the old soldier approaching with many low bows, the king
spoke to him graciously, and bade him say what he sought. It happened
then as I had expected. Boisrose, after telling the king his name,
turned to me and humbly begged that I would explain his complaint, which
I consented to do, and did as follows:

"This, sire," I said, gravely, "is an old and brave soldier, who
formerly served your Majesty to good purpose in Normandy; but he has
been cheated out of the recompense which he there earned by the trickery
and chicanery of one of your Majesty's counsellors, the Baron de Rosny."

I could not continue, for the courtiers, on hearing this from my mouth,
and on discovering that the stranger's odd appearance was but a prelude
to the real diversion, could not restrain their mirth. The king,
concealing his own amusement, turned to them with an angry air, and
bade them be silent; and the Gascon, encouraged by this, and by the bold
manner in which I had stated his grievance, scowled at them gloriously.

"He alleges, sire," I continued, with the same gravity, "that the Baron
de Rosny, after promising him the government of Fecamp, bestowed it on
another, being bribed to do so, and has besides been guilty of many
base acts which make him unworthy of your Majesty's confidence. That, I
think, is your complaint, M. de Boisrose?" I concluded, turning to the
soldier, whom my deep seriousness so misled that he took up the story,
and, pouring out his wrongs, did not fail to threaten to trounce me, or
to add that I was a villain!

He might have said more, but at this the courtiers, perceiving that the
king broke into a smile, lost all control over themselves, and, giving
vent suddenly to loud peals of laughter, clasped one another by the
shoulders, and reeled to and fro in an ecstasy of enjoyment. This led
the king to give way also, and he laughed heartily, clapping me again
and again on the back; so that, in fine, there were only two serious
persons present--the poor Boisrose, who took all for lunatics, and
myself, who began to think that perhaps the jest had been carried far
enough.

My master presently saw this, and, collecting himself, turned to the
amazed Gascon.

"Your complaint is one," he said, "which should not be lightly made. Do
you know the Baron de Rosny?"

Boisrose, by this time vastly mystified, said he did not.

"Then," said the king, "I will give you an opportunity of becoming
acquainted with him. I shall refer