Doubt was no longer possible, she must be ugly. Her eyes closed, she fell
on the steps of the throne in a deadly swoon.

But Valentin was affected very differently. He cried out loudly that her
Majesty must be mad to tell such a lie. He had no time to say more. The
guards seized him, and at a sign from the queen the headsman came forward.
He was always beside the throne, for she might need his services at any
moment.

"Do your duty," said the queen, pointing out the man who had insulted her.
The executioner raised his gleaming axe just as Jacinta came to herself
and opened her eyes. Then two shrieks pierced the air. One was a cry of
joy, for in the glittering steel Jacinta saw herself, so charmingly
pretty--and the other a scream of anguish, as the wicked soul of the queen
took flight, unable to bear the sight of her face in the impromptu mirror.



MY NEPHEW JOSEPH

BY LUDOVIC HALEVY


(_Scene passes at Versailles; two old gentlemen are conversing, seated on
a bench in the King's garden._)

Journalism, my dear Monsieur, is the evil of the times. I tell you what,
if I had a son, I would hesitate a long while before giving him a literary
education. I would have him learn chemistry, mathematics, fencing,
cosmography, swimming, drawing, but not composition--no, not composition.