nt ready,
and after a heavy caning the boy gave up. Besides, he preferred to sweep
rather than to learn to read. The prince, therefore, scrubbed and swept
with singular energy, and the salon of the Moronvals was scrupulously
clean; but Moronval's heart was not softened. In vain did the little
fellow work; in vain did he seek to obtain a kindly word from his
master; in vain did he hover about him with all the touching humility of
a submissive hound: he rarely obtained any other recompense than a blow.

The boy was in despair. The skies grew grayer and grayer, the rain
seemed to fall more persistently, and the snow was colder than ever.

O Kerika! Aunt Kerika! so haughty and so tender, where are you? Come and
see what they are doing with your little king! How he is treated, how
scantily he is fed, how ragged are his clothes, and how cold he is! He
has but one suit now, and that a livery--a red coat and striped vest!
Now, when he goes out with his master, he does not walk at his side--he
follows him.

Madou's honesty and ingenuity had, however, so won the confidence of
Madame Moronval, that she sent him to market. Behold, therefore, this
last descendant of the powerful _Tocodonon_, the founder of the Dahomian
dynasty, staggering daily from the market under the weight of a huge
basket, half fed and half clothed, cold to the very heart; for nothing
warms him now, neither violent exercise, nor blows, nor the shame of
having become a servant; nor even his hatred of "the father with a
stick," as he called Moronval.

And yet that hatred was something prodigious; and Madou confided to Jack
his projects of vengeance.

"When Madou goes home to Dahomey, he will write a little letter to the
father with the stick; he will tell him to come to Dahomey, and he will
cut off his head into the copper basin, and afterwards will cover a big
drum with his skin, and I will then march against the Ashantees,--Boum!
boum! boum!"

Jack could just see in the shadow the gleam of the negro's white eyes,
and heard the raps upon the footboard of the bed, that imitated the
drum, and was frightened. He fancied that he heard the whizzing of the
sabres, and the heavy thud of the falling heads; he pulled the blanket
over his head, and held his breath.

Madou, who was excited by his own story, wished to talk on, but he
thought his solitary auditor asleep. But when Jack drew a long breath,
Madou said gently, "Shall we talk some more, sir?"

"Yes," an