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Monsieur the Marquis cast his eyes over the submissive faces that

drooped before him, as the like of himself had drooped before

Monseigneur of the Court--only the difference was, that these

faces drooped merely to suffer and not to propitiate--when a

grizzled mender of the roads joined the group.

"Bring me hither that fellow!" said the Marquis to the courier.

The fellow was brought, cap in hand, and the other fellows closed

round to look and listen, in the manner of the people at the

Paris fountain.

"I passed you on the road?"

"Monseigneur, it is true. I had the honour of being passed on the

road."

"Coming up the hill, and at the top of the hill, both?"

"Monseigneur, it is true."

"What did you look at, so fixedly?"

"Monseigneur, I looked at the man."

He stooped a little, and with his tattered blue cap pointed under

the carriage. All his fellows stooped to look under the carriage.

"What man, pig? And why look there?"

"Pardon, Monseigneur; he swung by the chain of the shoe--the

drag."