Evening Star Newspaper, February 2, 1895, Page 16

THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 2, 1895-TWENTY PAGES. ——=9 or t, 1895, by B ason & Pacheller.) On the 15th of August, 1601, returning frem a mission to Eng I sailed from Dover, and sing to Calais without mis- hap anticipated with asure the king's satisfaction when he Id hear the re- sult of my embassy, learn from my mouth the just and friendly sentiments which Queen Elizabeth entertained foward hir Unfortunately not able to impart these on the During my absence a trifling ma had carried the king to Dieppe, whence his anxiety on the queen's account, who was shortly to > bre ht te led him to take the road to Paris. He sent word to me to follow him, but necessarily some days elapsed before we inet; an opportunity of which his enemies and mine were quick to take advantage, and that so insidiously and with so much | success 2s to imperil not my reputation only, but his hay The time at their disposal increased by the fact that when I reached the arsenal I found the Louvre vacant, the queen, lay at Fontaine . having summoned the king thithe Ferret, his s tary, however, awaited me with a letter, in which Henry, after expressing his desire me, bade me nevertheless stay in to transact some business. “Then,” he inued, “come to me, my friend, and we will discuss the matter of which you In the meantime send me your Ferret, who will give you a receipt for them.” Suspecting no danger in a course which was usual enough, 1 hastened to comply. Summoning Maignan, who, whenever I traveled, carried my portfolio, I unlocked it, and emptying the papers in a mass on the table, handed them in detail to Ferret. Pri to my ‘onishment, I found and this the most important, I went over the papers again Still it was not ently, at one was missing. and again, and yet again. to be found. Whenever I traveled on a mission of im- pertance I wrote my dispatches in one of the three modes, according as they were of little, great, or the first importance; in ordinary characters that is, in a cipher to which the council posse the key, or in a cipher ¢ ch only the king and I held 4 last, as it was seldom used, ¥ y changed; but it was my duty, on my return from each mission, im- med to remit my key to the king, who deposited it in a safe place until an- for its use arose. It this key which was missing. I had ustomed to carry it in the portfolio with the other papers, but in a sealed envelope which LI broke and again sealed with my own signet whenever I had oecasion to use the cipher. I had last seen the envelope at Calais, when I hand- 1 the portfolio to an before begin- 1g my journey ; the portfolio had not since been opened, yet the sealed packet was missing. More than a little une; I recalled Maignan, who had withd vermg up his ka sid with some Has this been cut of your eustody “The bag?” hi looking at it. Then his face . “You have cut your finger, my ." he said. I had cut it slightly in unbuckling the ia drop or two of blood bad apers. But his reference ent, when my mind was portfolio, a fallen on t to it at this me full of my loss, angered me, and even awoke my suspicions. ee!” I said, d answer me. Have you let this bag your possession?” time he replied had net. unlocked it?” » no key, your excellency.”* was true; and as [ had at bottom nost conf inquiry of straightforwardly farther in that direc- rd search among the failing to bring the Ferret being in haste blis loss. i for the moment n@ draw what lection that no put up w mfort TE contd f » Perret. th » re He 1 ad pt he 5 et in the port fi 1 which I ‘al ob mneyed 1 red no great i to it t g thet a worl of explanation weuld y the king, ties, Edismisse:l the mater from } A surier arrived ae me in the mi ions at the a nal, hand- o attend his majesty; an in the most absolute 1 terms, and lacking all those essions which the king never use when he wrote to me A mis- f and formal—and so needless, 1 the point of starting—had not years: and coming at this n I had no reason to expect a it had all the effect of a clear sky. 1 0d is which I s dictating dying on my lips. For 1 « too well, and had expert- kinetne too lately to attribute horshness of the order to chance or fe ness; and, ed in a moment th 1 fn to a grave 1 myself to it to hide my thel-ss, Paid so with an effort; and, = for the asked him with an a essness What was the Ta ni His answer a measure rs i ve who | in his fidelity, I pur- | 3B sANcey J. Weymany Be J ]ing me in the spape of M. de Concint, the Italian, who, advancing to meet me before t was out of the stirrup, announced t he came from the king, who desired | nstant attendance in the queen’s closet. | KXnowing Coneini to be one of those whose influence with her majesty had more | than once tempte? the king to the most | violent measures against her—from which | f had with difficulty dissuaded him—I au- | | the worst from the choice of such a nd, wounded alike in my pride and the affection in which I held the king, ould sea find words in which to ask him if the queen was ill. “Indisposed, my lord,’ he replied, care- . And he began to whistle. I told him that I would remove my boots and brush off the dust, and in five minutes be at his service. ardon me, str and