rasped recognition--but missed it. The whole cast was full and
aquiline, and the lobe of his ear, as I noticed when light fell on his
profile, sat close to his head like mine.

The other man worked his feet upon the treadle of a small wheel, which
revolved like a circular table in front of him, and on this he deftly
touched something which appeared to be an earthenware vessel. His thin
fingers moved with spider swiftness, and shaped it with a kind of magic.
He was a mad looking person, with an air of being tremendously driven by
inner force. He wore mustaches the like of which I had never seen,
carried back over his ears; and these hairy devices seemed to split his
countenance in two crosswise.

Some broken pottery lay on the ground, and a few vessels, colored and
lustrous so they shone in the firelight, stood on a stump near him.

The hollow was not a deep one, but if the men had been talking, their
voices did not reach us until the curtain parted.

"You are a great fool or a great rascal, or both, Bellenger," the
superior man said.

"Most people are, your highness," responded the one at the wheel. He
kept it going, as if his earthenware was of more importance than the
talk.

"You are living a miserable life, roving about."

"Many other Frenchmen are no better off than I am, my prince."

"True enough. I've roved about myself."

"Did you turn schoolmaster in Switzerland, prince?"

"I did. My family are in Switzerland now."

"Some of the nobles were pillaged by their peasants as well as by the
government. But your house should not have lost everything."

"You are mistaken about our losses. The Orleans Bourbons have little or
no revenue left. Monsieur and Artois were the Bourbons able to maintain
a court about them in exile. So you have to turn potter, to help support
the idiot and yourself?"

"Is your highness interested in art?"

"What have I to do with art?"

"But your highness can understand how an idea will haunt a man. It is
true I live a wretched life, but I amuse myself trying to produce a
perfect vase. I have broken thousands. If a shape answers my
expectations, that very shape is certain to crack in the burning or run
in the glaze."

"Then you don't make things to sell?"

"Oh, yes. I make noggins and crockery to sell in the towns. There is a
kind of clay in these hills that suits me."

"The wonderful vase," said the other yawning, "might perhaps interest me
more if some facts were not pres