It is charming that the window of the cabinet of medals is now provided with iron railings or bars, though it is hardly to be hoped that the thieves will by night restore the stolen property. The said iron bars are painted rosy-red, which makes, indeed, a very fine effect; so every passer-by looks up and laughs. Monsieur Raoul Rochette, the conservateur des ex-médailles—the guardian of the medals which are gone—should wonder that the thieves did not steal him too, since he has always regarded himself as of far more weight and importance than the medals, and regarded the latter as valueless unless accompanied by his oral explanations! Now he strolls about idly, and smiles as our cook did when the cat had stolen a piece of raw meat from the kitchen. "At any rate, she does not know how it ought to be cooked," quoth the cuisinière, and laughed.[1]
Meanwhile, great as the loss may be to ancient history from that theft of the medals, the deficit in the accounts of Kessner appears to cause much greater irritation, for this is more important in
- ↑ As it befell me once in America, when certain thieves took from me, among other things, a very valuable and rare Egyptian scarabæus—one of two found in the tomb of a king. "Fortunately the beggars do not know what it is worth," whispered my consoling genius. But it was never found again, and was lost to the world. Two pages from this period are omitted from the French version.—Translator.
