bottom of the courtyard; so that this parlor served both as salon and dining-room. The room of the late Monsieur de Portenduère remained in the same state as on the day of his death; the deceased only was missing. Madame de Portenduère had made the bed herself, placing on it her husband’s naval uniform, sword, red ribbon, orders and hat. The gold snuff-box from which the viscount had taken a last pinch was on the pedestal, with his prayer-book, watch and the cup from which he had drunk. His white hair, framed and arranged in a single lock, hung over the crucifix with its holy water font in the alcove. In short, the knickknacks which he used, his newspapers, furniture, the Dutch spittoon, his field-glass hanging up over the mantelpiece, nothing was missing. The widow had stopped the old timepiece at the hour of his death, which was thus indicated for all time. One could still smell the powder and snuff of the deceased. The hearth was as he had left it. To go in there was to see him again in meeting with all the things that told of his habits. His great gold-headed cane remained where he had placed it, together with his thick doeskin gloves close by. On a bracket shone a coarsely carved gold vase, worth a thousand crowns, presented to him by Havanna, which, at the time of the American War of Independence, he defended from an attack of the English whilst fighting against a superior force, after having safely brought into port the convoy he was protecting. As a reward, the King of Spain had made him a Chevalier
