The Launching of Roger Brook

"Indeed! You wish to get on with your packing, then. Well, do so by all means. I am quite comfortable here, and there will be ample time for me to mention another little matter before you go."

Roger saw that their sinister visitor was only playing with the poor old Doctor, so he blurted out:

"What do you want, Monsieur? Give it a name, or leave us!"

Without a second's warning Fouché sprang from the bed, seized Roger's wrist and twisted it up behind his back, causing him to let out a cry of pain.

"I'll tell him what I want in my own good time, you impudent young puppy," snarled Fouché "Meanwhile, -let's have your name, and hear how you came to join this old codger?"

"My name's Roje Breuc!" gasped Roger. "Let me go! You're hurting!" Then, as he felt the tall man's grip ease a little, he went on: "I come from Alsace. I'm a native of Strasbourg and I ran away from home to seek adventure."-

"You lie!" Fouché snapped. "You're no Frenchman of German stock. You are English. I could tell it by your accent from the first .words you spoke on entering this room. Try again. But I want the truth, now, or it will be the worse for you." And to emphasise his point he gave Roger's arm another savage twist.

"All right, then!" Roger panted, as the pain caused tears to spring to his eyes; "I am English, and my name is Roger Brook. It's true, though, that I ran away from home."

"Where is your home?"

"At Lymington, in Hampshire."

"You mean the little port near Southampton?"

"Yes,"

"You look like a youth of good family. Are you well-born?" "Yes."

"What is the name of your father?"

"Christopher Brook. He is an Admiral in the English Navy." "Is that the truth?" Fouché again exerted his full strength on Roger's arm, forcing him up on tiptoe with it twisted behind him. "Yes, yes!" moaned Roger, "I swear it!"

"And when did you become the apprentice of this old charlatan?" "About eleven weeks ago. I met him soon after I landed at Le Havre."

Fouché suddenly released Roger, flinging him with a contemptuous jerk half across the room and turned to the Doctor, who, during Roger's swift interrogation, had been standing impotently by, wringing his hands.

"Now!" said the man in grey, "I have amused myself long enough. I know how you succeeded in escaping your due deserts in Nantes. You bribed the police-agent with the ten louis that you received in payment for the Ergot of Rye that you sold to the demoiselle Bracieux. 'Tis my policy never to persecute people or make enemies needlessly, and the matter would have ended there, as far as I am concerned, had we not met again to-day and it so chances that the moment finds me in dire need myself. The annual remittances from my plantations in the Indies have failed to reach me this year, and I am committed to heavy expenses in connection with certain experiments in ballooning, in which I am interested. But why should I tell you all this? The fact is that I need money urgently and, after your long summer journey, you must have a nice sum put by. I trust you will see the wisdom of lending me fifty louis without argument."

The Doctor spread out his hands in a pathetic gesture and looked at Roger.

Still nursing his twisted arm, Roger muttered angrily: " 'Tis naught but blackmail!"

Fouché's small mouth broke into a thin smile. "Call it by any name you like, but I need the money. Either I get it or I'll lay an information with the police of Rennes. Monsieur le Docteur will be held upon my affidavit, the warrant will then be forwarded by courier from Nantes, and executed."

Roger saw that there was no way in which they could escape the demand and, with bitter reluctance, began to undo his shirt to get out his money belt. As their funds were all in the one long narrow sack he could not pretend that they were incapable of paying the full sum but in an effort to save part of the amount he announced with such firmness as he could muster: "Half of this belongs to me."

"Does it so?" said Fouche1 quietly. "How much have you there altogether?"

"Fifty-four louis," Roger replied as he took off the belt.

"I'll have the lot, then!" cried Fouché with another sudden display of brutality. "The extra four as a penalty for your impudence."

As he spoke he snatched at the end of the belt that dangled free. But Roger had firm hold of the other end and, springing back, endeavoured to wrench it from his grasp. The thought of all their savings from two long months of toil being taken from them by the unscrupulous amateur crime-investigator lent him strength and he almost jerked the tall young man off his feet.

"Let go!" shouted Fouché, his white face flushing with anger. "For rogues like you what I say is the law! D'you hear me! And learn that I'll take this but as an interim payment. We'll meet again from time to time, never fear. And each time we meet I'll empty your pockets for you, if I've a mind to it. Let go, now, or I'll swear you both into jail this very evening."

