traveller, clad in the uniform of a musketeer, as he drew up
to the door of the hostelry, did not seem to have spared his horse.
Throwing his reins to the landlord, he leaped lightly to the ground.
He was a young man of four-and-twenty, and spoke with a slight Gascon
accent.

"I am hungry, Morbleu! I wish to dine!"

The gigantic innkeeper bowed and led the way to a neat apartment, where
a table stood covered with tempting viands. The musketeer at once set
to work. Fowls, fish, and pates disappeared before him. Perigord
sighed as he witnessed the devastations. Only once the stranger paused.

"Wine!" Perigord brought wine. The stranger drank a dozen bottles.
Finally he rose to depart. Turning to the expectant landlord, he
said:--

"Charge it."

"To whom, your highness?" said Perigord, anxiously.

"To his Eminence!"

"Mazarin!" ejaculated the innkeeper.

"The same. Bring me my horse," and the musketeer, remounting his
favorite animal, rode away.

The innkeeper slowly turned back into the inn. Scarcely had he reached
the courtyard before the clatter of hoofs again called him to the
doorway. A young musketeer of a light and graceful figure rode up.

"Parbleu, my dear Perigord, I am famishing. What have you got for
dinner?"

"Venison, capons, larks, and pigeons, your excellency," replied the
obsequious landlord, bowing to the ground.

"Enough!" The young musketeer dismounted and entered the inn. Seating
himself at the table replenished by the careful Perigord, he speedily
swept it as clean as the first comer.

"Some wine, my brave Perigord," said the graceful young musketeer, as
soon as he could find utterance.

Perigord brought three dozen of Charlevoix. The young man emptied them
almost at a draught.

"By-by, Perigord," he said lightly, waving his hand, as, preceding the
astonished landlord, he slowly withdrew.

"But, your highness,--the bill," said the astounded Perigord.

"Ah, the bill. Charge it!"

"To whom?"

"The Queen!"

"What, Madame?"

"The same. Adieu, my good Perigord." And the graceful stranger rode
away. An interval of quiet succeeded, in which the innkeeper gazed
wofully at his wife. Suddenly he was startled by a clatter of hoofs,
and an aristocratic figure stood in the doorway.

"Ah," said the courtier good-naturedly. "What, do my eyes deceive me?
No, it is the festive and luxurious Perigord. Perigord, listen. I
famish. I languish. I would dine."

The inn