ce of the Minister of Marine, who, picking up an official paper from
his table, ran an eye down it, marked a point with the sharp corner of
his snuff-box, and handed it over to his visitor, saying:

"Our roster of English prisoners taken in the action off Brest."

The Duke, puzzled, lifted his glass and scanned the roll mechanically.

"No, no, Duke, just where I have marked," interposed the Minister.

"My dear Monsieur Dalbarade," remarked the Duke a little querulously, "I
do not see what interest--"

He stopped short, however, looked closer at the document, and then
lowering it in a sort of amazement, seemed about to speak; but, instead,
raised the paper again and fixed his eyes intently on the spot indicated
by the Minister.

"Most curious," he said after a moment, making little nods of his head
towards Dalbarade; "my own name--and an English prisoner, you say?"

"Precisely so; and he gave our fellows some hard knocks before his
frigate went on the reefs."

"Strange that the name should be my own. I never heard of an English
branch of our family."

A quizzical smile passed over the face of the Minister, adding to his
visitor's mystification. "But suppose he were English, yet French too?"
he rejoined.

"I fail to understand the entanglement," answered the Duke stiffly.

"He is an Englishman whose name and native language are French--he
speaks as good French as your own."

The Duke peevishly tapped a chair with his stick. "I am no reader
of riddles, monsieur," he said acidly, although eager to know more
concerning this Englishman of the same name as himself, ruler of the
sovereign duchy of Bercy.

"Shall I bid him enter, Prince?" asked the Minister. The Duke's face
relaxed a little, for the truth was, at this moment of his long life he
was deeply concerned with his own name and all who bore it.

"Is he here then?" he asked, nodding assent.

"In the next room," answered the Minister, turning to a bell and
ringing. "I have him here for examination, and was but beginning when I
was honoured by your Highness's presence." He bowed politely, yet there
was, too, a little mockery in the bow, which did not escape the Duke.
These were days when princes received but little respect in France.

A subaltern entered, received an order, and disappeared. The Duke
withdrew to the embrasure of a window, and immediately the prisoner was
gruffly announced.

The young Englishman stood quietly waiting, his quick eyes going