ing his Highland sword for one of the rapiers on the
wall that was more in conformity with the Frenchman's weapon; "and yet
this is scarcely the way to find your Drimdarroch."

"_Mais oui!_ Our Drimdarroch can afford to wait his turn. Drimdarroch
is wholly my affair; this is partly Doom's, though I, it seems, was made
the poor excuse for your inexplicable insolence."

The Chamberlain slightly started, turned away, and smiled. "I was
right," thought he. "Here's a fellow credits himself with being the
cause of jealousy."

"Very well!" he said aloud at last, "this way," and with the sword
tucked under his arm he led, by a side-door in the turret-angle, into
the garden.

Count Victor followed, stepping gingerly, for the snow was ankle-deep
upon the lawn, and his red-heeled dancing-shoes were thin.

"We know we must all die," said he in a little, pausing with a shiver
of cold, and a glance about that bleak grey garden--"We know we must
all die, but I have a preference for dying in dry hose, if die I must.
Cannot monsieur suggest a more comfortable quarter for our little
affair?"

"Monsieur is not so dirty particular," said the Chamberlain. "If I sink
my own rheumatism, it is not too much for you to risk your hose."

"The main avenue--" suggested Count Victor.

"Is seen from every window of the ball-room, and the servants are still
there. Here is a great to-do about nothing!"

"But still, monsieur, I must protest on behalf of my poor hose," said
Count Victor, always smiling.

"By God! I could fight on my bare feet," cried the Chamberlain.

"Doubtless, monsieur; but there is so much in custom, _n'est ce pas?_
and my ancestors have always been used with boots."

The Chamberlain overlooked the irony and glanced perplexed about him.
There was, obviously, no place near that was not open to the objection
urged. Everywhere the snow lay deep on grass and pathway; the trees were
sheeted ghosts, the chill struck through his own Highland brogues.

"Come!" said he at last, with a sudden thought; "the sand's the place,
though it's a bit to go," and he led the way hurriedly towards the
riverside.

"One of us may go farther to-day and possibly fare worse," said
Montaiglon with unwearied good-humour, stepping in his rear.

It was the beginning of the dawn. Already there was enough of it to show
the world of hill and wood in vast, vague, silent masses, to render
wan the flaming windows of the castle towers behind them. In th