"The Soulanges."

"Ah, yes!" replied the queen after a pause.

"Here I am!" cried Madame Vermut, coming into the room; "and without
my re-active,--for Vermut is so inactive in all that concerns me that
I can't call him an active of any kind."

"What the devil is that cursed old Rigou doing there?" said Soudry to
Guerbet, as they saw the green chaise stop before the gate of the
Tivoli. "He is one of those tiger-cats whose every step has an
object."

"You may well say cursed," replied the fat little collector.

"He has gone into the Cafe de la Paix," remarked Gourdon, the doctor.

"And there's some trouble there," added Gourdon the poet; "I can hear
them yelping from here."

"That cafe," said the abbe, "is like the temple of Janus; it was
called the Cafe de la Guerre under the Empire, and then it was peace
itself; the most respectable of the bourgeoisie met there for
conversation--"

"Conversation!" interrupted the justice of the peace. "What kind of
conversation was it which produced all the little Bourniers?"

"--but ever since it has been called, in honor of the Bourbons, the
Cafe de la Paix, fights take place there every day," said Abbe Taupin,