were jagged like molten lead thrown into water, the vegetation chiefly fungoid, and it was necessary to clip the wings of one's horned cattle. But for the man—he is a late, mongrel, low-grade production, with merely a few primitive impulses. ' He paused to ponder. Madame's sobs continued rhythmically, broken now and then by a little 'gr'r'r' —pure rage—the sounds which babies make when too angry to scream.

"'Oh, these children—it is hard to know what course to take.' The Count turned to me in his perplexity. 'As far as this man is concerned, I suppose that the best thing would be to give him a good flogging and let him go—eh, Doctor?'

" 'A flogging!' I echoed, with a sort of horror.

" 'Why not? He is not a gentleman. He has endangered my life, which I forgive; he has seduced my wife, for which I make due allowance; he has insulted me to my face, for which I do not bear malice; but—he is ca-