.

"I am sure I never saw you before, nor want to see you again."

"What are you doing in that uniform?"

"You have the advantage of me; suppose you begin the introduction?"

"Indeed I have the advantage of you, and propose to maintain it. Who are
you and what are you doing here? Answer!"

There was something in the young man's aspect which convinced Maurice
that it would be folly to trifle. Besides, he gave to his words an
air which distinguishes the man who commands from the man who serves.
Maurice briefly acquainted the young man with his name and position.

"And you?" he asked.

"I?" The young man laughed again. It was an unpleasant laugh. "Never
mind who I am. Let us go, we are losing time. What is the date?"
suddenly.

"The twentieth of September," answered Maurice.

"My God, a day too late!" The young man had an attack of vertigo, and
was obliged to lean against a tree for support. "Are you telling me the
truth about yourself?"

"I am. I myself was attempting to dispense with the questionable
hospitality of the Red Chateau--good Lord!" striking his forehead.

"What's the matter?"

"Are you the mysterious prisoner of the chateau, the man they have been
keeping at the end of the east corridor on the third floor?"

"Yes. And woe to the woman who kept me there! How came you there?"

Maurice, confident that something extraordinary was taking place,
related in synopsis his adventures.

"And this cursed Englishman?"

"Will drain a bitter cup. Madame is playing with him."

"And the king; is he dead?"

"He is dying." Maurice's wonder grew. What part had this strange young
man in this comedy, which was rapidly developing into a tragedy?

"And her Highness--her Royal Highness?" eagerly clutching Maurice by the
arm; "and she?"

"She does not murmur, though both her pride and her heart are sore.
She has scarcely a dozen friends. Her paralytic father is the theme of
ribald jest; and now they laugh at her because the one man who perhaps
could have saved the throne has deserted her like a coward. Hang him, I
say!"

"What do they say?" The tones were hollow.

"They say he is enamoured of a peasant girl, and dallies with her,
forgetting his sacred vows, his promised aid, and perhaps even this, his
wedding day."

"God help him!" was the startling and despairing cry.... He was again
seized with the vertigo, and swayed against the tree. For a moment he
forgot Maurice, covered his face with his unengaged