Evening Star Newspaper, March 7, 1896, Page 17

4 2. Autiog * (Copyright, 1896, by Stanley G. Weyman.y PART I. 2 It was about a month after my mar- Yiage—and third clerk to the most noble the bistop of Beauvais, and even admitted on occasions to write in his presence and prepare lis minutes, who should marry if I might not?—it was about a month after my marriage, I say, monsieur, that the thunderbolt, to which I have referred, fell and shattered my fortunes. I rose one morning—they were firing guns for the victory of Rocroy, I remember, so that it must have been eight weeks or more after the death of the late king, and the glorious rising of the sun of France—and who so happy 2s I? A summer morning, monsieur, and bright, and I had all I hed. The river as it sparkled and rippled against the piers of the Pont Neuf far below, the wet roofs that twinkled under our garret win- dow, were not more brilliant than my lord's fortunes, and az is the squirrel so is the tail. Of a certainty, I was happy that morning. I thought of the little hut un- der the pine wood at Gabas, and my fa- ther c ling by the unglazed window, his nightcap on his bald head, and his face plastered where the shord had slipped, and I puffed out my ch2eks to think that I had climbed so high? High? How high might not & man climb who hed married the daughter of the queen's under porter, and had some- times the ear of my lord, the queen’s min- ister! My lord of Beauvais, in whom all | men saw the coming master of France! | My lord whose stately presence beamed on a@ world still chilled by the dead hand of Richelicu! But that morning, that very morning, I Was to learn that who climbs may fall. I Went below at the usmal hour; at the usual hour monseigneur left, attended, for the | council; presently all the house was in an uproar. My lord had returned and called for Prosper. I fancied that 1 caught even | then something ominous in the sound of | my name as it passed from lip to lip, and i hastened. seared, to the chamber. But fast as I went I did not go fast enoug! one thrust me on this side, another on tha’ The steward cursed me, the head clerk stormed at me, the secretary waited for Me at the door, and seizing me by the neck Fan me into the room. “In, rascal, in!” led in my ear, “and I hope your y pay for itr” y by is time I was quaking. Monseigneur’s looks finished :ne. He stood in the middle of the chamber, gnawing the nails of his left hand, and scowled his handsome face pale and sullen. he said. ci the head clerk cried, seizing me by the ear and twisting it until I fell on my Knees. “Imbecile! Or more likely he aid it on purpose.” “Bribed!” said the secretary. “He should be hung up!’ the steward ered truculently, “before he does further — And if my lord will give the ord— “Silence!” the bishop said, with a dark glance at me. “What does he plead?” 1 The head clerk twisted my ear until I} «reamed. “Ingrate!" he cried. “Do you, bear his grace speak to you? Answer!” “My lord,” I cried, piteously. “I have done nothing! Nothinz!"" “Noth ng?” half a dozen echoed. “Noth- Ing!” the head clerk added, brutally. “Noth- ing, and you added a cipher to the cens: of Paris! Nothing, and your lying pep led my lord to state the population to be five Millions instead five hundred thousand! Nothing, and you sent his grace’s highness to the council to be corrected by low clerks end peopie, and made a laughing stock fer the cardinal, and—” the flercely. cried the steward. but have bim to the court- yard, and let the grcoms flog him through the gates. And have a care,” he continued, addressing n.e, “that I do rot see your fave szain, or it will be worse for you!” I flung myself down and would have ap- pealed against the sentence, but the bishop, ween rage and discomfiture, was pit! less, and before I could utter three words, a dozen officious hands plucked me up and Were thrusting me to the door. Outside Worse things awaited me. A shower of k:cks and cuffs and blows rained upon me; vainly strugsling and shrieking, and seek- | ing still to gain his ear,I was hustled along | the passage to the court yard, and there | dragsed, amid brutal jeers and laughter, to the fountain, and flung in. When I scram- bled out, they thrust me back again and #eain, until, trembling with cold and rage, I at last evaded thers, only to be hunied Tound the yard with leathers and bridles hat like knives, and drew a scream at every stroke. I doubled like a hare; more I knocked half a dozen men dewn, but I was fast growing exhausted, When some one more prudent or-less cruel than his feliows, opened the gates and I darted into the street. i was sobbing with rage and pain, di ping, ragged and barefoot—some rog: rudently drawn off my shoe it was a wonder that I was not at- tacked and chased throveh the streets. Fortunately, opposite my lord’s gates op ed the mouth of a I I plunge into it, and in the fi I who had clin @ wife new-married 1 thought of red since & le boldne who had m my garret at home! | and all I had and with and ach- he place of tanding in the gateway, and up, and began to jeer. The front of nseigneur’s hotel, sides of , towered up hehi ; the steward sprawled his feet stout side he lame leper from he cried. “Have a at me. the Cour des Miraci: a or he will 2 you the evil!” the swill tub is open, yourself!” A third spat at me and bade me begone fer a pig. The passers—there were always a knot of gazers opposite my lord of Heau- palace In those days, when he had the quee: ear and bade fair to succeed Riche- leu—stayed to stare. “I want my goods,” I said, trembli “Your goods¥’ the steward answered, swelling out his brawny chest, and smiling at me over it. “Your goods indeed! Begone, and be thankful you have escaped so well.” “Give me my things from my room,” I said, stubbornly, and I tried to enter. He moved sideways, 0 as to block the passage. “Your goods? They are mon- Beigneur’s,” he sa “My wife, then He winked. “Your wife?" he said. true, she is not monseigneur’s. But she will do for me."". And with a coarse laugh he winked again at the crowd. At that the pent-up rage I had stemmed so long broke out. He stood a head taller than I, but with a scream I sprang at his cried an- aul “Well, ‘With a Scream I Sprang at His Throat throat, and. with the very surprise of the attack, got him down and beat his face with my fists. His fellows, as soon as they re- covered from their astonishment, tore me off; but by that time I had so marked him that the blood poured down his face. He acrambied to his feet, panting and furious, ‘Bis oaths tripping over one andther. "A