evil-minded person, he was certain of obtaining no assistance from any house or shop; for when the curfew had rung, everything must be closed, and you might not even have a light in your house, if you wished to read or work, or for any reason not to go to bed.

Why do we call that period "the good old time"?

That is a question I have often asked myself.

Is it because people were not entitled to go to bed, to work, to entertain their friends, to amuse themselves when they had the desire, the need, or the fancy so to do?

Is it because people broke their necks after dark in the streets? because thieves, then called Truands, Mauvais Garçons, Tireurs de Laine, or Coupeurs de Bourses, plied their trade in broad daylight on Pont Neuf and in other localities, laughing in your face if you ventured to remonstrate?

Was it because the shops were dark and filthy, devoid of taste and refinement?

Was it because duels were fought on street corners, or in the public squares, two or four or twelve a day, as unconcernedly as we go boating to-day; and the authorities took no steps to prevent this butchery?

Was it because edicts were promulgated every day whereby such a one was forbidden to wear silk, another to wear velvet, this woman to have a gilt girdle, another to dress in certain colors, which were too brilliant, too conspicuous for her walk in life?

O short-sighted politicians! O paltry critics! who anathematize luxury, who seek to restrict refinement, who censure coquetry, and who do not understand that by such theories you strike at our commerce, our manufacturers, our mechanics—in a word, all our workers!

In heaven's name, what harm is done if a plebeian who has money dresses fashionably, luxuriously even, if such be his taste, his caprice?

Are you afraid that he may eclipse you, who assume to belong to the beau monde? Try to make yourself distinguished by your manners, your bearing, your grace, your courtesy, your language; surely you must know that those are things that cannot be bought!

For my own part, I would be glad to see all the working girls in silk dresses, velvet bonnets, and lace-trimmed caps, and all the workingmen in patent-leather shoes and white gloves.

Where would be the harm?

Is not the picture of refinement more attractive than that of slovenliness, poverty, and want?

Does not the money that a man spends on his dress do him more honor than that which he throws away at the wine shop?

But let us return to Rue Culture-Sainte-Catherine, and to the period when the events that we are about to describe took place.

A young man came out of Rue des Francs-Bourgeois and passed the Hôtel de Carnavalet, before which artists and admirers of sculpture always paused to gaze at the waving lines of the great portal, and the masks and bas-reliefs that adorned the arches of the windows—the work of the immortal Jean Goujon.

Fortunate structure, which the genius of an artist was to make famous forever, and to which, at a later time, a woman of intellect was to add renewed lustre by making it her residence!

But at the period of which we write, Madame de Sévigné had not taken up her abode at the Hôtel de Carnavalet.

The hour was not propitious for halting in front of the mansion, for it was very near Rue des Francs-Bourgeois, which at that time extended to Rue Culture-Sainte-Catherine; moreover, the person who came from the first-named street did not seem to be in that frame of mind which fits us to pass judgment on the objects of beauty we may meet on our road.

He was, as we have said, a young man. Twenty-five years was his age; he was tall, slender, and well built; there was in his carriage and in every movement the ease of bearing which denotes the man of the world, and the manners which point to familiarity with cultivated society, and which one does not lose, even in low company, when one has inherited them from a long line of ancestors.

In addition to grace of form, this young man possessed a handsome face and clean-cut features; his brow was lofty and proud; his black eyes were large and bright, and surmounted by very dense eyebrows which almost met, thus imparting at times a somewhat sombre expression to the organs of vision below them, which flashed fire when animated by wrath, but could, on occasion, assume an expression of gentleness and tenderness which it was difficult to resist; a small mouth, well supplied with teeth, and shaded by a small moustache; an oval chin adorned by a royale; and a forest of black hair which fell in thick curls over his neck and shoulders—such, physically, was Léodgard de Marvejols.

As for his moral character, this story will instruct us sufficiently therein.

Clad in a handsome doublet of crimson silk, slashed with white satin; knee-breeches of the same material, held in place by a white belt with silver fringe, to which was attached a long sword, with a hilt of the finest steel, ornamented with fringe and bows of ribbon; the young cavalier's feet and legs were encased in funnel-shaped top-boots of yellow leather, with buckles at the instep; spurs affixed to those light boots indicated that they seldom contributed to wear out the pavements. A broad collarette, trimmed with lace, served as a cravat, and a small velvet cloak was thrown over the shoulders and clasped on one side. Lastly, a hat with a pointed crown and broad brim, turned up in front, and surmounted by a long white plume attached by a steel button, was the young man's headgear; and it must be said that it was infinitely more graceful and refined than the hideous hats that we wear to-day.

We must do justice to the "good old times" in this respect: the costumes worn by men were much more graceful, more dignified, more attractive, than they now are; for we must, before everything, be impartial, and award praise as well as blame.

Léodgard de Marvejols walked rather quickly, but sometimes he stopped, like a person who is very much preoccupied, and to whom it matters little that it is two o'clock in the morning, and that the streets are deserted.

At these times he usually thought aloud, or talked to himself—a practice which is more common than is generally supposed; and as the young nobleman had supped very copiously, his monologues were quite as energetic as if he were still accompanied by boisterous revellers.

At this time Léodgard was very near the new convent of the Annonciades Célestes, or Filles Bleues, which one of the mistresses of Henri IV, the Marquise de Verneuil, had founded in the year 1626.

The blue girdle and cloak worn by the Annonciades had already caused them to be styled Filles Bleues; which fact did not prevent those saintlike women from being held in great veneration in their quarter; so that, in broad daylight, people would have been terribly scandalized to hear our young man swear roundly so near that asylum of repentance, and exclaim, as he leaned against the wall of the convent:

"Par la mordieu! if that Jarnonville had not left the game, I should have won twice as much, thrice as much; I was in luck; I should have won until morning. And that D'Artigues, and Cournac—to refuse to take the dice—when I offered them their revenge at lansquenet—that swindlers' game! and when I was losing! God damn me! I would stake my patrimony, my moustaches, my mistress, if anyone would give me anything on them, and my soul, if the devil would take it.—Let me see: how much did I win from them? five or six hundred pistoles at most; and even so, I am not sure that their rose crowns aren't clipped or counterfeit. A noble night's work, on my word! as if that would make up what I have lost! I know that I may continue to win to-morrow, and the day after to-morrow; that I may win as often as I have lost.—Ah! I will win! I must! I must win enough to buy another petite maison, as