s which swept across the wide stretches of
river-view that lay open in bird-like perspective from the crest of the
terraces on which the Dormilliere _cote_, or countryside, was perched,
and along which the road ran.

"Come up, my little buds!" the young man cried in French, to a pair of
baby girls who, holding each others' hands, were crowding on the edge of
the ditch-weeds, out of the wheels' way.

"Houp-la!" he cried, helping the laughing little things up one after the
other by their hands, and then whipping forward. "How much, are you
going to give me for this? Do you think we drive people for nothing,
eh?" The children nestled themselves down with beaming faces. "Tell me,
_bidoux_,"[C] he laughed again, "What are you going to give me?"

[Footnote C: Bidoux is a term of endearment for children.]

Both hung their heads. One of them quickly threw her arms up around his
neck and, kissing him, said, "I will pay you this way," and the other
began to follow suit.

"Stop, stop, my dears. You must not stifle your seigneur," he cried in
the highest glee, returning their embraces.

One of our poets claims that there is something of earthliness in the
kisses of all but children:--

"But in a little child's warm kiss
Is naught but heaven above,
So sweet it is, so pure it is,
So full of faith and love."

So it seemed to Chrysler as he saw this first of the relations between
the young Seigneur and his people.

CHAPTER III.

HAVILAND'S IDEA.

"GRAND MASTER.--O, if you knew what our astrologers say of the coming
age and of our age, that has in it more history within a hundred years
than all the world had in four thousand years before."
--CAMPANELLA--_The City of the Sun_.

When they arrived before the Manor House front, Mr. Chrysler could
almost believe himself in some ancestral place in Europe, the pinnacles
clustered with such a tranquil grace and the walk of pines surrounding
the place seemed to frown with such cool, dark shades.

Within, he found it a comfortable mingling of ancient family portraits
and hanging swords strung around the walls, elaborate, ornate old mantel
ornaments, an immense carved fireplace, and such modern conveniences as
Eastlake Cabinets, student's lamps and electric bell. In a distant
corner of the large united dining and drawing-room, the evidently
favorite object was a full-size cast of the Apollo Belvedere.

Chamilly introduced him respectfully to his g