It was perhaps the threat to his future earnings, the thought of a never-ending blackmail, that stirred the Doctor into sudden, violent action. As the other two swayed wildly back and forth, struggling for the belt, they had moved round so that Fouché's back was now turned to him. Grabbing up Roger's sheathed sword from a chest nearby he struck the blackmailer a heavy blow on the back of the head with its hilt.

Fouché gasped and fell, half stunned, to the floor. But he still had hold of the belt and the sudden pull upon it dragged Roger down with him.

The Doctor, his watery blue eyes now mad with desperation, raised the sword to strike again. But Fouché was too quick for him. Letting go the belt he rolled over and pulled a small double-barrelled pistol from inside his grey coat. As he cocked it Roger heard the click. Next second there came a blinding flash and a loud report.

Roger staggered to his feet. He saw the Doctor drop the sword; then that one of his eyes had become a hideous red patch. The blood began to trickle from it. He had been shot clean through the head, and with a long, low moan sank slowly to the floor.

Still holding the belt Roger stood for a second, transfixed with horror, staring down at the Doctor's crumpled body. Then he heard Fouché cock the second barrel of his pistol. The sound released a spring in his momentarily petrified brain, and in one bound he reached the door.

He was barely through it and out on the landing when he heard the informer begin to shout: "Help! Murder! A man has been killed here. Stop, thief! Below there! Stop the murderer!"

In a flash Roger realised that Fouché intended to pin the Doctor's killing on to him and, in a panic of terror from a vision of the hang­man's rope, he launched himself down the stairs.

CHAPTER XI

L'ANCIEN REGIME

SOME eleven weeks previously Roger had gone crashing down the rickety stairs at the "Widow Scarron's" in Le Havre. Then, his flight had been actuated by a sudden wave of physical revulsion; now, he knew that he was flying for his very life. There, with a hand on the banister rail he had gone down three steps at a time; here, he jumped the first short flight in one swift bound. Yet here, as there, he had barely crossed the upper landing before the sound of opening doors and excited voices coming from below told him that the cries from the attic had already roused the house.

The money-belt still dangling from his hand, he hurled himself down the second flight. Suddenly his foot slipped on the highly polished wood. His legs shot from under him and sprawling on his back he slithered down towards the next landing. In an effort to save himself he flung out his hands. One end of the long purse caught round a banister. In his fall he had relaxed his grip and the precious belt was jerked from his grasp.

At the bottom of the flight he rolled over, jumped to his feet and swung round to regain the belt. In the faint light from the landing-window he could just see it as a whitish blur where it now lay, a few feet beyond his reach. One end of it was on the stairs, the other hanging over in the gulf beyond the banisters. Springing up two stairs he thrust out a hand to grab it. At that second he heard Fouché's heavy footsteps on the upper stairs. The sound threw him into fresh panic. In his haste, instead of grasping the end of the belt firmly, he overshot it, merely knocking it with his hand. Before his fumbling fingers could catch at it again it had slid from under them. The weight of the coins in its far end carried it over the edge into the dark abyss of a passage below which lead to the kitchen quarters.

All hope of recovering it for the present had gone, but life was infinitely more precious than money. Without wasting another second, Roger turned to resume his flight. Dashing across the landing he reached a broader staircase that led to the ground floor. The sound of Fouché's pursuing footsteps spurring him to fresh recklessness he charged down it. At its bottom, attracted by Fouché's cries, three men and a serving-maid were standing; he glimpsed their excited faces staring up at him.

With a final bound he reached the hall, stumbled and fell again. It was his fall that temporarily saved him. The two nearest men had sprung forward to seize him, but neither had anticipated his mishap. Going down head first he slithered along the boards between them and they came into violent collision above his prostrate body.

His hands stinging, his knees bruised, gasping for breath, Roger rolled away from them and stumbled to his feet. He was hardly up before the third man came at him. Instinctively Roger put up his fists. The Frenchman not understanding this manoeuvre ignored it and came charging in. With a fleeting memory of George Gunston, Roger struck out at the man's face. The blow took him on his fleshy nose, bringing him up with a jerk. Pain, surprise and indignation showed in his eyes as they suddenly began to fill with water and the blood came gushing from his injured member.

The two men who had collided wasted a moment cursing at one another, but they now simultaneously turned on Roger. To avoid their grasp he dodged behind a large table that stood in the centre of the hall. For a second he thought himself temporarily safe from a renewed attack, as all three men were on the far side of it; but he had reckoned without the serving-wench. She had snatched a copper bed-pan from the wall. Lifting it, she now struck at his head from behind.

