aspect. In the front part of the cart sat a young woman with two children, while a man in a blouse walked by its side. This family had just taken one of the garrets of the house in which the Laforce family lodged.

All the furniture

Paris just now was full of similar scenes. of the poor people of the suburbs seemed to be entering the city in one long procession of piled-up waggons, drawn by wretched hacks. Railway-stations and barriers were blocked up with hillocks of household goods, over which porters and officials had to climb. In the streets, every sort of conveyance, from a huge furniture van to a wheelbarrow, was requisitioned for these removals. These scenes lasted for many days.

CHAPTER VII.

CÉCILE.

"The thatch was all bespread

With climbing passion-flowers;

They were wet, and glisten'd with raindrops shed

That day in genial showers.

Was never a sweeter nest, we said,

Than this little nest of ours.'

JEAN INGELOW.

THERE was very little work done now in M. Gérome's establishment; more than half the hands had been drawn for the army, while those remaining belonged mostly to the National Guard, and were constantly called out to drill and exercise. Louis and Camille daily attended as usual, but frequently had to leave early, or absent themselves for a whole day to attend to their military duties.

Antoine Meunier, the workman accused of being a Prussian spy because he had expressed a doubt as to the ultimate success of the French arms, also came regularly. He and Louis were, notwithstanding their political differences, on intimate

terms.

'Why do you still live at St. Cloud?" Louis asked him one day as they were leaving the workshop. "If, as you believe, there will be a siege, you stand a bad chance out in the country, where the Prussians will destroy everything."

"It is that I don't like to give up my neat little cottage and the garden which my daughter loves so well. We make a little money by the sale of our flowers and vegetables. It is my own property too; I will not abandon it till the last moment."

“Ah! but if you put it off so long, you won't find a corner in Paris wherein to lodge. All the garrets even are full to

overflowing. You should have seen all the furniture crammed into one of our garrets yesterday, just taken by a whole family from Charenton."

"Yes, that is a serious consideration," said Meunier thoughtfully, "I must talk to Cécile about it."

There was so little to do now, that they had left off work early that afternoon. Louis strolled with Meunier to the Palais Royal, whence the latter was going by one of the tramway omnibuses to St. Cloud. "It is a fine afternoon," he remarked, "and if you have nothing better to do, Laforce, why not come with me to St. Cloud, and see my cottage and garden?"

"With pleasure," replied Louis, "and I will walk back through the Bois, and see all the preparations for the siege, which I have heard Camille speak of."

Both climbed to the top of the omnibus. It stopped at the Rond Point of Boulogne, where they got down, and crossing the bridge, they turned to the right through the steep streets of the little town, till they came out into the country. Here by the road-side stood a very small cottage in a tiny garden. The dazzling whiteness of the walls was relieved by the bright green shutters and the red tiles on the roof; the garden was full of flowers, especially roses of every possible hue and variety; there were fuchsias too, as well as dahlias and geraniums, while creepers grew round the door and windows. As Meunier turned to open the garden gate, Louis could not repress an exclamation of surprise, for he had never imagined that his humble friend could own such a charming and tasteful little property as this. A large black dog with a brass collar round his neck sprang forward to welcome his master with a loud bark; then the cottage door opened, and a young girl with fresh and rosy cheeks and bright blue eyes, clad in a neat print dress, and wearing a pretty white cap, hastened out to embrace her father.

"Well, Cécile," said he, "I have brought a visitor to-dayM. Louis Laforce, my fellow-workman-and from all I learn, he

is one of the last visitors we shall welcome here, for, my dear child, we sha'n't be able to remain long at St. Cloud, I am afraid."

“Oh, my father, don't say so!" replied Cécile, the tears starting to her eyes. "How can we give up our house and garden -just at the season, too, when all our roses are in full bloom? And never has there been such a year for roses! Do you know I made ten francs by the sale of them to-day, and there are still so many left, no one could tell I had plucked such a number this morning."

"Alas! my child, but I fear it must be," said Meunier; " but we won't talk about it now. Prepare some supper for our guest, whilst I show him round our little estate."

Louis was now conducted round the garden. Rarely had he seen such taste and neatness. The soil was most carefully cultivated and manured, and the little vegetable garden behind was as great a marvel of productiveness as the flower garden in front of the cottage. Then they went indoors.

Louis was lost in admiration when he cast his eyes around this pretty abode-the well-polished floor, the elegant furniture, made by Meunier himself in his leisure hours; the white netted curtains, the handiwork of Cécile's busy fingers; the little library of well-bound and well-selected volumes.

"How happy you must be, Meunier," said Louis, "to live in such a house! But you are richer certainly than I thought you were. Surely it isn't necessary for you to work?"

"No, I am not rich; my wages are the same as yours, Louis; but I've always known how to save. I don't go to clubs or public-houses, very rarely to the café; I don't drink, as too many of our workmen do now-a-days; I'm simple in my tastes. My history is soon told. I married young-I was not much over twenty. For three years my wife and I lived happily together in a little apartment in a suburb of Paris, where Cécile was born. I always spent my evenings at home; I had good wages;

I took my money to the savings-bank; I amused myself by making my own furniture. That I have some taste I do not deny-what every one says must be true. But trouble came upon us; the good God saw fit, when the dreadful cholera epidemic came, to take away my good wife from me in a few hours she was a corpse. I, too, was seized with the disease. I lay helpless at one end of the room, while my dead wife was in the bed at the other. No one came near us; our babe was crying in her cradle. I too must have died, had it not been for a good young priest, who, sent by God, and knowing how the terrible sickness was raging in our neighbourhood, went from house to house to administer the consolations of religion, and to help in other ways, too, when he was able. Yes! the Abbé Desilles saved my life. He understood medicine; he saw my case was not hopeless; he had me removed to the hospital; he took my Cécile in his arms, fed her himself, and then took her to a kind lady who cared for her till I recovered. He saw that my dear wife was buried with the rites of the Church. At last I recovered; but I was very sad; all my happiness in life was gone; I was so weak, too, that it was a long time before I could go to work; my place, too, was filled up, for my employer had been told that I was dead. Then the good abbé came to my aid again. He knew a large establishment in Germany where French hands were required, and where high wages were offered. But what could I do about Cécile? I did not like to be separated from her, and I hardly liked to take her with me; but the kind lady promised she would take good care of her during my absence. She was too young and delicate to be without some womanly attention. She said she would write frequently, and tell me how the child was; so with a heavy heart I consented, and, with the good abbe's blessing, started for Germany, where I remained two years and saved a little money. Then I came back, and soon found work in France. The kind lady still took charge of Cécile, and had her well