ses　looked　too　heavy　for　those　unreal　fragilities；　so　he　had　harnessed　instead　eight　mules；　with　white　reins；　decorated　with　bows　and　pompons　and　bells；　and　caparisoned　from　head　to　foot　in　that　marvellous　Esparto　workan　art　Provence　has　borrowed　from　the　Moors　and　perfected。　How　could　the　Bey　not　be　pleased！
  The　Nabob；　Monpavon；　the　prefect；　and　one　of　the　generals　got　into　the　first　coach；　the　others　filled　the　succeeding　carriages。　The　priests　and　the　mayors；　swelling　with　importance；　rushed　to　the　head　of　the　choral　societies　of　their　villages　which　were　to　go　in　front；　and　all　moved　off　along　the　road　to　Giffas。
  The　weather　was　magnificent；　but　hot　and　heavy；　three　months　in　advance　of　the　season；　as　often　happens　in　this　impetuous　country；　where　everything　is　in　a　hurry　and　comes　too　soon。　Although　there　was　not　a　cloud　to　be　seen；　the　stillness　of　the　atmospherethe　wind　had　fallen　suddenly　like　a　loose　saildazzling　and　heated　white；　a　silent　solemnity　hanging　over　all；　foretold　a　storm　brewing　in　some　corner　of　the　horizon。　The　immense　torpor　of　things　gradually　influenced　the　living　beings。　One　heard　too　distinctly　the　tinkling　mule…bells；　the　heavy　steps　in　the　dust　of　the　band　of　singers　whom　Cardailhac　was　placing　at　regular　distances　in　the　seething　human　hedge　which　bordered　the　road　and　was　lost　in　the　distance；　a　sudden　call；　children's　voices；　and　the　cry　of　the　water…seller；　that　necessary　accompaniment　of　all　open…air　festivals　in　the　Midi。
  〃Open　your　window；　general；　it　is　stifling；〃　said　Monpavon；　crimson；　fearing　for　his　paint；　and　the　lowered　windows　exposed　to　the　populace　these　high　functionaries　mopping　their　august　faces；　strained；　agonized；　by　the　same　expression　of　waitingwaiting　for　the　Bey；　for　the　storm；　waiting　for　something；　in　short。
  Still　another　trimphal　arch。　It　was　at　Giffas；　its　long；　stony　street　strewn　with　green　palms；　and　its　sordid　houses　gay　with　flowers　and　bright　hangings。　The　station　was　outside　the　village；　white　and　square；　stuck　like　a　thimble　on　the　roadsidetrue　type　of　a　little　country　station；　lost　in　the　midst　of　vineyards；　never　having　any　one　in　it　except　perhaps　sometimes　an　old　woman　and　her　parcels　waiting　in　a　corner；　come　three　hours　before　the　time。
  In　honour　of　the　Bey　this　slight　building　had　been　rigged　out　with　flags；　adorned　with　rugs　and　divans；　a　splendid　buffet　had　been　fitted　up　with　sherbets；　all　ready　for　his　Highness。　Once　there　and　out　of　the　carriage　the　Nabob　tried　to　dispel　the　feeling　of　uneasiness　which　he；　too；　had　begun　to　suffer　from。　Prefects；　generals；　deputies；　people　in　dress…coats　and　uniforms；　were　standing　about　on　the　platform　in　imposing　groups；　their　faces　solemn；　their　mouths　pursed；　their　bodies　swaying　and　jerking　in　the　knowing　way　of　public　functionaries　who　feel　people　are　looking　at　them。　And　you　can　imagine　how　noses　were　flattened　against　the　windows　to　see　all　this　hierarchical　swelldom。　There　was　Monpavon；　his　shirt…front　bulging　like　a　whipped　egg。　