All this hubbub had the effect of restoring the King's calmness, externally, although any one could see his mind was still stirred to its very depths.

Suddenly he left his room, ordering those present to follow him. The scourging stopped behind him as if by enchantment. Chicot, alone, continued his flagellation of D'O, whom he detested. D'O, on the other hand, tried to give him as good as he got. It was a regular cat-o'-nine-tails' duel.

Henri passed into the apartments of the Queen. He presented her with a necklace of pearls worth twenty-five thousand crowns, kissed her on both cheeks, which had not happened for more than a year, and begged her to take off the royal ornaments and put on sackcloth.

Louise de Lorraine, always kind and gentle, consented at once. But she asked her husband why he gave her a pearl necklace and wanted her to wear sackcloth.

"For my sins," he answered.

The answer satisfied the Queen, for she knew better than any one the enormous sum-total of the sins for which her husband ought to do penance.

On the return of the King, the scourging is renewed. D'O and Chicot, who had not stopped, are bathed in blood. The King compliments them and tells them they are his true and only friends.

At the end of ten minutes, comes the Queen, clad in her sackcloth. Immediately, tapers are distributed to the court, and, with naked feet during that horrible weather of frost and snow, the fine courtiers and fine ladies, as well as the honest citizens of Paris, all devoted servants of the King and Our Lady, are on the road to Montmartre, at first shivering, but soon warming up under the furious strokes administered by Chicot to all who have the ill-luck to come within reach of his discipline.

D'O acknowledged he was conquered, and filed off fifty yards away from Chicot.

At four in the evening, the lugubrious procession was over. The convents had reaped a rich harvest, the feet of the courtiers were swollen and their backs raw ; the Queen had appeared in public in an enormous chemise of coarse linen ; the King, with a chaplet of beads, fashioned in the form of death's heads. There had been tears, cries, prayers, incense, and canticles.

The day, as we have seen, had been well spent.

The real fact, however, was every one had endured cold and blows in order to do the King a pleasure, but why the prince, who had been so eager in the dance the evening before, should mangle himself the day after, no one, for the life of him, could tell.

The Huguenots, Leaguers, and Libertines looked on, laughing, while the procession of the flagellants passed, saying, like the true misbelievers they were, that the last procession was far finer and more fervid, which was not true at all.

Henri returned, fasting, with long blue and red stripes on his shoulders. He did not leave the Queen the entire day, and, at every chapel where he halted, he took advantage of the opportunity to promise her that he would grant her new revenues and plan with her new pilgrimages.

As for Chicot, tired of striking, and tired of the unusual exercise to which the King had condemned him, he had stolen off, a little above the Porte Montmartre, and with Brother Gorenflot, one of his friends, he entered the garden of a hostelry in high renown, where he drank some high-spiced wine and eat a widgeon that had been killed in the Grange-Bateliere marshes. Then, on the return of the procession, he resumed his rank and went back to the Louvre, running a-muck at the he-penitents and the she-ones, in the most delightful style imaginable, and distributing, as he said himself, his plenary indulgences.

At nightfall the King felt worn out by his fasting, his barefooted pilgrimage, and the furious blows to which he had treated himself. He had a vegetable soup served him, his shoulders bathed, a great fire lit, and then went to visit Saint-Luc, whom he found hale and hearty.

Since the evening before, the King was quite changed; all his thoughts were turned to the vanity of human things, penitence, and death.

" Ah ! " said he, in the deep tones of a man disgusted with life, " God has, in good truth, done well to make our existence as bitter as possible."

" Why so, sire ? " asked Saint-Luc.

" Because when man is tired of the world, instead of fearing death he longs for it."

" Pardon me, sire," returned Saint-Luc, " speak for yourself, but, in my case, I have not the slightest longing for death."

" Listen, Saint-Luc," said the King, shaking his head : " If you were wise, you would follow my advice, or, to speak more correctly, my example."

" And with great pleasure, sire, if your example pleased me."

" How should you like if I gave up my crown and you your wife, and entered a cloister to-morrow ? I have a dispensation from our Holy Father the Pope. We shall make our profession to-morrow. I shall be called Brother Henri "

" Forgive me, sire, forgive me. You may not think much of your crown, with which you are but too well acquainted, while I think a great deal of my wife, with whom my acquaintance is but slight. Therefore I refuse your offer."

"Why," said Henri, "you are getting better rapidly."

" Never better in my life, sire. My mind is tranquil, my soul joyful. I have a decided bent in the direction of happiness and pleasure."

" Poor Saint-Luc ! " said the King, clasping his hands.

" You ought to have made your proposal yesterday, sire. Yesterday I was dull, whimsical, and in pain. This evening it is quite the other way : I spent a pleasant night, quite charming, in fact. And so, my present disposition is to be as gay as a lark. Mordieu ! pleasure forever ! "

" You are swearing, Saint-Luc," said the King.

" Did I swear, sire ? ? T is not unlikely ; but, then, if I do not mistake, you sometimes swear yourself."

" Yes, Saint-Luc, I have sworn ; but I will never swear again."

" I should not venture to go as far as that. I will swear as little as possible. That's the only thing I can promise. Besides, God is good and merciful Avhen our sins spring from our human weaknesses."

" You think, then, God will pardon me ? "

" Oh, I am not speaking of you, sire, I am speaking of your

humble servant. Plague on it,! if you have sinned, you have sinned as a king, while I have sinned as a private individual. I hope, on the day of judgment, the Lord will not have the same weights and scales for us."

The King heaved a sigh and murmured a confiteor, beating his breast at the mea culpa.

" Saint-Luc," said he, at length, " will you spend the night in my room ? "

" That 's as may be. What shall we do ? " asked Saint-Luc, " in your Majesty's room ? "

" We shall light it up. I will lie down, and you '11 read me the litanies of the saints."

u Thanks, sire."

« You don't like it, then ? "

" Not the least in the world."

" So, you forsake me ! Saint-Luc, you forsake me ! "

" No, quite the contrary, I am not leaving you."

" Ah ! you 're sure ? "

" If you like."

" Certainly, I like."

" But on one condition, a condition sine qua non"

" What is it ? "

" Your Majesty must have the tables set, send for violins and courtesans, and then, by my faith, we '11 dance."

" Saint-Luc ! Saint-Luc ! " cried the King, appalled.

" Nay ! " said Saint-Luc, " I feel myself to-night in a merry humor. Will you drink and dance, sire ? "

But Henri did not answer. His mind, generally so sportful and lively, was becoming gloomier and gloomier; it seemed wrestling with some secret thought that pressed it down, as might a leaden weight tied to the claws of a bird which vainly struggled to stretch its wings and fly.

" Saint-Luc," said the King, at length, in a mournful voice, " do you ever dream ? "

" Often, sire."

" Do you believe in dreams ? "

" Why, of course."

" But why ? "

" Oh, because dreams sometimes compensate us for realities. Thus to-night I had a charming dream."

" What was it ? "

" I dreamed that my wife " —

u Are you still thinking of your wife, then, Saint-Luc ? "

" More than ever."

" Ah ! " sighed the King, with an upward glance.

" I dreamed," continued Saint-Luc, " that my wife, with her lovely face, for she is lovely, sire " —

" Alas ! yes," returned the King. " Eve was lovely also, 0 wretched man, and yet she ruined us all."

" Ah! so now I know the occasion of your ill-will. But to return to my dream, sire. Do you wish me ? "

" I, too, dreamed"

" My wife, then, with her lovely face, had taken to herself the wings and form of a bird, and, braving bolts and bars, had flown over the walls of the Louvre, knocked at rny window, with a delicious little cry, which I understood plainly, and said, < Open, Saint-Luc ; let me in, my husband.' ' ;

" And you opened ? " said the King, almost in a tone of despair.

" I wager you I did," answered Saint-Luc, emphatically.

« Worldling !"

" Worldling, as much as you like, sire."

" And then you awoke ? "

" No, sire, I took care not to; the dream was far too charming."

" And did you continue to dream ? "

" As long as I could, sire."

" And you expect to-night"

" To dream again, saving your Majesty's favor. Now you understand why I decline your kind request to. go and read prayers to you. If I am compelled to keep awake I want, at least, to have something that will make up for my dream; and so, if, as I have already mentioned, your Majesty sends for the violins "

"Enough, Saint-Luc, enough," said the King, rising, "you are damning yourself, and would damn me if I remained here any longer. Adieu, Saint-Luc ; God grant that, instead of that diabolic dream, he sends you some saving vision which may induce you to-morrow to share my penitence and be saved along with me."

" I doubt it, sire, indeed. I am so decided on the matter that the best advice I can give your Majesty is to turn that libertine, Saint-Luc, out of the Louvre to-night, seeing that he has made up his mind to die impenitent."

" No," replied Henri, " no, I hope that on to-morrow grace will touch his heart as it has touched mine. Good evening, Saint-Luc ; I will pray for you."

" Good evening, sire; I will dream for you."

And Saint-Luc began humming the first couplet of a song, more than indecorous, which the King was fond of singing when in good humor. Thereupon his Majesty beat a retreat, closing the door and murmuring as he entered his own room:

" My Lord and my God ! thy wrath is just and lawful, for the world grows worse and worse ! "

CHAPTEE VIII.

HOW THE KING AND CHICOT WERE AFRAID OF BEING AFRAID.

AFTER leaving Saint-Luc the King found the whole court assembled in the grand gallery, as he had ordered.

Then he distributed some favors among his friends, banished D'O, D'Epernon, and Schomberg to the provinces, threatened Maugiron and Quelus with trial if they had any more quarrels with Bussy, gave the latter his hand to kiss, and pressed his brother Francois to his heart.

As for the Queen, he was lavish in his expressions of love and praise in her regard, so that those present drew the most favorable auguries from his behavior as to the succession of the crown of France.

When the hour for retiring drew near it was easy to be seen that the King was putting off that hour as late as possible ; at length the clock of the Louvre struck ten ; Henri looked long and earnestly in every direction ; apparently he was trying to make a choice among his friends of the person he should select for the office of reader, the office refused by Saint-Luc a few moments before.

Chicot noticed what the King was doing.

With his customary audacity he exclaimed :

" I say, Henri, you have been casting sheep's eyes at me all the evening. Would you be thinking, peradventure, of bestowing on me a fat abbey with an income of ten thousand livres ? Zounds ! what a prior I should make ! Give it, my son, give it! "

" Come with me, Chicot," said the King. " Good evening, gentlemen, I am about to retire."

Chicot turned to the courtiers, twisted his mustache, and, with the most gracious air imaginable, rolling his big, soft eyes, repeated, parodying Henri:

" Good evening, gentlemen, we are about to retire."

The courtiers bit their lips ; the King reddened.

" Ho there ! " cried Chicot, " my hair-dresser, my valet, and, especially, my cream."

" No," said the King, " there is no need of all that this evening. We are near Lent, and I am doing penance."

" I regret the cream," said Chicot.

The King and his jester entered the apartment with which we are all so well acquainted.

" Oho, Henri," said Chicot; " so I am the favorite, the indispensable individual, then, am I ? Why, I must be very pretty, prettier than that Cupid, Quelus, even."

" Silence, you fool; and you, gentlemen of the toilet, retire," said the King.

The valets obeyed, the door was shut, and Henri and Chicot were alone. Chicot looked at the King with amazement.

" Why are you sending them away ? " asked the jester ; " we have not yet been greased. Is it that you are thinking of greasing me with your own royal hand ? Faith, it will be penance like the rest."

Henri did not answer. Everybody had left the chamber, and the two kings, the fool and the sage, looked at each other.

" Let us pray," said Henri.

" Excuse me," returned Chicot; " no fun in praying. If it was for that you brought me here, I prefer returning to the bad company I left. Adieu, my son, good evening."

" Stay," said the King.

" Oh, oh ! " retorted Chicot, drawing himself up ; " this is regular tyranny. Thou 'rt a despot, a Phalaris, a Bionysius, You really make me tired. You force me to spend a whole day in mangling the shoulders of my friends, and, seemingly, you are now in the humor to begin again to-night. Plague take it, Henri, don't let us begin it again ! There are only two of us here; and, when there are only two, every stroke tells !"

" Hush, you wretched babbler, and think of repentance," said the King.

" Ha ! now I see what you mean ; I repent. And of what, pray ? Of being the buffoon of a monk ? Confiteor — I repent. Mea culpa — through my fault, through my fault, through my very great fault! "

" No sacrilege, wretch ! " cried the King ; " no sacrilege, I say !"

" Oh, indeed ! " retorted Chicot. " I 'd rather be shut up in a den of lions or a cage of monkeys than to be in the room of a mad king. Farewell! I 'm off."

The King took the key out of the lock.

" Heiiri," said Chicot, " I warn thee that thy aspect is sinister ; and, if 1 am hindered from leaving, I will cry out, call for help, break the door, smash the windows — help ! help ! "

" Chicot, my friend," said the King, in his most melancholy tone, " you are taking advantage of my sad condition."

" Ah, I understand," returned Chicot, " you are afraid of being alone ; all tyrants are like that. Well, why can't you have a dozen chambers built, like Dionysius, or a dozen palaces, like Tiberius. Meantime, you take my long sword, and I '11 carry the scabbard with me to my room."

At the word " afraid," Henri's eyes had glared ; then, with a strange shiver, he had risen and crossed the chamber. He was so tremulous, his face was so pallid, that Chicot began to think him really ill, and, after the King had walked three or four times up and down the floor, he said, apprehensively :

" Come, come, my son, what ails you ? Tell your troubles to your own Chicot."

The King halted before the jester, and gazing at him, said :

" Yes, you are my friend, my only friend."

" Then," returned Chicot, " there is the Abbey of Valencey, which is vacant."

" Listen, Chicot," said Henri; " are you discreet ? "

" Also that of Pithiviers, where you can eat delicious lark pies."

" In spite of your buffooneries, you are a courageous man," continued the King.

" Then don't give me an abbey, give me a regiment."

" Ay, and even a prudent man."

" Then don't give me a regiment, make me a member of your privy council. But no; 1 fancy I should prefer a regiment or an abbey ; I won't be a councillor — I should always have to be of the King's opinion."

" Hush, Chicot, hush ! the hour, the terrible hour is drawing nigh."

" Oh, are you going over all that again ? " said Chicot.

" You are going to see, to hear."

" See what ? hear whom ? "

" Wait. The issue will teach you things you may wish to know. Wait."

"No, no, I have n't the slightest intention of waiting; why, what mad dog, I wonder, bit your father and mother on the fatal night you were begotten ! "

" Chicot, are you brave ? "

" I should rather say so ! But, tudiable, I don't put my bravery to the touch in this fashion. When the King of France and Poland shrieks out in the night so as to create a scandal in the Louvre, the presence of an insignificant person like myself in your apartment would dishonor it. Good-by, Henri, summon your captains, your Swiss, your doorkeepers, and let me scamper off. A plague on your invisible dangers ! I have no notion of bumping up against a peril I know nothing of! "

" I command you to remain," said the King, authoritatively.

