sed out of the unfrequented halls into that
portion of the palace where the many shuttlecocks of fortune
congregated to laugh and talk and plot and lie. Not long after he came
back, sorely nettled and disappointed.

"It is done; the King has them in his own hands; yet he does not talk;
promises nothing; is closeted with his ministers; they must be of
considerable importance. It is all secure for us, for I told him of my
departure in the morning to the colonies, and he assented. I judge,
then, it is something of a very delicate nature, touching the royal
honor of the King's own blood. Besides much is in cipher which it will
take time to read. Louis, you know, would not admit, save to those
nearest his throne, the possession of the secret Spanish cipher."

The night passed by dismal and uncertain enough. I must confess to a
great sinking of the heart when I saw Serigny's carriage roll away in
the gray of the early morning, leaving me absolutely alone in my
father's land of France, where in the short space of two weeks so much
had transpired; much to be ever remembered, much I would have given
worlds to forget.

It must have been a most forlorn and dejected looking creature that
stood in the great square that sunless morning, peering into the mists
which had absorbed the carriage. The solitude of vast untrodden
forests breeds not that vacant sense of desolation which we children of
nature feel in the crowded haunts of men. Face after face, form after
form, voice after voice, yet not one familiar countenance, not one
remembered tone, not the glance of a kindly eye; all is new, all is
strange, all at seeming enmity. The defection of Jerome, my only
comrade, was indeed a cup of bitterness. I dreaded to meet him, not
knowing what tack he might cut away on. Yet I could not blame him; it
was more of pity I felt.

I recall with great delight some of the minor occurrences of the next
three or four days. After Serigny's departure, every afternoon at
imminent risk I would take horse to Sceaux, and pursuing a by-way
through the forests and fields, through which a wood-cutter first led
me, ride hard to catch a glimpse of her who now occupied all my
thoughts. I wonder at this time how I then held so firm by the duty of
returning to the colonies, when the very thought of war and turmoil was
so distasteful to me. When I rode to Paris and clothed myself once
more in my own proper garments, their friendly folds gave me a