he devil sleeps, knowing all his business is well attended to
by her. And Peggy Kirkpatrick's niece--I know the chit, and knew
her father before her. Scotch and Spanish--it is a fiery mixture. And
I know that scoundrel, Jacques Haret. So the young man you came near
finishing--Gaston Cheverny--laughed when he seemed a-dying. I wish we
could have that young man--for Babache, my Tatar prince from the
Marais, we ride for Courland within a fortnight."

I said nothing, it being all one to me where Count Saxe rode so I rode
with him. He continued, after a pause:

"It is true, as that devilish old woman Peggy Kirkpatrick says, I go
on a marauding expedition, but never must we admit that." He rose as
he spoke, his black eyes flashing. "I go in response to a call from
the greatest nobles in Courland, to lay my claims respectfully before
the august Diet of Courland. But shoot me, if that Diet doesn't elect
me, it will live to be sorry for it--that I promise. And if Russia and
Prussia want war, they can have it. War is the game of the gods. There
is none better." He rose and stood, the picture of a conqueror,
smiling at the thought of the great adventures before him.

"It is a large enterprise," I said. "Our necks will be in jeopardy
every hour--but that is a small matter."

"A very small matter, my Babache. Do you see yonder stars?" He pointed
out of the window where the earnest stars were palpitating in the dark
blue heavens. "Look at them but for a moment, and you will see how
small a matter it is. But look not at the stars too often or too
long--nor look upon graves too much and too deeply--for the
contemplation of stars and graves will rob any man of all his
ambitions; their silence will drown the shouting of the captains and
the rustling of the laurels, through all the ages; the love of glory
will die in his breast, and he will curse his doglike fate. Our
largest enterprises are so small--so small!"

I perceived he was in one of those reflective moods when a man stops
at a certain point in his existence, and, standing upon the lonely
peak of the present, surveys the great unfathomed gulfs of the past
and future that lie on either side. I have those moments often--but
Count Saxe rarely.

He stood thoughtful for a while, then turning to me, said with a
bright smile:

"But some things do not diminish even in the light of the stars; one
of them is, the pure devotion of a woman. Mademoiselle Adrienne
Lecouvreur sent me wo