s and a gleam of gold. He glanced
hastily back at the gates through which they had just come,
and, as if sprung out of the ground, there was the crowd
standing respectfully on either side of the avenue to see its
Sovereign. (It was up this avenue to Paris, Monsignor
reflected, that the women had come on their appalling march to
the Queen who ruled them then.)

As he glanced back again the heralds were upon them, and the thunder
of hoofs followed close behind. But beyond the line of galloping
guards, in the midst, drawn by white horses, ran the great gilded
coach with glass windows, and the crown of France atop.

Two men were seated in the coach, bowing mechanically as they
came--one a small, young, vivacious-looking man with a pointed
dark beard; the other a heavy, fair-haired, sanguine-featured,
clean-shaven man. Both alike were in robes in which red and
gold predominated; and both wore broad feathered hats, shaped
like a priest's.

Then the coach was gone through the tall gilded gates, and a
cloud of dust, beaten up by the galloping hoofs on all sides, hid
even the cuirassiers who closed the company. And as the two
turned the banner sank on the tall pole.

"The King and the German Emperor," observed Father Jervis, replacing
his hat. "Now there's the other side of the picture for you."

"I don't understand."

"Why, we treat our kings like kings," smiled the other. "And, at
the same time, we encourage our butchers to be really butchers
and to glory in it. Law _and_ liberty, you see. Absolute discipline
and the cultivation of individualism. No republican stew-pot, you
see, in which everything tastes alike."

(II)

They had to wait a few minutes in an ante-room before presenting
their letters, as the official was engaged, and Father Jervis
occupied the time in running over again the names and histories
of three or four important personages to whom they would perhaps
have to speak. He had given an outline of these at breakfast.

There were three in particular about whom Monsignor must be informed.

First, the King; and Monsignor learned again thoroughly of the
sensational reaction which, after the humiliation of France in
the war of 1914--the logical result of a conflict between a
republicanism worked out to mediocrity and a real and vivid
monarchy--had placed this man's father--the undoubted legitimate
heir--upon the throne. He had died only two years ago, when the
Dauphin, who had ascended the throne,