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II THE GHEVfIUER D'flUßlftG I
\(< §) By S. LEVETT YEATS, 0 Ml (> <> /;! &; •\< I 7< Author of "The Hcmowr of SsvcllL" 'Vj V]> Is » ? l ; I\J ,W Copyright 1697 by Longmans, Green & Company. !'> <7 ! 6! $ ; J§ j W CHAPTER X. An Old Friend. I was not the man to neglect Sully's warning, and, beside, there was an added reason for being careful of dark corners, as both Zamet and Lafln knew me, and were unlikely to lose any op portunity of doing me harm that might c-cme their way. I could do nothing but v/ait and exercise patience until the month was over, and it was a hard enough task. Beyond my daily visits to my ordinary I went nowhere and saw no one. I occasionally, of course, met my landlord and his wife; but few words passed between us, and Jacques had become marvelously taciturn, so that I was alone as if I were in a des ert in that vast city, where the roar of the day's traffic and the hum of voices seemed to vibrate through and possess the stillest hours of the night, Doubtless there were men of my ac quaintance in Paris; but I did not seek ROMANCE IN A TRICK GARDEN. i I— Sentimental Youth (tragically)— Let this be the test. She loves mo. them, for the reasons already stated, and I lived as secluded a life as though I had taken the vows of a hermit. In the meantime I was more than anxious that Jacques should execute my plan in regard to Marie. That I felt was a debt of honor to myself; but though I tried the threat of dismissal he refused to go point blank, and I was weak enough to allow him his way. It was one of the many inptances in which my firmness of temper failed, but it is not possible for a man always to keep his heart in a Milan corselet. I could not make out Sully's reasons for his action. It seemed to me that he had got all my information out of me, with out pledging himself to anything in re turn, and that he held me as safely as a cat does a wounded mouse. To save my own skin by quitting Paris was a thought I can honestly aver that never came to me. It could not with the all pervading presence of my love for madame. It was for her sake that I was here, and for her sake I would go cheerfully to the block if need be; but it would not be without a try to save her, and if the worst came to the worst I could let all France know the Infamy of her king. The hero worship I had in my heart for him had given I place to a bitter hatred for the man ! who was using his power to drive a | woman to ruin and Inflict upon me the most bitter sorrow. All this may sound foolish, but suCn was my frame of mind, and I was yet to know how great the man was whom I hated — but of that on another day. In the mean time there was no news from Bidache, | and I was kept on the cross with anx- I iety lest some danger had befallen my dear one there. Anet was not three hours' ride away, and at Anet was de Gomeron, unless indeed the conspir ators had scattered, as was not at all unlikely after the manner in which they had been discovered. My doubts in regard to madame's safety were set at rest about three weeks after my in terview with Sully. One evening Pan tin knocked at my door, and, on my bidding him enter, came in with many apologies for disturbing me. "But, chevalier," he added. "I have news that monsieur will no doubt be glad to hear." "Then let me have it, Maitre Pantin, for good news has been a stranger to me for long." "It is this: Our friend Palm arrives In Paris tomorrow or the day after." "And stays here?" "No, for he comes in attendance on Madame de la Bidache, and will doubt less live at the Rue Varenne." I half turned for a moment to the window to hide the expression of joy on my face I could not conceal otherwise. Were it daylight I might have been able to see the trees in the gardens of the Rue Varenne; but it was night, and the stars showed nothing beyond the white spectral outline of the Tour de Nesle beyond the Malaquais. "Indeed, I am glad to hear this," I Eciid as I looked round once more, "though Paris will be dull for ma dame." "Not so, monsieur, for the king comes back tomorrow, and the gossips say that before another fortnight is out there will be another maitresse en titre at the Louvre. Ciel! How many of them there have been from poor La Fosseuse