hide a great and singular patriotism under butterfly
wings? Patriotism? More and more it becomes self-interest. It is
only when a foreign mob starts to tear down your house, that you become
a patriot."

Now the subject of these desultory musings went directly to the
Bibliotheque Nationale. The study he pursued was of deep interest to
him; it concerned a butterfly of vast proportions and kaleidoscopic in
color, long ago pinned away and labeled among others of lesser
brilliancy. It had cast a fine shadow in its brief flight. But the
species was now extinct, at least so the historian of this particular
butterfly declared. Hybrid? Such a contingency was always possible.

"Suppose it does exist, as I and a few others very well know it does;
what a fine joke it would be to see it fly into Paris! But, no. Idle
dream! Still, I shall wait and watch. And now, suppose we pay a visit
to Berlin and use blunt facts in place of diplomacy? It will surprise
them."

Each German chancellor has become, in turn, the repository of such
political secrets as fell under the eyes of his predecessor; and the
chancellor who walked up and down before Monsieur Ferraud, possessed
several which did not rest heavily upon his soul simply because he was
incredulous, or affected that he was.

"The thing is preposterous."

"As your excellency has already declared."

"What has it to do with France?"

"Much or little. It depends upon this side of the Rhine."

"What imagination! But for your credentials, Monsieur Ferraud, I
should not listen to you one moment."

"I have seen some documents."

"Forgeries!" contemptuously.

"Not in the least," suavely. "They are in every part genuine. They
are his own."

The chancellor paused, frowning. "Well, even then?"

Monsieur Ferraud shrugged.

"This fellow, who was forced to resign from the navy because of his
tricks at cards, why I doubt if he could stir up a brawl in a tavern.
Really, if there was a word of truth in the affair, we should have
acted before this. It is all idle newspaper talk that Germany wishes
war; far from it. Still, we lose no point to fortify ourselves against
the possibility of it. Some one has been telling you old-wives' tales."

"Ten thousand marks," almost inaudibly.

"What was that you said?" cried the chancellor, whirling round
abruptly, for the words startled him.

"Pardon me! I was thinking out loud about a sum of money."

"Ah!" And yet the c