ongest point, is it not?"

"Yes, and that now he can return with safety."

She shook her head. "No, do not rely too much on that, for he loves his
wilderness. And he has known for a long time all danger was past. Better
attack his conscience, and his sense of duty."

"As you say, Princess. And I shall spare no effort."

"Then you will succeed." And looking up with a smile, "You could
convince anybody of anything, dear Archbishop. A few words from you, if
you could only get him alone, and the devil himself would turn over a
new leaf--perhaps join the Church. Who knows?"

For these sentiments his Grace had no responsive smile. This lady from
Paris, while a good Catholic, seemed to have so little reverence for
certain sanctities that he was always on his guard. Her nature was not
of the sort he preferred to deal with. There were too many conflicting
elements. No one could tell with precision just when she was serious or
when she was having a little fun. And, moreover, the dignity of an
archbishop was not a thing to be compromised. But she was a _grande
dame_, a person of great influence--also of great wealth and a free
giver. And the Archbishop was no fool.

As they rounded the promontory and came in sight of the bay the emotion
of the Princess was apparent. Impatiently she walked the deck. With the
sun once fairly above the water, the little point of land at the farther
end of the bay showed clearly in the morning light.

She beckoned the old servant to her side.

"There it is, Jacques! I see distinctly the cottage, a little mass of
green against the shadows of the pines. And surely there is smoke from
the chimney! My father is an early riser; already up and cooking his
breakfast. Is it not so, Jacques?"

"Yes, I do not doubt Monsieur le Duc cooks his breakfast at this
moment."

"What enormous trees!" she went on. "Beautiful, beautiful! And they
stretch away forever. An ocean of pines! I had forgotten they were so
tall--so gigantic. How many minutes now, Jacques, before we arrive?"

Jacques frowned and shrugged his heavy shoulders. "I shall not tell
you."

"Wicked old man!"

And again, through her glass, she studied the coast.

He had carried this lady in his arms before she could walk; he had
superintended, in a way, her childhood; and so, like many old servants
in France, he was not expected to bear in mind, at all times, certain
differences in birth.

With a fresh enthusiasm she exclaimed: "And there