to the d'Estrees." "Maitre Pantin, I forgot myself, will you help yourself to the Frontignac?" "A hundred thanks, Monsieur le Chevalier. Is there any message for Palm? Pouf! But I forget. What has a handsome young spark like you got in common with an old graybeard? You will be at court in a week, and they will all be there, bright-eyed d'En tragues, Mary of Guise, Charlotte de Givry, and—" "Maitre Pantin, these details of the court do not interest me. Tell Palm I would see him as soon as he arrives. Ask him as a favor to come here. He &aid you were discreet — " "And I know that Monsieur le Che valier is likewise." With a quick move ment of the hand the short gray goatee that Pantin wore vanished from his chin, and there was before me not the face of the notary, but that of An nette. She laughed out at the amaze In my look, but quickly changed her tone. "Maitre Palm said you were to bo trusted utterly, monsieur, and you see I have done so. Your message will be hs.te.ly delivered, and I premise he will see you — but have you no other?" "None." I answered a little bitterly. "I have, however, and it is this," and she placed in my hand a little packet. "Monsieur may open that at his lei sure," and she turned as if to go. "One moment — I do not understand. What is the meaning of this masquer ade?" "Only this, that my husband will appear to have been at the same time at the Quartier dv Marais as well as the Faubourg St. Germain. I would add that monsieur would be wise to keep indoors as he is doing. We have found out that the house is being watched. Good night, monsieur," and with a nod of her wrinkled face this strange woman vanished. I appeared in truth to be the sport, of mystery, and it seemed as if one of those sudden gusts of anger to which I was subject was coming on me. I controlled myself with an effort, and with a turn of my fingers tore open the packet, and in it lay my lost knot of ribbon. For a moment the room swam around me and I became as ! , . 2 — She loves me not. cold as ice.- Then came the revulsion, and with trembling fingers I raised the token to my lips and kissed it a hun dred times. There were no written word with it; there was nothing but this little worn bow; but it told a whole story to me. It had come down to me, that ribbon that Marescot said was hung too high for De Breuil oi! Auriac; and God alone knows how 1 thanked him for his goodness to me. Fur ten long minutes I was in fairy land, and then I saw myself as I wad, proscribed and poor, almost in the hands of powerful enemies, striving to fight an almost hopeless cause with nothing on my side and everything against me. Even were it otherwise, the rock of Auriac was too bare to link with the broad lands of Pelouse and Bidache, and, love her as I did, I could never hang my sword in my wife's halls. It was impossible, utter ly impossible. So I was tossed now one way, now another, until my mortal agony was almost insupportable. The next day nothing would content me but that I must report to the Rue Varenne, and, if possible, get a glimpse of madame as she arrived. I left in structions that Palm should be asked to wait for me if he came during my absence, for my impatience was too great to admit of my staying in for him. I was not, however, in so great a hurry as to neglect entirely the warnings I had received, and dressed myself as simply as possible, remov ing the plumes from my hat and wearing a stout buff coat under my long cloak. Thus altered I might be mistaken for a Huguenot, but hardly any one would look for a former cava lier of the league in the solemnly dressed man who was strolling to the end of the Malaquais. There i took a boat at the Rue de Bac. At the jetty I disembarked and went leisurely to ward the Rue Varenne. As I was crossing the Rue Crenelle, hard by the logis de Conde. a half dozen gentle men came trotting by ,and took up the road. I stopped to let them pass, and saw to my surprise that amongst them were my old comrades in arms, De Cosse-Brissac, Tavannes and De Gie. I was about to wave my hand in greeting, when I recognized amongst them the sinister face of Lafin riding on the far side of me. Quick as thought I pretended to have dropped something and bent down as if to search for it. The pace they were going