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Updated: June 14, 2025
A little piece of white paper fell to the floor out of the pocket of the overcoat. Caillard picked it up; it was a visiting-card, and he read out: "Rosselin Deputy." "You see how it is," said his wife. He almost cried with joy, and, a week later, it was announced in the Journal Officiel that M. Caillard had been awarded the Legion of Honor on account of his exceptional services.
Caillard was so delighted that he could scarcely eat or drink, and a week later he set out. He went from town to town, studying catalogues, rummaging in lofts full of dusty volumes, and was hated by all the librarians.
Where had I heard that name? Then I suddenly remembered. Paul Caillard was the friend with whom Jack had gone across the ocean to the Great War. I examined the paper carefully. "I thought Dicky said you received the usual official notification," I remarked. "That's what I told him," she replied. "That's it." "But this isn't an official message," I persisted. "Why isn't it?"
His idea was to have little carts full of books drawn about the streets, like orange-carts are. Every householder or lodger would have a right to ten volumes a month by means of a halfpenny subscription. "The people," M. Caillard said, "will only disturb itself for the sake of its pleasures, and since it will not go to instruction, instruction must come to it," &c., &c.
Honoré, and passing by the large establishment of Laffitte, Caillard, et Compagnie, for diligences to all parts of France, we shall come to the Oratoire, built for the Prêtres de l'Oratoire in 1621, but now devoted to the protestant worship; it is adorned with doric columns, with a range of corinthian pillars above, and in the interior, the roof of which is highly ornamented.
"Rosselin!" he contrived to utter in his joy. "He has obtained the decoration for me? He Oh!" And he was obliged to drink a glass of water. A little piece of white paper fell to the floor out of the pocket of the overcoat. Caillard picked it up; it was a visiting card, and he read out: "Rosselin-Deputy." "You see how it is," said his wife.
But M. Caillard could not get rid of his one absorbing idea, and he felt constantly unhappy because he had not the right to wear a little bit of colored ribbon in his buttonhole. When he met any men who were decorated on the boulevards, he looked at them askance, with intense jealousy.
"Such a pleasant thing happened to me today," Jack wrote, "one of the unexpected gleams of sunlight that are so much brighter because of the general gloom against which they are reflected. "I was given a week's furlough last Saturday and went up to Paris with my friend, Paul Caillard. He had a friend in a hospital on the way there, headed by Dr. Braithwaite, the celebrated surgeon of Detroit."
In the centre of a great crowd on the Place du Palais-Royal there was one of the Laffitte et Caillard diligences, which had been used as a barricade, and set up again. It was full of people inside, and they clustered on the roof like bees, all of them singing in chorus.
Mme. Caillard did what he asked her, and M. Rosselin promised to speak to the minister about it; and then Caillard began to worry him, till the deputy told him he must make a formal application and put forward his claims. "What were his charms?" he said. "He was not even a Bachelor of Arts."
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