stances of her dream. Captain Morin had distinctly heard the voice of a friend calling to him; at that very hour the friend, of whose illness he knew nothing, died. Monsieur Largeyx was about to start on a journey, when his wife implored him not to go; and that entreaty probably saved his life, for an accident happened to the train he would otherwise have taken. Such tales are constantly repeated in conversations of this kind; they are all alike,—asserted in good faith and quite impossible to verify, so easily does our love for the marvellous strangle our memory. My uncle and Monsieur Viple listened to these tales with a smile of incredulity which you can well imagine,—worthy old devils that they were, born under the Emperor, and trained to the philosophy of the eighteenth century. They had attended Dupuytren's clinics in their youth, and they usually replied, with a glance at each other, when the supernatural was talked of, that 'they had never seen it dissected.' On this occasion they were, as usual, incredulous and ironical, winking their eyes, however, and nodding their heads to induce their guests to talk on. 'How is it with you, Lucien?' said Monsieur Viple. 'With me?' said the young man, 'well, I have my superstitions, though I never dissected them; I have been in battle, and I believe in presentiments; I have played cards and seen others play, and I believe in fetiches.'"