they tend his maje you an hour ago. 1 was thunderstruek at thi . and at the man’s mamner moment I could scarcely r lignation rtunately the hab self- yntrol came to my aid in time, and [ re- ted that an altercation with such a person could only lower my dignity. I con- i myself, therefore, with signifying nge he re im sald, “my orders are to request you to at- diately. He expected —at the mes- and for a in- | ward the queen's apartments. | In the antechamber were several persons, | who, as I Ss . saluted me with an air of <q incertitude which was enough of it Concini attended me | to the door of the j chamber; there he | fell back, and Mile. Galigai, ‘who was in waiting, announced me. I entered, assuming a serene counte- nee, and found the king and queen to- | gether, no other person being present. The | queen was lying at length on a couch, while Henry, seated on a stooi at her feet, seemed to be engaged in soothing and re- assuring her. On my entrance, he broke “BE GONE, SI ent by a nod, and followed bim to- | -If to put me on my guard. | will be in vain. I know she has it; and if the king did not give it to her, who did?" “That is the question, madame,” I said. It is one eesily answered,” she retort- “If you do not know, asic her.” ‘But, perhaps, madame, she will not an- swer,” I ventured. “Then command her to answer in the king's name!” the queen replied, her cheeks burning with fever. “And if she will not, then has the king no prisons—no fetters smooth enough for those dainty ankles?” This was a home question, and Henry, who never showed to less advantage than when he stood between two women, cast a sheepish glance at me. Unfortunately the queen caught the look, which was not intended for her; and on the instant it awoke all her former suspicions. Suppos- ing that she had discovered our collusion, she flung herself back with a cry of rage, and, bursting inte a passion of tears, gave | way to frantic reproaehes, wailing and | throwing herself about with a violence | which could not but injure one in her con- dition. The king stared at her for a moment in sheer dismay. Then nis chagrin turned to larger, which, as he dared not vent it on ‘her, tcok my direction. He pointed im- petuously to the dogr. “Begone, sir!’ he said in a passion, and with the utmost harshress. You have done mischief ‘enough here. God grant that we see the lend of it. Go—go!” he continued, quite be- side himself with fury. “Send Galigai here, and do you go to your lodging until you hear from me!” Overwhelmed and almost stupefied by the catastrophe, I found my way out, I ed. hardly knew how, and, sending in the weman, made my escape from the ante- !chamber. But hasten as I might, my dis- order, patent to a hundred curious eyes, betrayed me; and, if it did not disclose as much as I feared or the inquisitive desired, told more than any had looked to learn. | Within an hour it was known at Nemours that his majesty had dismissed me with | high words—some said with a blow; and half a dozen couriers were on the road to Paris with the news. In my place some might have given up all for lost; but in addition to a sense of rectitude, and the consciousness of desert, | 1 had to support me an intimate knowledge | of the king’s temper; which, though I had | never suffered from it to this extent be- ‘fore, I knew to be on occasion as hot as his anger was short lived, and his disposi- tion generous. I had hoped, therefore—al- though T saw dull faces enough among my iite, ond some pale ones—that the king’s spentance would overtake his anger, and usequences outstrip any that might “flew from his wrath, But though I was not | altogether at fault in this, I failed to take | into account one thing—I mean Henry's | auxtety on the queen's account, her con- SAID. RY” | | off and rose to his feet. | “Here he is at last,” he said, barely look- ing at me. “Now, if yeu will, dear heart, ask him your questions. I have tiad no communication with him, as you know, for I have been with you since mornin, } ‘The queen, whose face was flushed with | fever, made a fretful movement, but did | not answer. | “Do you wish me to ask him?” Henry said with admtrable patience. “ff you think it is worth while,” she mut tered, turning sullenly and eyeing me from the middle of her pillows with disdain and ill-temper. “J will, then,” he answered, and he turn- ed to me. “M. de Rosny,” he said, in a | formal tone, which even without the un- | accustomed monsleur cut me to the heart, | “be good enough to tell the queen how the key to my secret cipher, which I intrusted | to you, has come to be in Mme. de Ver- neuil’s possession.” | I lookec him in the profoundest as: | tonishment, and for a moment remaine silent, trying to collect my thoughts under this unexpected blow. The queen saw my itation and laughed spitefully. am ‘aid, sire,” she said, “that you have over- rated this’ gentleman's Ingenuity, though it has been much exercised in Henry's grew red with vexation. Speak, man!” he cried. “How caine she by it? “Mme. de Verneuil?” I said. The queen laughed again take him out first, sire’ ully, “and tell him what to say God, madame!’ the king cried ely, “you try me too far! Have I not told you a hundred times, and sworn to you, that I did not give Mme. de V d you not she said, neuil this key? If you did not give her that,” the queen muttered, sullenly, picking at the silken coverlid which lay on_ het “you he siven her all el len | He: jet a gesture of despair we to go back i ng to me teeth; “and ure you dumb, n for it the w before th idenly, and from a quar I hastened to ec with my sior t, of course, with th in her 1 ther nad vied to wrath and times cut me s urmost impatience to a e cor nothing e: he could r ina t in dressed me before. had not, on the in- loss ‘to him: an efended myself 1 1 had given above, ise and reproach re uttered in the would b ated, s and of excite He when I who i v suite. arried a deul | | | the hin out, [ let vantag i. Remine anse to ntil Her of the ng him accuse me I recalied the tw hich L had served enmities Thad | incurred for his sake; and having by these means placed on a more 1 footing, T des Laxain to partica- and asked respectfully if I might se authority Mine. de Ver- » the cipher. n cried hysierl- ceive me, for it dition, and his desire to have an heir; which so affected the issue that instead of fultilling my expectations the event left me more despondent than before. The king wrote indeed, and within the hour, {and his letter was in form an apology. | But it was so lacking in graciousness, so \ hough it began “My good friend and so insincere, though it re- ferred’ to my past services, that when I had read it I stood awhile gazing at it, afraid to turn lest De Vic and Varennes, who had brought it, should read my dis- appointment in my face. For 1 could not hide from myself that the gist of the letter lay, not in the ex- pressions of regret which opened it, but in the complaint whica closed it; wherein the king sullenly excused his outbreak on the ground of the magnitude of the interests which my carelessn had endangered, and the opening to harass the queen which I had heediessly given. “This cipher,” he said, “has long been a whim with my wife, from whom, for good reasons well known | to you and conaected with the grand | duke’s court, I have thought fit to with- | hold it. Now, nozhing will persuade her | that I have not granted to another what I refused her. 1 trouble, my friend, lest you be found to have done more ill to France in a moment of carelessness than all your services have done good.” It was not difficult to find a threat un- derlying these words, nor to discern that if the queen’s fancy remained unshaken, and ill came of it, the king would hardiy forgive me. Recognizing this, and that 1 Was face to face with a crisis from which 1 could not escape but by the use of my utmost powers, 1 assumed a serious and thoughtful air, and, without affecting to disguise the fact that the king was dis- pleased with me, dismissed the envoys with a few civil speeches, in which I did not fail to speak of his majesty in terms that even inalevolence could not twist to my disad- vantage. When they we gone, doubtless t Henry how | had taken it, I sat aowaris supper with La Font, Botsrueil, and two or three gentlemen of my suite, and, with- oul appearing tco cheerful, contrived to eat with my usual appetite. Afterward I withdrew in the ordinary course to my chamber, and, being now at liberty to look the situation in the face, found it as se- rious as 1 had feared. The fatling man has few friends; he must act quickly if ae would retain a as not slow in de- ciding that my sole chanee of an hono able escape lay in discovering—and that within a few hours—who and conveyed it to Mine in placing before the qu of this as must ¢ By way of begin [nan and put hia tole the ciphc de Verneuil, and en such evidence nvince her, g, 1 summon. through a 1 Maig- severe exam- |ination. Later, 1 sent tor i i . Later, 1 sent tor the rest y | household h, 1 mean, fae cea panied me—and, ranging ‘Ul i e . ng th ainst the walls of my chamber, took mbexu in jmy hand and went the round of them. | questioning n, and marking his air and spect as he answered. i with no re- t; so that nO purpose who cleared fter following some clews to and suspecting several persons themselves on the spot, I be- came that the chain must be taken | 1 aken | up at the other end, and th t link | found among Mme. de Verneuil’s follow- ing. By this time it was nearly my people Were dropping with fatigue. Nevertheless, a sense of the desperate ature of the case animating them, they fermed themselves voluntarily into a kind of council, all feeling their probity at- tacked, in which various modes of forcing night, and the secret from those who held it were proposed—Maignan’s suggestions _ being especially violent. Doubting, however, whether madame had more than one con- fidante, I secretly made up my mind to a course which none dared to suggest; and then, dismissing all to bed, kept’ only Maignan to lie in my chamber, that if any points occurred to me in the night 1 might question him on them. At 4 o'clock I called him, and bade him go out and quietly saddle two horses. This done, I slipped out myself without arousing any one, and, mounting at the stables, took the Orleans road through the forest. My plan was to strike at the head, and, sur- prising Mme. de Verneuil while the event still hung uncertain, to wrest the