THE LATEST PARISIAN "ROMANCE."
(Translated from the original French Canard.)
THEY were hunting him down. They had traced him from spot to spot. Now he was in the barracks bribing the Army, now in the Ministerial Bureau offering gold to the Members of the Government, now in the office of the leading newspaper arranging for back pages in advertisements at double the scale price. His pernicious influence was felt everywhere. The whole body was permeated with a poisonous atmosphere of corruption.
"We shall have him now," said the first detective, as he looked to the lock of his revolver.
"No doubt about it," returned the other, as he loosed his sword in its scabbard. "He cannot escape us."
Then the force of cavalry, infantry and artillery in attendance raised a stealthy cheer. It had been difficult to bring the charges home to the accused, but they had succeeded. It seemed impossible to prove his identity, but now they had surrounded him. It was only a question of a few minutes, and he would be their prisoner.
The detectives entered the café. They looked around them. They could see no one answering to his description. All who were there had black beards, black shaggy hair. They could see no red tresses, no yellow Dundreary whiskers and prominent front teeth. Where could he be?
"Yes, there is one diner who has ordered a singular meal," replied a garçon, in reply to a question. "He has asked for turtle-soup, raw herrings, raw beef, raw mutton chops, plum-pudding and a barrel of porter-beer."
"It must be he," cried the detectives, in a breath; "only an Englishman would want such a meal."
"And he asked for the Times and Punch," added the waiter.
"Proof conclusive of nationality;" and in a moment the man was surrounded and seized.
"You dare not touch me," he shouted, battling with his captors. "I am sacred, and if you offer violence you pledge your country to a terrible war!"
Impressed by the stranger's vehemence, the detectives released him. Once free, he threw off his black wig, took off his false nose, and put on his blue spectacles. Then he gazed around him proudly.
"We ask your pardon, M. l'Ambassadeur," said the police.
"It is granted," returned their now-released prisoner, and he entered his carriage. "I would have preferred to preserve my incognito, but your interference has compelled me to reveal my identity. And now, home."
And the coachman drove the Ambassador to a grand mansion in the Rue Faubourg St. Honoré.
Sequel (from the original English).
And when the Ambassador read the above, he came back to his native land, and observed, "I think I have had enough of this."
And everyone at home agreed with him.
By Our Out-and-Out-every-Evening Man.—Mem. The only endurable "Squash" in this hot weather is "Lemon Squash."