ms! I know where he is."

He released me suddenly, and fell back a pace, looking at me so oddly
that I paused. "Say it again," he said slowly. "You have held the----"

"The King! The King!" I cried impatiently. "In these arms. Last night! I
know where they have him, or at least--where the robbers are."

His double chin fell, and his fat face lost colour. "Poor devil!" he
said, staring at me like one fascinated. "They have took his senses from
him."

"But--" I cried, advancing, "are you not going to do anything?"

He waved me off, and retreating a step, crossed himself. "Jacques!" he
said, speaking to one of the porters, but without taking his eyes off
me, "move him off! Move him off; do you hear, man? He is not safe!"

"But I tell you," I cried fiercely, "they have stolen the King! They
have stolen his Majesty, and I--have held him in my arms. And I
know----"

"There, there, be calm," he answered. "Be calm, my lad. They have stolen
the Queen's dog, that is true. But have it your own way if you like,
only go. Go from here, and quickly, or it will be the worse for you; for
here comes Monseigneur the Bishop to wait on her Majesty, and if he sees
you, you will suffer worse things. There, make way, make way!" he
continued, turning from me to the staring crowd that had assembled.
"Way, for Monseigneur the Bishop of Beauvais! Make way!"

As he spoke, the Bishop in his great coach turned heavily out of the
Rue St. Honore, and the crowd attending him eddied about the Palace
entrance. I was hustled and swept out of the way, and fortunately
escaping notice, found myself a few minutes later crouching in a lane
that runs beside the church of St. Jacques. I was wolfing a crust of
bread, which one of the men with whom I had often talked in the lodge
had thrust into my hand. I ate it with tears: in all Paris, that day,
was no more miserable outcast. What had become of my little wife I knew
not; and I dared not show myself at the Bishop's to ask. My
father-in-law, I feared, was hardened against me, and at the best
thought me mad. I had no longer home or friend, and--this at the moment
cut most sharply--the gorgeous hopes in which I had indulged a few
moments before were as last year's snow! The King was not lost!

I crouched and shivered. In St. Antoine's, at the mouth of the lane, a
man was beating a drum preparatory to publishing a notice; and
presently his voice caught my attention in the middle of my
lamentations. I listen