at prevent ed any one of them, not even except ing Lafin, with his hawk's eye, from recognizing me, but it did not prevent Tavannes from turning in his saddle and flinging me a piece of silver with the gibe, "Go on all fours for that, Maltre Huguenot." I kept my head low. and made a rush for the silver, whilst they rode off laughing, a laucrh in which I joined myself, though with different reasons. On reaching the Rue Varenne I had no difficulty in finding the house I sought; the arms on the entrance sate gave me this information; and I saw that madame had only just arrived, and had I been but a half hour earlier I might have seen and even spoken with her. I hiing about for some minutes on the chance of getting a glimpse of her, with no success, then finding that my loung ing backwards and forwards outside the gates was beginning to attract at tention from the windows of a house opposite, I took myself off, feeling a little foolish at what I had done. I came back the way I went, and as I walked down the Malaquais met Mas ter Jacques taking an airing with two companions. In one of them I recog nized Vallon, my old friend de Belin's man, the other I did not know, though ho wore the sang-de-boeuf livery of the Comtes de Belin. Having no par ticular interest in lackeys I paid him no farther attention, though could I THE SAINT FAUI, GLOBE): SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 5, 1897. but hajt'e seen into the future it would have been a good deed to have killed him where he stood. On seeing me Vallon and Jacques both stopped, and I signaled to them to cross over the road to me, as I was anxious to hear news of Belin, who was an intimate friend. This they did, and on my inquiry Vallon informed me that Belin was at his hotel in the Rue de Bourdonnais, and the good fel low urged me to come there at once, saying that his master could never forgive him were he not to insist on my coming. I was truly glad to hear Be lin was in Paris. He was a tried friend, whose assistance I could rely on in any emergency; and telling Val lon I would be at the Rue de Bour donnais shortly, I went on to my lodg ing- followed by Jacques, leaving Val lon to go onward with his companion. On coming home, I found as might be expected, that there was no sign of Palm, and, after waiting for him until the dinner hour, gave up for the pres ent and rode off to the Two Ecus, and when my dinner, a very simple one, was finished, took my way to the Rue de Bourdonnais, this time mount ed on Couronne with Jacques well armed on the sorrel. The hotel of the Comtes de Belin lay at the west end of the Rue de Bour donnais, close to the small house where in lived Madame de Montpensier of dreadful memory; and on reaching it I found that it more than justified the description Belin had given of it to me, one day whilst we were idling in the trenches before Dourlens. It stood some way back from the road, and the entrance tc the courtyard was through a wonderfully worked iron gateway, a counterpart, though on a smaller scale, of the one at Anet. At each cor ner of the square building was a hang ing turret, and from the look of the windows of one of these I guessed that my friend had taken up his quar ters there. I was met by Vallon, who said he had informed his master of my coming, and telling a servant to hold*-my horse he ushered me in, talking on a hun dred things at once. I had not gone ten steps up the great stairway when Be lin himself appeared, running down to meet me. "Croix Dieu!" he burst out as we embraced. "I thought you were with the saints, and that De Rone, you and a hundred others were free from all earthly troubles." "Not yet, De Belin. I trust that time will be far distant." "Amen! But you as good as buried yourself alive at any rate." "How so?" "Vallon tells me you have been a month in Paris, and you have never once been in the Rue de Bcurdonnais until now. You might have known, man, that this house is as much yours as mine." "My dear friend, there were reasons." He put a hand on each of my shoul ders, looked at me in the face with kind eyes, and then laughed out. "Reasons! Pardieu! I can hardly make you out. You have a face a half toise in length, never a plume in your hat. and a general look of those hard 3— She lloo—yes— o— ves