GENTLEMAN” FRANICE” “To the Chatalet with him!” he cried, spit- ting out a tooth, and glaring at me through the mud on his face. ‘‘He’shall swing for this! He tried to break in! I call you to witness he tried to break i “Ay, to the Chatalet! To the Chatalet!” cried ‘the crowd, siding with the stronger Party. He was my lord of Beauvais’ stew- ard; I was a guttersnipe and dangerous. A dezen hands held me tightly, yet not so tightly but that a coach passing at that inoment and driving us all to the wall, I managed by a jerk—I was desperate by this time, and flerce as a wildcat, to snatch myself loose, and in a second was speeding down St. Antoine with the hue and cry behind me. I have said I was desperate. In an hour the world was changed for me. In an hour I had broken with every tradition of safe and modest life; and from a sleek scribe become a ragged outlaw flying through the streets. I saw the gallows, I felt already the lash sink like molten lead into the quivering back; I forgot all the danger, I lived only on my feet, and with them made superhuman efforts. Fortunately, the light was failing, and in the first dash I distanced the pack by a dozen yards. I had no plan now—only terror added wings to my feet; and the end of that street gained, I dared blindly down another, and vet another, with straining chest and legs that began to fail, and always in my ears the yells that arose around me as fresh pursuers joined in the chase. Still I kept ahead, I was even gaining; another turn, ard; with night thickening, I might hope to escape, if I could baffle those who, from time to time,—but in a half-hearted way, not knowing if I were armed—tried to stop me or trip me up. Sucdenly turning a corner, I had gained a@ quict part where blind walls lined the alleys—!I found a man running before me. At the same instant the posse in pursuit quieckened their pace in a last effort; 1 in answer put forth my last strength, and in a dozen paces I came up with the man. He turned to me, our eyes met; desperate myself, I read equal terror in his, but be- fore I could reason on the fact, he bent himself forward as he ran, and with a singular movement flung a parcel he car- ried into my arms, and, wheelirg abruptly, plunged ino an alley on his left. PART Il. It was done in a moment. Instinetively, I caught the burden, and held it, but the’ impetus with which he had thrown it sent me reeling to the right, and the lane being narrow I fell against the wall before I could steady myself. As tuck would have it, however, that which should have de- stroyed me was my salvation. I happened to hit the wall where a doorway broke it, the door, Hghtly latched, flew open under the impact, and I fell inwards. I alighted in darkness on my hands and knees, heard a stifled yelp ay of a dog, and in a second, though I could see nothing, was up and had the door closed behind me. Then, and not till then, I listened, pant- ing and breathless, and heard the hunt go raving through the lane, and the notse die im the distance, until only. the beating of heart ke the close silence of the rocm in which I stood. When this had lasted a minute or two, I began to peer about and wonder where I was, and re- membering the dog, moved steaithily to find the latch and escape. As I did so the bundle, to which through all I had clung, moved in my arms. I almost dropped it; and then held it from me with a swift movement of re- rulsion. It stirred again; it was warm. In an instant the truth flashed on me. It was a child! Hot as I had been before, the sweat rose on me at the thought. For I saw again the man’s face of livid terror, and guessed that he had stolen the child, and I feared the worst. He had taken the rabble hooting at my heels for the avengers of blood, and had been only too thankful to rid himself of the damning fact, and escape! And now I had it, and had as muck, or moge, to fear. For an instant the impulse to lay the parcel down, and glide out, and so be clear of it, was strong upon me. And that I think is what the ordinary man, bewever brave, would have done. But for one thing, I was desperate. I knew not, when outside, whither to go or where to save myself; and for another, my clerk's wits were already busy showing me how, | with luck, I might use the occasion and avoid the risk, might discover the parents and, without suffering for the theft, store the child. Beyond that I saw a vi of pardon, employment and reward! Suddenly the dog whined again, close to me, and that decided me. I had found the latch already, and now I warily drew the door open and in a mement was in the lane, looking up and down. I saw nothing to alarm me; darkness had completely fall- en, no one was moving, the neighborhood seemed to be of the quietest. I made up my mind to take the bold course. To re- turn at all hazards to St. Antoine, seek my father-in-law at the gate of the Palais Royal—where he had the night turn—and throw the child and myself on his protec- tion. Without doubt, it was the wisest course I could choose; and as in those days the streets of Paris, even in the district of the Louvre and Palais Royal, were ill iighted, and a network of lanes and dark courts hed on the most fashionable parts, and favored secre to them, I fore- saw no great di . Short of the mo- ment when I might stand out in the lignted and exhibit my rags. Bi still above the horizon. I ta t my evil had “Stay,” he cricd, panting. scarcely reached the end of the lane, and was still hesitating there, uncertain which way to turn for the shortest course, when a babel of voices broke on my car, lights swept round a distant corner, and I found myself threatened with a new danger. I did not wait to consider whether this band, with their torches and weapons, had aught to do with me—my nerves were shaken, tne streets of Paris were full of terrors, every corner had a gallows for me—but I turned and, fleeing back the way I had come, made a hurried effort to find the honse which had sheltered me. Failing, in one or two trials, and seeing that the lights were real- ly coming that way, and that in a moment I must be discovered, I sprang across the lane and dived into the alley by which the child stealer had vanished. I had not taken ten steps before some- thing, unseen in the darkness, tripped me up, and I fell sprawling in the mud. In the fall my burden rolled from my arms, and was instantly snatched up by a dark tigure, which, rising as by magic beside me, was gone into the gloom almost as quickly. 