" Well, upon my soul! — a nice .master you are to want to command a fellow that 's in a regular panic. I 'm afraid — do you hear ? I 'm afraid, I tell you. Help, help ! Fire ! "

Arid Chicot, as if to get away as far as possible from danger, jumped on the table.

" Well, you scamp," said the King, " I see I shall have to tell you everything, since that is the only way to keep your mouth shut."

" Aha ! " cried Chicot, rubbing his hands, getting off the table cautiously, and drawing his enormous sword ; " once I am warned, I don't care ; we '11 fight the matter out between us. Go on, go on, my son. Would it be a crocodile that 's after you, eh ? Don't be alarmed ; look at that blade — sharp as a razor ; I pare my corns with it once a week, and they 're tough ones, I can tell you. You said it was a crocodile, Henri, did n't you ? "

And Chicot sank back in a big chair and placed the sword between his thighs, crossing his legs over it, so that it looked not unlike the caduceus of Mercury, entwined by those symbols of peace, the serpents.

" Last night," said Henri, " I was asleep " ;—

" And I also," interrupted Chicot.

" Suddenly a breath swept over my face."

" It was that cur of yours that was hungry, 1 ' said Chicot, " and was licking the grease off your face."

" I half awoke and felt my beard bristle with terror under my mask."

" Ah ! you make me shiver deliciously," said Chicot, coiling himself in his armchair and resting his chin on the pommel of his sword.

" Then," continued the King, in tones so weak and trembling that they hardly reached Chicot's ear, — " then a voice resounded in the room with a vibration so doleful that my mind was entirely unsettled."

" The voice of the crocodile. I understand. I remember reading in Marco Polo that the crocodile has a terrible voice resembling the cry of a child; but do not be uneasy, my son ; if he come, we '11 kill him."

" Are you listening attentively ? "

" Pardieii ! am I listening ? " said Chicot, starting up as if he were on wires. " I am all ears, as still as a post and as dumb as an oyster. Go on."

Henri went on, in tones gloomier and more lugubrious than ever.

" ' Miserable sinner,' said the voice "

" Bah ! " interrupted Chicot ; " so the voice spoke ? It was not a crocodile, then ? "

" ' Miserable sinner ? said the voice, ( I am the voice of the Lord thy God ! "

Chicot took a leap and was again plump down in his armchair.

" The voice of God ? " he asked.

" Ah ! Chicot," replied Henri, " it was an awful voice."

" It was n't a sweet-toned voice, then ? something like the sound of a trumpet, as we are told in Scripture ? " inquired Chicot.

" ' Art thou there ? Dost hear ? ' continued the voice. * Dost thou hear, 0 hardened siriher ? Art thou indeed resolved to persevere in thy iniquity ? '

" Ah, really now ! " said Chicot. " Why, upon my word, the voice of God is a little like the voice of your people, after all."

" Next," resumed the King," followed many other reproaches, which, I assure you, Chicot, hurt me very much."

" Still, let us have a little more, my son," said Chicot; "continue, tell me what the voice said; I want to know if God is a well-informed person."

" Pagan ! " cried the King, " if you doubt, I will have you punished."

" I doubt ? " said Chicot; " oh, not at all. The only thing that puzzles me is that God should have waited till now to reproach you in the style you mention. He has become very patient since the Deluge. Well, my son, you had an awful fright?"

" Awful! " answered Henri.

" There was some reason for it."

" The perspiration rolled down my temples and the marrow seemed to dry up in my bones."

" As in Jeremiah; quite natural; upon my word as a gentleman, I don't know what I should have done in your place; and then you called ? "

" Yes."

" And they came ? "

« Yes."

" And a thorough search was made ? "

" Everywhere."

" And God was not discovered ? "

" Nothing was seen."

" It 's frightful."

" So frightful that I sent for my confessor."

" Ah, good ! he came ? "

" On the instant."

" Come now, my son, do violence to yourself and try to be frank with me. What does your confessor think of this revelation ? "

"He shuddered."

" I should think he would."

" He crossed himself, and ordered me to repent as God had warned me to do."

" Very good indeed! there J s never any harm in repenting. But what did he say of the visio'n itself, or, rather, of what you heard, for you don't seem to have seen anything ? "

" He said it was providential, a miracle; that now I must think of nothing but the good of the state. And so, this morning, I have given "

" This morning you have given, my son ? "

" A hundred thousand livres to the Jesuits."

" Admirable !"

" And mangled my own flesh and that of my young lords with scourges."

« Perfect. And then ? "

" And then. Give me your opinion, Ohicot. I am not now talking to the jester, but to a sensible man who is my friend."

" Well, sire/" replied Chicot, seriously, " I believe your Majesty has had a nightmare."

" You believe, then, that"

" Your Majesty has had a dream, which will not recur unless you let your mind dwell too much upon it."

" A 'dream ? " said Henri, shaking his head. " No, no, I was wide awake, that you may be sure of, Chicot."

" You were asleep, Henri."

" I slept so little that my eyes were wide open, I tell you."

" I sleep in that way myself."

" Yes, but I saw with my eyes, and that does not really happen when we are asleep."

" And what did you see ? "

" I saw the moon shining through the windows of my chamber, and there, where you are standing, Chicot, I beheld the amethyst in the hilt of my sword glowing with a sombre light.''

" And what had become of the light in your lamp ? "

" It was extinguished."

" A dream, my poor son, a pure dream."

" Why do you not believe me, Chicot ? Is it not said that the Lord speaks to kings when he wishes to work some great change on the earth ? "

" Yes, it is true enough he speaks to them, but in so low a tone that they never hear him."

" What makes you so incredulous ? "

" Because you heard so very distinctly."

" Well, then, have you any idea why I bade you remain ? " said the King.

" Parbleu ! I have my own ideas."

" It was that you might hear for yourself what the voice may say."

" So that, if I repeat what I heard, it will be believed I am uttering some buffoonery or other. Chicot is such a paltry, insignificant, mad creature that, no matter what he says, no one will believe him. Not badly played, my son."

" Why not rather think, my friend," said the King, " that

I am confiding this secret to you because of your well-known fidelity ? "

" Ah, do not lie, Henri, for, if the voice come, it will reproach you for your mendacity, and God knows you have enough of sins to your credit already. But no matter, I accept the commission. I shall not be sorry to hear the voice of the Lord; perhaps he may have something to say to me also."

" What ought I to do, then ? "

" Go to bed, my son."

« But if " —

" No < buts.' "

« Still "

"Do you think you're likely to hinder the voice of God from speaking because you happen to be standing ? A king is taller than other men only by the height of his crown; believe me, Henri, when he is bareheaded he is the same height as other men, and sometimes an inch or two lower."

"Very well," said the King, "you stay."

" I have agreed to that already."

" Then I '11 lie down."

« Good ! "

" But you won't go to bed ? "

" Have n't the least intention."

" I '11 take off nothing but my doublet."

" Do as you like."

"I'll keep my breeches on."

" Wisely determined."

" And you ? "

" I stay where I am."

" And you will not sleep ? "

" That I can't promise. Sleep, like fear, my son, is independent of the will."

" You will, at least, do what you can ? "

"Rest easy. I'11 pinch myself; besides, the voice will rouse me up."

" Do not joke about the voice," said Henri, who drew back the leg he had already in bed.

" Oh, don't bother me," said Chicot, " or do you want me to put you to bed ? "

The King sighed, and after anxiously scrutinizing every corner of the apartment, slipped, shivering, into bed.

" Now," thought Chicot, « it 's my turn."

And he stretched his limbs out in an armchair, arranging the cushions and pillows behind and beside him.

" How do you feel, sire ? "

" Pretty fairly," said the King; " and you ? "

"Quite comfortable. Good-night, Henri."

" Good-night, Chicot, but don't sleep."

" I '11 take good heed not to," said Chicot, yawning as if he were tired to death.

And both closed their eyes, the King pretending to sleep and Chicot asleep really.

CHAPTER IX.

HOW THE VOICE OF THE LORD BLUNDERED AND TOOK CHICOT FOR THE KING.

THE King and Chicot were almost quiet and silent for about ten minutes. Suddenly the King started and sat up in bed.

Chicot, who was plunged in the sweet drowsiness that precedes sleep, was aroused by the noise and the movement, and did the same.

Both gazed wildly at each other.

" What is it ? " asked Chicot, in a low voice.

" The breath," said the King, in tones still lower, " the breath on my face."

At the same instant one of the candles, held by the golden satyr, was extinguished, then a second, then a third, then the last.

« Oh! Oh! " said Chicot, " what a breath ! "

Chicot had hardly uttered these words when the lamp was extinguished also, and the apartment was lit only by the last gleams of the fire in the chimney.

" Danger ahead ! " cried Chicot, on his feet in an instant.

" He is going to speak," said the King, cowering in bed ; " he is going to speak."

" Then," said Chicot, « listen."

That very moment was heard a hollow, hissing voice, apparently speaking from the side of the bed.

" Hardened sinner, art thou there ? " it said.

" Yes, yes, Lord," stammered Henri through his chattering teeth.

" Oh ! Oh ! " said Chicot, " that is a very hoarse voice to come all the way from heaven. Still, this is awful, all the same."

" Dost thou hear me ? " said the voice.

" Yes, Lord," mumbled Henri, " and I listen, prostrate before thy wrath."

t( Didst thou think, then," continued the voice, " thou wert obeying me when taking part in all those external mummeries thou wert engaged in to-day, thy heart remaining untouched the while ? "

« Well said ! " exclaimed Chicot. « That hit told."

The King hurt his hands, so tightly did he clasp them. Chicot drew near him.

" Well," murmured Henri, " what do you say now ? Do you believe now, infidel ? "

" Wait," said Chicot.

« What for ? "

" Hush, and listen! Get out of your bed as softly as possible, and let me take your place."

« Why ? "

" That the Lord's anger may fall upon me in your stead."

" Do you think he will spare me in that way ? "

"We can, at all events, try."

And with affectionate persistence he pushed the King out of the bed and lay down in his place.

" Now, Henri," said he, " go and sit down in my chair and leave the rest to me."

Henri obeyed; he was beginning to understand.

" Thou dost not answer," resumed the voice ; " a proof that thou art hardened in sin."

" Oh, pardon ! pardon, Lord," said Chicot, in the nasal tones of the King.

Then, leaning over toward Henri: " It is funny, my son," he whispered, " that the good God does not recognize Chicot."

" Humph ! it does look queer," answered Henri.

" Wait, you 're going to see queerer things still."

" Miscreant! " said the voice.

" Yes, Lord," answered Chicot; " yes, I am a hardened sinner, a frightful sinner."

" Then confess thy crimes, and repent."

" I confess," said ChicqJ;, " that I have been a great traitor to my cousin, Conde, whose wife I seduced, and I repent of it."

" What's that you 're saying ? " murmured the King. " Pray hold your tongue. That has occurred so long ago that we need not trouble about it."

" Ah, yes, quite right ; let us pass to something else," said Ghicot.

" Speak," said the voice.

" I confess," continued the false Henri, " that I have been an abominable thief in respect of the Poles, who had elected me their king, running away from them one fine night, and carrying off the crown jewels along with me, and I repent."

" Ha, you caitiff ! Why do you recall that ? " said Henri. " It was quite forgotten."

" You see, I must continue to deceive him," answered Chi-cot. " Pray let me alone."

" Speak/' said the voice.

" I confess I stole the throne of France from my brother, Alenqon, to whom it belonged by right, since I had formally renounced it on becoming King of Poland, and I repent."

" Knave ! " said the King.

" I confess that I made an arrangement with my good mother, Catharine de Medicis, to banish out of France my brother-in-law, the King of Navarre, having first destroyed all his friends, and to banish also my sister, Queen Marguerite, after destroying all her lovers, all of which I regret most sincerely."

" Ah! you miscreant! " murmured the King, grinding his teeth in rage.

" Sire, we must not offend God by trying to hide from him what he knows as well as we do."

" I do not want to discuss your political life," the voice went on.

" Ah, you have come to it, then ! " continued Chicot, in a most doleful voice ; " it 's my private life you 're after, is it ? "

" Undoubtedly," said the voice.

" It is quite true, O my God ! " resumed Chicot, still speaking in the name of the King, " that I am lustful, slothful, effeminate, frivolous, and hypocritical."

" All that is true," said the voice, in a hollow tone.

" I have ill-treated women, and especially my wife, the most virtuous of her sex,"

" A man ought to love his wife like himself, and prefer her to everything else in the world," said the voice, furiously.

" Ah ! " cried Chicot, despairingly, " in that case my sins are indeed great."

" And you have caused others to sin by your example."

" True, true, nothing could be truer."

" You have been very near damning that poor Saint-Luc."

" Ah, then, you 're quite sure I have not damned him already ? "

" Yes, but that is sure to happen to him and to you, too, if you do not send him back to his family to-morrow morning, at the latest."

" Aha !" said Chicot to the King, " the voice appears to be very friendly to the house of Cosse."

" And if you do not also," continued the voice, " make him a duke and his wife a duchess, as some compensation for her enforced widowhood during the last couple of days."

f{ And if I do not obey ! " asked Chicot, betraying in his voice an inclination to resist.

" If you obey not," resumed the voice, swelling in a terrible fashion, " you will roast for a whole eternity in the same caldron in which Sardanapalus, Nebuchadnezzar, and the Marechal de Rez are waiting for your company."

Henri III. uttered a groan. The terror that retook possession of him at this threat became more poignant than ever.

" Plague on it, Henri ! " said Chicot, " don't you notice the extraordinary interest Heaven appears to be taking in Saint-Luc ? The devil fly away with me but you might think he had the good God up one of his sleeves ! "

But Henri was not listening to the waggeries of Chicot, or, if he were, they failed to reassure him.

" I am lost," said he, frantically. " I am lost ! and this voice from the other world is a forerunner of my death."

" Voice from the other world ! " cried Chicot ; " ah, this time you are mistaken, for a dead certainty. Voice from the other side, at the most."

" What! a voice from the other side ?" asked Henri.

" Why, of course ! Don't you understand that the voice comes from the other side of yon wall ? Henri, the good God is your guest in the Louvre. Probably, like the Emperor Charles V., he is passing through France on his road to hell,"

" Atheist! Blasphemer !"

" He does you great honor, Henri; and so accept my congratulations ; still, I 'm afraid you 're giving him a rather cold reception. What! the good God is lodged in your Louvre, only separated from you by a partition, and yet you will not honor him with a visit! Oh, fie, fie! Valois, thou art not thyself. I do not recognize thee ; thou'rt not polite."