me. She love— s me. praying and, I will say, hard fighting gentry who gave the king his own again." "How loyal you have become." '•We were all wrong — the lot of vs — and I own my mistake; but you— you have not turned Huguenot, have you?" "Not yet," I smiled; "and is lime, de Belin in Paris?" "Diable!" and he made a wry face. "Come up to my den, and I'll tell you everything. Vallon, you grinning apo, fetch a flask of our old Chambertin; I will show M. le Chevalier up myself." And linking me by the arm he led me up the stairway, and along a noble coi ridor hung on each side with the richest tapestry, until we reached a carved door that opened into the rooms in the tur ret. "Here we are," Belin said, as we en tered. "I find that when madame is away these room's are enough for me. Tiens! How a woman's presence can fill a house. Sit down there! And here comes Vallon. Set the wine down there. Vallon, and leave us." He poured out a full measure for me. then one for himself, and stretched himself out in an armchair, facing me. I always liked the man, with his gay cynicism— if I may use the phrase —his kind heart and his reckless life; and I knew enough to tell that if Mme. la Comtesse had been a little more forbearing she might have mouiu ed her husband as she willed. "Belin," I said,"l am so old a friend, I know you will forgive me for ask ing why, if you miss madame's pres ence you do not have her here?" "O, she has got one of her fits and has cone to grow pears at Belin. It was "iall through that fool Vallon." "Vallon!" "Yes. Bassompierre, de Vitry, my self and one or two others had ar ranged a little supper with cards to follow at Mores. You don't know More's, but I'll take you there. Wei!, to continue: I had gone through about three weeks of my own fireside before this arrangement was made-, and longed to stretch my legs a little. To tell Sophia would only cause a dis cussion. I pleaded urgent business over my steward's accounts, and giv ing orders that I was not to be disturb ed under any circumstances, came here to my study, a duplicate key to the door 6f which Sophia keeps. I put Val lon in that chair there before the writ ing table, after having made him throw on my robe de chambre, an<! gave him instructions to wave his hand in token that he was not .to be dis turbed if Mme. la Comtesse came in and, after thoroughly drilling the rascal, vanished by the private stair; the entrance to that is just behind my wife's portrait there." "And then?" "Well, we had as pleasant an even ing as might be expected. I won 500 pistoles and came home straight to my study, and on entering ii imagine my feelings on seeing Sophie there — and you can guess the rest." "Poor devil," I laughed, "so your lit tle plan failed utterly." "Vallon failed utterly. It appears that Sophie came up about 10, and be ing waved off went away. She re turned, however, about an hour later to find M. Vallon, who had got tired of his position, asleep with his mouth open in the chair in which you are sit ting. She refused to believe it was on ly a card party— though I said I would call the marshal and de Vitry to wit ness — burst into tears, and in fine, my friend, I had a bad quarter of an hour, and Sophie has gone off to Be lin." "And the postoles?" I asked slily. He looked at me and we both laughed. "She took them," he answered. "Belin," I said after a moment, "will you ever change?" "Ventre St. Gris! As the king swears. "Why should I? After all Sophie will come round again. I really am very happy. I have many things to be thankful for. I can always help a friend — " "I know that," I interrupted, "and I want your help." "How much is it? Or is it a sec ond?" "Neither," thanks. Though in either case I would come to you without hes itation. The fact is"— and I explained to him my difficulty in regard to pro viding for Marie, without, however, go ing into other matters, or giving him any account of my troubles. When I ended, Belin said: "What you want, then, is a trustworthy fel low." "At least that is what Jacques wants. I can get on well enough." "Morbleu! It is more than I could, but, as it happens, I have the very thing for you. Pull that bell rope be hind you, will you, and oblige a lazy man." I did so, and in a minute or so Val lon