His eyes riveted on the men, he had not even seen her. It was pure chance that he moved a little sideways at that instant. The heavy bed-warmer missed his head but struck him on the shoulder. Swinging round he seized it by the middle of its handle and wrenched it from the woman's grasp.

Less than a minute had elapsed since he had arrived sprawling in the hall. His wild career down the stairs had left the more cautious Fouché well behind; but now he had arrived on the scene and was bellowing orders to the others for Roger's capture.

"Quick, get round that side!" he shouted. "I'll take the other!" and he ran round the table to the serving-maid's assistance, just as Roger snatched the bed-pan from her.

Caught between two fires Roger now seemed lost; but, once again, his agility temporarily saved him. Since he was holding the bed-pan by the middle of its handle he could not wield it as a weapon, but he flung it with all his force in Fouché's face. As the informer ducked to avoid it, Roger side-stepped and darted past him. The rest, following instructions, had raced round the other end of the table, so the whole group was now upon its far side, leaving Roger a clear run to the door. Without pausing to glance behind him he dashed through it and out into the street.

It was now nearly dark outside and there were lights in the windows of many of the houses. Dashing across the road he gained the deeper gloom of a double row of plane trees that lined the south side of the Champe de Mars. Turning west, between them, he pelted along the avenue that they formed.

Already he could hear the shouts of his pursuers as they streamed out of the inn. Then came a cry from Fouché: "There he goes! There he goes!" and he knew that he had been seen entering the shadow of the trees.

For a moment they lost him in the gloom and, thinking that he had struck straight across the square, charged in a ragged line through the trees towards its open centre. Then, not seeing him ahead of them in the half-light, they halted uncertainly; but only to catch the patter of his flying footsteps farther along the avenue to their left. With renewed cries of "Stop, thief! Stop, murderer!" they came pounding after him.

The avenue was three hundred yards in length and their false start on leaving the inn had given him a hundred yards' lead, but it was all that he could do to keep it. With his head down and his arms tucked in to his sides, as he had been taught to run at Sherborne, he sped on. The ground flew from beneath his light, swift feet. But they had the longer pace and, still shouting, came thundering on between the trees behind him.

The end of the avenue loomed into view. From his walk with the Doctor that afternoon Roger knew that the big building he was now approaching, on the south-west corner of the square, was the barracks. Through the lower branches of the trees he could see a hanging lantern above its gate. The thought flashed upon him that if there were any soldiers lounging there, he would be caught between two fires. He had scarcely had it when there came a sudden stir of movement beneath the light, and shouts ahead of him answered those in his rear.

Swerving violently he dashed from between the trees and across the street again. The soldiers at the barrack gate had not yet caught sight of him. For a precious moment they remained where they were, peering into the shadows of the avenue. He had reached the corner of the Rue du Colombier and shot .round it before one of them spotted him; then, with excited cries, they joined the chase.

Roger's breath was coming fast now; his heart was thumping wildly. Up to the time of his leaving the avenue he had managed to keep his lead on Fouché and the people from the inn, but the soldiers had entered the chase at an angle and turned into the Rue du Colombier barely fifty yards behind him. Their nearness lent him fresh vigour and he tore on in terror of his life.

For a brief interval he was hidden from them by the curve of the street. During it, he looked desperately to right and left for an alley into which he could dive, but the houses on both sides of the street formed solid blocks; none of them had even an open doorway offering some chance of sanctuary.

As the street straightened out the soldiers caught sight of him again. They gave a yell that told him how close upon his heels they were. Ahead he could now see a crossroads. Rallying himself for a final effort, he spurted towards it in the vague hope that he would be able to elude his pursuers there.

The crossroads proved to have five streets radiating from it. He was hidden again for a second from his pursuers by an outjutting building on the corner of the Rue de Colombier. Instead of dashing across the open space ahead of him he swivelled round the hairpin bend to his right, almost doubling back on his pursuers. The street he had entered was a narrow one and it was almost blocked by a big, stationary coach.

The coach was facing away from him. A footman, holding a lighted torch, was waiting in the doorway of the house before which the coach stood. Both he and the coachman on the box had their backs turned. It flashed into Roger's mind that the occupant of the coach must have gone into the house, so it would be empty. If only he could get inside it unobserved and remain there for two minutes his pursuers would run past, he would then have a new chance to elude them in the darkness.

He knew that if the lackey turned and saw him the game would be up; but his chest was now paining him so badly that he also knew he could not run another hundred yards. It was a choice of attempting to conceal himself in the empty coach, or of capture.