At this moment a log flamed up in the chimney, and the sudden glare illuminated Chicot's face. There was such an expression of merriment arid mockery on it that the King was amaze*;!..

" What! " said he, " you have the heart to gibe ? you dare to"-

" Yes, my son, I do dare," said Chicot, " and you will be as daring as I am in a minute, or else may I be hanged. Collect your wits, then, and do as I tell you."

" You mean go and see "

" If the good God is really in the chamber next you."

" But if the voice continues speaking ? "

" Am I not here to answer it ? Besides, it 's just as well for me to go on speaking in your name. That will make the voice believe you are here still, for a splendidly credulous voice is this divine voice of ours, and does not know its trade as well at all as it might. Why, for the last quarter of an hour that I have been braying, it has never once recognized me ! Really, this is humiliating for the human intellect."

Henri frowned. Chicot had said so much that even his outrageous credulity had received a shock.

"I think you are right, Chicot," said he, '"and I should really like"

" Then go," said Chicot, pushing him.

Henri softly opened the door of the corridor that led to the next apartment, which was, the reader will remember, the room of Charles IX.'s nurse, and now the temporary abode of Saint-Luc. But he had no sooner taken four steps in the lobby than he heard a renewal of the voice's reproaches, now bitterer than ever, and Chicot's broken-hearted responses.

" Yes," said the voice, " you are as fickle as a woman, as effeminate as a sybarite, and as corrupt as a pagan."

" Ah ! " whined Chicot, sobbing, " is it my fault, great Lord, if you have made my skin so soft, my hands so white, my nose so delicate, and my mind so fickle ? But that is all past, my God ! From to-day I will wear nothing but shirts made of the

coarsest cloth. I will sit on a dung-heap, like Job, and eat offal, like Ezekiel."

However, Henri continued to advance along the corridor, noticing with wonder that as the voice of Chicot died away, the other voice increased in volume, and apparently came from Saint-Luc's apartment.

Henri was about to knock at the door, when he perceived a ray of light which filtered through the wide keyhole of the chiselled lock.

He stooped down and looked.

Suddenly Henri, who was very pale, grew red with anger. He started up and rubbed his eyes as if to see better what he could scarcely believe he saw at all.

" God's death ! " he murmured, " is it possible any one has dared to play on me such a trick as that ? "

For what he had seen through the keyhole was this:

In a corner of the chamber, Saint-Luc in silk drawers and dressing-gown was blowing into an air-cane the threatening words the King had taken for words divine, and near him, leaning on his shoulder, was a young woman in a white diaphanous dress, who, from time to time, snatched the cane from his hands and blew therein, roughening the tones of her voice, all the fancies which might have been first read in her arch eyes and on her smiling lips. Then there were wild outbursts of merriment every time the air-cane was put to use, followed by the doleful lamentations of Chicot, whose imitation of the King was so perfect, whose nasal tones were so natural, that they nearly deceived the King himself ; hearing them from the corridor, he almost thought it was he himself who was weeping and whining.

" Jeanne de Cosse in Saint-Luc's room, a hole in the wall, all to mystify me ! " growled the King, in a hollow voice. " Ah, the wretches ! they shall pay dearly for this !"

And, at a phrase more insulting than the others, breathed by Madame de Saint-Luc into the air-cane, Henri drew back a step and with a kick that was rather vigorous for such an effeminate being, burst in the door, half unfastening the hinges and breaking the lock.

Jeanne, half-naked, uttered a fearful cry and ran to hide behind the curtains, which she wrapped about her.

Saint-Luc, the air-cane still in his hand, fell on his knees, pale with terror, before the King, who was pale with fury.

" Ah ! " cried Chicot from the royal chamber, " mercy ! I

invoke the intercession of the Blessed Virgin, of all the saints - I grow weak. I am dying."

But in the next apartment, none of the actors in the burlesque scene we have just narrated felt any inclination to speak or move, so rapidly had the situation turned from farce to tragedy.

Henri broke the silence with a word, the stillness with a gesture.

" Begone ! " said he, pointing to the door.

And, yielding to a frantic impulse unworthy of a king, he wrested the air-cane from Saint-Luc's hand and raised it as if to strike him. But it was then Saint-Luc's turn to start to his feet, as if moved by a spring of steel.

" Sire," said he, " you have only the right to strike off my head. I am a gentleman."

Henri dashed the air-cane violently o\i the floor. Some one picked it up. It was Chicot, who, hearing the crash made by the breaking of the door and judging that the presence of a mediator would not be out of place, had dashed out of the room that very instant.

He left Henri and Saint-Luc to clear up matters in whatever way they chose, and, running straight to the curtain, behind which he guessed some one was concealed, he drew forth the poor woman, Avho was all in a tremble.

" Aha ! aha ! " exclaimed he, " Adam and Eve after the fall. You chase them out of the garden, Henri, don't you ? " he asked, fixing a questioning glance on the King.

i( Yes," said Henri.

" Wait, then, I 'm going to act as the expelling angel."

And, flinging himself between the King and Saint-Luc, he extended the air-cane above the heads of the guilty couple, as if it were the flaming sword, saying:

" This is my paradise, which you have lost by your disobedience. I forbid you ever to enter it again."

Then whispering in the ear of Saint-Luc, who had thrown his arms about his wife to protect her against the King's anger, if necessary :

" If you have a good horse," said he, " be twenty leagues away from here to-morrow, though you have to kill him."

CHAPTER X.

HOW BUSSY WENT AFTER HIS DREAM AND FOUND IT A REALITY.

MEANWHILE, Bussy had returned with the Due D'Anjou, both in pensive mood: the prince, because he dreaded the consequences of his vigorous attack on the King, to which he had, in some sort, been driven by Bussy; Bussy, because the events of the preceding night absorbed him to the exclusion of everything else.

" On the whole," said he to himself when, after paying many compliments to the Due d'Anjou on the energy he had displayed, he started for his hotel, " on the whole, there is one thing of which I cannot have any doubt: it is that I have been attacked, have fought, was wounded, for I feel the wound in my right side, and a ve-ry painful one it is. Now, when I was fighting, I saw, as plainly as I now see the cross of Les Petits-Champs, the wall of the Hotel des Tournelles and the battlements of the Bastile. It was in the Place de la Bastille, nearly opposite the Hotel des Tournelles, between the Eue Sainte-Catherine and the Rue Saint-Paul, that I was attacked, for I was going along the Faubourg Saint-Antoine for Queen Marguerite's letter. It was there, then, that I was attacked, near a door having a barbican, through which, when the door was shut on me, I saw the pale cheeks and flaming eyes of Quelus. I was in an alley; at the end of the alley was a staircase. I tripped over the first step of this staircase. Then I fainted ; then began my dream; and then I awoke on the slope of one of the ditches of the Temple, surrounded by a butcher, a monk, and an old woman.

" Now, how comes it that my other dreams have dropped so quickly and completely from my memory, while this one has only been the more firmly fixed on it by the lapse of time ? Ah ! " exclaimed Bussy, " that is where the mystery comes in."

And he halted, at this very moment, in front of the door of his hotel, which he had just reached, and, leaning against the wall, he closed his eyes.

" Morbleu ! " said he, " no dream could leave on the mind such an impression as that. I see the chamber with its figured tapestry ; I see the painted ceiling-; I see my carved wooden

bed with its damask and gold curtains ; I see the portrait, and I see the blonde woman ; and finally, I see the merry, kindly face of the young doctor who was brought to my bed with his eyes bandaged ; surely, proofs sufficiently conclusive. Let me go over them again : a tapestry, a ceiling, a carved bed, curtains of white damask and gold, a woman, and a doctor. Forward, Bussy ! you must set to work to discover all this, and, except you are the stupidest brute in creation, you will find it.

" And, in the first place,'' continued Bussy, " in order to enter upon my task in a promising manner, I ought to adopt the costume most befitting a night-prowler ; then — Hey for the Bastile !"

In virtue of this resolution, not at all a reasonable one in the case of a man who, having narrowly missed being slaughtered at a certain spot in the evening, yet would go on the next day, at very nearly the same hour, and explore the selfsame spot, Bussy went upstairs, had a valet, who was somewhat of a surgeon, attend to his wound, put on long boots which came up to the middle of his thighs, took his stoutest sword, wrapped his cloak about him, got into his litter, stopped at the end of the Rue du Roi-de-Sicile, got out, ordered his people to wait for him, and, after reaching the Rue Saint-Antoine, made his way to the Place de la Bastille.

It was nine in the evening, or thereabouts; the curfew had rung ; Paris was becoming a desert. Thanks to a thaw, which a little sunlight and a somewhat warmer atmosphere had brought about during the day, the frozen swamps and mud-holes in the Place de la Bastille had given way to a number of little lakes and precipices through which the much-trodden road, of which we have already spoken, threaded its way.

Bussy made every exertion to find the spot where his horse had fallen, and came to the conclusion that he knew it; he advanced, retreated, made the same movements he remembered having made at the time; he stepped back to the wall; then examined the doors to discover the corner against which he had leaned and the wicket through which he had looked at Quelus. But all the doors had corners, and almost all had wickets, and every one had an alley. By a fatality which will seem less extraordinary if it be considered that, at that period, such a person as a concierge was unknown in citizens' houses, three-fourths of the doors had alleys.

" Pardieu ! " thought Bussy, in anything but an easy frame of mind, "though I have to knock at every door of them, question every one of the lodgers, spend a thousand crowns in getting old women and servants to talk, I '11 find out what I want to find out. There are fifty houses: taking ten houses a night, it will be a job of five nights ; all right, but I think I '11 wait for drier weather."

When Bussy had finished his monologue, he perceived a small, pale, tremulous light approaching; it glistened on the puddles of water as it advanced, just as might have glistened the light of a beacon on the sea. Its progress in his direction was slow and unequal, now halting, now making a bend to the left, now to the right, sometimes suddenly stumbling, then dancing like a will-'o-the-wisp, again marching on steadily, and again indulging in fresh capers.

" Decidedly," said Bussy, " one of the queerest spots in the city is the Place de la Bastille ; but no matter, I '11 wait and see."

And Bussy, to wait and see more at his ease, wrapped himself in his cloak and entered a doorway. The night was as dark as could be, and it was impossible to distinguish anything at the distance of a few feet.

The lantern continued to advance, making the wildest zigzags. But as Bussy was not superstitious, he was convinced the light he saw was not one of those wandering Jack-o'-lanterns that were such a terror to mediaeval travellers, but purely and simply a cresset suspended from a hand, said hand being itself connected .with some body or other.

And, in fact, after the lapse of a few minutes, this conjecture was found to be perfectly correct. About thirty paces or so from him, Bussy perceived a dark form, long and slender as a whipping-post, which form gradually assumed the shape of a human being with a lantern in his left hand; the hand was now stretched out in front, now sideways, now fell quietly along the hip. For a time it looked as if this individual belonged to the honorable confraternity of drunkards, for to drunkenness only could be attributed the strange gyrations in which he turned and the sort of philosophic serenity wherewith he stumbled into mud-holes and floundered through puddles.

Once he happened to slip on a sheet of half-thawed ice, and the hollow echo, brought to Bussy's ears, as well as the

involuntary movement of the lantern, which apparently had taken a sudden leap over a precipice, proved that the nocturnal promenader, with but little confidence in the steadiness of his legs, had sought a more assured centre of gravity.

From that moment Bussy began to feel the respect with which all noble hearts are imbued for belated drunkards, and was advancing to the aid of this " curate of Bacchus," as Master Ronsard would call him, when he saw the lantern rise again with a quickness that indicated its bearer was more solid 011 his feet than his first appearance evidenced.

" I 'ni in for another adventure, as far as I can see," murmured Bussy ; " better stay quiet awhile."

And as the lantern resumed its progress in his direction, he drew farther back than before into the doorway.

The lantern advanced about ten paces, and then Bussy took note of a circumstance that appeared rather strange : the man who carried the lantern had a bandage over his eyes.

" Pardieu ! " said he, " a queer fancy that ! playing blind-man's-buff with a lantern, particularly in such weather and on such ground as this ! Am I, perchance, beginning to dream again ? "

Bussy still waited, and the man with the lantern advanced five or six steps more.

" God forgive me," said Bussy, " if I don't believe he 's talking to himself. I have it ! he 's neither a drunkard nor a lunatic: he 's simply a mathematician solving a problem."

The last words were suggested to our observer by the last words of the man with the lantern, and which Bussy had heard.

" Four hundred and eighty-eight, four hundred and eighty-nine, four hundred and ninety," murmured the man with the lantern ; " it must be close to here."

And thereupon this mysterious personage raised the bandage, and, when he came in front of the house, approached the door, scrutinizing it carefully.

" No," said he, " that is n't it."

Then he lowered his bandage and went on, calculating and walking as before.

" Four hundred and ninety-one, four hundred and ninety-two, four hundred and ninety-three, four hundred and ninety-four -1 ought to be right plump on it now," said he.

And he lifted the bandage a second time, and, drawing nigh

the door next to the one where Bussy was hidden, he examined it with no less attention than he had done the first.

" Hem ! hem," said he, " that might really be it. Why, it is ! no, it is n't. Confound those doors, they 're all alike."

" The very reflection I had made myself ! " thought Bussy, " which leads me to believe my mathematician is a decidedly clever fellow."

The mathematician put on the bandage again, and resumed his peregrinations.

" Four hundred and ninety-five, four hundred and ninety-six, four hundred and ninety-seven, four hundred and ninety-eight, four hundred and ninety-nine. If there's a door in front of me," said the searcher, "this must be it."

In fact, there was a door, and it was the very one in which Bussy was concealed; the consequence was that when the supposed mathematician raised his bandage he found that he and Bussy were face to face.

" How now ? " said Bussy.

" Oh ! " returned the promenader, recoiling a step.

" Hullo ! " cried Bussy.

" But it is n't possible ! " exclaimed the unknown.

" Yes, it is, only it is extraordinary. Why, you are the very same doctor! "

" And you are the very same gentleman !"

« Not a doubt of it."

t( Jesus ! What an odd meeting ! "

" The very same doctor," continued Bussy, " who dressed a wound in the side of a gentleman last night."

" Correct."

" Of course it is. I recognized you at once ; you had a light and gentle hand, and a skilful one, too."

" Thanks, monsieur, but I had no notion of finding you here."

" What were you looking for, then ? "

« The house."

" Ha! " said Bussy, " you were looking for the house ? "

« Yes."

" Then you are not acquainted with it ? "

" How could I be ? " answered the young man. " I had my eyes bandaged the whole road to it."

" Your eyes bandaged ? "

" Undoubtedly."

" Then you were really in this house ? "

" In this one or in one beside it, I cannot say which, and so I am trying to find " —

" Good ! " interrupted Bussy; " then it was not a dream."

" What do you mean ? a dream ! "

" It is as well to tell you, my dear friend, that I was under the impression the entire adventure, except the sword-thrust, as you can easily understand, was a dream."