se-ret from her by trick or threat. The enter- vas desperate, for I knew the stub- and arrogance of the woman, and inveterate enmity which she enter- dd me, more particularly si the king's marriage. But in a dangerous case any remedy is welcome. I reached Maleshertes, where madame was residing with her parents, a little be- fore 7 o'clock, and, riding without disg to the chateau, demanded to see her. She was not yet risen, and the servants, whom the tained tow appearance threw into the utmost con- usion, objected this to me; but I knew , that the excuse was no real one, and an- ly that I came from ‘the king, This opened all door: I found myself in her ting up in bed, nighttrail, and 1 to see me. On swered roug | and must see her. nd in a moment chamber. She was clothed an seemed in no wis in e surpr | the contrary, she greeted me gvith a staile and a taunting word, and omfted nothing | that might ev ~ or hurt my dignity. She without of- fering me a chair; and wen, after saluting her, I looked about*for one, I found that all the seats except one very low stool had been removed from the room. This was so like her that it did not as- tonish me, and I ‘baffled her malice by leaning against the wall. “This is no or- dinary honor—fronr:M. de Rosny!” she said, flouting me with her eyes. “I come on no ordinary mission, mad- ame,” I said, as gravely as I could. Mercy!” she extlaimed in a mocking tone. “I should have put on new rib- bons, I suppose!” «= “From the king, 'madame,” I continued, “Merey!” She Exclaimed. not allowing myself to be moved, “to in- quire how you obtained possession of his cipher.” She laughed loudly. “Good, simple she said, “to ask what he knows eady!”” “He does not know, madame,” I an- swered, severely. * “What?” she cried, in affected surprise. “When he gave it to me himself!” “He did not, madame. “He did, sir!” she retorted, firing up. “Or if he ‘did not, prove it—prove it. And, by the way,” she continued, lowering her voice again’ ard reverting to her former tone of spiteful badinage, “how is the dear queen? I heard that she was indisposed yesterday and kept the king in, attendance all So unfortunate, you know, just time.” And her eyes twinkled with jous amusement. Madame,” £ said, to you?” “i never otherwise, may I speak plainly heard that you could speak she answered, quickly. “Even his friends never called M. de Rosny a wit; but only a plain, rough man who served our royal turn well enough in rough times, but 1s now growing—" “Madame! ‘A trifle exigeant and superfluous After that I saw that it was war to the knife between us; and I asked her in very plain terms if she were not afraid of he queen's enmity, that she dared thus to flaunt the king’s favors before her. “No more than I am afraid of yours, she answered, hardily. “But if the king is disappointed iu his hopes? “You may suffer; very probably will she answered, slowly and smiling; “not I. Besides, sir—iny child was born dead. He bore that very well.” Yet, belleve me, madame, you run some risk.”” king has -given her eye- the raising keeping what me?” she answered, brow: No! In keeping what the king has not given you!” I answered, sternly. “Whereas, what do you gain?” Well,” she replied, raising herself in bed, while her eyes sparkled and her color rose, “if you like, I will tell vou. This pleasure, for ong, thjng—the pleasure of seelng you there, YwtCard, booted, stained, and standing, waiting my will. That— which perhaps you ‘call a pretty thing—I gain first of all.4'Then I gain your ruin, M. de Rosny; I plant,a sting in that wo- man’s breast; and for his majesty, he has made his bed and’may iie on ft. “Have a care, madame!" I cried, burst- Ing with indignation at a speech so s| less and disloyal. “You are playi dangerous game, J warn you “And what gum@ hitve you played?” she replied, transported on a sudden with equal passion. “Who was it tore up the promise of marriage which the king gave me? Who was it prevented me being queen of France? Who was it hurried on the mateh with this tradeswoman, so that the king found himself wavdded betore he knew it? Who was it > enough!” she cried, Interrupting pcrscif with a gesttire full of rage. “Ybu" have ruined= me, you and your queen and I will ruin you! “On the contrary, madame.” I answered, collecting myself for a last effort, and speaking with all the severity which a just indignation inspired, “I have not ruined you. But if you do not tell me that which 1 am here to learn—I will!” She laughed out loud. “Oh, you simple- she said. ‘And you call yourself a atesman! Do you not see that if 1 do not tell it, you are disgraced yourself and powerless, and can do me no harm? Tell it you? When I have you all on the hip— you, the king, the queen! Not for a mil- lion’ crowns, M. de Rosny!” “And that is your answer, madame?” I sald, choking with rage. It had been long since any had dared so to beard me. between you, “Yes,” she replied, stoutly, it is! Or, stay; you shall not go empty-handed.” And, thrusting her arm under the pillow, she Have Got 17 after a moment's search, a small hich she held out toward me. e said, with a taunting laugh, my turn. What the king drew out, ket, “Take f t has served gave me 1 give you. Seeing that it was the missing