'Would be nothing, nothing to what I can show you. Only come with me to
the Porte St. Lambert.'

'If M. le Maire will excuse me,' said M. Barbou, 'I think I will go
home. It is a little cold, and you are aware that I am always afraid of
the damp.' In fact, our coats were beaded with a cold dew as in
November, and I could not but acknowledge that my respectable colleague
had reason. Besides, we were close to his house, and he had, no doubt,
the sustaining consciousness of having done everything that was really
incumbent upon him. 'Our ways lie together as far as my house,' he said,
with a slight chattering of his teeth. No doubt it was the cold. After
we had walked with him to his door, we proceeded to the Porte St.
Lambert. By this time almost everybody had re-entered their houses. The
streets were very dark, and they were also very still. When we reached
the gates, at that hour of the night, we found them shut as a matter of
course. The officers of the _octroi_ were standing close together at the
door of their office, in which the lamp was burning. The very lamp
seemed oppressed by the heavy air; it burnt dully, surrounded with a
yellow haze. The men had the appearance of suffering greatly from cold.
They received me with a satisfaction which was very gratifying to me.
'At length here is M. le Maire himself,' they said.

'My good friends,' said I, 'you have a cold post to-night. The weather
has changed in the most extraordinary way. I have no doubt the
scientific gentlemen at the Musée will be able to tell us all about
it--M. de Clairon--'

'Not to interrupt M. le Maire,' said Riou, of the _octroi_, 'I think
there is more in it than any scientific gentleman can explain.'