1 got up limping and flung a curse after both; but the lights already shone on the mouth of the alley, and I had no time to lose if 1 would not be detected. I set off runnin, down the passage, turned to the left at the end, and along a lane, thence into another lane and a wider road; nor did I stop until I had left all signs and sounds of pursuit behind me. S nail enna Repro hima pvc was a piece of waste id, apparently in city. High up on the ¥THE EVENING STAR, SA’ TURD. DAY, MARCH 7, 1896-TWENTY-FOUR PAGES. - In every other direction lay darkness; deso- lation swept by the night wind; silence broken only by the @ismal howling of far- off watch dogs. I might have been ten miles from Paris. For very misery I sobhed aloud. I no longer knew where I was; nor, had I known, had I the strength to return. Ex- citement had carried me far, but at last I felt the weakness of utter exhaustion, and sick and aching craved only a hole in which to He down and die. Fortunately at this moment I met the wind, and caught the scent of new-mown hay; and stumbling forward a few steps made out a low build- ing looming through the night. I staggered to it, and discovered that it was a shed, and entering with my hands extended felt the hay under my feet. With a sob of thankfulness I sank down upon it, but, in- stead of the soft couch I expected, fell on the angular body of a man, who with a Savage curse flung me off. This at another time would have scared me to death; but I was so far gone in wretchedness that I felt no fear and little surprise. I rolled away without a word, and, curling myself up at @ distance of 2 few feet from my fellow lodger, fell in a minute fast asleep. - ‘When I awoke daylight, though the sun was not up, was beginning to creep into the shed. I turned; every bone I had ached; 1 remembered yesterday’s doings, and groan- ed. Presently the hay beside me rustled, and over the shoulder of the mass against which I lay I made out the face of a man, peering at me. I felt a thrill of fear, and stared back, spellbound; I had not yet broken with every habit of suspicion nor could in a moment recollect that I had nothing but rags to lose. In silence which neither again broke by.so much as a mo- ment we waited gazing; while the light in the mean hovel grew and grew, and minute by minute brought out more closely the other's features. At length I knew him, and almost at the same moment he recognized me and ut- tering an oath of rage rose up as if to spring at my throat. But either because I did not recoil—being too deepset in the hay to move—or for some other reason, he only shook his claw-like fingers at me, and held off. ‘Where is it, you dog?” he cried, find- ing his voice with an effort. “Speak, or I will have your throat slit. Speak, do you hear? What have you done with it?” He was the man who had passed the child to me! I watched him heedfully, and after a@ moment's hesitation I told him that it had been taken from me, and when and where. And you don’t know the man who took it?” he screamed. ‘Not from Adam. It was dark,” I said. In his disappointment and rage at re- ceiving this answer, I thought that he would fairly fall upon me; but he only choked and swore, and then stood scowl- ing, the picture of despair, until some new thought pricking him, he threw up_ his arms again, and cried out afresh. ‘Oh, mon Dieu, what a fool I wa: he screamed. What a craven I was! I had a fortune in my hands, in my hands, fool, and I threw it away!” I thought bitterly of my own case—I was not much afraid of him now; I began to think that I understood him. “So had I, yesterday morning,” I said. ‘You are in no worse case than others."" “Yesterday morning?” he exclaimed. “No, last night. Then, if you like, you had. But yesterday morning? Fortune and you, scarecrow! Go hang yourself! He looked gloomily at me for a moment, with his arms crossed on his chest and his face darkly set. Then, ‘Who are you?” he asked, curtly. I told him. When he learned that the rab- ble that had alarmed him had in fact been pursuing me, so that his fright had t groundless, he broke into fresh exec tions, and those so violently that I began to feel a sort of contempt for him, and even plucked up spirit to say that he seemed to be in as evil case as I was. He looked at me askance. “Aye, as it turns out,” he said, grimly. “But see the difference, idiot. You are a poor fool, beaten from pillar to post; I played for a great stake. I have lost; I have lost,” he continued, his voice rising almost to a yell, “and we are both in the gutter. But if I had won—if I had won—man—” He did not finish the sentence, but flung himself down on his face in the hay and bit and tore it In his passion. A mo- ment I viewed him with contempt, and thought him a poor creature for a villain. ‘Then the skirt of his coat, curling over as he groveled and writhed, disclosed some- thing that turned my thoughts in another channel. Crushed under his leather girdle was a little cape, or a garment of that kind, of velvet, so lustrous that it shone where I saw it, as the eyes shine.in a toad. Nor it only; before he rolled over and hid it, I spied embroidered on one corner of the velvet a stiff gold crown! I barely repressed a cry. Cold, damp, aching, I felt the heat run through me like wine. A crown! A little purple cape! Then last night—last night. I had carried een I Started and Looked Up. the king! the king of France in my arms. I no longer found it hard to unde! the man’s terror of yesterday, or his g and despair this morning. He had in- deed played for a great stake, and risked torture and the wheel; and lost! and lost! I laoked at him with new eyes, and a sort of wonder; and had scarcely time to com- pose my face, when, the paroxysm of his fury past, he rose, and looking at me askance, to see how I took his grovelings, asked me sullenly whither I was going. “fo monseigneur’s,” I said, cunningly. Had I answered “To the Palais Royal’ he would have suspected me. “To-be beaten again?” he sneered. I said nothing to that, but asked him whither he was going. ‘God knows!” he said. » When I went out, however, he accompa- nied me; and we slunk silently, like the pair of night birds we were, through lanes and alleys until we were fairly in town again. By that time the sun was up and the market people were beginning to enter the city. Here and there I found curious eyes on me; and, thinking of the company I was in, I trembled, and wondered that the alarm was not abroad and the bells proclaiming us from every tower. I was more than content, therefore, when my ccmpanion halted be- fcre a small mean door in a blind wall, over against another small, mean door in a like wall. “Do you stay here?” I said. He swore churlishly. “What is that to you?” he said, looking up and down. “Go your way, idiot. I was glad to affect a like ill-humor, shrug- ged my shoulders and lounged on without looking, back. But my brain was on fire. ‘The king, the four-year-old king! What was I to do? To whom to go with my knowl- edge? And then—even then, while I paused hesitating, I heard steps running behind me, and turned to find him at my elbow, his face pale, but his eyes burning, and his whole demeanor changed. “Stay!” he cried, panting, and seizing me by the breast on my shirt. “The man who tripped you up, fellow—you did not see him?” “It was dark,” I answered, curtly.