key to che cipher, I swallowed my rage and took it: time that I could being as effect. nothing staying 1 should only expos! to fr 1 turned on my with rudeness equal to her own, and, without taking leave of her, flung the door open and went cut. I heard her threw herself back with a shrill gh of triumph. But as, the mo- ment the door fell to behind me, my thoughts began to cast about for another way of esc i g—I took little derisive looks old, quickly taking the cue, treated me as I passed. I flung my self into the saddle and galloped off, fol- lowed by Maignan, Who presently, to my surprise, blurted aut @ clumsy word of con gratulation. heed of her, and le to which the hou: I turned on him in amazement, and, swearing at him, asked hi: what he meant. » “You have go$ it,” he said. timidly, pointing to the packet, which I mechan- ically held in my hans. “and to what purpose?” T cried, glad of this opportunity of unloading some of my wrath. “i want,,not the paper, but the secret, fool! You,may have the paper for yourself if you will tell me how madame got il “ a Nevertheless, hig words led me to look at the packet. I opened ft, and, having sat! fied myself that at centained the origi and not a copy, .was:putting it up again when my eyes feel on a small spot of blood which marked. one corner of the cover. It was not lagger than a grain of corn, but it awoke, first, a vague associa- tion and then a memory, which as I rode grew stronger and more definite, until, on a sudden, discovery flashed upon me—and the truth. I rcmembered where I had seen spots of blood before—on the papers I had h nded to Ferret—and remembered, too, where that blood had come from. I looked at the cut now, and, finding it nearly healed, sprang in my saddle. Of a certainty this paper had gone through my hands that da had heen among the others; therefore have been passed to Ferret when I first opened the bag! getting it and seeing 4 that 1 did not The his opporta- rogue, nity, doubtless secreted it, probably while I w had suspect, ending to my hand. had not suspected him before, becaus I had ticked off the earlier papers as 1 handed them to him; and had hed only among the rest and in the bag for the missing one. Now I wondered that I had not done se, and the truth from the begining: impatience L found the leagues the forest, though the sun was not yet high and the trees shel- tered u® the lorgest I had ridden in my ife. When the roofs of the chateau at length appeared before ys, I coujd scarce- ly keep my pace within bounds. Reflecting how Mme. de Verneuil had overreached herself, and how, by indulging in that last stroke of arrogance, she had placed the secret in my hands, I had much ado to refrain from going to the king booted and unwashed as I was, and though I had not eaten since the previous evening. ‘Wowever, the habit of propricty, which no man may lightly neglect, came to my aid. I made my toilet, and having broken my fast standing, hastened to the court. On the way 1 Jearned that the king was in the queen’s garden, and, directing my steps thither, found him walking with my col- leagues, Villeroy and Sillery, in the little avenue which leads to the garden of the Conciergerie, 1 number of the courtiers were standing on the low terrace watching them, while a second group lounged about the queen’s staircase. Full of the news which I had for the king, I crossed the ter- race, taking no particular heed of any one, but greeting such as came in my way in my usual fashion. At the edge of the ter- race I paused a moment before descending the three steps; and at the same moment, as it happened, Henry looked up and our eyes met. On the instant he averted his gaze, and, turning on his heel in a marked way, retired slowly to the farther end of the walk. The action was so deliberate that I could not ‘loubt he meant to slight me; and I paused where I was, divided between grief and indignation, mark for all those glances and whispered gibes In which cour- tiers indulge on such occasions. The slight was not iendered less serious by the fact that the king was walking with my two colleagues; so that I alone seemed to be out of his confidence, as one soon to be out of his councils also. I perceived ail this, and not blind to the sneering smiles which were exchanged behind my back; but I affected to see nothing, and to be absorbed in sudden thought. In a minute or two the king turned and came back toward me; again, as if he could in his evrios looked up so that our eyes met. This time I thought that he would beckon me to him, satisfied with the lengths to which he had he already carried his displeasure. But turned ‘again, with a light lay At this a courtier, one of Sillery’s crea- tures, who had presumed on the occasion so far as to come to my elbow, thought that he might safely amuse himself with me. “I am afraid that the king grows older, M. de Rosny,” he said, smirking at his companions. “His sight scems to be failing.” “It should not be neglected, then,” I said, grimly. “I will tell him presently what you say.” He fell back, looking foolish at that, at the very moment that Henry, having taken another turn, dismissed Villeroy, who, wiser than the puppy at my elbow, greeted me with particular civility