While the elder De Ferrier shed nervous tears, the younger looked on with eyes which had seen the drollery of the French Revolution. "I wish I knew the man who has played this clever trick, and whether honest men or the rabble are behind it." "Let us find him and embrace him!" "I would rather embrace his prospects when the house of Bourbon comes again to the throne of France. Who is that fellow at the gate? He looks as if he had some business here." The man came on among the tombstones, showing a full presence and prosperous air, suggesting good vintages, such as were never set out in the Smithfield alehouse. Instead of being smooth shaven, he wore a very long mustache which dropped its ends below his chin. A court painter, attached to his patrons, ought to have fallen into straits during the Revolution. Philippe exclaimed with astonishment "Why, it's Bellenger! Look at him!" Bellenger took off his cap and made a deep rev erence. "My uncle is weeping over the dead English, Bellenger," said Philippe. "It always moves him to tears to see how few of them die." "We can make no such complaint against Frenchmen in these days, monsieur," the court painter answered. "I see you have my young charge here, enjoying the gravestones with you;-a pleasing change after the unmarked trenches of France. With your permission I will take him away." "Have I the honor, Monsieur Bellenger, of salting the man who brought the king out of prison?" the old man inquired. Again Bellenger made the marquis a deep reverence, which modestly disclaimed any exploit. "When was this done?-Who were your helpers? Where are you taking him?" Bellenger lifted his eyebrows at the fanatical roy. alist. "I wish I had had a hand in it!" spoke Philippe de Ferrier. "I am taking this boy to America, monsieur the marquis," the painter quietly answered. "But why not to one of his royal uncles?" "His royal uncles," repeated Bellenger. “Pardon, monsieur the marquis, but did I say he had any royal uncles?" "Come!" spoke Philippe de Ferrier. "No jokes with us, Bellenger. Honest men of every degree should stand together in these times." Eagle sat down on a flat gravestone, and looked at the boy who seemed to be an object of dispute between the men of her family and the other man. He neither saw nor heard what passed. She said to herself "It would make no difference to me! It is the same, whether he is the king or not." Bellenger's eyes half closed their lids as if for protection from the sun. "Monsieur de Ferrier may rest assured that I am not at present occupied with jokes. I will again ask permission to take my charge away." "You may not go until you have answered some questions." "That I will do as far as I am permitted." "Do Monsieur and his brother know that the king is here?" inquired the elder De Ferrier, taking the lead. "What reason have you to believe," responded Bellenger, "that the Count de Provence and the Count d'Artois have any interest in this boy?" Philippe laughed, and kicked the turf. "We have seen him many a time at Versailles, my friend. You are very mysterious." "Have his enemies, or his friends set him free?" demanded the old Frenchman. "That," said Bellenger, "I may not tell." "Does Monsieur know that you are going to take him to America?" "That I may not tell." "When do you sail, and in what vessel?" "These matters, also, I may not tell." "This man is a kidnapper!" the old noble cried, bringing out his sword with a hiss. But Philippe held his arm. "Among things permitted to you," said Philippe, "perhaps you will take oath the boy is not a Bourbon?" Bellenger shrugged, and waved his hands. "You admit that he is?" |