here?" demanded th

dly, "you

s loudly for wine. Drunk? My faith, yes! You make me laugh, Victor. When was I ever sober? As a boy

and your immediate

r part to accept this mission. So his Eminence thinks th

erate you and return to you your pr

e benches and striving to put tog

f a crime you sup

me, now; you

eek ago that I learned what you had done. How I galloped

hat cloak which

re De Brissac met his violent end. My lad, Hector, found the cloak in a tavern. How, he would not say. He dared not keep it, so sent it to the Candlestick in c

nusual. Stolen, fro

es

was no

open for me. I am like my sword, loyal, frank, and honest; we scorn braggart's cunning, dark alleys, stealth; we look not at a man's back but into his face; we prefer sunsh

nd I have been drunk so long!" The Chevalier swept t

one! The only enemy I could find was ... myself. Here is your signet-ring, the

ring on his finger, twirle

id Victor,

Chevalier held the beryl of the ring toward the l

madame; it would have annoyed you. It was not want of confidence, Pa

as but half awake mentally; he still looked

He was valiant in wars and passing loves. From the age of eighteen to sixty,

er of mine," said th

not sink into oblivion. He must have a wife, young and innocent. He did not seek love; in this his heart was as a cinder on a dead hearth. He desired an ornament to grace his home, innocence to protect his worldly honor. Strange, how these men who have tasted all fruits, the bitter and the sweet, should in their

ed the Chevalier, with a

ngled only with those who were in disfavor. Among his friends he wore his young wife as one would wear a flower. He evinced the same pride in showing her off as he would in showing off a fine horse, a famous picture, a rare drinking-cup. Madame was at first dazzled; it was such a cha

w in cellars; and the thought

are unkin

d you that I am

s in the sunshine of love. The year bereft of summer is less mournful than youth deprived of love. So. A young girl, married to a man old enough to be her grandsire, misses the glory of her summer, the realizat

" interpolated

ed. Behold the irony of fate! During the second year Monsieur le Comte falls in love with one of Scudery's actresses, and, commits all sorts of follies for her sake. Ah well, there were gallants enough. And one found favor in madame's eyes; at least, so

Saumaise," sai

e Marquis d'Urfe. On my word of honor, Paul, to kiss her hand was the limit of my courage. She fascinated; her eyes

r. "Poet that you are, how well you tell a story! And you

r was twenty: the handsomest woman in

ou lov

r poet's neck is ver

hat's

our poet put his name upon a piece of paper which might have proved an epic but which has turned out to be pretty poor stuff. This paper was in De Brissac's care; was,

to it, you, who have never been more serio

. Not that madame knew what was going on. Politics was a large word to her, embracing all those things which neith

the p

gnation, Condé's return from Spain a

our re

t had been going on, and having innocently attached her name to the paper, is gone from Paris, leaving advice for me to do the same. So here I am, ready to cross

and demanded the paper? My faith, this grows interesting. But oh! wise poet,

n? By the way, Mademoiselle de Longueville gave me a letter to

nize the almost illegible but wholly aristocratic pothooks than a fit of trembling

uestion again. I leave Paris indefinitely. France is large. If you love me you will find me. You complain that I

to Paris that very night. The storm was nothing; his heart was war

tor jestingly. "Good! You are maudlin.

n who she is, this glorious creature. A month and I shall have solved the enchantment. Victor, I have told you of her. Sometimes it seems that I must wake to find it all a dream. For

n to-morrow ?" aske

d love! ... Forgive me, lad; joy made me

Horns of Panurge! Could I but

p. We shall make this night one for memory. I have a chateau in t

brows slanting and heavy, the nose high-bridged and fierce, the chin aggressive. There lay over all this a mask of reckless humor and gaiety. It was the face of a man who, had he curbed his desires a

he cried; "the bowl

or. "Paul, there is another gentleman

ute vicomte, t

t, duelist, devil-may-care, spendth

the man at the doo

d the poet; "I wan

icomte and the poet looked into each other's eyes for

n Notre Dame," he broke fo

," less h

ou had gone

d Victor, "but not a word of

roperty there; a fine excuse to see it. What a joke! How we

that paper. Beaufort will see to that, so f

a night of it." And the vicomte caught the poet b

he candle-light; there was the jingle of gold and the purr of shuffling cards; and here and there were some given to the voicing of ribal

orned with a solitary feather from a heron's wing and glistening with melting snow, the color of his skin unburnished copper, his eyes black, fierce, restless,-all these marked the savage of the New World. Potboys, grooms, and guests all craned their necks to get a glimpse of this strange and formidable being of whom they had heard such stories as curdled the blood and filled the night with troubled dreams. A crowd gathered about, whispering and nodding and pointing. The Iroquois behe

Chaumonot, "it is go

Father

ived your comm

nal

ce to the H?tel de Périgny? I must see the

er," said Du Puys. Then lowering his voi

other Jacques, with an indescribable

alier du

es. He plucked at his rosary. "The Chevalier

my son?" ask

Brother Jacques folded his arms