sovereign duchy of Bercy.

"Shall I bid him enter, Prince?" asked the Minister. The Duke's face
relaxed a little, for the truth was, at this moment of his long life he
was deeply concerned with his own name and all who bore it.

"Is he here then?" he asked, nodding assent.

"In the next room," answered the Minister, turning to a bell and ringing.
"I have him here for examination, and was but beginning when I was
honoured by your Highness's presence." He bowed politely, yet there was,
too, a little mockery in the bow, which did not escape the Duke. These
were days when princes received but little respect in France.

A subaltern entered, received an order, and disappeared. The Duke
withdrew to the embrasure of a window, and immediately the prisoner was
gruffly announced.

The young Englishman stood quietly waiting, his quick eyes going from
Dalbarade to the wizened figure by the window, and back again to the
Minister. His look carried both calmness and defiance, but the defiance
came only from a sense of injury and unmerited disgrace.

"Monsieur," said the Minister with austerity, "in your further
examination we shall need to repeat some questions."

The prisoner nodded indifferently, and for a brief space there was
silence. The Duke stood by the window, the Minister by his table, the
prisoner near the door. Suddenly the prisoner, with an abrupt motion of
the hand towards two chairs, said with an assumption of ordinary