terrified spectator of the whole enactment, now came forward.

"Ah, villain!" she cried, shaking her fist at her helpless spouse, "you would stint your wife's friends who honor your miserable shop by drinking therein, and give all to those lean, dirty poet-fellows who flatter you out of all your profits. And you would try to kill this sweet gentleman with a haunch of venison! Know then, that 'tis he I love and not you. I'll stay with you no more."

At the conclusion of this tirade she went to a desk in the rear of the place and unlocking a drawer took out several bags of coin which she carried to Chauvin, who immediately plunged them into the depths of his pockets. Then bringing him a large cloak with which to hide the stains upon his uniform, Lise took

Chauvin's arm and they went out, after bowing ironically to Ragueneau.

The other musketeers gathered around the wine keg and proceeded to help themselves. They soon finished what the poets had left and began upon a case of choice bottled wine that Ragueneau reserved for his best customers, unheeding of his loud curses and frantic struggles to free his pinioned arms. Soon they became ingloriously drunk and as the host continued to assail them with furious invectives they gathered round the only table of eatables remaining intact from the preceding battle and hurled the cakes and other confections at their luckless owner. Fortunately for Ragueneau their state of intoxication rendered their aim bad, otherwise he had been smothered by the volleys of pastry fly.

ing around him. As it was he was soon well plastered by custards, jellies, and soft dough. At last, after having exhausted their ammunition, the merry musketeers departed, leaving Ragueneau almost mad with rage though physically unhurt.

And so we will leave him for awhile in his exalted position.

CHAPTER IX.

WHEN Cyrano and Christian left the pastry shop of Ragueneau arm in arm, they walked down the Rue de l'Arbe Sec, formulating plans for Christian's wooing of Roxane.

"First you must send a messenger with the letter," said Cyrano, "and inquire when you may pay your respects in person. Meantime, 1 will arrange some pretty speeches which you must learn that you may not be at a loss when in the lady's presence."

"I fear I cannot learn them.'

"Nay, love should never fear. They will sound far sweeter from your lips than those lines you send shall seem to

her. Now when she greets you, answer thus:

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'Queen of my heart, I live only when near thee. To count the ways and reasons of my love for thee were to attempt to number the points of flame gleaming in the firmament above us.'"

"I fear I should say it parrot-like and thus the words be shorn of sentiment. The written lines are safer."

Hailing a messenger Christian dispatched Cyrano's ardent letter to the fair Roxane and betook himself to his quarters, there anxiously to await the answer. Cyrano accompanied him to the door, suggesting finely turned phrases and impassioned terms, even recommending appropriate gestures. But Christian refused to repeat another word, declaring he would trust to the promptings of