" Well," answered the young doctor, " I must say you don't astonish me at all."

« Why ? "

" I suspected there was a mystery under the affair."

" Yes, my friend, and a mystery I 'm determined to clear up ; you '11 help me, will you not ? "

" With the greatest pleasure."

" Good ; and now two words,"

" Say them."

" Your name ? "

" Monsieur," said the young doctor, " I '11 make no bones about answering you. I know well that at such a question I should, to be in the fashion, plant myself fiercely on one leg, and, with hand on hip, say : ' What is yours, monsieur, if you please ? ' But you have a long sword and I have only a lancet; you look like a gentleman and I must seem to you a scamp, for I am wet to the skin and my back is all covered with mud. Therefore, I will answer you frankly. My name is liemy le Haudouin."

"Thank you, monsieur, a thousand thanks. I am Count Louis de Clermont, Seigneuu de Bussy."

" Bussy d'Amboise ! the hero Bussy ! " cried the young doctor, evidently delighted. " What, monsieur, you are the famous Bussy, the colonel who — who — oh ! "

" The same, monsieur," answered the nobleman, modestly. "And now that we know each other, be good enough to satisfy my curiosity, even though you are wet and dirty."

" The fact is," said the young man, glancing down at his belongings, all spotted with mud, — " the fact is, like Epaminon-das the Theban, I shall have to remain three days at home, seeing that I have but one pair of breeches and one doublet. But pardon me — you were about to do me the honor of questioning me, I believe ? "

" Yes, monsieur, I wished to ask you how you happened to enter that house."

" The answer will be at once very simple and very complex, as you are going to see," said the young man.

" To the point, then."

" M. le Comte, pray excuse me, until now I have been so embarrassed that I forgot to give you your title."

" Oh, that 's of no consequence ; continue."

" This, then, is what happened, M. le Comte. I live in the Eue Beautreillis, about five hundred yards from here. I am but a poor surgeon's apprentice, though not an unskilful one, I assure you."

" I know something about that," said Bussy.

" And I have studied very hard, but that has not brought me patients. My name, as I have told you, is Kemy le Haudouin : Remy, my Christian name; and Le Haudouin because I was born at Nanteuil le Haudouin. Now, about a week ago, a man was brought to me who had had his belly cut open by a knife, just behind the Arsenal. I put back the intestines, which protruded, in their place, and sewed up the skin so neatly that I won a certain reputation in the neighborhood, to which I attribute my good fortune in being awakened last night by a thin, musical voice."

" A woman's ! " cried Bussy.

" Oh, don't jump at conclusions, if you please, monsieur ; although I am but a rustic, I am sure it was the voice of a servant. I ought to know what 's what in that regard, for I am a good deal more familiar with the voices of the maids than of their mistresses."

" And what did you do next ? "

" I rose and opened, the door, but scarcely was I on the landing when two little hands, not very soft, and not very hard, either, tied a bandage over my eyes."

" Without saying anything ? " inquired Bussy.

" Well, no ; she said:' Come along ; do not try to see where you are going; be discreet; here is your fee.' "

" And this fee was "

A purse filled with pistoles which she thrust into my hand."

" Ha ! and what was your answer ? "

" That I was ready to follow my charming guide. I did not know whether she was charming or not, but I thought the epithet, though it might be a little exaggerated, could do no harm."

" And you followed without making any observation or requiring any guarantee ? "

" I have often read of this sort of thing in books, and noticed that it always produced agreeable results for the physician. I followed on, therefore, as I have had the honor of telling you ; the path by which I was conducted was very hard ; it was freezing, and, I counted four hundred, four hundred and fifty, five hundred, and, finally, five hundred and two steps."

"You did well," said Bussy; "it was prudent; you must have been then at the door ? "

" I cannot have been far from it, since I have now counted up to four hundred and ninety-nine paces ; unless that artful jade, and I suspect her of the foul deed, made me take a roundabout course."

" Yes, but even though she were shrewd enough to think of such a thing," said Bussy, " she must, or else the very devil ? s in it, have given some indication — uttered some name ? "

" She did not."

" But you must have noticed something yourself."

" I noticed all that a person can notice who is forced to substitute his fingers for his eyes ; that is to say, a door with nails ; behind the door, an alley ; at the end of the alley, a staircase."

"On the left?"

" Yes. I even counted the steps."

" How many ? "

"Twelve."

" And then ? "

" A corridor, I believe ; for three doors were opened by some one or other."

" Go on."

" Next I heard a voice. Ah, there was no doubt this time ! — it was the voice of a lady, soft and sweet."

" Yes, yes, it was hers."

" Undoubtedly, it was hers."

" I a'm sure of it."

" Well, it ? s something gained to be sure of something. Then I was shoved into the room where you were lying, and I was told to take off the bandage from my eyes."

" I remember."

" Then I noticed you."

"Where was I?"

" Lying on a bed."

" A bed of white damask, embroidered with flowers in gold?"

" Yes."

" In a room hung with tapestry ? "

" Exactly."

"With a painted ceiling?"

" You 're right again; in addition, there was .between two windows " —

" A portrait ? "

" Why, your accuracy surprises me."

" Representing a young woman of about eighteen or twenty ? "

" Yes."

" Blonde ? "

" Quite correct."

" Beautiful as an angel ? "

"Far more so."

" Bravo ! What did you do next ? "

" I dressed your wound."

" And very well you dressed it, too, by my faith."

" As well as I could."

" Oh, you did it admirably, my dear monsieur, admirably. This morning the wound was quite healthy-looking, nearly healed."

" That is due to a salve I have composed, which is, in my opinion, marvellously effective, for, as I have not been able to try experiments on others, I have often tried them on myself; I have made holes in several places in my skin, and, I give you my good word, these wounds always healed in a couple of days."

" My dear Monsieur Remy, you are delightful, and I have already got to like you very much. But tell us what occurred after."

" Occurred after ? You fainted again. The voice asked about you."

" Where was she when she did so ? "

" In the room next yours."

" So that you did not see her ? ?;

" No, I did not see her."

" But you answered ? "

" That the wound was not dangerous, and would disappear in twenty-four hours."

" Did she seem pleased ? "

" Delighted ; since she exclaimed, t Oh, thank God. How happy it makes me ! ' :

" She said, < How happy it makes me ' ? My dear M. Remy, I will make your fortune. What next ? "

" Next, all was ended. I had dressed your wound and had nothing further to do there ; then the voice said to me: <M.

" The voice knew your name ? "

" Apparently ; I suppose some report of the stab I had treated previously, and which I have told you about, had reached there."

" Of course. So the voice said : t M. Remy J " —

" ' Be a man of honor to the end ; do not compromise a poor woman who has yielded to a sentiment of humanity : replace your bandage, without attempting to practise any trickery on your guide on your return.' r '

" You promised ? "

" I pledged my word."

" And you kept it ? "

"Why, that is evident," said the young man, naively, " since I am searching for the door."

" Well," said Bussy, " your behavior is splendid, chivalrous ; and, although I am sorry for it at bottom, shake hands, Monsieur Remy."

And Bussy, full of enthusiasm, tendered his hand to the young doctor.

" Monsieur ! " said Remy, embarrassed.

" Shake hands, I say ; you deserve to be a gentleman."

" Monsieur," said Remy, " it would redound to my eternal glory to shake hands with the 'valiant Bussy d'Amboise, but meanwhile I have a scruple."

« What is it ? "

" There are ten pistoles in the purse."

« Well ? "

" It is too much for a man who is glad to get a fee of five sous for a visit, when he gets anything at all ; and I was searching for the house "

" To return the purse ? "

"Of course."

" Too much delicacy, my dear Monsieur Remy, I assure you ; you have earned this money honorably, and it belongs to you."

" You think so ? " said Remy, much relieved.

" I am as certain as any one could be; besides, it is not the lady who is in your debt, for I am not acquainted with her, nor is she with me."

" There! you see well that I am bound to restore it for a better reason still."

" Oh, I meant only that I, too, was in your debt."

" You in my debt ? "

" Yes, and I will discharge it. What are you doing in Paris ? Come, now, make a clean breast of it, my dear Monsieur Remy, — give me your confidence."

" What am I doing at Paris ? Nothing at all, M. le Comte ; but I could do something if I had patients."

" Well, as good luck would have it, you have come just in time. What would you say to me for a patient ? You can never meet with a better one. Not a day passes that I do not cripple the finest handiwork of the Creator or that the finest handiwork of the Creator does not cripple me. Come, now, will you undertake the task of mending the holes I make in others and that others make in me ? "

" Ah, M. le Comte, I am too insignificant to " —

" Quite the contrary. Devil take me if you are n't the very man I want! You have a hand as light as a woman's, and that, with your salve " —

" Monsieur!"

" You must live with me ; you will have your own apartments and your own servants. I pledge you my word, if you do not accept you will break my heart. Besides, your task is not ended. My wound requires a little more tending, my dear Monsieur Remy."

" M. le Comte," replied the young doctor, " I am so enchanted that I do not know how to express my delight. I will work ; I shall have patients ! "

" Why, no ; don't I tell you I want you for myself alone ? — including my friends, of course. And now, do you remember anything else ? "

" Nothing."

"Then, help me to find my way,.that is, if you possibly can."

" But how ? "

" Let us see — you are observant: you count steps, feel along walls, notice voices. Now, how is it that, after I had

gone through your hands, I suddenly found myself carried from this house and dumped on one of the slopes of the ditches of the Temple ? " .

« You ? "

" Yes — I — Had you anything to do with that transportation ? "

" No; on the pontrary I should have opposed it, had I been consulted. The cold might have done you serious injury."

" Then I am completely at sea," said Bussy. " Would you mind -searching a little longer with me." •

" Whatever you wish, monsieur, I wish ; but I am afraid it would be very useless; all those houses are alike."

" As you like," returned Bussy. " We must only hope to have better luck during the daytime."

" Yes, but then we shall be seen."

" Well, then, we must make inquiries."

" We shall do so, monsieur."

" And we '11 succeed. Believe me, Remy, now that we have something real to go upon and that there are two of us at work, we '11 succeed."

CHAPTER XI.

THE KIND OF MAN M. BRYAN DE MONSOREAU, THE GRAND HUNTSMAN, WAS.

IT was not joy, it was almost delirium that agitated Bussy, when he had acquired the certainty that the woman of his dream was a reality, and that this same woman had bestowed on him the generous hospitality the vague remembrance of which was kept by him deep down in his heart.

Consequently he would not release the young doctor, whom he had just elevated to the position of his physician in ordinary. Dirty as he was, Remy had to get into Bussy's litter. The count was afraid, if he lost sight of him for a moment, the young doctor might disappear like another vision; he determined to bring him to the Hotel de Bussy, put him under lock and key for the night, and see on the next day whether he should restore him to liberty or not.

During the entire journey he bombarded him with question after question j but the answers turned in tlte same limited

circle we have just traced. Remy le Haudouin knew very little more than Bussy, except that, having .been awake all the time, he was quite certain he had not dreamed.

But for the man who is beginning to fall in love — and that such was the case with Bussy was apparent at a glance — it is even a pleasure to have some one near with whom he can talk of the object of his affections. Remy, it is true, had not seen the woman ; but that was really a merit in Bussy's eyes, as he had the better chance of convincing him how superior she was to h*r portrait.

Bussy would have liked to talk the whole night about this unknown lady, but Remy entered on his functions as doctor at once and insisted on the wounded man sleeping, or, at least, going to bed; fatigue and pain gave the same counsel to our tine gentleman, and these three forces together carried the day.

But before he did so, he took care to install his new guest in the three rooms on the third story of the Hotel Bussy which had formerly been occupied by himself. Then, being quite confident that the young physician, satisfied with his new lodgings and with the good fortune bestowed on him by Providence, would not slip away clandestinely from the mansion, he descended to the splendid apartment he slept in himself on the first floor.

When he awoke the next morning he found Remy standing by his bedside. The young doctor had passed the whole night in doubting of the reality of the good fortune that had dropped on him from the skies, and he longed for Bussy to awake, to find out whether he, like the count, had not dreamed, too.

« Well," asked Remy, « how do you feel ? "

" Could n't feel better, my dear JEsculapius ; and I hope you find yourself comfortable, also."

" So comfortable, my worthy protector, that I would not change places with King Henri, though he must have got over a good deal of ground yesterday on the road to heaven. But that is not the question. Will you let me see the wound ? "

" Here it is."

And Bussy turned on his side to allow the young man to take off the bandage.

The wound was progressing most favorably ; in fact, was nearly healed. • Bussy was happy, had slept well, and, sleep

and happiness having come to the aid of the surgeon, the latter had almost nothing to do further.

k - \Vell," asked Bussy, "what do you say now, Master Am-broise Pare ? "

"I say that I hardly venture to confess you are nearly cured, for fear you might send me back to the Rue Beautreillis, five hundred and two paces from the famous house."

" Which we are sure to find again, are we not, Remy ? "

" I have no doubt of it."

"Well, my dear fellow," said Bussy, warmly shaking his hand, " we '11 go there together."

" Monsieur," returned Remy, with tears in his eyes, " you treat me as your equal."

" I do so because I love you. Does that annoy you ? "

" On the contrary," cried the young man, seizing Bussy's hand and kissing it; " on the contrary, I was afraid I had not heard aright. Oh, Monseigiieur de Bussy, you will make me go wild with joy !"

" Why, not at all. All I ask is that you love me a little in your turn, regard this house as your home, and allow me to go with the court and witness the presentation of the estortuaire l by the grand huntsman."

" Ah," said Remy, " so now we are ready for fresh follies."

" Oh, no ; on the contrary, I promise you I '11 be very reasonable."

" But you will have to ride ? "

" Yes, hang it! that is indispensable."

" Have you a horse of gentle temper and, at the same time, a good goer."

" I have four to choose from."

" Then select for to-day's ride the sort of a horse you would select for the lady of the portrait; you remember her, don't you ? "

" I should think I did! Ah, Remy, you have, in good sooth, found the way to my heart forever. I dreaded awfully you would hinder me going to this hunt, or rather semblance of a hunt, for the ladies of the court, and even a considerable number of citizens' wives and daughters, will be admitted to it. Now, Remy, my dear Rerny, you understand clearly that the lady of the portrait must naturally belong either to the

1 The estortuaire was a staff presented by the grand huntsman to the king, for the purpose of thrusting aside the branches when he was riding at full gallop.

court or to the city ; though, certainly, she cannot be a mere citizen's wife or daughter : the tapestries, the pictured ceiling, the bed of damask and gold, and, in a word, all that luxuiy, accompanied by such refinement and good taste, reveals a woman of rank, or, at all events, a wealthy woman. Now, if I were to meet her yonder ! "

"Anything is possible," answered Remy, philosophically.

