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'Shockin' behayviour! 'Aw, very shockin' indeed! was the words I heerd flyin' about, an' 'Who'll make en sensible o't? an' 'We'll give en what-for. 'A silent tongue makes a wise head, said I, an' o' this I call Uncle Issy here to witness." Uncle Issy corroborated. "You was proverbial, crowder, I can duly vow, an' to that effect, unless my mem'ry misgives me."
One is to be called the "Jules Favre," one the "Populace," "We already hear them thunder, and see the Prussians decimated," says the Temps, and its editor is not the first person who has counted his chickens before they are hatched. All yesterday afternoon and evening the Fort of Issy, and the battery of the Bois de Boulogne, fired heavily on Brinborion and Meudon, with what result no one knows.
"'Tis lookin' high," put in Uncle Issy. "A cat may look at a king, if he's got his eyes about en," Old Zeb went on, "let alone a legacy an' a green cart. 'Tain't that: 'tis the maid." "How's mother?" asked the young man, to shift the conversation. "Hugly, my son. Hi!
Albert shook his head. "No, Is," he answered, gravely. "No, that wouldn't be any use. With you around nobody else has a look-in at the 'handsome' game. Issy, what do you do to your face?" "Do to it? What do you mean by do to it?" "What do you do to it to make it look the way it does? Don't tell me it grew that way naturally." "Grew! Course it grew! What kind of talk's that?"
Heavy guns, mounted on armored cars, moved to and fro on the Belt Railway, shelling Asnieres over the roofs of Levallois. It was at Vanves and Issy, however, that the cannonade was fiercest; it shook the windows of Paris as the siege had done when it was at its height.
On Tuesday, the 18th, the Marechal d'Estrees took him, at eight o'clock in the morning, to his house at Issy, gave him a dinner, and much amused him during the day with many things shown to him relating to the navy. On Monday, the 24th, he went out early to the Tuileries, before the King was up. He entered the rooms of the Marechal de Villeroy, who showed him the crown jewels.
"Say, Al," observed Issy, one afternoon in late August of that year, "how do YOU like that Raymond young feller?" Albert looked up absently from the page of the daybook. "Eh? What?" he asked. "I say how do YOU like that Eddie Raymond, the Down-at-the-Neck one?" "Down at the neck? There's nothing the matter with his neck that I know of." "Who said there was? He LIVES down to the Neck, don't he?
So Issy gave up his tales of savage butchery for those of love and blisses, adored in silence, and hoped always hoped. But why had the blacksmith seemed surprised at the departure of Sam Bartlett, the "dudey" vacationist from the city, whose father had, years ago, been Beriah Higgins's partner in the fish business?
"He acts sort of blue, to me," declared Issy, speaking from the depths of sensational-novel knowledge. "If he was a younger man I'd say he was most likely in love. Ah, hum! I s'pose bein' in love does get a feller mournful, don't it?" Issy made this declaration to his mother only. He knew better than to mention sentiment to male acquaintances.
It was, likewise, during his stay at Vaugirard, that he paid a visit to Mademoiselle de l'Hopital at Issy, to inquire into the truth of a report of an amour between her and a man of the long robe; and it was there that, on his arriving unexpectedly, the President de Maisons was forced to take refuge in a closet, with so much precipitation, that half of his robe remained on the outside when he shut the door; while the Chevalier de Grammont, who observed it, made his visit excessively long, in order to keep the two lovers upon the rack.
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