-“I told you I did not know him from Adam.” “But had he—” he gasped, “you heard him run away—was he lame?” I could not repress an exclamation. “Par dieu!” I said. ‘Yes, I had forgotten that. He was. I remember I heard his feet go cluck-clack, cluck-clack as he ran.”” His face became burning red and he stag- gered. If ever man was near dying from klood in the head, it was that man! But in a moment he drew a long breath, and got the better of it, modded to me, and turned away. I marked, however—for I stood a iroment, watching—that he did not go back ‘&!"to the door at which I had left him; but after looking round once and espying me, took a lane on the right and disappeared. PART It. But I knew, or thought that I knew, all row, and the moment he was out of sight set off toward the Palais Royal like'a hound let loose, heeding nefther those against whem I bumped in the straiter ways, nor the danger I ran of recognition, nor the mis- —=—=—=—— erable aspect I wore. I forgot all, save my news, even my own wretchedness; and never halted or stayed to take breath until I stood panting in the doorway of the lodge the Palais, and met my father-in-law’s gaze of disgust and astonishment. He was just off the night turn, and met me on the threshold. I saw beyond him tae grinning faces of the under porters. But I had that to tell which still upheld me. 1 threw up my hands. ut “I know where they axe!” I cried, breath- less. “I can take you to them!” He gazed at me, dumb with surprise and rage; and doubtless a less reputable son-in- law than I appeared woujd have been hard to find. “Pig! Jackal! Gutter-bird!” he cried. “Begone! Begone! or I will have you flayed!” “But I know where they are! I know where they have him!” I protested. His face underwent &'startling change. He darted forward with:alnimbleness won- derful in one of his bulk:and caught me by the collar. “What!” he sajd, “have you seen the dog?” S “The dog?” I cried. “Nb, but I have seen ! I have held him in my arms! He He released me suddenly and fell back a pace, looking at me so oddly that I paused. “Say it again,” he said, slowly. “You have held the——"” “The king! The king!” I cried, impatiently. “In these arms. I know where they have him, or at least where the robbers are.” His double chin fell and his red face lost colop. “Poor devil!” he said, still staring at me. “They have driven him mad!” “But—" Icried. “Are you not going to—” He waved me off and retreated a step hastily and crossed himself. “Jacques!” he exclaimed. “Move him off! Move him off, do you hear, man “But, I tell you,” I cried, fiercely, “they have stolen the king! They have stolen his majesty, and I—"" “There, there, be calm,” he answered. “They have stolen the queen's dog, that is true. But have it your Gwn way if you like, only go. Go from here, and quickly, or it will be the worse for you; for here comes monseigneur, the bishop, to wait on her majesty, and if he sees you you will—. There, make way, make way!” he continued, ad- dressing the little crowd that had assem- bled. “Way, wa! for monseigneur, the bishop of Beauvais!’ As he spoke the bishop and his train turn- ed out of St. Antoine and the crowd attend- ing him eddied about the Palais entrance. I was hustled and swept out of the way; and, luckily escaping notice, found myself a few minutes later crouching in a blind al- ley that runs beside the Church of St. Jacques—crouching and wolfing a crust of bread which one of the men with whom I had often talked in the lodge had thrust into my hand. I ate it with tears; in all Paris that day was no mcre miserable out- cast. What had become of my wife I knew rot, and I dared not show myself at the bishop's to ask; my father-in-law was hard- ened against me, and at the best thought me mad; I had no longer home or friend, and—this at the moment eut most sharply— the gorgeous hopes In which.I had indulged a few moments before were as last year's snow! I crouched and shivered. In St. Antoine, at the mouth of the alley, a man was pub- lishing a notice, and presently his voice caught my attention in the middle of my lamentations. I listened, at first idly, then with my mind. ‘Oy Oye: he cried. “Whereas, some evil person, having ro fear of God or the law before his eyes, has impu- dentl¥, feloniously and treasonably stolen from the Palais Royal a spaniel, the prop- erty of the queen regent’s most excellent majesty—that is to say, that any one”’— rumble—rumble—rumble—here a passing coach drowned some sentences, and then I caught—"“five hundred crowns, the same to I Felt the Ch h of Long Fingers on y Throat. be paid by monseigreur, the bishop of Beau- vais, president of the council! ‘And glad to pay it!’ snarled a voice quite close to me. I started and looked up. Two men were talking at a window above my head. “Yet it is a high price for a dog," the other sneered. ‘ “But low for a queen. Still, ft buys hew, And this is Richelieu’s France!” “Was!” the other said, pithily. “Well, you know the proverb: ‘A’ living dog is bet- ter than a dead lion. “Aye,” his companion rejoined, “but T have a fancy that that dog's name is spelled neither with an ‘k” for Flore—which was the whelp’s name, i or a ‘B’ tor vais; nor a ‘C but with an “For Mazarin!’ the other answered, sharply. “Yes, if he find the dog. But Beauvais is in possession" “Rocroy shook him." “Still he is in posses “So is my shoe in pos: ion of my foot. And see—I take it off. Beauvais is totter- ing, I tell you. It wants bat a— I heard no more, for they moved away from the window; but they Ieft me a differ- ent man. Urged, less by the hope of reward than by the desire for ven; nee, my clerk's i awoke once more, w! the very des- peration of my affairs gave me the courage I sometimes lacked. I recognized that I had to do, not with a kin, and that none the less that w lay revenge. And I iose up and slunk again into St. Antoine, and through the crowd and up the Rue de St. Martin and by St. Merri, a dirty, ragged barefoot rascal from whom people drew their skirt: ee Once I halted, weighing whether I should not take my knowledge to the cardinal. But I knew nothing definite, and, hardening my heart, I went on, until I ed the alley between the blind walls. noon; the alley was empty, the neigh- ng lane empty. I looked this way and that, and then went slowly down to the door at which the man hal haited, but to which, as soon as he knew t at the game was not Jost, he had been heedful not to return. There, seeing all so quiet, with the green of a tree showing here and there above the wall, I began to blench and wonder how 1 Was to take the next step; and for hali an hour, I dare say, I sneaked to and fro, now in sight of the door and now with my back to it, afraid to advance and ashamed to retreat. At length I went through the alley, and seeing how quiet and respectable it lay with the upper part of the nouse visible at intervals above the wall, £ took, at last, heart of grace and tried the door. It stood so firm that I despaired, and, after listening, and looking to assure m: self that the attempt had not been cb- served, I was about to move away, when I espied the edge of the ring of a key pro- decting from under the door. Still all was quiet; a stealthy look round, and I had the key out. To draw back now was to write myself craven all my life, and with a shaking hand I thrust the wards into the lock, turned them, and in another moment stood on the other side of the door in a reat garden, speckled with sunshine ond shade, and all silent. I remained a full minute, flattened against the door; staring fearfully at the Kgh- fronted mansion that beyond the garden looked down on me with twelve great eyes. But all remained silent, and observing pres- ently that the windows were shuttered, 1 took courage to move, gnd slid aside under a tree and breathed aghin. Still I looked ana at fearfully, for the risks and the silence seemed to waich' me; but noth- ing happened and everything I saw tended to prove the house empty.\ I grew holder and sneaking from bush to’ bush, reached the door at last, and with a backward glance between courage ‘ahd desperation, tried it. is It was locked, but that-I hardly noticed; for, as my hand left the latch, from some remote pert of the house came the long- drawn whine of a dog! I stood, listening and turning hot and cold in the surshine; and dared not touch the latch again lest others should hear the noise. Instead, I stole out of the doorway and crept round the house, and round the house again, hunting for a back entranc>. T found none; but at last, goaded by the re- flection that fortune would never be so near- ly within my grasp, I marked a window on the first floor, and in the side of the house, by which, it seemed to me, I might enter. A mulberry tree stood by it and it lacked a shutter, and other trees veiled the spot. To be brief, in two minutes I had my knee on the sill, and, sweating with terror, forced the casement in-and dropped on the floor. Then I, stood an instant, listening; in a bare room, the door of which stood ajar. Somewhere fn the bowels of the house the 1? dog whined again; otherwise all was still deadiy still. “At length, emboldened by the silence, I crept out and stole along a pas- sage, seeking the way down. The passage was dark, and every board on which I stepped shrieked the alarm. But I felt my way to the landing at the head of the stairs, and was about to descend when some impulse, I know not what—perhaps a shrinking from the dark parts below, to which I was about to entrust myself—moved me to open one of the shutters and peer out. I did so, cautiously, and but a tittle, and found myself looking, not into the garden through which I had passed. but into the one beyond the alley; and there on a scene so strange and yet apropos to my thoughts that I paused, gaping. S On a plat of grass four men were stand- ing, two and two; between them, with nose upraised and scenting this way and that, moved a- beautiful black-and-tan spaniel. The eyes of all four men were riveted to the dog, which, as I looked, walked sedate- ly first to the one pair, and then, as if dis- satisfied, to the other pair; and then again stood midway and sniffed the air. The men were speaking, but I could not catch even their Voices, and was reduced to drawing what inferences I could from thelr ‘o farther from me, one was my rascally bedf2tlow, the other a crooked vil- lain, almost in rags, with one leg shorter than. the other, yet a face bold and even handsome. Of the nearer pair, who had their backs to me, the shorter, dressed in black, wore an ordinary aspect; when, however, my eyes traveled to his compan- jon they paused. He, it was plain, was the chief of the party, for he alone was covered; and, though I could not see his face nor more of his figure than .that he was tall and of handsome presence, it chanced that as I looked he raised his hand to his chin, and I caught the sparkle of a superb jewel. That dazzled me, and the presence of the dog perplexed me, and I continued to wateh. Presently the great man again raised his hand, ond this time it seemed to me that an order was given, for the Jame man started into action and moved briskly towerd the wall which bordered the alley—and consequently toward the house in which I stood. My companion of the night interposed, however, and apparently would have done the errand himself; but at the word he stood sulkily and let the I Cried My Errand Before Them All. other proceed; who, when he had all but digappeared—cn so little a thing it turned! low the level of the intervening walls, looked up and caught sight of me at the window. PART Iv. Apparentiy he gave the glarm, for in an instant the eyes of all four were on me. I hung a moment in sheer surprise; then, as the lame man and his comrade sprang to the door in the wall, with the evident intention of engaging me, I flung the shut- ter close, and, cursing my curiosity, fled down the stairs. I had done better had I gone back to the window by which I had entered; for all below was dark, and at the foot of, the staircase I stood, unable in my panic to re- member the position of the door. A key grating in the lock told me that, but told it me too late. Almost on the instant the door flew open, a flood of light entered, a cry warned me that I was detected. I turned to go back, but stumbled before I had mounted six steps, and as I staggered up again felt a welght fall on my back and the clutch of long fingers close on my throat. I screamed, however, felt the fin- gers close in a