.

CECILE DESHAIX.

In his lodgings at the corner of the.
Rue-St.Honore and the Rue de la Republique--lately changed, in the all-encompassing metamorphosis, from "Rue Royale" sat the Deputy Caron La Boulaye at his writing-table.
There was a flush on his face and a sparkle in the eyes that looked pensively before him what time he gnawed the feathered end of his quill.
In his ears still rang the acclamations that had greeted his brilliant speech in the Assembly that day.

He was of the party of the Mountain--as was but natural in a protege of the Seagreen Robespierre--a party more famed for its directness of purpose than elegance of expression, and in its ranks there was room and to spare for such orators as he.

The season was March of '93--a season marked by the deadly feud raging 'twixt the Girondins and the Mountain, and in that battle of tongues La Boulaye was covering himself with glory and doing credit to his patron, the Incorruptible.