From fear of attracting the man's attention he dropped into a walk; he had no more than ten paces to cover. In a moment he had reached the offside of the coach. Now that it was between him and the lackey he felt more confident. Seizing the curved door handle he turned it and pulled the door open. To his horror there was a sudden movement in its shadowy interior. It was not empty after all.

The heavy boots of the running soldiers striking against the cobbles could be heard clearly now. The lackey in the doorway turned and lifted his flambeau on high to find out the cause of the approaching clamour. The light from it shone into the coach and Roger could see its occupant plainly.

It was a girl; a girl so young that she still carried a doll, and so could not yet have fully left childhood behind. Yet, all his life long, Roger was to remember the staggering impression her beauty made upon him in that first brief glimpse before he scrambled into the coach and fell panting at her feet.

Her eyes were a bright china blue; her hair, golden and unpowdered, fell in thick, silky ringlets about her small shoulders. She wore no paint but her skin was flawless and her complexion of milk and roses. Her mouth was small and delicately modelled, the upper lip short, the lower a little full. Her nose was thin and of Roman cast; her face oval, ending in a firm, determined chin. She sat bolt upright and so looked taller than she was in fact. Every feature of her face, and her whole attitude, expressed a completely natural imperiousness and absolute right to command immediate obedience to her slightest whim.

"Save me!" gasped Roger. "They're after me for a killing that I didn't do! I swear I didn't! For God's sake, hide me!"

The clamour at the street corner could now be heard by them both. Voices, amongst which Roger could distinguish Fouché's, were calling: "Where is he? Which way has he gone?"

As Roger stared up at the girl the light from the torch now lit his face too. She did not appear the least frightened and had made no attempt either to shrink away from him or to cry out. Her arched eyebrows had risen in a little frown, creasing her smooth forehead, but as she saw his face, nearly as young as her own, and gazed straight into his deep blue eyes .fringed by their dark lashes, her hps broke into a smile, showing two rows of white, even teeth.

"What is it to me if you have done a killing?" she laughed suddenly. "I like your face, so I'll protect you. Quick! Get over there and draw your feet up!"

The cushioned seat opposite, to which she pointed, was both wide and deep, and as on speaking she snatched up a large fur rug, Roger saw that she meant to hide turn under it. Flopping into one corner he pulled in his legs and next moment the fur blanketed his sight but not his hearing.

Two seconds later he caught a loud voice: "Has a young fellow passed this way? He wore a blue coat, and would be running!"

The inquiry was evidently addressed to the lackey with the torch, and the voice hurried on: "What of the coach? If 'tis empty he may have hopped inside it while your back was turned. With your leave I'll ascertain."

As the near door was pulled open the girl's high treble came: swift, haughty, dominating: "Hands off my coach, villain! How darest thou push past my lackey to have speech with me! I have seen no fugitive. Close that door instantly and get about thy business!"

With a muttered apology the man closed the door, but the high childish voice went on now, evidently calling to the footmen. "Up on thy stand, Pierrel I've a mind to get home and will not wait for Madame Velot. The coach can return to pick her up later."

Then, unseen by Roger, she gave a violent jerk to a silk cord attached to the coachman's little finger and, as he lifted the hatch in the roof of the coach, trilled up at him: "A I'hotel, Baptiste! Depeche-toi!"

The footman sprang up on his stand at the back of the coach, the coachman shook the reins of his horses, and the great cumbersome vehicle rumbled into motion. It had not covered twenty yards before the girl pulled the rug from off Roger and said: "You can sit up now, and tell me about yourself."

On his jerking his feet from the seat one of them struck a dark object in a far corner of the foot space, near the door opposite to that by which he had entered. The object gave a little bark of protest and, until that moment, owing to the deep shadows, he had not realised that a dog was lying there. As it reared up he saw that it was a black poodle.

"Down, Bougie! Down!" cried its young mistress. "Quiet now, or I will order the Englishman to eat youl"

For a second Roger thought that she was referring to him, and stared at her in astonishment, wondering how she could possibly have guessed his nationality so quickly. But at that moment they were passing a street corner lantern and she held up her doll for him to see, as she said:

"This is my Englishman. Is he not hideous? And the English do eat dogs, you know. My uncle, the Count, commanded the last expedition that we sent to aid Monsieur de la Fayette in the Americas and he told me so on his return. They are a most bloodthirsty and barbarous people."

The doll was certainly a fearsome monstrosity. It differed only from the later caricature of John Bull in having a cocked hat instead of a squat topper. A Union Jack waistcoat covered its great protruding paunch, its forehead was so low as to be almost entirely lacking and a most alarming row of upper teeth protruded from its gaping jaws.