as he passed. Freed from him, Henry stood a moment hesitating. He told me afterward that he had not turned from me a yard before his Our Eyes Met. heart smote him, and that but for a mis- | chievous curiosity to see how I should take | | it, he would not have carried the matter so fsr. Ke that as it may—and I do not doubt this any more than I ever doubted the reality of the affection in which he held me—on a sudden he raised his hand and beckoned to me. | I went down to him gravely, and not | hurriedly. He looxed at me with some signs of confusion in his face. “You are late this morning,” he said. have been on your majesty I answered. “I do not doubt that,” he replied, queru- lously, his eyes wandering. “I am not—1 am troubled this morning.” And after a | fashion he i when he was not at ease, he ground his heel into the soil and looked down at the mark. ‘The queen is not well. Sillery has seen her and will tell you so.” s business, M. de Sillery, whose constant opposition to me at the council board 1 have else- where described, began to affirm it. I let him go on for a little time and then inter- rupted him brusquely. “I think {t was you,” I said, “who nominated Ferret to be one of the King’s clerks.” “Ferret?” he exclaimed, reddening at my tone, while the king, who knew me well, pricked his ears. “Yea,” I id; “Ferret.” “and if so?” Sillery asked, haughtily. | “What do you mean? “Only this,” I said. “That if his majest will summon him to the queen's closet, without warning or delay, and ask him in her presence how much Mme. de Verneuil gave him for the king's cipher, her majesty, | T think, will learn something which she wishes to know. “What?” the king cried. “You have di covered it? But he gave you a receipt for the papers he took “For the papers he took with my knowl- edge—yes, sire. The rogue!” Sillery “1 will go and fetch him. “Not so—with your majesty’s leave, said, interposing quickly. “M. de may say too much or too little lackey take a message, bidding him to go to th ueen’s closet, and he will suspect nothin The king assented and bade me go and give the order. When I returned, he asked me anxiously if I feit sure that the man | would con) “Yes to know all, sir that madam ‘ou_pretel I will think ha trayed him.” “Very well,” Henry said. ‘Then let us £0.” But I declined to be pr ent, partly on | the ground that if T were there the queen in the man, and | at the roz ny ct me of i partly because I thought t SI ot | would entert: more con hop: pardon, and be likely to confess, if he | w the king alone. [I contrived to keep Sillers md Henry giving the word, as | he mounted the steps, that he should be | beck presently, the whole court rer ned | in a state of e, aware that some- | thing was in pr in doubt what, | and unable to decide whether I were again | ror new on trial. remained talking h matters, to me, princi- until the dinner eWhat!? the King Cried, Discovered 1.7 hour, which came and went, neglec all. At length, when the curiosity of the mass of couriers, who did not dare to in- terrupt us, had been raised by delay to an “You Have d by almest intolerable pitch, the King returned, with signs of disorder in his bearing, crossing the terrace in half 2 dozen stride: drew me stily, along with Sill the grove of white muiberry tree! we Were no sooner hidden in part, though not completely, than he threw his arms about me and embraced me with the warm- est expressions. “Ah, my friend,’ he <aid, putting me frem him at last, “what shall Tsay to you? he queen is satis’ Perfectly, and desires to be commended to you.” | housc, | any | the midribs and veining being of soft, deer | crimson; and Jeanne D’Are is silve Highest of all in Leavening Power.—Latest U.S. Gov’t Report Ro AN YEAS Baking Powder ABSOLUTELY PURE “He confessed, then?” : Henry nodded, with a look in his face that I did not understand. “Yes,” he said, ully. It was as you thought, my friend. God have mercy upon him!” I started. “What?” I said. “Has he—” The king nodded, and could not repress a shudder. “Yes,” he said; “but not, thank heaven, until he had left the closet. He had something about him.” Sillery began anxiously to clear himself, but the king, with his usual good nature, stopped him, and bade us all go and . ying that we must be famished. He end- ed by directing me to be back in an heur, since his own appetitie was spoiled. “And bring with you all your patience,” he add- ed, “for I have a hundred questions to ask you. We will walk toward Avon, and I will show you the surprise which I am preparing for the queen Alas, I would I could say that all ended there. But the rancour of which Mme. de Verneuil had given token in her interview with me was rather aggravated than les- ened by the failure of her plot and tke It proved to be impeze- trable all the kindnesses which the King lavished upon her; neither the legiti mation of the child which she soon after- vard bore nor the clemency which the king—against the advice of his wisest min- isters—extended to her brother Auvergne, availing to expel it from her breast. How far she or that ill-omened family were privy to the accursed crime which nine years later palsied France on the threshold of undreamed-of glories I will not take on myself to