Wages will be higher; and with better wages, a more liberal education, and the automatic performance of distasteful work, there is no reason why servants should not be to all intents and purposes gentlewomen; as much so as milliners, schoolmistresses, and shopkeepers. There is nothing in the fact of work that degrades; it is only the workers who are degraded. With a better class of servants domestic service will lose much of its present character of serfdom, and become more a distinct profession, having its duties, times, and functions accurately defined. Hence it will lose that element of personal humiliation in its enforced obedience to arbitrary tempers, tyrannical command, capricious regulations, and the like, which now fret so painfully the women who find themselves under the rule of women. Co-operation, maybe day-service, will also come into the ordering of the future; and households, as well as society, will have to be remodelled in consideration of the servants, instead of being, as now, organised with no more regard to their lives or welfare than if they were so many cab-horses or black-beetles. The efforts of servants to make service a mere business like any other, unelastic in its details, definite in its requirements, and impersonal and devoid of margins, are efforts demanding the earnest consideration of society; partly because they are embarrassing, partly because they will succeed, mainly because they are just. In the revolution sweeping on so rapidly, those among us will be the wisest and the safest who keep that one step in advance which ensures a free path; and it will be better to recognise the claims of servants to more equality in the matter of education, to personal rights as well as professional duties, to better wages, whereby they may have the possibility of an assured future, such as should be integral to all work, to the recognition that service does not mean slavery even in its most modified aspects-than to have all this forced from us harshly, and with a damaging uprooting, instead of by gradual growth and self-adjusting evolution. E. L. L.

808

The Courtier of Misfortune: a Bonapartist Story.

I.

CAPTAIN JEAN CŒURPREUX, of the 5th Algerian Spahis, having been sent to Paris with despatches from Marshal M'Mahon to Marshal Lebœuf, was invited to the last ball given at the Tuileries by Napoleon III.

He was a man of about thirty, with a complexion the colour of leather, clipped hair that stood on end like bristles, and a full brown beard. His uniform was a light-blue loose-fitting jacket called a dolman, braided across the front with black silk frogs, and embroidered from the cuffs to within an inch of the shoulders with gold lace of three rows interwoven. His baggy trowsers were scarlet; and he held in his hand a red kepi with the three rows of gold braid which marked his grade, the Spahis having no other head-dress than a kepi even for gala occasions. On Cœurpreux's breast glittered the ribbon and cross of the Legion of Honour, the yellow ribbon and pendant of the médaille militaire, which proved he had risen from the ranks, and the three campaigning medals of the Italian, Cochin-China, and Mexican expeditions. Below these hung the white and blue ribbon and silver cross of Pius IX. and the medal of Mentana; also three other medals, two of silver and one of gold, attached to tricoloured ribbons, and showing that the Captain had three times in the course of his career saved human lives. His muscular frame and smileless mien, the large size of the white gloves he wore, and the beard, which is the distinctive token of African service, all helped to mark a man who was no carpet soldier; and he looked embarrassed enough in the palace saloons, where he appeared to know not a soul, and where flitted before him, alert as dragon-flies, all the dandy officers of the crack corps-the Cent-Gardes in their azure tunics and gold aiglets, the Lancers of the Guard in Austrian white, the Guides in emerald and gold, the Artillery of the Guard, the colour of whose uniforms was invisible for the mass of braiding that adorned them, and the whole host of State dignitaries, from diplomatists and senators in blue and gilding to the prefects and deputies in black and silver. Pushed into a corner by this glittering throng, fearful of treading on the skirts of the ladies who streamed by him in a sea of silk and diamonds that made his head whirl, the Captain would evidently have felt much more at home in his saddle, hunting rebel Arabs, than in this place, to which the War Minister had procured him. an invitation as a conspicuous, though well-deserved, honour.*

*The Spahis are the native cavalry of Algeria, as the Turcos are the native infantry: both are mainly officered by Frenchmen; natives being restricted from rising above

