The Cigarette had some mysteries to perform with his rigging in the coach-house; so I was left to do the parade single-handed. I found myself very much of a hero whether I would or not. The girls were full of little shudderings over the dangers of our journey. And I thought it would be ungallant not to take my cue from the ladies. My mishap of yesterday, told in an offhand way, produced a deep sensation. It was Othello over again, with no less than three Desdemonas and a sprinkling of sympathetic senators in the background. Never were the canoes more flattered, or flattered more adroitly.

“It is like a violin,” cried one of the girls in an ecstasy.

“I thank you for the word, mademoiselle,” said I. “All the more since there are people who call out to me that it is like a coffin.”

“Oh! but it is really like a violin. It is finished like a violin,” she went on.