As soon as the cavalcade stopped, the sexton advanced, and, ringing a handbell, pronounced the following admonition. I’ll give you grandpére!’ ‘But milor’—’ ‘Pardon!’ No longer master of his actions, the general lurched forward, waving his cane. The lights of the Champs Elysées and the Place de la Concorde, suggestive, brilliant, seductive, shone like an army of fireflies against the deep cool background of the night. After all, what could happen? He was looking at her very hard and earnestly. He tired of his popcorn and placed it under his seat.
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