not thoroughly comforted; she would have preferred that there should be no fireworks to celebrate the baptism; but everybody seemed pleased, and she dared not deprive the company of the pleasure which they took in the spectacle.

Soon applause rose on all sides; Jasmin had just lighted the transparency with the moon, calling out as he did so:

“A portrait of our child, young Chérubin de Grandvilain.”

At that everybody applauded on trust, although they squinted in vain to discover a face painted in the moon on the transparency; but they ascribed that to the smoke, and several persons went so far as to cry out:

“It is very like, on my word! anyone could recognize it! A very pretty idea! such things as this are not seen anywhere except at the Marquis de Grandvilain’s.”

While the company was admiring the transparency, Mademoiselle Turlurette, still intent upon her idea of setting off something, went to Jasmin and said:

“Give me your slow-match, it’s my turn; what am I going to set off?”

“Here, Mademoiselle Turlurette, set fire to this sun. But aren’t you afraid?”

“Me, afraid! oh, no! just show me where to light it.”

“See, here is the match.”

Stout Turlurette took the slow-match which Jasmin handed to her, and held it to the wick which protruded from the sun. Despite all the courage which she was determined to display, the stout girl was terribly excited, for she had never set off a piece of fireworks before. After she had touched the match which she had in her hand to the place pointed out to her, when she heard the powder hiss and the flame sputter close beside her, a sudden terror took possession of Turlurette; fancying that she was being burned by the sparks from the sun, she ran across the courtyard, holding her dress up with one hand, as if she were trying to make a belt of it, and with her lighted slow-match still in the other. The latter she threw down, without looking, in the first convenient spot.

The sun produced a great effect; it whirled about like a top, and everybody at the windows applauded. Some said:

“It is as pretty as at Tivoli.”

Another exclaimed:

“It is almost as fine as the fireworks we have at our house, in my park, on my birthday.”

And the old marquis leaned far out of the window, crying:

“Bravo! I am much pleased, my children! You may regale yourselves again after the fireworks.”

But Monsieur de Grandvilain had hardly ceased speaking when there was a terrible report, and the old mansion was shaken to its foundation; it was caused by all the mortars, large and small, exploding at the same moment, because stout Turlurette, in her alarm, had thrown her slow-match into the midst of the heavy pieces which were reserved for the finale.

If the mortars had simply been discharged, nothing worse would have happened than the premature occurrence of an explosion held in reserve for the end of the fête; but unfortunately, when they took fire, they were still covered by the various kitchen implements which the cook had placed over them as a precautionary measure; and at the same moment that the sudden report took everybody by surprise, even those who were managing the fireworks, the frying-pan, the dish-pan, and the saucepan covers were hurled through the air with terrific force.

Monsieur de Grandvilain, who had just been thanking his servants, had an ear carried away by the frying-pan, which entered the bedroom and fell at the foot of his wife’s bed. Several of the guests were struck by saucepan covers; a pretty woman had four teeth broken, a young dandy who was leaning over her had his nose split in the middle, which gave him later the appearance of a Danish dog; and on all sides there was nothing but shrieks, lamentations and imprecations. Even those who had sustained no injury shouted louder than the others:

“This is what comes of allowing servants to discharge fireworks. The cook put all his cooking utensils in the mortars; it is very lucky that it didn’t occur to him to blow up his ovens.”

The guests had had quite enough; they all took their leave, some to have their wounds dressed, others to tell of what had taken place at Monsieur de Grandvilain’s.

During the disaster, Jasmin had received the dish-pan on his head, after it had made an excursion through the air; and the faithful valet’s face was covered with burns and bore a striking resemblance to a skimmer. That did not prevent him from appearing with a piteous air before his master, who was looking for his ear.

“Monsieur,” said the valet, “I am in despair; I don’t understand how it all came about—but it wasn’t finished; there is the bouquet to come—and if you would like——”

The marquis, in a frenzy of rage, raised his cane upon Jasmin, and would listen to no more; while Madame de Grandvilain half rose in her bed and said to the poor valet in an imposing voice:

“In my husband’s name, I forbid you henceforth to fire anything of any sort in our house.”

IV

A NEW WAY OF BRINGING UP CHILDREN

The display of fireworks for little Chérubin’s baptism put an end to all the festivities at the hôtel de Grandvilain. The marquis succeeded in finding his ear, but it was impossible to put it in place again, so that he was obliged to resign himself to the necessity of closing his career with a single ear, a most disagreeable thing when one has worn two for seventy years.

Aménaïde had conceived a horror of fireworks, rockets, in fact, of the slightest explosion; the most trifling noise made her faint; it went so far that nobody was allowed to uncork a bottle in her presence.

Jasmin continued to wear the aspect of a skimmer, but he soon consoled himself therefor; the old valet had long since laid aside all pretension to please the fair sex; the little holes with which his face was riddled did not interfere with his drinking, and to him that was the principal point.

Mademoiselle Turlurette had received no wound, and yet she deserved better than any of the others to be struck by a saucepan cover at least, for she was the author of all the disasters that had happened in the house. But no one suspected how the thing took place, and Turlurette confined herself to expressing the most profound detestation of fireworks.

And so tranquillity had returned to the hôtel de Grandvilain, where they received many fewer guests since the last festivity; for the young women and the dandies feared to lose their teeth, or to have their noses slit.

The marquis was at liberty to devote all his time to the care of his son, and little Chérubin demanded much care; for he became weak and sickly and sallow, and at three months he was vastly smaller than when he came into the world. Turlurette, who had weighed him at that time, was certain of the fact, and one day she said to Jasmin in an undertone:

“It’s very funny, but madame’s boy is melting away, so that you can see it! He weighs five ounces less to-day than he did the day he was born!”

Jasmin gave a leap when he heard that his master’s child was melting away instead of increasing in size, and he said to Turlurette:

“If this goes on, before long he won’t weigh anything at all. You must tell madame that the little fellow is falling off.”

“Oh, yes! so that madame may torment herself, and so that she won’t be able to feed her son at all. No indeed, I will take pains not to tell her.”

“But, mademoiselle, it’s for the child’s good!”

“But I don’t choose to make madame feel badly.”

Jasmin made up his mind like a devoted servant: he went to his master. Monsieur de Grandvilain was lying on his couch, enveloped in his morning gown; his head was covered with a jaunty green velvet cap, which he was careful to place over the ear which he no