say, for suspicion is not proof. But history, of Which my beloved must ever form so great a part, will the blame where it should rest. —_ .EW WINTER BEGONIAS. Cultivation of Flowers Suggested as for Women, death of her tool. by From the New Ys It is one of the triumphs of modern hybridization that it has been found pos- sible» to originate distinct families of flowers differing in their habits and appear- ance from either of their parents. This is especially observable in the case of begonias, the magnificent tuberous- rooted varieties being totally distinct from the fibrous-rooted begonias, which are eve green, many of those with large, hand some leaves making excellent decorative plants in winter. One of these hairy-rooted begonias (b. socotrana), having been hybridized with pollen from a fine tubrous-rooted begonia, has become the parent of a new race, in which the winter flowering habits and the evergreen character of 4. socotrana are retained, while its small red flowers are exchanged for handsome blossoms of va- rious shades of rose color and ecarmine, each bloom being from two to three inches across, borne in elegant sprays above the massive peltate foliage. One of these is Winter Gem, with rich crimson flowers, produced in full corymbs throughout the winter, with the additional merit of lasting for some weeks in beau even when cut. Jobn Heal, a brilliant rose- Unted begonia, is equally persistent, and these plants are invaluable for decorative purposes, either in the conservatory or in the house. B. Adonis, however, bears away the palm for the size of its blossoms, these being fully three inches across, and of a bright scarlet, shading to a softer tint in the center, altogether a most beautiful plant. ‘These large-ilowered winter be- genlas may well be supplemented with the magnificent foliage of some of the newer Continental fibrous-rooted begonias of the subpeltata type, which bear pretty sprays of more or less pale rose-colored flowers in summer, but can be used as decorative plants throughout the year, their leaves being specially handsor Although begonias of this type, as well as that older form entitled the Rex group, need considerable moisture in the atmos- phere to expand their broad foliage satis- factorily in summer time, their leaves are almost dormant during the winter, needing to be kept considerably dryer and coole for this reason they are specially useful for grouping with flowering plants in the standing well for many weeks in shady position free from frost, and only requiring sufficient water to keep the foliage from drooping. Of this family of begontas Arthur Malet is a very distinct and beautiful plant, with bright pink and silver leaves, veined with green. Louise Closon, tco, 1S valuable, as contrasting with the paler tints of others, for its leaves are of the d: a rich crimson horseshoe being the other color in its foliage. Madame Leonnet is remarkable for the variety of its shading, the younger leaves being a rosy shade of carmine, which fades as they expend into a silvery hue, on! green, A meta Sceaux, with bronze foliage reve » lovely pale shade, adding a riety to the rest. With these and a few selections from the Rex of fo! begonias (such as B. splen macmnarata, with golden m La Perle de F leaves) 2 few flo’ to go a long we of the begon themsel —EEE A DYING MAN h_ pearl ering plants may be made the rich and varied tints being very decorative in JOKE. His Bene Turned Out From the New York Wort A shabbily dre of consumption pr of the Pari recent! received and cared for. Two days strange story ran from cne end of the i stitntion to the other. The consumptive, i aid, was a rich lard owner frem the storms Which tious. Bequests to was seuth of France, who, to ex so aite n del and icke wished to end his days among the poor and wretched. Tt seems he “tly procured pen and ctated his will to one cf ii: tien He beque good pe 100,000 fr to the chief 090 franes to the he chart sheltered him, anc one we not even his in misery. z patient is al in qres ceived a double portio of delicacy all fort his beque erous gi in rr with particu surrounded by ¢ y comfort his last. The brilliant funeral which fe lowed was paid for by the hospital which he had enriched. But what a sorrowful, stupefying sur- prise was theirs when they learned at the end of a week that in the region indicated as the native place of the deceased, where his house ané lands, his valuables and goods were located, he was utterly w known. The rame he Fad given was the will he had made was a hoax but At first all concerned were furious, second thoughts shc them the humor- ous side of the stupendeus joke of whic they had been the victims, and if laughte is a cure for ills many such must followed in that institution. Maply And he ed Away. When They Tur beautiful | est shade of marone, | ic luster is shown in B. Gloire de | ed with | From t Joranal. Unket ar you turned peopl away in Barnes Tormer—"We tried to, Wut they | wouldn't go until they got their mene} back. | pr USED TO BE HIS WIFE. A Matter-cf-Fact View of a Seriou: Situation. From the Memphis Avalanche. I sat in the sheriff's office talking with him about a man in his charge who was to be hanged three days later, when a