" Except finding the house," sighed Bussy.

" And getting into it when we have found it," added E-emy.

" Oh, I don't think there will be any trouble about that when I get to it," said Bussy. " I have a plan."

« What is it ? "

" Get some one to pink me again."

" Good ! " said Eemy. " Now I 'm hopeful you '11 keep me."

" Be easy on that point," answered Bussy. " I seem to have known you twenty years, arid I pledge you my word as a gentleman I don't believe I could exist without you now."

The handsome face of the young practitioner glowed with an expression of unutterable delight.

" Well, then," said he, " it 's settled: you go a-hunting in search of the lady, and I go back to Beautrellis in search of the house."

" 'T would be curious if we both succeeded," said Bussy.

And upon this they separated, more like two friends than master and servant.

A great hunting-party had, in fact, been commanded to meet in the Bois de Vincennes on the occasion of the entrance on the functions of his office by M. Bryan de Monsoreau, who had been appointed grand huntsman a few weeks before. The procession on the day previous and the excessive penitence of the King, who began his Lent on Shrove Tuesday, had led to the belief that he would not be present at the hunt in person; for whenever he fell into one of his devotional fits he never left the Louvre for weeks sometimes, unless, in order to spend his time in the practice of the severest austerities, he entered a convent. But the court now learned to its great astonishment that, about nine in the morning, the King had set out for the Castle of Vincennes and would hunt the stag along with his brother, the Due d'Anjou, and the rest of the courtiers.

The rendezvous was at Point Saint-Louis, a cross-road so named at the time, it was said, because the famous oak under which, the martyr king administered justice could still be seen

there. All were, then, assembled at nine, when the new official, an object of general curiosity, as he was a stranger to almost every one, appeared on a magnificent black steed.

All eyes were directed toward him.

He was a tall man, about thirty-five years old ; his face was scarred by the smallpox, and, according to the emotions he experienced, his swarthy complexion was tinged with spots that came and went, impressing the observer most disagreeably, and inclining him to study the countenance more at length, a scrutiny which few countenances can very well bear.

In fact, it is the first impression that evokes our sympathies : the honest smile on the lips, the frank look in the eyes, will find responsive smiles and looks.

Clad in a jacket of green cloth braided with silver, a baldric on which the royal arms were embroidered, with a long feather in his cap, a boar-spear in his left hand, and the estortuaire for the King in his right, M. de Monsoreau might be taken for an awe-inspiring lord, but, certainly, not for a fine gentleman.

(t Fie ! monseigneur," said Bussy to the Due d'Anjou, " you ought to be ashamed of bringing us such an ugly phiz as that from your Government. Is he a sample of the sort of gentlemen your favor pitches on in the provinces ? Devil take me if you find another like him in all Paris, which is a good-sized city and has its fair share of scarecrows. And he has a red beard also ; I did not perceive it at first — it is an additional attraction. It is said, and I warn your Highness I did not believe a word of it, that you forced the King to make this fellow grand huntsman."

"M. de Monsoreau has served me well," said the priuf-e, shortly, " and I reward him."

" Well spoken, monseigneur ; such gratitude on the part of princes is only the more beautiful because it is so rare. But if that was your motive, I, too, monseigneur, have served you well, if I am not greatly mistaken, and I beg you to believe me when I state that I would wear the grand huntsman's jacket far more gracefully than that long-legged spectre."

" I never heard," answered the Due d'Anjou, " that a person had to be an Apollo or an Antinous in order to fill an office at court."

" You never heard so, monseigneur ? " said Bussy, in his coolest manner; " that is astonishing."

" I examine the heart, not the face," replied the prince ; " the services that have been performed, not the services that have been promised.''

" Your Highness must, I am afraid, think me very inquisitive," rejoined Bussy, " but I am really anxious to discover what service this Monsoreau has been able to do you."

" Ah ! Bussy," said the prince, sharply, " you have just spoken the truth: you are very inquisitive, far too inquisitive, in fact."

" That is so like a prince ! " went on Bussy, with his customary freedom; " princes will question you about anything and everything, and always insist on an answer ; while if you question them on the most trifling point, you may be sure you '11 get no reply."

" True," returned the Due d'Anjou ; " but do you know what you ought to do if you are anxious for information ? "

" No."

" Go ask M. de Monsoreau himself."

" I see ! " said Bussy ; " upon my word, you 're right, mon-seigneur, and, as he is a simple gentleman like myself, I have, at least, a remedy if he does not answer."

"Of what kind?"

" I '11 tell him he 's impertinent." And thereupon, turning his back on the prince, under the gaze of his friends, and hat in hand, he carelessly approached M. de Monsoreau, who, mounted in the middle of the circle, and the target for all eyes, was waiting with marvellous composure until the King should relieve him from the troublesome glances that fell on his person.

When he saw Bussy approach, gay and smiling, with hat in hand, his face brightened a little.

"Excuse me, monsieur," said Bussy, "but I see you are quite alone. Is it because the favor you now enjo}'' has already won you as many enemies as you may have had friends, a week ago, before you were appointed grand huntsman ? "

"By my faith, M. le Comte," answered the Seigneur de Monsoreau, " I would not swear but that you are right; I would even make a wager on it. But might I know to what I am to attribute the honor you do me in coming to disturb me in my solitude ? "

" Oh," said Bussy, boldly, "you owe it to the great admiration which the Due d'Anjou has made me feel for you."

" How, pray ? "

" By his account of the exploit that gained for you the office of grand huntsman."

M. de Monsoreau became so frightfully pale that the marks of the small-pox in his face turned to so many black points on his yellow skin. At the same time the look he gave Bussy foreboded a violent storm.

Bussy saw he had gone the wrong way about the matter; but he was not the sort of man that retreats ; on the contrary, he was one of those who make up for being indiscreet by being insolent.

" You say, monsieur," answered the grand huntsman, " that Monseigneur has given you an account of my last exploit ? "

" Yes, monsieur, and quite at length," said Bussy. " This it was, I confess, that made me long to hear the story from your own lips."

M. de Monsoreau clutched the spear convulsively, as if he felt violently inclined to use it as a weapon against Bussy.

" In good sooth, monsieur," said he, " I was quite willing to yield to your request, in recognition of your courtesy; but, unfortunately, as you see, the King is coming, and so I have not time; you will have the goodness, then, to adjourn the matter to another occasion."

Monsoreau was right; the King, mounted on his favorite steed, a handsome Spanish jennet of a light bay color, was galloping from the Castle to the Point Saint-Louis.

Bussy, looking round, encountered the eyes of the Due d'Anjou; the prince was laughing, an evil smile on his face.

" Master and servant," thought Bussy, " have both an ugly grimace when they laugh; what must it be, then, when they weep ? "

The King was fond of handsome, amiable faces; he was, therefore, anything but pleased with that of M. de Monsoreau, which he had seen once before, and which pleased him. as little the second time as it had the first. Still, he accepted graciously enough the estortuaire with which Monsoreau presented him, kneeling, as was the custom.

As soon as the King was armed, the whippers-in announced that a stag was started, and the chase began.

Bussy had stationed himself on the flank of the party, so that every one might pass in front of him; he scrutinized the faces of the women, without exception, to see if he could not discover the original of the portrait ; but it was all useless.

There were plenty of beautiful faces, plenty of captivating faces, at this hunt, where the grand huntsman was to make his first appearance ; but not the charming face for which he sought.

He was compelled to put up with the conversation and company of his ordinary friends. Antraguet, gay and talkative as ever, was a source of great relief to him in his disappointment.

" That 's a hideous grand huntsman we 've got," he said to Bussy ; " what do you think of him ? "

" He 's horrible; what a family he must have if the children who have the honor to belong to him are at all like him ! Be good enough to show me his wife."

" The grand huntsman is still unmarried, my dear," replied Antraguet.

" How do you know that ? "

" From Madame de Veudron, who thinks him very handsome, and would willingly make him her fourth spouse, as Lucretia Borgia did Count d'Este. Look! her bay is always just behind Monsoreau's black charger."

" What estate owns him as its lord ? "

" Oh, he has any number of estates."

« Where ? "

"Near Anjou."

" Then he 's rich ? "

" So I have been told ; but he's nothing more ; he belongs, it seems, to the lower class of nobles."

" And who is the mistress of this country squire ? "

" He has none; the worthy gentleman has decided to be without a parallel among his fellows. But see, the Due d'Anjou is beckoning to you; you had better go to him at once."

" Ah, faith, I '11 let Monseigneur le Due d'Anjou wait. This man piques my curiosity. I think him a very singular person. I don't know why—you get this sort of ideas into your head, you know, the first time you meet people. I don't know why, but I expect to have a crow to pluck with this fellow, some time or other ; and then, his name, Monsoreau ! "

" ' Mont de la Souris,' " l returned Antraguet; " that 's the etymology of it. My old abbe told me all about it this morning ; ' Mons Soricis.' "

" I accept the interpretation," answered Bussy.

i Mousehill.

" But — stay a moment, please," cried Antraguet, suddenly.

« Why ? "

" Livarot knows something about it."

« About what ? "

" Mons Soricis. They are neighbors."

" I say, Livarot ! tell us all you know at once."

Livarot drew near.

" Come here quick, Livarot. What about Monsoreau ? "

" Eh ? " replied the young man.

" We ,want you to inform us about Monsoreau."

" With pleasure."

« Will the story be long ? "

" No, very short; four or five words will be enough to tell you what I think and know of him : I 'in afraid of him ! "

" Good ! and now that you have told us what you think, tell us what you know."

" Listen ! I was returning, one night "

" A terrible opening that," said Antraguet.

" Will you let me finish ? "

" Go on."

" I was returning one night from a visit to my uncle D'En-tragues, through the forest of Meridor, about six months ago, when suddenly I heard a frightful cry, and a white nag, with an empty saddle, rushed by me into the thicket. I pushed on as hard as I could, and, at the end of a long avenue, darkened by the shadows of night, I espied a man on a black horse ; he was not galloping, he was flying. The same stifled cry was heard anew, and I was able to distinguish in front of his saddle the form of a woman and his hand pressed over her mouth. I had my hunting arquebuse with me, and you know I 'm no bungler with it as a rule. I took aim, and, upon my soul, I should have killed him only that my match went out at the wrong moment."

" And then ? " asked Bussy, " what happened next ? "

" Next I asked a woodcutter who was the gentleman on the black horse that was kidnapping a woman ? and he answered : 1 M. de Monsoreau.' '

" Well," said Antraguet, " it is not so unusual a thing to carry off women, is it, Bussy ? "

" Yes ; but, at least, the women are allowed to scream."

" And who was the woman ? " asked Antraguet.

" That is a thing I could never learn."

" I tell you," said Bussy, " this man is decidedly remarkable, and he interests me."

" However, this precious nobleman enjoys an abominable reputation," said Livarot.

" You have some other facts ? "

" No, none. He never does evil openly, and is even rather kind to his tenants ; but with all that, the dwellers in the district that has the good fortune to own him fear him like hell-fire ; still, as he is a hunter like Nimrod, not before the Lord, perhaps, but before the devil, the King will never have a better grand huntsman ; a far better one than Saint-Luc, for whom the post was first intended until the Due d'Anjou interfered and choused him out of it."

" Do you know the Due d'Anjou is still calling for you ? " said Antraguet to Bussy.

" Good ! let him go on calling; and, by the way, do you know what is being said about Saint-Luc ? "

" No; is he still the King's prisoner ? " asked Livarot, laughing.

"I suppose he must be," said Antraguet, " as he is not here."

" Quite wrong, my dear fellow ; he started at one, last night, to visit his wife's estates."

« Exiled ? "

" It looks that way."

" Saint-Luc exiled ? Impossible."

" My dear, it's as true as the Gospel."

" According to Saint Luke ? "

" No, according to Marechal de Brissac, who told it me this morning with his own lips."

" Ah ! that is a novel and interesting bit of news; F m pretty sure this will do harm to our Monsoreau."

" I have it! " said Bussy.

" Have what ? "

" I have hit on it."

" Hit on what ? "

" The service he rendered M. d'Anjou."

" Saint-Luc ? "

" No, Monsoreau."

" Really ? "

" Yes, devil take me if I have n't! You ? 11 see, you fellows ; come along with me."

WAS ABLE TO DISTINGUISH IN FRONT OF HIS SADDLE THE FORM OF A WOMAN, AND HIS HAND PRESSED OVER HER MOUTH."

And Bussy, followed by Livarot and Antraguet, set his horse to a gallop and came up with the Due d'Anjou, who, tired of making signs to him, was now a considerable distance away.

" Ah ! monseigneur," he cried, " what a valuable man that M. de Monsoreau is ! "

" You think so, do you ? "

" I am amazed ! "

" Then you spoke to him ? " said the prince, with a sneer.

" Certainly, and I found him quite a refined person."

" And you asked him what he had done for me ? " inquired the prince, with the same sneering laugh.

" Of course ; it was for that purpose I accosted him/'

" And he answered you ? " said the prince, apparently gayer than ever.

" At once, and with a politeness for which I am infinitely obliged to him."

" And now let us hear his reply, iny doughty braggadocio," said the Due d'Anjou.

" He confessed, with all possible courtesy, that he was your Highness' purveyor."

" Purveyor of game ? "

" No, purveyor of women."

" What do you mean ? " said the prince, his face becoming dark as midnight in a moment. " What does this jesting signify, Bussy ? "

" It means, monseigneur, that he kidnaps women for you on his big black steed, and that, as they are doubtless ignorant of the honor intended them, he claps his hand over their mouths to prevent them from screaming."

The prince frowned, wrung his hands convulsively in his rage, turned pale, and set his horse to so furious a gallop that Bussy and his comrades were soon left far behind.

" Aha ! it seems to me the joke told," said Antraguet.

"And all the better because everybody does not seem to regard it as a joke," continued Livarot.

" The devil! " exclaimed Bussy; " it looks as if I had touched our good prince on the raw."

A moment later M. d'Anjou was heard shouting:

" I say, Bussy ! Where are you ? Come here, I say."

" Here I am, monseigneur," answered Bussy, drawing nigh.

The prince was in a fit of laughter.

" Upon my word, monseigneur," said Bussy, " what I have been telling you must have been awfully droll."

" No, Bussy, I am not laughing at what you told me."

" So much the worse ; I should have been well pleased were that the case; it would be a great merit in me to make a prince laugh who laughs so seldom."

'• I laugh, my poor Bussy, because you have invented a false story to hnd out the true one."

" No, monseigneur; devil take me if I have not told you the truth."

" Well, then, now that we are by ourselves, tell me your little story. Where did all that happen ? "

" In the forest of Meridor, monseigneur."

This time the prince turned pale again, but he said nothing.

" Beyond a doubt/' thought Bussy, " he has had some connection or other with the ravisher on the black horse and the woman to whom the white nag must have belonged."