appeared, wiping his mouth sus piciously with the back of his hand. "Vallon," said De Belin, "does Ra vaillac continue to work satisfactori ly?" "As ever, monsieur le comte." "Well, I am going to lend him to the chevalier, who has need of his serv ices." "Monsieur." "Send him up here, and Bisson, too." Vallon bowed and vanished as I said: "I do not know how to thank you, Belin." "Pouf ! A mere bagatelle. I thought we were going to have a little amuse ment in the gardens of the Tuileries. I know of a perfect spot for a meeting, ca! ca!" and he lunged twice in quarie at an imaginary adversary. As he came back from the second thrust he said. "By the way, I must tell you— but here they are," and Ravaillac came in, fol lowed by Jacques, Vallon bringing up the rear. As they entered I recognized the man who was with Jacques and Vallon on the Malaquais, and Belin, turning to Jacques, said quietly: "Bisson. I am going to lend Ravaillac here to your master, to take your place whilst you go away to Ezy. I pledge you my word that he is a good sword." "True enough, M. le Comte. We were amusing ourselves with a pass or two below, and he touched me twice to my one, and as your lordship answers for him, I am content." "That is well, most excellent Bisson! Ravaillac, you understand? Here is the Chevalier d'Auriac, your new mas ter, who will remain such until he sends you back to me." Ravaillac bowed without reply. He was quite young, barely twenty, and very tall and thin; yet there was great breadth of shoulder, and I noticed that he had the framework of a powerful man; his appearance was much beyond that of his class; but there was a sullen ferocity in his pale face^-the eyes were set too close together, and the mouth too large and straightly cut to pleasa me. Nevertheless, I was practically bound to accept Belin's recommenda tion, and, after a few orders were giv- ll__M__- 4— Mrs. McFlint (wielding the broom)— There now, let me ever ketch you again pullin' up my cabbage he ads. en, the men were dismissed. "What was I about to say before these men came in?" asked Belin. "I'm afraid I cannot help." "Of course not — O, yes! I recollect. I was about to teH you how I got Ra vaillac's service. ;I lay you five crowns to a tester you would never guess." "You have already told me with your wager. You must have won him." "Exactly. You've kit it, and it was in this way. About three months ago I was returning to Paris, attended but by Vallon, and with only a small sum with me. At an inn at Neuilly. I me*, an acquaintance,: a Baron d'Ayen, on : * of the last of the mignons and a con firmed gambler." "I know him,"-; I said, my heart be ginning to beat faster at the very thought of d'Ayen. i "Then it makes the- story more inter esting. We dined together, and then had a turn at the dice, with the result that d'Ayen won every ecu that I had." "It would be a pity to stop now, - e= said, as I rose declaring myself broken. "Suppose we play for your .«-r=e, comte?" "No, thanks," I replied; "luck is against me, and I have no mind to foot it to my hotel. But I'll tell you what, I have rather taken a fancy to your ♦ IN ♦ mm b a. /SEPTEMBER (g^A. A. W H ¥ "tfltOlltll. Two-M;nute Electric Car Service from All Parts of St. Paul. Fare 5 Cents. For Evening Entertainment. MONDAY, LABOR DAY. « . £S*l» Stupendous Parade of the Thousands of Laboring Men. O6Dli 0111. Evening— Wouderful Venetian Water Carnival at Lake Como— Fire Works — Music and Bicycle Parade. TUESDAY, GIGANTIC CIVIC AND INDUSTRIAL PARADE. Qanf 7th Illuminated Floats— Beautiful Electric Effects— lo,ooo Men— l.ooo Horses— ©ep*. r\n m 2QQ Float& WEDNESDAY, FIRST NIGHT OF FIRE!!! C * O+l* The Grandest Mimic Naval Battle e\er seen on any river in the United States OCDIa OlMi — Enormous Towers and Forts on an Island will be Attacked by Gun boats, Fire Barges and 5,000 Uniformed Soldiers. THURSDAY, SECOND NIGHT OF FIRE!!!! Gpm* Qth Capture of the Forts — Terrible Bombardment — Burning of Gunboats — Ex ■ plosion of 10 Magazines — Ending with a Grand Conflagration. Friday, "EXCITING RUN OF THE ENTIRE FIRE DEPT. r* * aaL NOT a Parade. Fancy Drills by St. Paul's Famous Co. D, N. G. S. M.