mply as a flower laid in passing on the burial mound of an old
friend.

The hunting lodge of Leopold, King of the Belgians--the Chateau des
Ardennes, as it is called--is situate some half a dozen miles from
Rochefort, on the road to Dinan on the Meuse. It was a favourite
relaxation of mine when I found myself in want of exercise and a
holiday, to mount a knapsack and to stroll to Dinan, which is only
a score of English miles away. On one of these jaunts I had my only
interview with a reigning monarch. I was sauntering homeward in the dusk
of a summer's evening when I saw at the gate of the chateau, a tall,
gaunt figure with a long, peaked beard, a pheasant's feather stuck in
the ribbon of a bowler hat, and trousers very disreputably trodden into
rags behind. As I passed him he raised his hat and gave me a courteous
"Bon soir, monsieur." I returned his salute and answered "Bon soir,
sire." "Ah, ha!" said His Majesty, like a pleased child, "vous me
connaissez alors?" I responded that everybody knew the King of the
Belgians and I added that I had never ventured to enter His Majesty's
dominions without carrying his portrait with me. "Comment donc!" said
His Majesty, and when I produced a brand new five-franc piece, the jest
enjoyed a greater prosperity than it deserved. We got into conversation
on the strength of it and he stood for perhaps five minutes chatting not
unintelligently about English books and authors.

The years I spent in Rochefort were, I think, the happiest and most
fruitful of my life, but the last piece of work I did there came very
near to landing me in a contretemps which might, for a time at least,
have had an uncomfortable result. At that time Mr James Payn had just
taken over the editorship of the _Cornhill_ magazine, the price of which
he had reduced to 6d. My story--_By the Gate of the Sea_--had been the
last to appear in the original series founded by Thackeray, and I was
invited by Mr Payn to inaugurate the new and cheaper issue. With this
purpose I wrote _Rainbow Gold_, and since it was Mr Payn's unbreakable
editorial rule not to take any work into consideration until its last
line was in his hands, and he at this time was in a mighty hurry about
his literary supplies, I had to undertake again pretty much such a
spell of work as I had undertaken with _Val Strange_, and with an almost
equally unfortunate result. My methods of work have often brought me
near a nervous breakdown, and by the time at