" Come, monseigneur," added Bussy, laughing in his turn, now that the prince laughed no longer, " if there is a way of pleasing you better than any we have adopted hitherto, tell us about it; we '11 have no scruple in choosing it, though we may have to enter into competition with M. de Monsoreau."

" Yes, by heavens, Bussy," said the Due d'Anjou, " there is one, and I '11 point it out to you ! "

The prince led Bussy aside.

" Listen,'' said he. " I met a charming woman lately at church. Although she was veiled, certain features in her face reminded me of a woman with whom I was once in love ; I followed her, found out where she lived, bribed her maid, and have a key of the house."

"Well, monseigneur, as far as I can see, everything is in your favor."

" But she is said to be a prude, although free, young, and beautiful."

" Oh ! that staggers belief. Is not your Highness romancing ?"

" Listen! You are brave and you love me, or, at least, say you do."

" I have my days."

" For being brave ? "

" No, for loving you."

" Good ! Is this one of your days ? "

" I will try to make it one, if I can thereby serve your Highness."

" Well, then, I want you to do for me what most people do only for themselves."

" Indeed ! " said Bussy; " perhaps your Highness wishes me to pay my court to your mistress in order to discover if she is as virtuous as she is beautiful? I have no objection."

" No, but to find out if some one else is not paying court to her."

" Ah} the thing is getting complicated ; let us have an explana--tion, monseigneur."

" I would have you watch and find out who is the man that visits her."

" There is a man, then ? "

" I 'in afraid so."

" A lover, or a husband ? "

" A jealous man, anyway."

" So much the better, monseigneur."

" Why so much the better ? "

" It doubles your chances."

" You are very kind ! In the meantime I should like to find out who the man is."

" And you would have me undertake the duty of informing you?"

" Yes, and if you consent to render me this service "

" You '11 make me the next chief huntsman when the post is vacant ? "

" I assure you, Bussy, I should be the more inclined to do so from the fact that I have never really done anything for you."

" Ah ! so monseigneur has discovered that at last! "

" I pledge you my word I have been saying it to myself ever so long."

" In a whisper, as princes are in the habit of saying this sort of things."

" And now ? "

" What, monseigneur ? " " Do you consent ? " " To spy on a lady ? " "Yes."

" Monseigneur, I do not, I confess, feel at all flattered by such a commission. I should prefer another."

" You offered to do me a service, Bussy, and you are drawing back already."

" Zounds, monseigneur, you are asking me to be a spy ! " " No! to be a friend. Besides, don't fancy I am offering you a sinecure; you may have to draw your sword." Bussy shook his head.

" Monseigneur," said he, " there are certain things a person only does well when he does them himself; this is a case where even a prince must act on his own account." " Then you refuse ? " "Most assuredly I do, monseigneur." The prince frowned.

" I will follow your counsel, then," said he. " I will go myself, and if I am killed or wounded, I shall say that I begged my friend Bussy to venture on receiving or returning a sword-thrust for my sake, and that, for the first time in his life, he was prudent."

" Monseigneur," answered Bussy, " you said yesterday evening : ' Bussy, I hate all those minions of the King's chamber, who never lose a chance of insulting and gibing at us; now I want you to go to Saint-Luc's wedding, pick a quarrel with them, and make short work of them, if you can.' Monseigneur, I went, and went alone ; there were five of them ; I challenged them; they lay in wait for me, attacked me in a body, killed my horse, yet I wounded two and knocked a third senseless. To-day you ask me to wrong a woman. Excuse me, monseigneur ; that is not one of the services an honorable man can render his prince, and I refuse."

" Just as you like," said the prince. " I will watch myself, or in company with Aurilly, as I have done before."

" I beg your pardon," said Bussy, through whose mind a light was breaking. « Why ? "

" May I ask you were you watching also the other day when you saw the minions lying in wait for me ? " " Undoiibtedly."

" Then the fair unknown lives near the Bastile ? " " Yes, opposite the Rue Sainte-Catherine." " You 're sure ? "

" Yes, and also that it is a cut-throat quarter, a fact of which you have had some experience yourself."

" And has your Highness been there since that evening ? "

" Yes, yesterday."

" And you saw ? "

" A man hiding in corners, doubtless to see if any one was spying on him. He afterward kept obstinately in front of the door, because he perceived me> I imagine."

" And was this man alone, monseigneur ? "

" Yes, for nearly half an hour."

" And then ? "

" Another man joined him, with a lantern."

"Ah, indeed !"

" After this, the man in the cloak " — continued the prince.

" So the first man had a cloak ? " interrupted Bussy.

" Yes. Then the man in the cloak and the man with the lantern talked together, and as they seemed inclined to remain there the whole night, I left them and returned."

" Disgusted with your second experiment ? "

" Faith, yes, I confess it — so that, before poking my head into a house that may be a den of murderers "

" You would not object to have one of your friends murdered there ? "

" Nay, not so — but rather that a friend who does not happen to be a prince and has not the same enemies I have, especially if he is accustomed to adventures of the kind, should take note of the sort of danger I am likely to run and inform me of it."

" In your place, monseigneur, I should give the woman up."

" No."

« Why ? "

" She'is too beautiful."

" You say yourself you have scarcely seen her."

" I saw enough to remark she had magnificent fair hair."

« Ah! "

" Two glorious eyes."

" Ah ! Ah ! "

" A complexion the like of which I have never seen; and her shape is a marvel."

"Ah! Ah! Ah!"

" You understand it is rather hard to give up such a woman."

" Yes, monseigneur, I understand ; and so your position gives me real pain."

" You are jesting."

" No, and the proof of it is that, if your Highness give me your instructions and point out the door to me, I will watch it."

" You have changed your mind, then ? "

" Egad ! monseigneur, the only person who is infallible is our Holy Father Gregory XIII.; only tell me what is to be done ? "'

" You must hide some distance from the door I '11 show you, and, if a man enter, follow him until you ascertain who he is."

" Yes, but what if he shut the door on me when he enters ? "

" I told you I had a key."

" Ah, true; the only thing to be feared is that I might follow the wrong man and the key belong to another door."

" No danger of a mistake ; this door leads into an alley ; at the end of the alley, on the left, is a staircase; you go up twelve steps, and then you're in the corridor."

" How can you know that, monseigneur, since you were never in the house ? "

" Did I not tell you the maid is in my pay ? She explained everything to me."

" Tudieu ! what a thing it is to be prince ! he has everything ready to his hand. Why, if it had been my case, monseigneur, I should have had to discover the house, explore the alley, count the steps, and feel my way in the corridor. It would have taken ine an enormous length of time, and who knows if I should have succeeded, after all! "

" So, then, you consent ? "

" Could I refuse anything to your Highness ? But you '11 come with me to point out the door."

" Not necessary. When we return from the hunt, we '11 go a little out of our way, pass Porte Saint-Antoine, and then'I'11 show it to you."

" Nothing could be better! And what am I to do to the man if he come ? "

" Nothing but follow him until you learn who he is."

" It 's a rather delicate matter. Suppose, for example, this man is so indiscreet as to halt in the middle of the road and bring uiy investigations to a standstill ? "

" You are at full liberty to adopt whatever plan pleases you."

" Then your Highness authorizes me to act as I should do in my own case ? "

" Exactly."

" I will do so, monseigneur."

" Not a word of this to any of our young gentlemen."

" My word of honor on it !"

" And you '11 set out on your exploration alone ? "

" I swear it."

" Very well, all 's settled ; we shall return by the Bastile. I '11 point out the door, you '11 come home with me for the key — and to-night " —

" I take your Highness' place ; it 's a bargain."

Bussy and the prince then joined the hunt, which M. de Monsoreau was conducting like a man of genius. The King was delighted with the punctuality displayed by the huntsman in arranging all the halts and relays. After being chased two hours, turned into an enclosure of twelve or fifteen miles, and seen more than a score of times, the animal was come up with, just at the point where he started.

M. de Monsoreau was congratulated by the King and the Due d'Anjou.

" Monseigneur," said he to the latter, " I am very glad you think me worthy of your compliments, since it is to you I owe my post."

" But you are aware, monsieur," said the prince, " that, in order to continue to merit them, you must start this evening forFontainebleau. The King will hunt the day after to-morrow and the days following, and a day will certainly not be more than enough to enable you to become acquainted with the forest."

" I know it, monseigneur, and I have given my people notice already. I am prepared to start to-night."

" Ah, that 's how it is, M. de Monsoreau ! " said Bussy ; " no more nights of rest for you. Well, you would be grand huntsman, and so you are. But the office you occupy entails the loss of fifty nights that other people have ; it's a lucky thing for you you 're not married, my dear M. de Monsoreau."

Bussy said this, laughing; the prince darted a piercing look at the grand huntsman; then turning round, he proceeded to congratulate the King on the evident improvement in his health since the night before.

As for Monsoreau, at the jest of Bussy he turned pale again, with that hideous paleness which gave him such a sinister aspect.

CHAPTER XII.

HOW BUSSY DISCOVERED BOTH PORTRAIT AND ORIGINAL.

THE hunt was over about four in the evening, and at five, as if the King wished to anticipate the desire of the Due d'Anjou, the whole court returned to Paris by way of the Faubourg Saint-Antoine.

M. de Monsoreau, under the pretext that he must set out at once, had taken leave of the princes, and proceeded with his men in the direction of Fromenteau.

When the King passed in front of the Bastile, he called the attention of his friends to the stern, gloomy appearance of the fortress ; it was his method of reminding them of what they might expect, if, after being his friends, they became his enemies.

Many understood the hint, and became more lavish than ever of their expressions of reverence for his Majesty.

During this time, the Due d'Anjou whispered to Bussy, who was riding close to him :

" Look well, Bussy; you see the wooden house on the right, with a little statue of the Virgin in the gable; follow the same line with your eye and count four houses, that of the Virgin included."

" It 's done," said Bussy.

" It is the fifth," said the prince, " the one just in front of the Rue Sainte-Catherine."

" I see it, monseigneur; stay, look yonder; at the blare of the trumpets announcing the King's approach, all the windows are crowded."

" Except those in the house I showed you," said the Due d'Anjou ; " they are closed."

" But one of the blinds is half open," answered Bussy, his heart beating terribly.

" Yes, but we can't see any one. Oh, the lady is well guarded, or else she guards herself ! At all events, that is the house ; I '11 give you the key at the hotel."

Bussy flashed a glance through the narrow opening, but, although his eyes were then riveted on it, he could perceive nothing.

When they reached the Hotel d'Anjou, the prince gave

Bussy the key, as he had promised, cautioning him to watch carefully. Bussy said he would be answerable for everything, and went to his hotel.

« Well ? " he said to Remy.

" The question I was about to ask you, monseigneur ? 7;

" You have discovered nothing ? "

" The house is as hard to find by day as by night. I 'in in a regular quandary about the five or six houses near it."

" Then 1 fancy I have been luckier than you, my dear Le Hardouin."

" How is that, monseigneur ? So you have been searching too ? "

" No, I only passed through the street."

" And you recognized the door ? "

" Providence, my dear friend, works in mysterious ways and is responsible for the most unforeseen results."

" Then you are quite certain ? "

" I do not say I am quite certain, but I have hopes."

" And when shall I know you have been fortunate enough to have found the object of your search."

" To-morrow morning."

" In the meantime, do you need me ? "

« Not at all."

" You do not wish me to follow you ? "

« That is impossible."

" Be prudent, at least, monseigneur."

" Oh, your advice is useless ; I am well known to be so."

Bussy dined like a man who is not at all sure where he will get his supper ; then, at eight, he selected his best sword, stuck a pair of pistols in his belt, in spite of the edict the King had just issued, and had himself carried in his litter to the end of the Rue Saint-Paul. There he recognized the house with the Virgin's statue, counted the next four houses, made certain the fifth was the house he wanted, and, wrapped in his long, dark cloak, crouched in an angle of the Rue Sainte-Catherine, with his mind made up to wait two hours, and then, if nobody came, to act on his own account.

It was striking nine at Saint Paul's when Bussy went into his hiding-place. He was there hardly ten minutes when he saw two horsemen advancing through the darkness by the Porte de la Bastille. They halted near the Hotel des Tournelles. One alighted, flung the reins to the second, who, very likely,

was a lackey, and, after watching him and the two horses go back the way they had come, until he lost sight of them, he proceeded toward the house confided to the watchfulness of Bussy.

When the stranger was near the house he made a circuit, apparently with the intention of exploring the neighborhood. Then, sure that he was not observed, he approached the door and disappeared.

Bussy heard the noise made by the door closing behind him.

He waited a moment, fearing this mysterious personage might remain awhile on the watch behind the wicket; but, when a few minutes had slipped by, he advanced in turn, crossed the road, opened the door, and, taught by experience, shut it noiselessly.

Then he turned round ; the wicket was on a level with his eye, and, in all probability, it was the very wicket through which he had reconnoitred Quelus.

But he had something else to do; this was not what had brought him here. He felt his way slowly, touching both sides of the alley, and at the end, on the left, he came upon the first step of the staircase.

Here he stopped for two reasons : first, because his legs were giving way under him from emotion ; and secondly, because he heard a voice which said :

" Gertrude, inform your mistress I am here, and wish to enter."

The order was given in too imperious a tone to admit of refusal; in an instant Bussy heard the voice of the servant answering :

" Pass into the drawing-room, monsieur ; madame will be with you in a moment."

Bussy then thought of the twelve steps Kemy had counted ; he did the same, and, at the end of his counting, found himself on the landing.

He recalled the corridor and the three doors, and advanced a few steps, holding in his breath and stretching out his hand, which came in contact with the first door, the one by which the unknown had entered. He went on again, found a second door, turned the key in the lock, and, shivering from head to foot, entered.

The room in which Bussy found himself was completely

dark, except in a corner, which was partially illuminated by the light in the drawing-room, a side door being open.

This light fell on the windows, — windows hung with tapestry ! — the sight thrilled the young man's heart with ecstasy.

His eyes next turned to the ceiling ; a part of it was also lit up by the same reflected beams, and he recognizetl some of the mythological figures he had seen before ; he extended his hand — it touched the carved bed.

Doubt was no longer possible ; he was again in the same chamber in which he had awakened on the night he received the wound to which he owed his hospitable reception.

Every fibre in his body thrilled anew when he touched that bed and inhaled the perfume that emanates from the couch of a young and beautiful woman.

Bussy hid behind the bed curtains and listened.

He heard in the adjoining apartments the impatient footsteps of the unknown, who paused at intervals, murmuring between his teeth :

" Is she never coming ? "

At length a door opened — a door in the drawing-room seemingly parallel to the half-open door already mentioned. The floor creaked under the pressure of a small foot, the rustling of a silk dress reached Bussy 's ears, and the young man heard a woman's voice, — a voice trembling at once with fear and scorn ; it said :

" I am here, monsieur ; what do you want with me now ? "

" Oho ! " thought Buss}', from behind his curtains, " if this man is the lover, I congratulate the husband."