— &6Dta I Oil! ■ Acrobats, Jugglers, Clog Dancers, Tight-Rope Walkers, Cake Walks, " Freaks, Dancing— a whole Circus— FßEE. SATURDAY GRAND DISPLAY AND ILLUMINATION By all Retail Stores— "Shopping Night"— Reception and Music in "Exhi- SCpta I 1 tlla bition Hall" of Northwestern Manufacturers' Union, Corner Seventh and Wabasha Streets. NOTE: St. Paul Does Not Ask You to Pay. ALL FREE man, since I once saw him handle a rapier. I'll lay Vallon against him; what do you call him?" "Ravaillac. He is of Angouleme and has been a Flagellant. Will he suit you?" "I shall have to find that out. Do you accept the stakes?" "Mon ami, I would play for my soul in this cursed inn." "Very well, then, throw." The upshot of it was that I won, and from that moment the blind goddess smiled on mo, and after another hour's play I left d'Ayen with nothing but the clothes he stood in. What he re gretted most was the loss of his valise, in which lay some cosmetlques he valued beyond price; he got them from Coiffier. I earned his undying friend ship by giving him biek his valise, lent him his horse, wnich I ha I won, and came off with fifty pistoles and a new man. Of course, yoa knovz that d'Ayen has fallen on his i'eet?" "I do not." "I'll tell you. Where fee devil have you been burying yourself all these months? You must know that the king is looking forward for another Liancourt for a lady whom he destines for a very high place, and d'Ayen is to be the happy man. It is an honor he fully appreciates and he has been kind enough to ask me to stand as one of his sponsors at the wedding, which, by the king's orders, comes off in a fort night." "And you have promised?" "Yes, it was a little amusement. They say, however, that madame is furious, and that her temper is worse than that of Mile d'Entragues, who, by the way, literally flung herself at the king without avail. Her time will come soon enough, no doubt — but, good gracious, man! What is the matter? You are white as a sheet." "It is nothing, Belin— Yes it is more than I can bear. Belin, old friend, is there nothing that can save this lady?" He looked at me and whistled low to himself. "Sets the wind that way? I did not know you had even heard of the lily of Bidache. Are you hard hit d'Auriac?" And he rose from his seat and put a kind hand on my shoulders. I jumped up furiously. "Belin, i tell you I will stop this infamy if I die for it. I swear before God that I will kill that man, king though he be, like a mad dog — " "Be still," he said. "What bee has stung you? You and I, d'Auriac, come of houses too old to play the assassin. Croix Dieu, man! Will you sully your shield with murder? There, drink that wine and sit down again. That's right. You do not know what you say. I have fought against the king, and I serve him now, and I tell you, d'Au riac, he is the greatest of Frenchmen. And there is yet hope — remember, a fortnight is a fortnight." I ground my teeth in silent agony. "Wait a moment," he continued, "a chamberlain of the court knows most of its secrets, and I can tell you that it is not such plain sailing as you think for d'Ayen. The death of that unhap py Gabrielle has affected the king much. He is but now beginning to re cover, and Biron, who was hurrying to his government of Burgundy, has been ordered to remain in close attendance on the king. "Whether Biron knew of the king's intentions or not, I do not know; but he has strongly urged the suit of one of his gentlemen for the hand of mad-, ame — it is that croque-mort de Go meron, with all his faults a stout sol dier. It is said that the marshal has even pressed de Gomeron's suit with madarne, and that, rather than marry d'Ayen, and clinging to any chance for escape, she has agreed to fall in with his "views. This I heard from the Vidame, and the Chevalier de Lafin— good enough authority." "One alternative is as bad as the other." "There is no satisfying some people. Why, man, don't you see it would be the best thing in the world for you if it was settled in favor or our friend from the Camargue." "That low born scoundrel?" "Mon ami, we don't know anything about that. Give the devil his clue; he is a better man than d'Ayen. I know there is ill blood between you, and wonder that some has not been spilt before now." "There will be, by God! before this is ended." "Tenez! Let but the king agree to de Gomeron's suit — and he is hard pressed, I