p. 203

because an old Frenchwoman had lost her purse,
and, with the logic of her nation, had jumped to the
conclusion that we had stolen it. It is not as it was in
the days of 1870- just five years ago. At that time,
if a foreign traveller in [[France]] spoke [[French]] well he
was a spy, for his speech betrayed him, and the
[[Germans]], of course, employed for this purpose those
of their countrymen who had the greatest command
of the [[French]] language. If, on the other hand, he
spoke [[French]] badly, he was equally a spy, for his
speech betrayed him, since when was ever foreigner
known to master the genius and the accent of
this language of the world? We have passed
beyond that great epoch of universal suspicion,
and yet here is Mr. [[FRANCIS ROBINS]] as badly
treated as he ever could have been in 1870. He
was travelling with Mrs. [[ROBINS]] and two children,
a child on each parent's knees, from [[Montrouge]] to
the [[Place St. Michel]], in an omnibus "correspond-
"ing" with the line going to the [[Boulevard
Montmartre]]. An elderly Frenchwoman of the
lower middle-class is inside with them. As we
read, the whole scene comes before us. We are jog-
ging along through the [[Quartier St. Germain]], the
driver drowsily swaying on his box ; point after
point is passed which makes us dream of the [italicized] ancient
regime [end italics], the [italicized] Septembriseurs [end italics] of CHARLOTTE CORDAY,
when we hear the murmur of a falling fountain,
we see [[ST. MICHAEL]], with a spear aloft, about to
transfix the serpent below, and the omnibus stops
for those to descend who are about to "corre-
"spond." The slumberous serenity of the journey
breaks into a storm. The old Frenchwoman has
lost her purse, and she turns upon the Englishman
travelling with her with an accusation that he has
stolen it. He is indignant ; he calls upon a [italicized] Ser-
gent-de-Ville [end italics] to dispel the absurd charge ; but he
finds the CAESAR to whom he appeals a violent par-
tisan. Instead of clearing him at once, he takes
him off to the nearest police-station, where, upon
this unsupported accusation, poor Mr. [[ROBINS]] and
his wife are both searched down to their boots and
stockings, and even to the roots of the lady's
hair. All is supposed to be ever, and the parents
are restored to their children- the elder being just
two years old- when a flash of inspiration
visits the Commissaire. He is in a rapture to
think how his ingenuity has saved him from being
deceived. This miserable Englishman, this graduate
among [italicized] filous [end italics], travelling with his child on his knees,
has first robbed the woamn and then secreted his
spoil on the person of the infant, thus early trained
to be his accomplice! Nothing was found, but the
Commissaire had the satisfaction of thinking [no?]
point of his duty had been overlooked, unless it wa