deadly grip, cold and mer- ciless—and then in sheer terror I swooned. When I recovered my senses I found my- self propped in a chair, and for a time sat wondering hazily where I was. I recognized with a sharp return of terror that shook me to the soul that I was still in the hall of the empty house. That brought back other things, and with a shudder I carried my hand to my throat and tried to rise. A hand put me back, and a dry voice said in my ear: “Be easy, M. Prosper. I am afraid that we put you to some inconvenience.” I looked dizzily at the speaker, and rec- ognized him for one of those I had seen in the garden. He had the air of a secretary, or—as he stood rubbing his chin and look- ing down at me with a saturnine smile—of a physician. i read in his eyes something cold and not too human, yet it went no farther. His manner was suave, and his voice, when he spoke again, as well calcu- lated to reassure as his words were to sur- prise me. “You are better now?” he sald. “Yes. Then I have to congratulate you. Few men, M. Prosper, few men, believe me, were ever so lucky. You were lately, I think, in the service of monseigneur the bishop of. Be: is, president of her maj- esty’s council I fancied that a faint note lurked in his word: “And yesterday w of I kept silent. ere dismissed,” he con- tinued, easily disregarding my astonish- ment. “Well, today you shall be rein- stated—and rewarded. Your busin here, I believe, was to recover her: majesty’s dog?" I remembered that the wretch whose finger marks were still on my throat might be within hearing, and I tried to utter a denial. He waveg it aside politely. “Just so," he said. “Well, the dog is in that closet; and on two conditions it Is at your ser- vice.” Amazed before, I'stared at him now in a stupor of astonishmen “You are surprised?” he sald. “Yet the case is of the simplest? We stole the dog, and therefore we cannot restore it without incurring suspicion. You, on the other hand, who are known to the bishop, and did not steal it, may safely restore it. I need not say that we divide the reward; that is one of the two conditions.” “And the other?” I stammered. “That you refresh your memory as to the past,” he answered, lightly. “If I have the tale’ rightly you saw a man convey a dog to this house—an empty house in a lonely suburb. You watched and saw the man leave, and followed him; he took the alarm, fled and dropped in his filght the dog's coat—I think I see it there. On that you hurried with the coat to monseigneur and gave him the address of tlfe house, irony I exclaimed. “No. Let monseigneur come and find the dog for himself,” he answered, smiling. “In the closet.” I felt the blood tingle through alf my limbs. “But if he comes and does not find it?” I cried. The stranger shrugged his shoulders. “He will find it,” he said, coolly. And slightly raising his voice, he called,“Flore! Flore!” For answer the dog whined’behind the door and scratched the panels and whined again. The stranger nodded, as well pleased. “There,” he said. “You have it? It is there and will be there. And I think that is all. Only keep two things in mind, my friend. For the first, a person will claim our share of the reward at the proper time; for the second, I would be careful not to tell monseigneur, the president of the coun- again I caught a faint note of irony he true story, lest a worse thing hap- pen!” And the stranger with a very ugly smile touched his throat. “I will not!” I said, shuddering. “Then—then, I think that is all,” he an- swered briskly. “And I may say farewell. Until we meet again, adieu, M. Prospe: And setting on his hat with a polite ges- ture. he turned his back to me, went out inte the sunlight, passed to the left and vanished. I heard the garden door close with a crash, and then, silence—silence, broken cnly by the faint whine of the dog, as it moved in its prison. ‘ Was I alone? I waited awhile before I dared to move; and even when I found courage tc rise, siood listening with a beating keart, expecting a footfall on the sta'rs or that something—1 knew not what —would rush on me from the closed doors of this mysterious house. But the silence endured, the sparrows outside twittered, the cricket renewed its chirp, and at length drawing courage from the sunl'ght I moved forward and Iifted the dog’s coat fromthe ‘floor. -Five minutes later I was in. the’sireets on my way to the bishop's hotel, the. morsel of velvet tucked under {my girdie. , I 44 not even question how I should reach monseigneur, we often- delude ourselves with vain fears, and climb obstacles where none exist. For as it-happened, he was descend- ing from his coach when I entered the yard, and though he raised his gold-headed staff at sight-of me; and in a fury bade the servants oust me, I had the passion if rot the.wit to wave the velvet coat in his face, and cry my errand beforé them all. Heaven knows at that there was such a sudden pause and about-faces as must have made the stolen dog laugh had it been there. Monseigneur in high excitement bade them bring me in to him, the secre- tary whispered in my ear that he had a clcak that would replace the one I had Icst, a valet told me that my wife had gene to her father’s, a second brought :ne food and nudged me to remember him, others ran and fetched me shoes and a cap; and all—all from the head clerk, who was most insistent, downward, would know where the dog was. But I had even then the sense to keep my-secret, and would tell my story only to the bishop. He heard it: in ten minutes he was ig his coach on his way to the house, taking me with him. His presence and the food they had giver’ me had sobered ine somewhat; and I trembled as went “That man found It,” he exclaimed. alcng lest the villains had some disappoint- ment yet in store for me, lest the closet ve found empty. But a whine, growing into a howl, greeted us on the threshold, and the closet door being forced in a trice, the dog ves among us. Monseigneur clapped his hands and swore freely. “Dieu benisse!"” he cried. “It is Uh deg sure enough! Here, Flore! Fiore Then, as the dog jumped on us and lick- ed his hand, he turned to me. “Lucky for you, rascal!" he cried, in good humor. “There shall be fifty crowns in your pock- et, and your desk again’ I gasped. “But the neur?” I stammered. He bent his bla brows. “Reward! You villain!” he thundered. “Is it not enough that I spare you the gallows? Reward? For what do I pay you wages, do you think, except to do my work? And ‘you ask reward besides? Go and hang yourself! Or rather,” he continued, grimly, “stir at your peril. Look