tell you, for Sully even is on Biron's side in this matter, and after that — " "What?" "Henry's mind will have turned an other way. There are many who would like to play queen, and few like Mesdames de Guerchville and Bid ache." "But in any case, Belin, I lose the game." "You have become very clever in your retreat, my friend. You win your game if de Gomeron is accepted and then—" "And then, my wise adviser?" "She need not marry the Camargue. You can run him through under the limes in the Tuileries — wed madame. and grow cabbages at Aunac ever after. Pouf! The matter is simple!" Miserable as I was I fairly laughed out at Belln's plot. Nevertheless, the hcpefulntss of the man, his chei-ry tone and happy spirit had their effect upon me, and if it turned out that the king was wavering there was more than a straw of hope floating down, stream to me. My courage grew alsc when I put together Sully's words with j Belin's news that Biron was detained . by the side of the king. It surely : meant that this was done to prevent the marshal doing mischief elsewhere. If so, I was nevertheless on the horns \ of a dilemma, for by telling of the plot j I would, if my story were believed, j make matters hopeless, and advance d'Ayen's cause to the misery of the woman I loved. On the other hand, by keeping silent • I was in an equally hard case. My pledge to Sully prevented me from taking Belin fully into my confidence, and hardly knowing what I was do ing I poured myself out another full goblet of the Chambertin, and drained it at a draft. "Excellent," said Belin, "there is nothing like Burgundy to steady the mind; in another moment you will be j yourself again and think as I do in j this matter. Courage, man! Pick your ' heart up. A fortnight is a devil of a long time, and — " "Monsieur le Baron d'Ayen," and i Vallon threw open the door, and at its j entrance stood the cold-blooded in- ! strument of the king. He looked old- ! er and more shriveled than ever, but the paint was bright upon his cheeks, his satin surcoat and puffed breeches were fresh from the tailors, and hfs hat, which he carried in his left hand, was plumed with three long, crimson, marabout feathers, held in a jeweled clasp. "My dear de Belin," he paid, bowing low, "I trust my visit is not inoppor tune? I had no idea you were en gaged." "Never more welcome, baron. I think monsieur le chevalier is known ti you — sit down and help yourself to the Chambertin." D'Ayen bowed slightly to me; but I took no notice and rose to depart, "Do not retire on my account, mon sieur le chevalier," said d'Ayen in his mocking voice. "I come to give news to my friend here, which will doubtless interest you. The fact is his majesty insists on my marriage taking place a? soon as possible, ami has given in structions for the chapel in the Louvre to be prepared for the ceremony. Y<>u still hold good to your promise of bu ing one of my s fle Belin?" "If the wedding comes oft — certain ly." "Ha! ha! If it cornea oft! T would ask you, too, monsieur," and he turned to me, ">>ut I know you have presstug business elsewhere." "Whatevel Tiy business may bo, monsieur, theit i 3 ";:W'ir^ I must attend to first, and [ ftu t the pleasure of your company to di. it." "Ah!" he said, stroking the marabout feathers in his hat. "that differ en opinion we hti<l about tl di uf Bldache — eh? I e •■• from youi face it so is. I had almost forgotten it." "Monsieur's memory is convenient." He bowed with a grin, "I am old; but shall take care not to forget this time — " "Come, gentlemen," and Belin inter posed, "the day is too young to begin to quarrel, and if this must come to a meeting allow your seconds to arrange the time and place. One moment, bar on," and taking me by the arm he led me to the door. "Malheureux!" he whispered, "will you upset the kettle! See me tomor row, and adieu!" He pressed my hand; and I went out preceded by Vallon, who must have caught Belin's words, but whose face was as impassive as stone. (To be continued.) Use the Long Distance Telephone to Mlnno sota. No. and So. Dakota cities and towns. I The Princess of Wales! ? ORDERS I JOHANW HOFF'S WALT EXTRACT. ] T Mari.borough Hot'sr, S. \V. » -> Please send for the nse of 11. 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