LE PATISSER.

VERSAILLES.

BEFORE I had got half-way down the street, I changed my mind: as I am at Versailles, thought I, I might as well take a view of the town; so I pulled the cord, and ordered the coachman to drive round some of the principal streets.-I suppose the town is not very large, said I.-The coachman begged pardon for setting me right, and told me it was very superb; and that numbers of the first dukes and marquises and counts had hotels.-The Count de B, of whom the bookseller at the Quai de Conti had spoke so handsomely the night before, came instantly into my mind. And why should I not go, thought I, to the Count de Bwho has so high an idea of English books and Englishmen, and tell him my story? So I changed my mind a second time. In truth, it was the third; for I had intended that day for Madame de R, in the Rue St. Pierre, and had devoutly sent her word by her fille de chambre that I would assuredly wait upon her;-but I am governed by circumstances;-I cannot govern them so seeing a man standing with a basket on the other side of the street, as if he had something to sell, I bid La Fleur go up to him, and inquire for the Count's hotel.

La Fleur returned a little pale; and told me it was a Chevalier de St. Louis selling patés.—It is impossible, La Fleur, said I.-La Fleur could no more account for the phenomenon than myself; but persisted in his

story he had seen the croix set in gold, with its red riband, he said, tied to his buttonhole; and had looked into the basket, and seen the patés which the Chevalier was selling; so could not be mistaken in that.

Such a reverse in a man's life awakens a better principle than curiosity: I could not help looking for some time at him as I sat in the remise. The more I looked at him, his croix, and his basket, the stronger they wove themselves into my brain.-I got out of the remise, and went towards him.

He was begirt with a clean linen apron, which fell below his knees, and with a sort of a bib that went half way up his breast. Upon the top of this, but a little below the hem, hung his croix. His basket of little. patés was covered over with a white damask napkin : another of the same kind was spread at the bottom; and there was such a look of propreté and neatness throughout, that one might have bought his patés of him as much from appetite as sentiment.

He made an offer of them to neither; but stood still with them at the corner of a hotel, for those to buy who chose it, without solicitation.

He was about forty-eight;-of a sedate look, something approaching to gravity. I did not wonder.—I went up rather to the basket than him, and having lifted up the napkin, and taken one of his pates into my hand, I begged he would explain the appearance which affected me.

He told me in a few words, that the best part of his life had passed in the service; in which, after spending