There were some that stuck it, but they didn't count, my lad! The others didn't even know what they'd come for.

And the bosses; they'd had a fright, and they didn't half wriggle and roar with laughing--I'll vouch for it, my lad! An' then, to-morrow, if they want to start again, there'll be troops here!" Joyful astonishment--the strike had been drowned in wine! And we repeated to each other, "To-morrow there'll be the military!" "Ah!" gaped Crillon, rolling wonder-struck eyes, "That's clever! Good; that's clever, that is! Good, old chap----" He laughed a heavy, vengeful laugh, and repeated his familiar refrain full-throated: "The sovereign people that can't stand on its own legs!" By the side of a few faint-hearted citizens who had already, since the morning, modified their political opinions, a great figure rises before my eyes--Fontan.

I remember that night, already long ago, when a chance glimpse through the vent-hole of his cellar showed me shiploads of bottles of champagne heaped together, and pointed like shells.

For some future day he foresaw to-day's victory.

He is really clever, he sees clearly and he sees far.