M.Emanuel joined me in the "allee defendue;" his cigar was at his lips; his paletot--a most characteristic garment of no particular shape--hung dark and menacing; the tassel of his bonnet grec sternly shadowed his left temple; his black whiskers curled like those of a wrathful cat; his blue eye had a cloud in its glitter.
"Ainsi," he began, abruptly fronting and arresting me, "vous allez troner comme une reine; demain--troner a mes cotes?
Sans doute vous savourez d'avance les delices de l'autorite.

Je crois voir en je ne sais quoi de rayonnante, petite ambitieuse!" Now the fact was, he happened to be entirely mistaken.

I did not--could not--estimate the admiration or the good opinion of tomorrow's audience at the same rate he did.

Had that audience numbered as many personal friends and acquaintance for me as for him, I know not how it might have been: I speak of the case as it stood.

On me school-triumphs shed but a cold lustre.