--_n'est-ce pas?_"

"He was my colonel."

"Come," said the other, relaxing his stern method of addressing St.
Georges, and warming toward him, unknowingly to himself by the fact
that this man in such dire distress was a comrade and had served in a
_corps d'elite_--"come, tell us your history. We cannot help
you--there is but one thing to do, namely, to send you to Paris for
inquiry; but until you go we can at least make your existence here
more endurable."

So St. Georges told them his story.

All through it both his listeners testified their sympathy--De
Mortemart especially, by many exclamations against De Roquemaure and
his sister, and also against la belle Louvigny--while the colonel
spoke approvingly of the manner in which St. Georges had almost
avenged himself on his foe in the inn. The description, too, of his
existence in the galleys moved both young and old soldier alike; it
was only when he arrived at the account of the destruction of
Tourville's fleet that they ceased to make any remark and sat
listening to him in silence.

It was finished, however, now, and when the colonel spoke his voice
was more cold and unsympathetic.

"You have ruined yourself by the last month's work," he said. "I am
afraid you can never recover from that. Did you not know that his
Majesty has made it a rule that none who have served him shall ever
take service under a foreign power and dare to venture into France
again?"

"I know it," St. Georges said, "and I must abide by my fate. Yet, my
child was here. I was forced to come, and there was no other way but
this."

One thing only he had not told them, the story of what he believed to
be his birth, the belief he held that he was the Duc de Vannes. Nor,
he determined then--had, indeed, long since determined--would he ever
publish that belief now. Had he kept his freedom until he had once
more regained Dorine, it was his intention to have repassed to England
and never again to have recalled that supposed birthright, or, as the
child grew up, to have let her obtain any knowledge on the subject. He
would work for her, slave for her, if necessary become tutor, or
soldier, or sailor, as Fate might decree; but it must be as an
Englishman, and with all connection with France broken forever.

And now, a prisoner, a man who would ere long be tried as an
ex-_galerien_, as--if De Mortemart and the colonel did not hold their
peace--a Frenchman who had joined England and helped her in