Yet leaning in a corner of the noble Salle des Maréchaux, where he had been hemmed in, the Captain cast his serious blue eyes about him as if he were in search of somebody. Twelve years before this ball, and when he was but a quick-hearted boy of eighteen, he had fallen in love with a girl as beautiful as sunlight and a year less than his own age. He was thought too young to marry then; besides which, though a gentleman, he had no money to expect; so the girl's parents and his own had cut the courtship short, and told him to dismiss all ideas of it and for ever. He protested at first, but finding resistance vain, had enlisted to try and banish a passion which could lead to nothing. Soon after, he heard that Malle. Violette Desprès, the young lady in question, had been married to a sub-prefect, who subsequently became a full prefect-one M. de Cri, twenty years older than herself, an active placeman and a loyal. Cœurpreux had never seen her since, for most of his time had been spent in warfare; and when he came to France on furlough, it was only for a few occasional weeks, which he dutifully devoted to his family. But now, having no one to speak to him, he glanced at every face that passed, halfdreading, yet moved by a curious anxiety, to see the woman whom he had never forgotten nor could forget; the loves of some soldiers being strangely deep and constant. It had reached him that day that M. de Cri was in Paris, angling for promotion after his wont, and he thought it probable that his wife might be at this court ball. Had a surgeon laid his stethoscope on Captain Cœurpreux's heart, he would have heard it beat like a boy's. So much for the man who had stared death a hundred times out of countenance, and was called the lion of his regiment!

the rank of lieutenant. The dolman is the summer-jacket as distinguished from the pelisse, which is worn in winter, and has Astrakan fur round the collar and cuffs. Some of the Spahi regiments used to wear scarlet jackets and light blue trowsers and caps, but this has been recently altered, and the whole of the French light cavalry now wear the light blue jacket and scarlet trowsers. The yellow-ribboned médaille militaire was instituted by Napoleon III. as a minor decoration to the Legion of Honour. It is conferred on privates and non-commissioned officers as a first step towards the other order, and carries with it a pension of 51. a year, just as the lowest grade in the Legion of Honour carries (in the army, not for civilians) 10l. The médaille militaire is sometimes conferred on field-marshals and generals when they have attained to the highest rank, that of Grand' Croix, in the Legion of Honour; but in this case it is a manner of proclaiming that their cup of military distinction is full to the brim, and that the State can do nothing more for them. General de Cissey, War Minister under M. Thiers, was presented with the military medal by Marshal M'Mahon, when the latter became President. The medals with tricoloured ribbons are called médailles de sauvetage, and are bestowed for acts of bravery in saving life. The first two are of silver; if a third be won, it is of gold. There are five grades in the Legion of Honour. When in mufti, the chevaliers (companions as we should call them) wear a slip or small bow of red ribbon in their button-holes; and the members of the four superior degrees officers, commanders, grand officers, and grand-crosses rosettes. In evening dress or uniform the commanders wear collar-ribbons; the grand officers and grand-crosses broad ribbons under the waistcoat and just peeping over the edge of it, not across the waistcoat, as knights in England. The grand-crosses also wear a star on the breast and a jewel-cross pendant.

The rooms continued to fill. Officers and dignitaries poured in faster and faster; the press of ladies became a crush; and presently, the Empress, seated under a canopy at the further end of the room, observed this officer standing by himself, so grave and unnoticed. No sovereign ever better discharged her duties of hostess than this august lady, as gentle as she was amiable, as queenly as she was fair; so she turned to the Emperor, and inquired who was yonder Spahi, so medalled and decorated. Napoleon, perhaps dreaming of the recent plebiscite, about which he had just been conversing with M. Emile Ollivier, sedate in his sheen spectacles and black whiskers, referred the question to the Duke de Bassano, the Grand Chamberlain, who, of course, knowing nothing of the matter, asked Marshal Leboeuf, then standing by his side. The War Minister came forward, and in that well-modulated voice which made him the first of courtier soldiers, summed up the Captain's history in twenty words. Wounded in Italy, wounded in Mexico, Cœurpreux had conquered every step in his rise at the sword's point. His last achievement was the capture of two Arab chiefs and three villages with a troop of fifty horse that is at odds of something like ten to one. The Governor General of Algeria had sent him to Paris, that he might himself bear the tidings of the action in which he was the hero, "and with your Majesty's leave," added the Marshal, "I intended submitting Captain Courpreux's name for promotion to the rank of chef d'escadron, and for advancement in the Legion of Honour." The Emperor thanked him, and the Marshal retreated.

