"Glass and paste, _mon ami_.

Not worth five francs of anybody's money." Mueller, who had been eyeing him all the time with an odd smile lurking about the corners of his mouth, emptied his last drop of Chablis, turned the glass over on the table, bottom upwards, and said very coolly:-- "Well, I'm sorry for that; because I gave seven francs for it myself this morning, in the Palais Royal." "You!" "Seven francs!" "Bought in the Palais Royal!" "What does he mean ?" "Mean ?" echoed the student, in reply to this chorus of exclamations.

"I mean that I bought it this morning, and gave seven francs for it.

It is not every morning of my life, let me tell you, that I have seven francs to throw away on my personal appearance." "But then the ring that the lady took from her finger ?" "And the murder ?" "And the servant in black ?" "And the hundred scudi ?" "One great invention from beginning to end, Messieurs les Chicards, and being got up expressly for your amusement, I hope you liked it.
_Garcon ?_--another _grog au vin_, and sweeter than the last!" It would be difficult to say whether the Chicards were most disappointed or delighted at this _denoument_--disappointed at its want of fact, or delighted with the story-weaving power of Herr Franz Mueller.

They expressed themselves, at all events, with a tumultuous burst of applause, in the midst of which we rose and left the room.