" Madame," answered the man who was received in this freezing fashion, « I have the honor to inform you I must start for Fontainebleau to-morrow morning, and I have come to spend the night with you."

" Do you bring me news of my father ? " asked the same feminine voice.

" Listen to me, madame."

" Monsieur, you know what was our agreement yesterday when I consented to become your wife; it was that, first of all, either my father should come to Paris or I should go to my father."

" Madame, we will start immediately after my return from Fontainebleau. I pledge you my word of honor. In the meantime " —

" Oh, monsieur, do not close that door, it is useless. I will not spend a single night, no, not a single night, under the same roof with you until I am reassured as to my father's fate."

And the woman who spoke so resolutely blew a little silver whistle which gave a shrill, protracted sound.

This was the method adopted for summoning servants in an age when bells had not been yet invented for domestic purposes.

At the same moment, the door through which Bussy had entered again opened and the young woman's maid appeared on the scene. She was a tall, robust daughter of Anjou, had been apparently on the watch for her mistress' summons, and had hurried to obey it as soon as heard.

After entering the drawing-room, she opened the door that had been shut.

A stream of light then flowed into the chamber where Bussy was stationed, and he recognized the portrait between the two. windows.

" Gertrude," said the lady, " do not go to bed, and remain always within sound of my voice."

The maid withdrew by the way she had entered, without uttering a word, leaving the door of the drawing-room wide open, so that the wonderful portrait was entirely illuminated.

This placed the matter beyond all question in Bussy's eyes : the portrait was the one he had seen before.

He advanced softly to peep through the opening between the hinges of the door and the wall, but, soft as was his tread, just at the very moment he was able to look into the apartment, the floor creaked.

The lady heard it and turned : the original of the portrait! the fairy of his dream !

The man, although he had heard nothing, turned when the lady did.

It was the Seigneur de Monsoreau !

" Ha ! " muttered Bussy, u the white nag — the kidnapped woman. I am assuredly on the point of listening to some terrible story."

And he wiped his face, which had become suddenly covered with perspiration.

Bussy, as we have stated, saw them both : the one standing, pale and scornful; the other seated, not so much pale as livid, moving his foot impatiently and biting his hand.

" Madame/' said he, at length, " it is nearly time for you to give up acting the part of a persecuted woman, a victim ; you are in Paris, you are in my house, and, moreover, you are now the Comtesse de Monsoreau, and that means you are my wife."

" If I am your wife, why refuse to lead me to my father ? why continue to hide me from the eyes of the world ? "

" Have you forgotten the Due d'Anjou, madame ?"

" You assured me that, once I was your wife, I had nothing to fear from him."

" Of, course, but "

" That is what you assured me."

" Undoubtedly, madame, but still it may be necessary to take certain precautions."

" Well, monsieur, take your precautions, and return when you have taken them."

" Diane," said the count, whose heart was visibly swelling with anger, " Diane, do not make sport of the sacred marriage tie. You would do well to take my advice in that regard."

" Prove to me, monsieur, that I have no reason to distrust my husband and I will respect the marriage ! "

" And yet it seems to me the manner in which I have acted toward you might induce you to trust me."

" Monsieur, I think that, throughout this whole affair, my interest has not been your sole motive, or, even if it has, chance has done you good service."

" Ah, this is too much ! " cried the count. " I am in my own house, you are my wife, and, though all hell should come to your aid, to-night you shall be mine."

Bussy laid his hand on his sword and took a step forward ; but Diane did not give him time to appear.

" Hold ! " said she, drawing a poniard from her girdle; " this is my answer."

And bounding into the room where Bussy was standing, she shut the door, double bolted it, and, while Monsoreau was striking it with his clenched fist and shouting empty threats, Diane said to him:

" Break but a particle of this door, monsieur, and — you know me ! — you will find me dead on the threshold ! "

" And have courage, madame," said Bussy, enfolding her in his arms, " you would have an avenger."

Diane was near crying out; but she felt that the only peril threatening her came from her husband. She remained, there-

fore, on the defensive, but dumb ; trembling, but motionless. M. de Monsoreau kicked the door violently; then, evidently convinced that Diane would execute her threat, he left the drawing-room, slamming the door behind him. Next was heard the sound of footsteps in the corridor, growing gradually fainter, until it died away on the staircase.

" But you, monsieur," said Diane, when there was silence, and she had freed herself from Bussy's embrace and retreated a step, " who are you and how is it you are here ? "

" Madame," said Bussy, opening the door and kneeling before Diane, " I am the man whose life you saved. Surely you cannot believe I have entered your room with evil intent or have formed any design against your honor ? "

Thanks to the flood of light that now bathed the young man's noble face, Diane recognized him.

" You here, monsieur ! " she cried, clasping her hands ; " then you have heard everything !"

" Alas ! yes, madame."

" But who are you ? Your name, monsieur ? "

" Madame, I am Louis de Clermont, Comte de Bussy."

" Bussy ? you are the brave Bussy ? " Diane cried, naively, without thought of the delight with which this exclamation filled the young man's heart. " Ah! Gertrude," she continued, addressing her maid, who ran in, quite terrified at hearing her mistress speaking to somebody, — " Gertrude, I have no longer anything to fear; from this moment my honor is under the safeguard of the most noble and loyal gentleman in France."

Then, holding out her hand to Bussy:

" Rise, monsieur," said she, " I know who you are; it is right you should know who I am."

CHAPTER XIII.

WHO DIANE DE MEBIDOR WAS.

BUSSY rose, entirely dazed by his happiness, and he and Diane entered the drawing-room which M. de Monsoreau had just quitted.

He gazed on Diane with mingled amazement and admiration. He had not 'dared to believe that the woman he had

sought could bear any comparison with the woman of his dream, and now the reality surpassed all that he had taken for a delusion of his imagination.

Diane was about eighteen or nineteen years old, and that is the same as saying she was in that splendid dawn of youth and beauty which gives to the flower its purest coloring, to the fruit its softest .tints ; there was no mistaking the expression of Bussy's look ; Diane saw that she was admired, and had not the strength to interrupt the ecstasy of Bussy.

At length she perceived the necessity of breaking a silence which spoke too eloquently.

" Monsieur," said she, " you answered one of my questions, but not the other. I asked you who you were, and you told nie ; but I asked also how you came here, and that question you have not answered."

" Madame," answered Bussy, " I understood from the few words I heard during your conversation with M. de Monsoreau that my presence here had a natural connection with the events in your life you have graciously promised to relate to me. Have you not just told me you would let me know who you were ? "

u Yes, count, I will tell you all," replied Diane. " I have often heard you spoken of as a man in whose courage, honor, and loyalty the most implicit confidence could be placed."

Bussy bowed.

"From the little you heard," continued Diane, "you must have learned that I was the daughter of Baron de Meridor, which means that I am the sole heiress of one of the oldest and noblest names in Anjou."

" There was a Baron de Meridor at Pavia," said Bussy, " who, though he might have escaped, surrendered his sword to the Spaniards when he knew his king was a prisoner ; then he begged as a favor to be allowed to follow Francois I. into captivity at Madrid, and only left him after being commissioned to negotiate his ransom."

" He was my father, monsieur, and, if you ever enter the grand hall in the Castle of Meridor, you will see the portrait of Francois I., painted by Leonardo da Vinci and presented by the king in recognition of this devotion."

"Ah!" said Bussy, " in those times princes knew how to reward their servants."

" After his return from Spain my father married. His first

two children, sons, died. This was a great grief to the Baron de Meridor, who lost all hope of seeing his house continue in the male line. Soon after, the king died also, and the baron's sorrow turned to despair ; he remained only a couple of years at court, and then shut himself up with his wife in the Castle of Meridor. It was there I was born, almost by a miracle, ten years after the death of my brothers.

" All the baron's love was now concentrated on the child of his old age; his affection for me was more than tenderness, it was idolatry. Three years after my birth, I lost my mother ; it was a new affliction for my father ; but I, too young to understand my loss, continued to smile, and my smiles consoled him.

" I grew up and developed under his eyes. Just as I was all to him, so he was all to me. Poor father ! I reached my sixteenth year without suspecting the existence of any other world except that of my sheep, my peacocks, my swans, and doves, without dreaming that this life would ever end or wishing that it should.

" The Castle of Meridor was surrounded by vast forests belonging to the Due d'Anjou; these forests were full of all kinds of deer, which were allowed to range undisturbed and had become quite tame in consequence; all were more or less friendly with me, some being so accustomed to my voice that they ran up whenever I called them; but my favorite among them was a doe — my poor, poor Daphne ! — that would come and eat out of my hands.

" One spring, I did not see her for a month, and I believed her lost; I wept for her as 1 would have wept for a friend, when she suddenly made her appearance, followed by two little fawns ; the poor things were at first afraid of me, but when the mother caressed my hand they felt they need not fear, and caressed in their turn.

" About this time the report spread that the Due d'Anjou had appointed a deputy-governor over his province. Some days later it was learned that this deputy had arrived and was called the Comte de Monsoreau.

" Why did that name strike me to the heart the moment 1 heard it uttered ? My only explanation of that painful sensation is that it was a presentiment.

" A week slipped by. The opinions expressed in the country about M. de Monsoreau were very emphatic and very different.

One morning the woods reechoed to the sounds of horns and the baying of dogs. I ran to the park grating, and arrived just in time to see Daphne pass like a flash of lightning, pursued by a pack of hounds ; her two fawns followed. An instant after, a man flew by mounted on a black steed that seemed to have wings ; it was M. de Monsoreau.

" 1 cried aloud ; I entreated mercy for my poor favorite ; but he either did not hear my voice or paid no attention to it, so much was he engrossed by the ardor of the chase.

" Then, not thinking of the anxiety I was sure to cause my father if he noticed my absence, I ran in the direction the hunt had taken. I hoped to meet either the count or some of his people, and beseech them to stop this pursuit, which was breaking my heart.

" I ran about half a league without knowing where I was going; I had long lost sight of everything: doe, hounds, and hunters; soon I did not even hear the baying. I sank down at the foot of a tree and burst into tears. I remained there about a quarter of an hour, when I thought I could again distinguish in the distance the shouts of the hunters. I was not mistaken; the noise drew nearer and nearer, and was soon so loud that I became sure the hunt would pass by me in a moment. I rose at once and started in the direction from which I heard the cries.

" Nor was it long before I saw my poor Daphne speeding through a clearing; she was panting and had but a single fawn with her; the other, being tired out, had doubtless been torn to pieces by the hounds.

" The poor doe was visibly growing exhausted; the distance between her and her pursuers was less than at first; her running had changed to abrupt springs, and, when going by me, she belled dolefully.

"As before, I made vain efforts to make myself heard. M. de Monsoreau saw nothing but the animal he was pursuing. He flashed by even more quickly than the first time, sounding furiously the horn he held to his lips.

" Behind him, three or four whippers-in cheered on the hounds with horns and shouts. This whirlwind of barks and flourishes and cries passed like a tempest, vanished into the depths of the forest, and died away in the distance.

" I felt desperate ; I said to myself that had I been only fifty yards farther, just at the edge of the clearing he had

crossed, he would have seen me, and would undoubtedly have saved the life of the poor animal on my intercession.

" This thought revived my courage ; the hunt might pass a third time within view of me. I followed a path, with a line of beautiful trees on each side of it, which I knew led to the Castle of Beauge. This castle belonged to the Due d'Anjou, and was nearly nine miles from that of my father. The moment I saw it, it struck me I must have walked and run about nine miles, that I was alone and very far from home.

" I confess I felt a vague terror, and then only did I think of the imprudence and even impropriety of my conduct. I followed the edge of the pond, intending to ask the gardener, an excellent man, who used to present me a magnificent bouquet whenever I went there with my father, to act as my guide, when suddenly the shouts of hunters and baying of hounds struck on my ear again. I stood still and listened. The noise grew louder. I forgot eve^thing. Almost at this very moment the doe bounded out of the wood on the other side of the pond, with the hounds nearly at her heels. She was alone — her second fawn had now been killed ; the sight of the water seemed to renew her strength; she sucked in the cool air through her nostrils, and leaped into the pond, as if she wanted to come to me.

" At first she swam rapidly, as if she had recovered all her energy. I gazed on her, my eyes full of tears, my arms outstretched, and almost gasping like herself. But gradually she became exhausted, while the dogs, on the contrary, incited by the quarry that was now so near them, seemed more vigorous than ever. Soon the nearest hounds were within reach of her, and, stopped by their bites, she ceased swimming. At that moment M. de Monsoreau appeared on the outskirts of the wood, galloped up to the pond and jumped from his horse. Then collecting all my strength, I clasped my hands and cried out: ' Mercy !' Apparently, he saw me. I snouted again and louder than before. He heard me, for he raised his head. Then he ran down to a boat, unmoored it, and rowed quickly toward the animal, which was now struggling in the middle of the entire pack. I had not the least doubt that, touched by the sound of my voice, my entreaties and my gestures, he was hurrying to save her, when, as soon as he was within reach of Daphne, he quickly drew his hunting-knife; a sunbeam flashed upon the blade, then disappeared; I uttered a cry, the steel was

plunged into the poor beast's throat up to the handle. A stream of blood spurted out and dyed the waters of the pond crimson. The doe belled piteously, beat the water with her feet, rose for a moment, and fell back, dead.

" With a cry that was almost as agonizing as her own, I sank in a swoon on the slope of the pond.

" When I regained consciousness, I was lying in a chamber of the Castle of Beauge, and my father, who had been sent for, was weeping by my pillow.

" As- all that ailed me was a nervous attack produced by over-excitement, I was able to return to Meridor the next day. However, I had to keep my room for three or four days.

" On the fourth, my father told me that, while I was indisposed, M. de Monsoreau, who had seen me at the moment I was carried to the castle in a faint, had come to inquire after me ; he was in despair when he learned he was the involuntary cause of my accident, and had asked to be permitted to offer his apologies, saying he could never be happy until he heard his pardon from my own lips.

" It would have been ridiculous to refuse him an interview ; so, in spite of my repugnance, I yielded.

" The next day he presented himself. I had come to see the absurdity of my position ; hunting is a pleasure which even women often share. I saw I must defend myself on account of an emotion that must have seemed nonsensical, and I made the affection I felt for Daphne my excuse.

" It was then the count's turn to affect compunction. He swore upon his honor, a score of times, that if he had had the slightest notion of the interest I took in his victim, he would have spared her with the greatest pleasure. But his protestations did not convince me, and he left without effacing from my heart the painful impression he had stamped upon it.