Cardailhac　breathlessly　giving　his　last　orders；　and　the　honest　face　of　Jansoulet；　whose　sparkling　eyes；　set　over　his　fat；　sunburnt　cheeks；　looked　like　two　gold　nails　in　a　goffering　of　Spanish　leather。　Suddenly　an　electric　bell　rang。　The　station…master；　in　a　new　uniform；　ran　down　the　line：　〃Gentlemen；　the　train　is　signalled。　It　will　be　here　in　eight　minutes。〃　Every　one　started；　and　with　the　same　instinctive　movement　pulled　out　their　watches。　Only　six　minutes　more。　Then　in　the　great　silence　some　one　said：　〃Look　over　there！〃　To　the　right；　on　the　side　from　which　the　train　was　to　come；　two　great　slopes；　covered　with　vines；　made　a　sort　of　funnel　into　which　the　track　disappeared　as　though　swallowed　up。　Just　then　all　this　hollow　was　as　black　as　ink；　darkened　by　an　enormous　cloud；　a　bar　of　gloom；　cutting　the　blue　of　the　sky　perpendicularly；　throwing　out　banks　that　resembled　cliffs　of　basalt　on　which　the　light　broke　all　white　like　moonshine。　In　the　solemnity　of　the　deserted　track；　over　the　lines　of　silent　rails　where　one　felt　that　everything　was　ready　for　the　coming　of　the　prince；　it　was　terrifying　to　see　this　aerial　crag　approaching；　throwing　its　shadow　before　it；　to　watch　the　play　of　the　perspective　which　gave　the　cloud　a　slow；　majestic　movement；　and　the　shadow　the　rapidity　of　a　galloping　horse。　〃What　a　storm　we　shall　have　directly！〃　was　the　thought　which　came　to　every　one；　but　none　had　voice　to　express　it；　for　a　strident　whistle　sounded　and　the　train　appeared　at　the　end　of　the　dark　funnel。　A　real　royal　train；　rapid　and　short；　and　decorated　with　flags。　The　smoking；　roaring　engine　carried　a　large　bouquet　of　roses　on　its　breastplate；　like　a　bridesmaid　at　some　leviathan　wedding。
  It　came　out　of　the　funnel　at　full　speed；　but　slowed　down　as　it　approached。　The　functionaries　grouped　themselves；　straightened　their　backs；　hitched　their　swords　and　eased　their　collars；　while　Jansoulet　went　down　the　track　to　meet　the　train；　an　obsequious　smile　on　his　lips；　his　back　curved　ready　for　the　〃Salam　Alek。〃　The　train　proceeded　very　slowly。　Jansoulet　thought　it　had　stopped；　and　put　his　hand　on　the　door　of　the　royal　carriage；　glittering　with　gold　under　the　black　sky。　But；　doubtless；　the　impetus　had　been　too　strong；　and　the　train　continued　to　advance；　the　Nabob　walking　beside　it；　trying　to　open　the　accursed　door　which　was　stuck　fast；　and　making　signs　to　the　engine…　driver。　The　engine　was　not　answering。　〃Stop；　stop；　there！〃　It　did　not　stop。　Losing　patience；　he　jumped　on　to　the　velvet…covered　step；　and　in　that　fiery；　impulsive　manner　of　his　which　had　so　delighted　the　old　Bey；　he　cried；　his　woolly　head　at　the　door；　〃Saint…Romans　station；　your　Highness。〃
  You　know　the　sort　of　vague　light　there　is　in　dreams；　the　colourless　empty　atmosphere　where　everything　has　the　look　of　a　phantom。　Jansoulet　was　suddenly　enveloped　in　this；　stricken；　paralyzed。　He　wanted　to　speak；　words　would　not　come；　his　nerveless　hand　held　the　door　so　feebly　that　he　almost　fell　backward。　What　had　he　seen？　On　a　divan　at　the　back　of　the　saloon；　reposing　on　his　elbow；　his　beautiful　dark　head　with　its　long　silky　beard　leaning　on　his　hand；　was　the　Bey；　close　wrapped　in　his　Oriental　coat；　without　other　ornaments　than　the　large　ribbon　of　the　Legion　of　Honour　across　his　breast　and　the　diamond　in　the　aigrette　of　his　fez。　