to him, Bonnivent, he is 4 rogue in grain; and bring him with me to the ante-chamber. Her majesty may de- sire to ask him questions, and if he answer them, well! He shall still have the fifty crowns I promised him. If not—I shall know how to deal with him. At that, and the reversal of all my hopes, I fell into my o!d rage again, and even his servants looked oddly at me, until a sharp wcrd recalied them to their duty; on which they hustled me off with little ceremony, and the less for that which they had before shown me. While the bishop. carrying the dog in his arms, mounted his coach and went by the Rue St. Martin and St. Antoine, they hurried me by short cuts and byways to the Palais Royal, which we reached as his running footmen came in sight. The approach to the gate was block- ed by a great crowd of people, and for a moment I was fond enough to imagine that they had to do with my affair—and I shrank back. But the steward with a thrust of his knee against my hip, which showed me that he had not forgiven my blow, urged me forward, and from what passed around me as we pushed through the press, I gathered that a gcore of cap- tured colors had arrived witfin the hour from Flanders, and were being presented to the queen. The courtyard confirmed this, for In the open part of it and much pressed on by the curious, who thronged the arcades, we found a troop of horse, plumed and mud- stained, fresh from the Flanders road. The officers who bore the trophies we overtook on the stairs near the door of the ante- chamber. Burning with rage, as I wa: and strung to the last pitch of excitement. I yet remember that I thought it an odd time to push in with a dog; but monseig- neur did not seem to see this. Whether he took a certain pleasure in belittling the war party, to whom he was opposed, or merely knew his ground well, he went on, thrusting the militaires aside with litue ceremony, and as every one was as quick to give place to him as he was to advance, in a moment we were in the ante-chamber. Monseigneur, with his chaplain and page: at his shoulder, making in his stately wa for the farther door, met M. de Chateau- neuf, and paused to speak. When he e caped from him a dozen clients, whos? ob- sequious bows rendered evasion impossible, still delayed him, and I had grown cold, and hot again, end he was still on his progress when the inner door opened, half a dozen voices cried: ‘The quee: and an usher with a silver wand passed down the recom and ranked the company on either le—not without some struggling and o1 a fierce oath and twice a smothered oute PART V. Of the bevy of ladies in attendance only half a dozen entered, for a few paces ¥ in the doorway the queen stood still to r ceive my patron, who advanced to meet her. It seemed to me that she ¥ reward, monseig- pleased to see him, and certainly her rang loud and peevishly as ste “What, my lord here? I came receive the troph from Rocray, ard did rot expect to sve you at this hour.” “T bring my own exew madame,” answered, unabashed. “Have esty’s leave to present it?” with a smirk and a low bow. “I came to receive the coiur: ed, still frowning. “I bring your majest to your liking,” he replied. Then I she caught his me for her proud, handsome Hapsiu cleared wonderfully and she clappe hands toz with a gesture of pl almost childish. “What?” she exclaimed. “Have you— “Yes, madame,” he said, smiling gal- lantly.’ “Bonnive' But Bonnivet had watched his moment, and before the name fell clear of his mas- ter’s: lips was beside him, and with bent knee laid the dog tenderly at her majesty feet. She uttered a cry of joy and stooped to caress it, her fair ringlets falling and hiding her face. On that I did not see exactly what happened, for her ladies flock- ed round her with cries that echoed hers, the courtiers pressed round them, and ali that reached me, where I stood by the aoor, took the form of excited cries of “Flore! Flore! Oh, the darlin; and the like. A few old men who stood nearest the wall and farthest from the queen raised their eyebrows and the officers standing with the colors by the door wore fallen faces, but nine-tenths of the crowd seemed to be. fairly carried away by the queen’s delight and congratulated one another as if_ten Rocrcys had been won. Suddenly, while I hung in suspense, ex- pecting each moment to be called” fo! ward, I heard a little stir at my elbow, and, looking to the side, saw the knot on the threshold break inward to give plac while several voices whispered: “Mazarin! As I looked he came in, and pausing to speak to the foremost of the officers gave me the opportunity—which I had never e1 joyed before—of viewing him near at han and in a moment it flashed upon me— though now he wore his cardinal’s robes and then had been very simply dressed— that ii was he whose back I had seen, and whose dazzling rirg had blinded me in the garden! } Her majesty, it seemed to me, did not Icok unkindly upon him. But the bishop was 80 full ef his success and uplifted by the presence of his friends that he could not contain himself. “Ha! the ca: dina he cried; and, before the queen could speak: “I hope your eminence ha been as zealous in her majesty’s service as I have been.” “As zealous, assuredly,” the cardinal answered, meekly. “As effective? Alas! it is not given co all to vie with your lord- ship in affairs.” But tiis—though I detected no smack of irony in the tone—did not seem to please the ecn. “The bishop has done me a great service. He has recovered my dog,” she scid tartly. . “He is a happy man, and the happy must look to be envied,” the cardinal an- swered gaily. “Your majesty’s dog—' “Your eminence never liked Flore!” the queen exclaimed. “¥ou never made a greater mistakc, madame!” the cardinal answered with un- usual emphasis. here, I think.” | clo: “Your omniscience is for once at re | the bishop sneered; and at a word fromg, Bat There a Han Shoulder. him one of the ladies came forward, nurs- ing the dog in her arms. The cardinal looked. “Umph!” he said, And he looked again, frowning. 1 did net know then why the queen took heed even of his lool and I started when she cried pettishly: “Weli, sir, what now?” The cardinal pursed up his lips. The bishop could bear it no longer. “He will say presently,” he cried, snorting with indignation, “that it is not the dog!” His eminence shrugged his shoulders very. slightly, and turned the palms of his hands outward. “Oh,” he said, “if her majesty is satisfied.” “M'dieu!” the queen cried angrily ‘What do you mean?” But she turned to the lady who held the dog, and took it from her. “It is the dog!” she said. “Do you think that I do not know my own? Flore! Flore!” And she set the dog on fs feet. It turned to her and wagged its tail eager! “Poor Flore!” said the cardinal. “Floref* It went to him. “Certainly its name is Fiore,” he con- tinued, sulkily. “But it used to die at the word of command, I think?’ “What it did it will do!” M. de Beauvais eried scornfully. But I see that your eml- nence was right in one thing you said.” The cardinal bowed “That I should be envied!” the bishop continued with a sne And he glanced around the circle. There was a general litter; a great lady at the queen's elbow laughed out. “Flore,” said the queen, “die! die, good dog. Do you hear, m'dieu! dic!” But the dog only gazed and wageed its to it again and to obey. On which a deep-di ran round the circle; one looke a score of heads were thrust forw scme who had seemed merry enough moment before looked grave as mutes now. “It_used to bark for France, and growl Grippead My into her face ail; and though she cried rily, it made no eitempt th bre for Spain!” the cardinal continued in his scftest voice. “Perhaps— “France!” the queen cried harshly; and she stamped on the floor. “France! France! But the dog only retreated, cowering and dismayed; and at a distance wagged its tail pitifully. France!” cried the queen desperately. The dog cowered. “I am afraid, my lord, that it has lost its accomplishments—in your company!” the cardinal said, a faint smiie curling his lips. The bishop let drop a smothered oath, “It is the dog!" he cried passionatel, But the queen turned to him sharply, her face crimson. “I do not agree with you!” she replied. “And more, my lord,” con- tinued with vehemence: “I should be glad 4{ you would explain how you came into possession of this dog. A dog so near sembling my dog—and yet not my dog— could not be found in a moment, not with- out some foul contrivance.” “It has forgotten its tricks,” the bishop said. “Nonsense!” the queen retorted. A great many faces had grown grave by this time. I have said that the room was filled for the most part with bishop's sup- porters. “At any rate, I know nothing about it. That man found it!” he exclaimed, wip- ing his brow and pointing to me, between anger and discomfiture. “One of my lord's servants,”’ the cardinal said, easily. “Oh!” the queen aswered, with a world of meaning; and she looked at me with eyes before which I quailed. “Is that true, fel- lew?" she sald. “Are you in my lord’s serv- ice? 2 I stammered an affirmative. “Then I wish to hear no more,” she re- plied, haughtily. “No, my lord. Enough!” she continued, raising her voice to drown his protestations; “I do not care to know wheth- er you were mere sinned against than sin- ning; or a greater fool and your adviser a knave; pray take your cre: Doubtless, in a very short ti have discovered the cheat for myself. think I see a difference now. But, as it Is, I am greatly indebted to his eminence for his aid—and sagacity.” She brought out the last words with with- ering emphasis, and amid profound silence, The bishop, too wise after the ¢ persist longer in the dog's identity tried desperately to utter a word of e but the queen, whese vanity had re a serious wou and freezing dismissal, and immediately turnin§ to the cardinal requested him to in- troduce to her the officers who had the colors in charge. it may be imagined how I felt, and what terrors I experienced during this strugste; since it required no great wit to infer that the bishop, if Gefea would wreak his vengeance ‘on me. dy a dozen who had attended his levee were fawning on the cardinal; the queen had turned her shoul- .der to him; a great lady, over whom he bent to hide alked to him in- deed, but flipy For all th t which they inc ould pay; a ck and strove to s: crowd. I re: ed the door in the head of the stairs. gripped my thrust his a ha stew » mine. i in for ul ‘fe is out of your bo rot—’ “By the queen’s command.” said a quict voice in my other ear; and a hand fell also on that shoulder. The glanced at his rival. “He is the he cried, throwing out and gripped me again. “A shop is the queen's!” was the curt reply; and the stranger, in whom 1 recognized the man who had delivered the dog to me.quietly put him by. “Her maj- has committed this perso! nal's custody until inquiry be made into the truth of his story. In the mean- time, if you have any complaint to make, you can make ft to his eminence.” After that there was no more to be sa The steward, baffled and bursting with rage, fell back, and the stranger, directing me by a gesture to attend him, descended the stairs and, crossing the court verd, en- tered St. Antoine. I knew not now what to expect from him; ror whether, overjoy- ed as I was at such a deliverance, | might not be courting a worse fate in this in- quiry; so grim and secretive was my guide's face, and so much did that somber dress—which gave him somewh: of the character of an inquisitor—add to the mys- tery of his silence. However, when we had crossed St. Antoine and entered a lane leading to the river, he halted and turned to me. “There are twenty crown: he said, abruptly; and he placed a purse in my hand. “Take them and do exactly as I bid you, and all will be well, At the Quat de Notre Dame you will find a market boat starting for Rouen. Go by it, and at the Ecce Hofno in that city you will find your wife and a hundred crowns. Live there quietly and in a month apply for work at the chancery; it will be given you The rest Hes with you. I have known men,” ke continued, with a puzzling smile, started at to the I tried to find words to thank him. “There is no need,” he said. “For what you have done it is not too much.” And now I agree with him. Now—though his words came true to the letter, and to- day 1 hold one of the great farms on a second term—I, too, think that it was not too much For if M. de Conde won Rocroy for his party in the field,.the cardinal on | that day won a victory no less eminent at court; of which the check administered to M. de Beauvais—who had nothing but a good presence, and collapsed like a pricked bladder, becoming within month the most discredited of men—was the first movement. Within a month t neads of the Importans—as the bishop's party were christened—were in prison or exiled, and all France recognized that it was in a master’s hand, and that the mantel of Richelieu, with a double portion of the royal favor, had fallen én Mazarin’s should- ers. I need scarcely add that, long bef he bad been Lappy enough to recover ani “Flore—but the dog'is not] restore the true Flore to his mistress’ arma.