The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1879-10-18

w Hat PAPERS! lHQulitu DlOHilleI.
II don't know sir: can't read,'' was the
puzzled answer.
Anyhow, the mans a RADICAL" opined
M. Bachon. ''No conservative writer would
come to buy fried potatoes at a stall. land pay
for them in kind
This little sally made no one smile, for
matters were beginning to look ugly. The
Crown Prince in the hands of a shabby radl-
cal might mean all sorts of abominable
things, not the least probable OF which
might be the demand for humping ran
som. To make matters worse, it began to
rain at this moment, and the party had, OF
course, no umbrellas. They could not get
into cab, because it was now their duty to
walk the Rue de Rivoli as far as the College
Charlemange, and see if they could not fall
in with the Prince on their way. Damp and
wretched, they trudgrd off on their unprom-
Using errand, little Conneau having to run to
keep pace with them; the two detectives,
who had never lost sight of them, followed
at respectful distance behind. By the
time they reached the Hotel de Vile they
were dripping sops; and upon arriving at the
college they were steaming from heat and
moisture like boiled vegetables. Unhappily
their perseverance was not to be rewarded,
for on looking up and down the street,
where the rain was falling in torrents, they
saw nothing resembling a Prince, nor even
shabby radical There were men with bad
hats enough but they were ordinary folks
hurrying through their business in the rain,
and offering nothing suspicious to the eye of
the beholder. 1t had been the practice of
NJ Monnier to improve the shining hours
which he spent with his imperial pupil by
taking the casual objects and incidents of
life as texts for instructive sermons. He
had already made mental note of the fact
that if he recovered his pupil safe and sound
he would discourse to him about potatoes,
scalding grease, radicals, and the uses to
which hat may be put when the nap is
gone; but he now added to his mental notes
that construction of the throat which is a
symptom of great fear, and from which he
began to suffer acutely at that moment. He
remarked also, how his friend Bachon and
the valet Uhlmann were marking time ner-
vously on the pavement, as if they too saw
no PLEASING vista opening before them; but
this interesting observation did not cloak
from him the necessity of returning to the
Tuileries without further delay. So a cab
was hailed and the whole dismal party got
into it. Louis Conneau, who had borne up
brayely till then, began to cry, by doing
which he rendered great service to the three
men, who only wanted such an excuse to
upbraid him, all three together, and VOW
that the whole thing was his fault.
Let us tread lightly over the scene that
took place at the Tuileries when it was dis
closed to Napoleon III. and the Empress
that their son had taken what the French
fguratively call the key of the fields, and
had last been seen in the company of a
tatterdemalion quill-driver. How aides-de-
camp rushed about and how maids of honor
tainted; how Secretaries of State were S Mt
for and arrived with their hair dishevelled;
how the Project of Police drove to and fro
about the city, giving orders and cross-or-
ders; and how, during five mortal hours the
entire police of the best poiced city in the
world left off hunting rogues to chase their
| imperial masters heir-all these things will
be recorded some day when the court histoty
of the Second Empire gets written. Enough
| to say here that toward six in the evening,
when the confusion at the palace was at its
| height, rather dusty and somewhat abashed
| little boy was seen parleying the sentry who
mounted with guard the triumphal arch of
under the Carrousal.
''Why, it's hep screamed NJ. Monnier,
who witnessed the sight from his window;
and he would have dashed out of the room;
but he was practically in the custody of two
of the guards, who courteously restrained
him. The next moment, however, shouts
of joy, greetings, etc., mingled with re-
proaches, could be heard in the passage out
side, and NJ. Monnier knew that his pupil
had come home safe and sound. Etiquette
prevented the tutor from fastening into the
Emperors presence unbidden; but he was
soon summoned, and entering the Empress's
drawing-room found her Majesty laughing
as she dried her eyes, while the Emperor
and half dozen court ladies surrounded
the Prince Imperial, with amused, half-won-
! dering smiles, as if he were a boy of some
strange breed, telling marvellous things. In
| sooth, the lad was seated on footstool, and
having made his peace with his parents for
| truancy, was complacently relating his adj
ventures. On seeing his tutor, he stood up
and hung his head, as if ashamed for FORMS
sake.
Sab, Louis, you will have to beg NJ. Mon
nier's pardon, for you put him in great anx-
ety,' said the Emperor. "Your punish
ment shall be to write out an account for
him of all you've been doing"
II can't remember every little thing, you
know" said the Prince, not much relishing
| the prospective task.
NJ. Monnier made mental note for a lee
ture on mnemonics, hut for the present he
said, ''Well, monseigneur, do you at least
know who your companion WASP"
''Oh, he was very nice person." eX-
claimed the Prince. s'When it rained, he
took me into his house and showed me
number of odd things. He seems to be
poor man, but he has seen a great number
of countries, and spent many years in Cay
e1lle. w mere is Odyellllc, papa!
And thu Prince looked up artessly at the
Emperor, who WINGED
A few weeks later one of those political
plots which used always to be breaking out in
Paris under the Empire perhaps because the
the police had some interest in their fire.
quency) brought about dozen so-called
revolutionists into the meshes of the Rue de
Jerusalem. Among them was poor wight,
a journalist, named Victor Marchy, who
had but lately returned from a ten years
captivity at Cayenne, whence he had es-
capped. Lying in prison, this unfortunate
| fellow was told one day that papers had been
found in his lodgings which implicated him
in plot against the Emperor's life.
''Ah, pour ca nonv' exclaimed Marchy.
''J'en appele au Prince Imperial que je ne
suiS pas I'm assassinp'
''Why to the Prince Imperial, who is but
child?' asked the JUICE d'instruction as
tonished.
''Take him my portrait" answered Victor
Marchy
The prisoners photograph was submitted
to the Prince Imperial, who recognized it as
that of ''the shabby radical with the bad hat
in whose company he had spent his truant
day. Wherefore the Emperor, as he him
self examined the portrait, said, with some
emotion,
':This man held my boys life in his hands
during whole day: he can be no enemy of
mine"
And he signed Victor Marchy's pardon.
~A ~