ot with his speeches, and
when he had finished I used to find myself standing on my tiptoes and
shouting with the rest. Without him I could have done nothing. They
knew me too well; but the laziest rascals in the village came to
welcome him again, and the women and men wept before him and brought
their children to be blessed, and fell on their knees and kissed his
sandals. It was like the stories they tell you when you are a child.
He made us sob with regret and he filled us with fresh resolves. Oh,
it is very well for you to smile, you old cynics," he cried, smiling at
his own fervor, "but I tell you, I have lived since I saw you last!"

The priest stood silent with his hands hidden inside his great sleeves,
and his head rising erect and rigid from his cowl. The eyes of the men
were turned upon him curiously, and he glanced from one to the other,
as though mistrusting their sympathy.

"It was not me--it was the Church they came to welcome. The fools," he
cried bitterly, "they thought they could destroy the faith of the
people by banishing the servants of the Church. As soon end a mother's
love for her children by putting an ocean between them. For six years
those peasants have been true. I left them faithful, I returned to
find them faithful. And now--" he concluded, looking steadily at the
King as though to hold him to account, "and now they are to have their
reward."

The King bowed his head gravely in assent. "They are to have their
reward," he repeated. He rose and with a wave of his hand invited the
priest to follow him, and they walked together to the other end of the
terrace. When they were out of hearing of the others the King seated
himself, and the priest halted beside his chair.

"I wish to speak with you, father," Louis said, "concerning this young
American girl, Miss Carson, who has promised to help us--to help
you--with her money. Has she said yet how much she means to give us,"
asked the King, "and when she means to let us have it? It is a
delicate matter, and I do not wish to urge the lady, but we are really
greatly in need of money. Baron Barrat, who arrived from Paris this
morning, brings back no substantial aid, although the sympathy of the
old nobility, he assures me, is with us. Sympathy, however, does not
purchase Maxim guns, nor pay for rations, and Madame Zara's visit to
the capital was, as you know, even less successful."

"Your Majesty has seen Miss Carson, then?" the pri