The returns on which I counted--times are so bad!-have failed, and of the considerable sums which I was to receive I have only realised three francs, which were lent me, and I will not insult you by the offer of them.

Better days will come for our dear country and for me.

Doubt it not, sir! When they come, I shall fly to inform you of their arrival, and to withdraw from your lodgings the precious objects which I leave there, putting them under your protection and that of the law, which hinders you from selling them before the expiration of a year, in case you should be disposed to try to do so with the object of obtaining the sum for which you stand credited in the ledger of my honesty.

I commend to your special care my piano, and also the large frame containing sixty locks of hair whose different colours run through the whole gamut of capillary shades; the scissors of love have stolen them from the forehead of the Graces." "Therefore, dear sir, and landlord, you may dispose of the roof under which I have dwelt.

I grant you full authority, and have hereto set my hand and seal." "ALEXANDER SCHAUNARD" On finishing this letter, (which the artist had written at the desk of a friend who was a clerk in the War Office,) Monsieur Bernard indignantly crushed it in his hand, and as his glance fell on old Durand, who was waiting for the promised gratification, he roughly demanded what he was doing.
"Waiting, sir." "For what ?" "For the present, on account of the good news," stammered the porter.
"Get out, you scoundrel! Do you presume to speak to me with your cap on ?" "But, sir--" "Don't you answer me! Get out! No, stay there! We shall go up to the room of that scamp of an artist who has run off without paying." "What! Monsieur Schaunard ?" ejaculated the porter.
"Yes," cried the landlord with increasing fury, "and if he has carried away the smallest article, I send you off, straight off!" "But it can't be," murmured the poor porter, "Monsieur Schaunard has not run away.