ull.

"Waiter, _my_ newspaper," said Max, in a quiet voice.

Then a little comedy was played. The fat hostess, with a timid and
conciliatory air, said, "Captain, I have lent it!"

"Send for it," cried one of Max's friends.

"Can't you do without it?" said the waiter; "we have not got it."

The young royalists were laughing and casting sidelong glances at the
new-comers.

"They have torn it up!" cried a youth of the town, looking at the feet
of the young royalist captain.

"Who has dared to destroy that paper?" demanded Max, in a thundering
voice, his eyes flashing as he rose with his arms crossed.

"And we spat upon it," replied the three young officers, also rising,
and looking at Max.

"You have insulted the whole town!" said Max, turning livid.

"Well, what of that?" asked the youngest officer.

With a dexterity, quickness, and audacity which the young men did not
foresee, Max slapped the face of the officer nearest to him, saying,--

"Do you understand French?"

They fought near by, in the allee de Frapesle, three against three; for
Potel and Renard would not allow Max to deal with the officers alone.
Max killed his man. Major Potel wounded his so severely, that the
unfortunate young man, the son of a good family, died in the hospital
the next day. As for the third, he got off with a sword cut, after
wounding his adversary, Captain Renard. The battalion left for Bourges
that night. This affair, which was noised throughout Berry, set Max up
definitely as a hero.

The Knights of Idleness, who were all young, the eldest not more than
twenty-five years old, admired Maxence. Some among them, far from
sharing the prudery and strict notions of their families concerning his
conduct, envied his present position and thought him fortunate. Under
such a leader, the Order did great things. After the month of May, 1817,
never a week passed that the town was not thrown into an uproar by
some new piece of mischief. Max, as a matter of honor, imposed certain
conditions upon the Knights. Statutes were drawn up. These young demons
grew as vigilant as the pupils of Amoros,--bold as hawks, agile at all
exercises, clever and strong as criminals. They trained themselves in
climbing roofs, scaling houses, jumping and walking noiselessly, mixing
mortar, and walling up doors. They collected an arsenal of ropes,
ladders, tools, and disguises. After a time the Knights of Idleness
attained to the beau-ideal of malicious mischie