were to go all over the world. "Eh bien, quoi, c'est magnifique, ça!" cried he.
The sad Northman interfered in praise of a peasant's life; he thought Paris bad for men and women; "centralisation," said he—
But the landlord was at his throat in a moment. It was all logical, he showed him; and all magnificent. "What a spectacle! What a glance for an eye!" And the dishes reeled upon the table under a cannonade of blows.
Seeking to make peace, I threw in a word in praise of the liberty of opinion in France. I could hardly have shot more amiss. There was an instant silence, and a great wagging of significant heads. They did not fancy the subject, it was plain; but they gave me to understand that the sad Northman was a martyr on account of his views. "Ask him a bit," said they. "Just ask him."