Thereon the observant Duke de Bassano whispered to Viscount Laferrière; and this courtly Vice-Chamberlain, having a key embroidered on his coat, glided through the crowds with the expertness of a well-bred eel, and, smiling as he bowed, asked Captain Courpreux whether he should find him a partner. The Captain would much rather not have danced, for he had grown rusty in this science, and the offer made him redden. But he regarded a vice-chamberlain somewhat as a superior officer, and further reflected that if people were invited to balls, it was presumably to the end that they might disport themselves. Accordingly he drew up his collar, cleared his throat, and followed M. de Laferrière with an erect stride, as if he were being told off for outpost duty. The Viscount did not take him far. He hesitated a single moment which side he should turn, then made straight for a lady dressed in lilac silk and surrounded by a circle of admirers two deep. She seemed used to be worshipped, and flirting her fan, warded off with short laughs, glances, and tosses of her pretty head, the ready compliments of her bevy, composed of attachés, subalterns of the Guard, and budding Councillors of State. But at sight of the bronzed soldier this young troop fell back, and M. de Laferrière, always smiling, said:

Madame, allow me to introduce to you an officer who respectfully begs the honour of your acquaintance: Mdme. de Cri, Captain Cœurpreux."

It was singular that the chamberlain should have led him direct like that to the woman whom his own keen eyes had been unable to discern-the woman whose image had shone upon him from many a beacon-fire, lit up many a cloudy night, nerved him to more brave deeds than might ever have been reckoned to his glory had he not been animated during every day and hour of twelve long years with the thoughts of his first and only love. But perhaps the image he had enshrined in his heart was that of the young girl as he had first known her, with her virginal face and simple attire, and it was this that had prevented him from recognising her as she was then-not less fair, but of completer beauty. At all events, the recognition was prompt enough now; and there was not a lineament in those features, so often seen in dreams, awake or sleeping, but seemed to him embellished by time. He faltered out a request for the next waltz, in a thick voice that struggled vainly to be distinct, and he found himself trembling as he had never done in danger or trouble since the day they had last parted.

Madame de Cri blushed, though very slightly, and remarked that it was a long time since they had met. But this was all, for Strauss's band suddenly struck up Metra's Valse des Roses, that delicious melody which may be said to have lulled the second Empire to its death; and Mdme. de Cri, forgetting or unheeding a promise made to another partner, stood up with Courpreux. He encircled her waist with his arm, she rested one of her small hands on his shoulder, casting a wondering look the while at the rows of medals on his breast, and they whirled together into the maze. But why should the bravest of men have been so poor a dancer? There is not much waltzing in Algeria, nor, had there been, was Coeurpreux the man to care for it. He had held his own once in ballrooms along with the best; but this was when Violette Desprès used to be his partner, and he had had none since. His arm tightened round her lithe form; he felt her soft breath on his face, and his honest brain spun round like a wheel. The polished habituates of the Tuileries, accustomed to gyrate gracefully on a few yards of space, had never seen a man spin about in this fashion, and several couples skipped out of his way with alacrity. It was the best thing they could do, for the Captain crashed through the rest as if they were paper hoops, though he took care some how that his own shoulders should be the rams and that his partner should turn unharmed. Characteristically he had omitted to take off his sword, and ignored the drawing-room art of balancing himself in such wise that it should hang perpendicular. It was no toy either, this weapon, but a huge cavalry sabre, which knew the taste of blood, and clanked noisily as if excited, sweeping round at right angles with its owner, entangling itself in crêpe de Chine skirts, and ripping therein gaps a foot wide. Desolate wails sprang up on the headlong Spahi's path, and Mdme. de Cri felt that he had lost all control over his pace. “I—I think we had better stop," she murmured, growing afraid. But Courpreux could not have halted had he wished it. He had scattered most of the other dancers as effectually as a run