balance evenly, we throw in affection for good measure.
If you would like to see an uncrowned King, a landless but happy man, look at Breugnon as he sits throned tonight at the merry feast of the Epiphany. There was a great procession in the afternoon which went by our windows; the three Magi with their attendants, a chorus of shepherds and shepherdesses, and all the dogs in the town; now in the evening we are all gathered round the table, thirty of us, including me, children, and grandchildren; and they all drank my health together, crying, "Here's to the King!" for they have crowned me with a splendid paper crown, and Martine is my queen; (you see, like those old fellows in Plutarch, I have married my daughter) so whenever I carry my glass to my lips, every one applauds; and then I laugh and the wine goes down the wrong way. My queen not only shares my drink herself, but there is another person who shares too in his own way, and that is my youngest grandson, who lies in his mother's arms, red and squalling. Every one is happy down to the dog and cat picking up bones under the table.
I hate to keep my thoughts to myself, so I say aloud:
"The only fault I have to find with this good
