another peal of cannon. The musicians were about to start playing when Dupoissy gave them a furious signal to be quiet. And, planting himself in front of the platform, on the steep bank of the river, a few steps away from the boat, he took a rose-colored paper from his pocket, opened it, coughed, bowed, and twittered in a voice like that of a prematurely weaned kid a whole litany of rancid alexandrines to which nobody, however, paid the slightest attention. From time to time, through the talking that was going on, one could catch a hemstitch: "Oh, ship! Thou son of earth!… Thou conqueror of the seas!… On distant shores … Salute for us … dawn creeps above the horizon over the sea … symbol of our laws … kingdom of Amphytrite …"
"What a lot of commonplaces!" murmured Madame Vanderling in Gaston Saint-Fardier's ear. "You will see that he won't pass one up! That man is a veritable almanach of the muses!"
He finished. There were a few discreet bravos. A few people whispered "Not bad, not bad!" Most of the audience indulged in a sigh of relief. Finally the really moving part of the ceremony began to be prepared. The musicians played an air of Grétry's: "Où peut-on être mieux," M. Fulton, the builder, gave a sharp order to the workmen.
Beneath the powerful pressure of the rams and the wedges that were urging her forward, the immense hulk, immovable until now, began to move almost invisibly. All eyes anxiously followed the efforts of the robust crew of workmen massed under the bow of the ship, shoring it up from that side, and armed with handspikes in order to make it slide down the ways with greater speed. Piles, stanchions and braces had