He　was　fanning　himself　impassively　with　a　little　fan　of　gold…embroidered　strawwork。　Two　aides…de…camp　and　an　engineer　of　the　railway　company　were　standing　beside　him。　Opposite；　on　another　divan；　in　a　respectful　attitude；　but　favoured　evidently；　as　they　were　the　only　ones　seated　in　the　Bey's　presence；　were　two　owl…　like　men；　their　long　whiskers　falling　on　their　white　ties；　one　fat　and　the　other　thin。　They　were　the　Hemerlingues；　father　and　son；　who　had　won　over　his　Highness　and　were　bearing　him　off　in　triumph　to　Paris。　What　a　horrible　dream！　All　three　men；　who　knew　Jansoulet　well；　looked　at　him　coldly　as　though　his　face　recalled　nothing。　Piteously　white；　his　forehead　covered　with　sweat；　he　stammered；　〃But；　your　Highness；　are　you　not　going　to〃　A　vivid　flash　of　lightning；　followed　by　a　terrible　peal　of　thunder；　stopped　the　words。　But　the　lightning　in　the　eyes　of　his　sovereign　seemed　to　him　as　terrible。　Sitting　up；　his　arm　outstretched；　in　guttural　voice　as　of　one　accustomed　to　roll　the　hard　Arab　syllables；　but　in　pure　French；　the　Bey　struck　him　down　with　the　slow；　carefully　prepared　words：　〃Go　home；　swindler。　The　feet　go　where　the　heart　guides。　Mine　will　never　enter　the　house　of　the　man　who　has　cheated　my　country。〃
  Jansoulet　tried　to　say　something。　The　Bey　made　a　sign：　〃Go　on。〃　The　engineer　pressed　a　button；　a　whistle　replied；　the　train；　which　had　never　really　stopped；　seemed　to　stretch　itself；　making　all　its　iron　muscles　crack；　to　take　a　bound　and　start　off　at　full　speed；　the　flags　fluttering　in　the　storm…wind；　and　the　black　smoke　meeting　the　lightning　flashes。
  Jansoulet；　left　standing　on　the　track；　staggering；　stunned；　ruined；　watched　his　fortune　fly　away　and　disappear；　oblivious　of　the　large　drops　of　rain　which　were　falling　on　his　bare　head。　Then；　when　the　others　rushed　upon　him；　surrounded　him；　rained　questions　upon　him；　he　stuttered　some　disconnected　words：　〃Court　intriguesinfamous　plot。〃　And　suddenly；　shaking　his　fist　after　the　train；　with　eyes　that　were　bloodshot；　and　a　foam　of　rage　upon　his　lips；　he　roared　like　a　wild　beast；　〃Blackguards！〃
  〃You　forget　yourself；　Jansoulet；　you　forget　yourself。〃　You　guess　who　it　was　that　uttered　those　words；　and；　taking　the　Nabob's　arm；　tried　to　pull　him　together；　to　make　him　hold　his　head　as　high　as　his　own；　conducted　him　to　the　carriage　through　the　rows　of　stupefied　people　in　uniform；　and　made　him　get　in；　exhausted　and　broken；　like　a　near　relation　of　the　deceased　that　one　hoists　into　a　mourning…coach　after　the　funeral。　The　rain　began　to　fall；　peals　of　thunder　followed　one　another。　Every　one　now　hurried　into　the　carriages；　which　quickly　took　the　homeward　road。　Then　there　occurred　a　heart…rending　yet　comical　thing；　one　of　the　cruel　farces　played　by　that　cowardly　destiny　which　kicks　its　victims　after　they　are　down。　In　the　falling　day　and　the　growing　darkness　of　the　cyclone；　the　crowd；　squeezed　round　the　approaches　of　the　station；　thought　they　saw　his　Highness　somewhere　amid　the　gorgeous