation was reflected upon the spirits of Florian. He seemed to have expended his stock of French; for “Snuff the chandelle ” is not pure Parisian.

The point of the joke was lost, nevertheless; for the geometer, who put up at the Eagle, was not there.

“Are you going to stay with us, Florian?” asked Babbett.

” Nous verrons : we shall see.”

“Tell us something of your travels,” said Caspar, the host, who felt it incumbent on him to promote the conversation. “Have you been to Paris?”

“Of course,” answered Florian, in a tone of voice in which a shrewd observer would have detected the ring of false metal; “but I didn’t like it there. Nancy’s the finest place yet. Go into a tavern there, and the walls are all looking-glasses, the tables are marble, and you eat and drink out of nothing but silver. You ought to go there once: you’d open your eyes and ears.”

These signs of absorbing attention now showed themselves in Florian’s own features; for the geometer, with his two colleagues, entered the room. They passed through to the little back parlor, where a table was set for them.

Florian seized his glass, made it clink against those of his friends, and said, ” A votre sante. “

Caspar had lost his interest in Florian’s narration, and hastened to meet the new-comers and light them to their supportable, which was set in the back room. Florian, twirling his mustache, asked Constantine, very softly, “Which is it?”

“The lobsided one, with long hair, that came in first.”

For a time all were silent, and nothing was heard but the clatter of knives and forks behind the screen.

But suddenly Constantine began to sing:–

“Oh, man of geometry,
Pull up your pegs:
How can you see straight with such
Shocking round legs?”

A burst of laughter filled the room, instantly succeeded by another silence. The knives and forks behind the screen were breathless also.

Florian got up and said to Josey, ” Comment vous portez-vous, Monsieur Geometre? “

” Quadulta loing,” replied Josey, who continued to talk gibberish, amid renewed peals of laughter.

“‘Wish you joy of your berth,” said Constantine, taking the mop from the slop-bucket. “Here: just survey this table for me: you can do it very well, you know, for there’s no need of brains.”

Amid constant and increasing merriment, Josey entered upon his labors, and proceeded until Babbett came up, saying,–

“Have done with this, now, and crack your jokes somewhere else. Be quiet, Josey, or go about your business.”

Josey struck the table and jabbered grimly. The screen was suddenly pushed aside, and Steinhaeuser, the admirer of Crescence, appeared, restrained by his two comrades from assaulting the mocker. Caspar tried to pacify him, and, as soon as he had partially succeeded, he stepped up to the three, and said, with more decision than might have been expected,–

“I’ll tell you what: this sort of thing can’t be done on my premises; and the sooner you know it the better. Drink your wine quietly, or I’ll show you what’s outside of the door. I won’t have my guests insulted while I’m master of this house. No offence to one; but I will have order.”