ood
case."

Madame Riano (flaunting her fan savagely): "Thanks be to God, I am
well, your Grace. Your Grace looks a little peaked. I hope your Grace
has not been ill."

Now his Grace was in the bloom of health, and nothing vexed him so
much as any hint that he was otherwise. So he answered tartly that he
was very well, and then, addressing Gaston Cheverny, his Grace asked a
question which made us all jump in our chairs.

"Monsieur, to touch upon things in which the ladies probably take
little interest--what is the news from Count Saxe in Courland? I hear
that he has turned tail and is running for his life!"

At the bishop's intimation that the subject he wished to discuss was
above the feminine comprehension, thunder sat upon Madame Riano's
brow; but when he plunged into the abyss her countenance cleared as if
by magic, her mouth came wide open. I believe she would not have taken
a thousand crowns for that moment's pleasure.

Count Saxe did not change countenance one whit. The rest of us grew
pale, except Jacques Haret, who turned and winked rapturously at
Madame Riano, wagging her head-dress of feathers in an ecstasy of
delight. As for Gaston Cheverny, he did me then and there the only
disservice of his life. Pointing to me, he said with the most debonair
manner in the world:

"There, your Grace, sits Captain Babache, who commands Count Saxe's
body-guard. It would not become me, nor any one else, to speak of
Count Saxe's affairs in the presence of Captain Babache."

Yes, the rascal said that, and sat there smiling and stroking the lace
upon his wrists, while I yearned to give him a clip over the head
with my strong right arm. And Count Saxe appeared to enjoy my
discomfiture, and actually laughed in my face. However, I summoned
all my composure and replied to that fool of a bishop that Count
Saxe was the undoubted choice of the Diet and the nobility, and still
held the rescript of election. And the Duchess of Courland, Anna
Iwanowna, a brisk and homely widow, wished to marry Count Saxe, and
as he had no mind to put his head in the noose, he had abandoned
his enterprise for the present, to be resumed when convenient.

The bishop, with Count Saxe for his text, launched into a criticism of
all the campaigns of the ancients and the moderns, and the blunders he
committed gave Madame Riano and us the most acute enjoyment. I saw the
little priest's eyes twinkle as the oration proceeded. Nobody
interrupted the bishop