woman Was announced, and in waiked a female who had passed fifty. Her face was wrin- kled, her hair thin and white and her voice seemed to come out of a reed as she asked: “Hev yo’ got a man in this yere prison named Thomas Jackson?” ‘Yes'm,” remarked the official. “Did he kill somebody about months ago ‘He did, ma’am. ‘And has he bin tried for murder and sentenced to be hung?” “He is to be hung on Friday, ma’am “He is, ei?” she queried as she took a pipe from her pucket and proceeded to fill and light. ‘Ar’ yo’ the man who is goin’ to hang him?” “] shall have to carry out the law. aas, of co’se. Folks hey got to be hung, and we hev got to hey other foiks to hang ‘em. How does b’ar up under it?” three Very well, indeed, ma'am. I think he will die like a man. “He will, eh? Wall, ever lived. Tom's allus Are vou a relative?” Used to be his wife, but done left him. Yaas, lived with Tom fur sixteen y’ars.” “And you have come to say farewell to that’: in mighty oner, more’n he “No, sir. I'm on my way to Collinsville, and thought I'd jest run in fur a minit. No, I don’t care to see him, but yo’ kin say that as long as he’s got to be hung n't Set out of it thar hain’t no use in’ round.” “If he axes fur anythin’ mo’ yo" kin say that I'm well; cur boy Sam ar’ well; the dawg ar’ dead, and I've jest put in’ two acres of co’n and am gettin’ ready to go to camp meetin’ next week. That's all. Some fciks hey got to be hung, and other folks hev to hang ‘em, and Tom Jackson might jest as well be puttin’ in his time on the Say as loafin’ around and wishin’ he was rich.” Physical Deeay. From Harper's We “If the repair were always identical with the waste, life would then only be term!- rated by accident, never by old age.” This is a fact well known to all who have in- | vestigated the subject, though Mr. G. H. Lewes, in his “Physiology of Common Life,” makes the statement quoted. In early years this balance of the human sys- tem is admirably preserved. As man ad- vances in life, however, and gets up to fifty or sixty, he begins to get stiff in the joints, and experiences what he calis “‘feel- ing his age.” Renovation of various er- gans of the body depends on the blood, and if this supply is not at all times furnished in sufficient quantity and quality a gradual deterioration takes place. Heart and arteries become clogged, and the whole delicate ma- chinery suffers from the lack of nourish- ment. Deposits of phosphate and car- benate of lime accumulate, and the change is really a chemical one, by which the blood is hindered from going to the ex- tremities of the system and fulfilling its work of repair and renovation. Old age, then, is the result of a change in the blood, which becomes overicaded with earthy its, leaves its refuse matter in the sys- tem, and the valves of the heart become cartilaginous. Becoming t the heart is not able to propel the blood to its desti- nation. Arteries also having become ossi- fied, a still further obstruction takes plac and the whole body languishes. Blood life. If it is kept continually in good order our years are prolonged. New bodies, as in youth and early manhood, do not ac- cumulate these fibrinous and gelatinous deposits, which, as the years <o by, help the gradual process of ossification id cause the decrepitude of age. Now, if some means were discovered by which the blood could be kept in a_ condition like ‘h, it would throw off these hich obstruct the action of Our food and drink then, that it rd arteries. blood. It seems, make is to them we Shovld look primarily for the quality of it. our Without eating and drinking there is no but we may select certain Kinds of containing a minimum amount of the ents which cause th © blockages in the system. An Enel ysician, Dr. C. F. De Lacy Evans, who made many re- searches in regard to our food, comes to the conclusion that more fruit should be ly apples, grapes and ba- being rich in nutritio ele- deficient in nitrogen, they the Being jition than flesh. people should eat and use more apples latter being rich s elements of meat. have not the objection- of beef. In order to re- decay and to keep the blood condition distilled r It has solvent qualitie © blood in a better the age of beef and n s of all of the n id poultr: . with norie ist ting: if leterior- ney tod obstru eieins. the s his and compre of old see A Lake With a Lead Bottom. Louts que county, lows, be n of the most unique te with a bottom pure crystals of lead. The under, which th situated is near the city of 1 heart of the lead regions wi portion of the northwest tercity the opening of th t ve npted to pas lz appointed to fix sippi river the lead, onnected it ai Mis nbisuit From the Troy Ti Ambiguo age often gets the pub- lic speaker as well as writer into This fact w illustrated in Cohces churches Sunday mornin her W: discoursing on mis: work in Afric nd was reviewing some of the difficulties which confront the mis: ry to the dark continent. He took oc: pked a Smile. * sion fasion to inveigh loudly against the rum traffic ameng the natives, asserting it did more harm than the mission: 11d do g00 "said the preacher, “forty barre um are sent to Africa to every missic . the real meaning of th: Gbvious, but, never- Ps. around the church,