I went back to my study a little bit reflective. Policemen, like gendarmes, are all alike. And yet it seemed to me that the face of the one I had just spoken to was not unfamiliar to me, and that it was he that I had espied one evening from behind my curtain, taking the measure of my servant’s waist as they stood at the gate together.
The end of this true story of brigands is, that the girl left my service in the following month of May to get married, and that in the end of the same year, a lusty little policeman made his entry into the world, crying: “Stop thief!” at the top of his voice.
I always consider that policeman as wanting in the first duties of politeness and gratitude in not asking me to stand godfather to the youngster.
It was the least he could have done.
XV.
In the Smoking-room — Causerie.
(John Bull, Esquire, and Monsieur, his neighbour, talk on matrimonial matters.)
J. B.—“So, my dear fellow, you are going to be married, it is quite decided.”
Monsieur.—“Yes, quite.”