asked excitedly.

"No," said the taller nun.

The gendarme stepped up towards the beggar.

"I arrest you for mendicity," he said, just about to lay his hand on his
shoulder.

The beggar--who bore a red nose--started back with an alacrity
unexpected of so aged a man. He took to his heels, and, with tatters
flying, fled like an arrow from the Avenue.

The gendarme furiously looked after him. When he turned, the pair of
nuns also had moved on. They were slipping round a corner which led into
a by-street of the old town.

Versailles, the City of the Court, was then in the height of its
splendour, gay and triumphant. Everything in it looked towards the
Palace of the King, the long and lordly facade of which, with its three
concentric courtyards, faced the great square of the town, the Place
d'Armes; and behind lay those delicious gardens, groves and waters, the
mere remains of which, such as the Tapis Vert, the Basins of Neptune and
Enceladus, the Trianons, and the Orangerie, are marvels even to our day.
Thousands of costumes and equipages made the town a panorama of luxury;
and countless thoroughbreds, of which the King alone possessed more than
two thousand, glistened and curvetted in the streets.

The neighbourhood of the Palace was naturally that of the aristocracy.
The vast mansions of the Princes of the blood and the Peers of France
were clustered about the sides of the Place d'Armes and the streets
immediately surrounding. One of these was the Hotel de Noailles. Its
range of buildings, for it surrounded a court, stood at the corner of
the Rues de la Pompe et des Bons Enfans. Behind it were its gardens.
Opposite, on the Rue des Bons Enfans, were the hotels of the Princes of
Conde and the Dukes of Tremouille. The hotels of Luxembourg, Orleans,
and Bouillon faced it on the Rue de la Pompe. The Noailles family were
themselves many times of royal descent. Adjoining the hotel were the
quarters of the Queen's equerries.

Germain sat in his apartment, watching, over the balcony of one of the
windows, the incessant movement of lackeys, mounted officials, and
carriages on the street near by. Raising his eyes across the gardens of
the Tremouille Palace, he rested them with quickened delight on the
elegant avenues and groves of the royal pleasure-realm, rich in the
golden tones and clear air of an autumn morning.

In the midst the Basin of Neptune, glittering and shining, and with its
white statues, seemed to inspire h