" Before retiring, the count asked my father's permission to return. He had been born in Spain and educated at Madrid, and it gave my father the greatest pleasure to talk with him of a country in which he had lived so long. Besides, as M. de Monsoreau was of gentle birth, deputy-governor of our province, and a favorite, it was said, of the Due d'Anjou, there was no reason why he should not receive his request.

" Alas ! from that moment my tranquillity, if not my happiness, was at an end. I soon perceived the impression I had made on the count. At first he came but once a week, then

twice, then every day. My father, to whom he showed the utmost respect, liked him. I saw with what pleasure the baron listened to his conversation, which was always that of a singularly able man. I did not venture to complain; and of what could I have complained ? The count, while paying me all the courteous attentions of a lover, was as respectful as if I had been his sister.

" One morning my father entered my chamber, looking graver than usual, but there was an air of satisfaction blended with his gravity.

" ' My child,' said he, i you have always assured me that you would never like to leave me!'

" ' Ah ! father, are you not aware that it is my fondest desire to be with you forever ? '

"' Well, my own Diane,' he continued, stooping to kiss me, 1 it depends entirely 011 yourself whether that desire shall be realized or not.'

" I suspected what he was about to say, and I turned so frightfully pale that he paused before touching my forehead with his lips.

" ' Diane, my child ! Good heavens ! what is the matter ?'

" l It is M. de Monsoreau, is it not ?' I stammered.

" ' And supposing it is ?' he asked, in amazement.

" < Oh, never, father ! if you have any pity for your daughter, never!'

" ' Diane, my darling, it is not pity I have for you, it is idolatry, as you well know; take a week to reflect and, if in a week' —

" ' Oh, no, no,' I cried, i it is needless, — not a week, not twenty-four hours, not a minute. No, no; oh, no !'

" And I burst into tears.

" My father worshipped me; he had never seen me weep before ; he took me in his arms, and, with a few words, set me at my ease; he pledged his word of honor he would never again speak of this marriage.

" And now a month slipped by, during which I neither saw nor heard anything of M. de Monsoreau. One morning my father and I received an invitation to a great festival the count was to give in honor of the King's brother, who was about to visit the province from which he took his title. The festival was to be held in the town hall of Angers.

" With this letter came a personal invitation from the prince,

who wrote that he remembered having seen my father formerly at the court of King Henri, and would be pleased to meet him again.

" My first impulse was to entreat my father to decline, and I should certainly have persisted in my opposition if we had been invited by M. de Monsoreau alone; but my father feared a refusal of the prince's invitation might be viewed by his Highness as a mark of disrespect.

" We went to the festival, then. M. de Monsoreau received us as if nothing had passed between us; his conduct in my regard was neither indifferent nor affected; he treated me just as he did the other ladies, and it gave me pleasure to find I was neither the object of his friendliness nor of his enmity.

" But this was not the case with the Due d'Anjou. As soon as he saw me his eyes were riveted on me and never left me the rest of the evening. I felt ill at ease under his gaze, and, without letting my father know my reason for wishing to retire from the ball, I urged him so strongly that we were the first to withdraw.

" Three days later, M. de Monsoreau came to Meridor. I saw him at a distance coming up the avenue to the castle, and retired to my chamber.

" I was afraid my father might summon me ; but he did nothing of the kind, and, after half an hour, M. de Monsoreau left. No one had informed me of his visit, and my father never spoke of it; but I noticed that he was gloomier than usual after the departure of the deputy-governor.

" Some days passed. One morning, after returning from a walk in the grounds, I was told M. de Monsoreau was with my father. The baron had inquired for me two or three times, and on each occasion seemed to be specially anxious as to the direction I had taken. He gave orders that my return should be at once announced to him.

"And, in fact, I was hardly in my room when my father entered.

" ' My child,' said he, ' a motive which it is unnecessary you should be acquainted with compels me to send you away for a few days. Ask no questions ; you must be sure that my motive must be very urgent, since it forces me to remain a week, a fortnight, perhaps even a month, without seeing you.'

" I shuddered, although unconscious of the danger to which

I was exposed. But these two visits of M. de Monsoreau foreboded nothing good.

" ' But where am I to go, father ? ' I asked.

" < To the Castle of Lude, to my sister, who will conceal you from every eye. It is necessary that the journey be made at night.'

" ( Do you go with me ? '

" i No, I must stay here to divert suspicion; even the servants must not know where you are going.'

" ( But who are to be my escort ? '

" < Two men upon whom I can rely.'

" ' Oh, heavens ! But father ' -

" The baron kissed me.

" ' My child,' said he, ' it cannot be helped.'

" I was so assured of my father's love that I made no further objection and asked for 110 explanation.

" It was agreed between us that Gertrude, my nurse's daughter, should accompany me.

" My father retired, after bidding me get ready.

" We were in the long days of winter, and it was a very cold and dreary evening; at eight o'clock my father came for me. I was ready, as he had directed; we went downstairs noiselessly and crossed the garden ; he opened a little door that led into the forest; there we found a litter waiting and two men. My father talked to them at length, apparently enjoining them to take great care of me. After this, I took my place in the litter, and Gertrude sat down beside me. The baron kissed me for the last time, and we started.

" I was ignorant of the nature of the peril that threatened me and forced me to .leave the Castle of Meridor. I questioned Gertrude, but she was quite as much in the dark as I was. I did not dare to ask information of my conductors, whom I did not know. We went along quietly by roundabout and devious paths, when, after travelling nearly two hours, at the very moment I was falling asleep, in spite of my anxiety, lulled by the smooth, monotonous motion of the litter, I was awakened by Gertrude, who seized me by the arm, as well as by the sudden stopping of the litter itself.

"' Oh, mademoiselle !' cried the poor girl ; < what is happening ?'

" I passed my head through the curtains ; we were sur-

rounded by six masked men on horseback; our own men, who had tried to defend us, were prisoners.

" I was too frightened to call for help ; besides, who would have answered my appeal ? The man who appeared to be the leader of the band advanced to the litter.

" < Do not be alarmed, mademoiselle,' said he ; < no harm is intended you, but you must follow us.'

« ' Where ? ' I asked.

" ' To a place where, so far from having any cause for fear, you wilj .be treated as a queenfl'

" This promise frightened me more than if he had threatened me.

" * My father ! oh, my father !' I murmured.

" < Hear me, mademoiselle,' whispered Gertrude. < I am acquainted with this neighborhood ; you know I am devoted to you. I am strong; some misfortune will befall us if we do not escape.'

" The encouragement my poor maid was trying to give me was far from reassuring me. Still, it is comforting to know you have a friend when in trouble, and I felt a little relieved.

" ' Do as you like, gentlemen,' I answered, l we are only two poor women and cannot resist.'

" One of the men dismounted, took the place of our conductor, and changed the direction of the litter."

It may be easily understood with what profound attention Bussy listened to the narrative of Diane. The first emotions that inspire the dawning of a great love take the shape of an almost religious reverence for the beloved object. The woman the .heart has chosen is raised by this very choice above others of her sex ; she expands, becomes ethereal, divine; every one of her gestures is a favor she grants you, every one of her words a grace she bestows on you; does she look at you, you are delighted; does she smile on you, you are in ecstasy.

The young man had, therefore, allowed the fair speaker to unfold the story of her life, without daring to arrest it, without thought of interrupting it; not a single detail of that life, over which he felt he should be called upon to watch, but had a potent interest for him, and he listened to Diane's words, dumb, breathless, as if his very existence depended on catching every syllable.

So, when the young woman paused for a moment, doubtless

weakened by the twofold emotion she also experienced, an emotion in which all the memories of the past were blended with the present, Bussy had not strength to curb his anxiety, and, clasping his hands, he said :

" Oh, madame ! continue."

It was impossible for Diane to doubt of the interest she inspired ; everything in the young man's voice, gesture, and in the expression of his face, was in harmony with the entreaty his words contained. Diane smiled sadly, and resumed :

" We travelled nearly three hours ; then the litter halted; I heard a door opening; some words were exchanged; the litter went on again, and, from the echoes that struck my ear, I concluded we were crossing a drawbridge. I was not mistaken ; glancing through the curtains, I saw we were in the courtyard of a castle.

" What castle was it ? Neither Gertrude nor I could tell. We had often tried during the journey to find in what direction we were going, but all we were able to perceive was an endless forest. Both of us believed that the paths selected by our abductors were purposely circuitous, and designed to deprive us of any knowledge of where we were.

" The door of our litter was opened and we were invited to alight by the same man that had spoken before.

" I obeyed in silence. Two men, doubtless belonging to the castle, came with torches to receive us. In accordance with the alarming promise given to us before, we were treated with the greatest respect. We followed the men with the torches, and were conducted into a richly furnished bed-chamber, which had seemingly been furnished during the most elegant and brilliant period of the reign of Francois I.

" A collation awaited us on a table sumptuously laid out.

" ' You are at home, madame/ said the man who had already addressed me twice, 'and as, of course, you require the services of a maid, yours will not leave; her room is next to your own.'

" Gertrude and I exchanged a look of relief.

" ' Every time you want anything/ continued the masked man, ' all you have to do is to strike the knocker of this door, and the man who is always on duty in the ante-chamber will be at your orders.'

" This apparent attention indicated that we would be kept in sight.

" The masked man bowed and passed out, and we heard him double lock the door behind him.

" And now we were alone, Gertrude and I.

" For a moment we did not stir, but gazed into each other's eyes by the glare of the two candelabra which lit up the supper table. Gertrude wished to speak; I made her a sign to be silent ; some one, perhaps, was listening.

" The door of the room appointed for Gertrude was open ; the same idea of visiting it occurred to both of us. She seized one of the candelabra, and we entered on tiptoe.

" It was a large closet, evidently designed to serve as a dressing-room to the bed-chamber. It had another door, parallel to the one by which we had entered. This door was ornamented likewise with a little chiselled knocker of copper, which fell on a plate of the same metal, the whole so exquisitely wrought that it might have been the work of Benvenuto Cellini.

" It was evident both doors opened into the same antechamber.

" Gertrude brought the light close to the lock. The door was double-locked.

" We were prisoners.

" When two persons, though of different rank, are in the same situation and are partakers of the same perils, it is marvellous how quickly their ideas chime in together and how easily they pass beyond conventional phrases and useless words.

" Gertrude approached me.

" < Mademoiselle,' she said in a low voice, «did you notice that, after we left the yard, we mounted only five steps ? '

" < Yes,' I answered.

" { Then we are on the ground floor ?'

" < Certainly.'

" < So that,' she added, speaking still lower, and fastening her eyes on the outside shutters, ' so that ' -

" < If these windows had no gratings ' - - I interrupted.

<(f Yes, and if madame had courage ' —

" < Courage !' I cried; ( oh, rest easy, I '11 have plenty of it, my child.'

" It was now Gertrude's turn to warn me to be silent.

" ' Yes, yes, I understand,' said I.

" Gertrude made me a sign to stay where I was, and returned to the bed-chamber with the cadelabrum.

" I had known already her meaning, and I went to the window and felt for the fastenings of the shutters.

« I found them, or rather Gertrude did, and the shutters opened.

" I uttered an exclamation of joy; the window was not grated.

" But Gertrude had already noticed the cause of this seeming negligence of our jailers ; a large pond bathed the foot of the wall; we were much better guarded by ten feet of water than we certainly could have been by grating on our windows.

" However, on raising my eyes from the pond to the bank that enclosed it, I recognized a landscape that was familiar to me: we were prisoners in the Castle of Beauge, where, as I have said before, I had often come with my father, and where I had been carried the day of my poor Daphne's death.

" The Castle of Beauge belonged to the Due d'Anjou.

" Then, as if a lightning flash had illumined my mind, I understood everything.

" I gazed down into the water with gloomy satisfaction : it would be a last resource against violence, a last refuge from dishonor.

" Twenty times during that night did I start up, a prey to unspeakable terrors ; but nothing justified these terrors except the situation in which I was placed; nothing indicated that any one intended me harm; on the contrary, the whole castle seemed sunk in sleep, and only the cries of the birds in the marshes disturbed the silence of the night.

" Daylight appeared, but though it dispelled the menacing aspect which darkness lends to the landscape, it but confirmed me in my fears during the night; flight was impossible without external aid, and where could such aid come from ?

" About nine there was a knock at our door; I passed into the room of Gertrude, telling her she might allow the persons who knocked to enter.

" Those who knocked, as I could see from the closet, were the servants of the night before ; they removed the supper, which we had not touched, and brought in breakfast.

" Gertrude asked a few questions, but they passed out leaving them unanswered.

" Then I returned. The reason of my presence in the Castle of Beauge and of the pretended respect by which I was surrounded was explained. The Due d'Anjou had seen me at the

festival given by M. de Monsoreau; the Due d'Anjou had fallen in love with me ; my father, on learning of it, wished to save me from the pursuit of which I was doubtless to be the object. He had removed me from Meridor ; but, betrayed by a treacherous servant, or by an unfortunate accident, he had failed, and I had fallen into the hands of the man from whom he had vainly tried to deliver me.

" I dwelt upon this explanation, the only one that was probable, and, in fact, the only one that was true.

" Yielding to the entreaties of Gertrude, I drank a cup of milk and ate a bit of bread.

" The morning passed in the discussion of wild plans of escape. About a hundred yards from us we could see a boat among the reeds with its oars ; assuredly, if that boat had been within reach of us, my strength, intensified by my terror, would have sufficed, along with the natural strength of Gertrude, to extricate us from our captivity.

" During this morning nothing occurred to alarm us. Dinner was served just as breakfast had been ; I could hardly stand, I felt so weak. I sat down at table, waited on only by Gertrude, for our guardians retired as soon as they had placed the food on the table. But, just when I broke my loaf, I found a note inside of it. I opened it hurriedly ; it contained but these few words :

" ( A friend is watching over you ; you shall have news of him to-morrow, and of your father.'

" You can understand my joy; my heart beat as if it would burst through my breast. I showed Gertrude the note. The rest of the day was spent in waiting and hoping.

" The second night slipped by as quietly as the first; then came the hour of breakfast, for which we had watched so impatiently ; for I was sure I should find another note in my loaf.

" I was not mistaken. The note was in these terms :

" ' The person who carried you off is coming to the Castle of Beauge at ten o'clock to-night; but at nine, the friend who is watching over you will be under your window with a letter from your father, which will inspire you with that confidence in him which, perhaps, you might not otherwise feel.

" ' Burn this note.'

"I read this letter a second time and then threw it into the fire as I had been warned to do. The writing was completely

unknown to me, and I confess I was ignorant where it came from.

" Gertrude and I were lost in conjectures ; we went to the window during the morning at least a hundred times in hope of seeing some one on the shore of the pond or in the depths of the forest; but we saw nothing.

" An hour after dinner some (hie knocked at the door; it was the first time any one had attempted to come into our room except at meal-time; however, as we had no means of locking ourselves in, we were forced to tell the person he might enter.