Roger was about to repudiate the charge indignantly, when he thought better of it. Since he was now being hunted for murder and his young protectress believed all Englishmen to be bloodthirsty by nature, to disclose that he was one himself might easily throw her into such a panic that she would abandon him and turn him over to his enemies.

"Weill Tell me of yourself!" she demanded. "I am all agog to hear about this killing of which you are accused. What is your name?"

Had Roger but known it the fate of nations hung upon his reply; and the simple fact that a young French girl, although already budding into glorious womanhood, was still sufficiently amused by dolls to carry one, was in a few years' time to have immeasurably far-reaching effects on European politics. Had it been otherwise he would have told the truth about himself and given his real name. As it was, he decided to stick to the story to which he was now well accustomed through his journeying with old Aristotle Fenelon these past two months, and he replied:

"My name is Roje Breuc, and I am a native of Alsace. I ran away from my home in Strasbourg to seek adventure early last July. I have since been following the road with a journeyman-doctor whom I met with in Le Havre." He then went on to describe the Doctor's murder that evening and how a rascally teacher, named Joseph Fouché, who acted as an informer to the police, was attempting to pin the murder on to him.

The coach had meanwhile crossed the river Vilaine by the single bridge in the centre of the town, passed the Cathedral of St. Pierre and entered the Rue St. Louis. Halfway along the street it halted, until at the shouts of the footmen a pair of great gates in a high wall were thrown open, so that it could drive into a spacious courtyard.

Roger just had time to say: "May I know the name of the beautiful young lady to whom I owe my life?" when the coach pulled up before a broad flight of steps leading up to a heavily carved pair of double doors.

"I am Athenais de Rochambeau," the girl replied, "and this is the H6tel de Rochambeau, the town house of my father, the Marquis."

On the footman opening the door Roger sprang out and handed her down. The double doors of the mansion had now been opened and, going up the steps together, they entered a wide, lofty hall. It was paved with marble, and a splendid horseshoe staircase of elaborate iron scrollwork, picked out with gold, led to a landing, then divided again to sweep towards the upper floors. At either side of the doorway stood three tall footmen with powdered wigs and dressed in the same violet and gold livery as the lackey who had accompanied the coach. They stood there like statues, rigidly immobile, but a seventh servant, considerably older and dressed in a more sombre livery than the others, came forward, bowing almost to the ground before Mademoiselle de Rochambeau.

"The coach is to return to the Rue de Nantes, to pick up Madame Velot, Aldegonde," she told him. "Meanwhile, take this gentleman somewhere where he can tidy himself, then bring him to the small salon. He is to dine with us." Without deigning to glance at either the major-domo or Roger, she lifted the front of her full skirts a little and tripped upstairs as lightly as a bird.

Monsieur Aldegonde gave Roger one swift glance of appraisal, noted that his clothes were of cloth, which now showed the wear of his eleven weeks' wanderings, and that he wore no sword, gave the very faintest sniff of disapproval, and bowed very slightly, as he said: "This way, Monsieur. Please to follow me."

He led Roger between two of the eight great pillars that supported the gallery round the hall and threw open a door concealed in the panelling under one side of the staircase. It gave on to a small room in which there was a marble washbasin, towels and a variety of toilet articles laid out on the shelves of a shallow recess.

Roger washed, combed his hair and brushed down his clothes. As he did so, he wondered with some misgivings what would happen next. He was still shaken and immeasurably distressed by the old Doctor's death, and he knew that he had only escaped capture by a piece of remarkable good fortune. But he was now acutely anxious as to what view Mademoiselle de Rochambeau's father would take of the matter. Would he support his beautiful little daughter's high­handed action or promptly hand his unexpected visitor over to the police?

Having made himself as presentable as possible Roger came out and waited for some time in the hall until, eventually the major-domo returned and led him upstairs. The whole of the first floor appeared to be one long suite of rooms, each being of splendid pro­portions and magnificently furnished, their walls hung with Gobelins tapestries and the parquet of their floors polished to a mirror-like brilliance. After passing through two of them the major-domo ushered him into a third, somewhat smaller than the other two and panelled in striped yellow silk.

As the door opened Roger nerved himself to meet the Marquis, but at the first glance he saw that he was not yet called upon to face this ordeal. There were four people in the room; an elderly Abbé with graceful white locks falling to the shoulders of his black cassock; a portly woman of about forty, well but soberly dressed; Mademoiselle Athenais and a handsome boy who, from his features, appeared to be her brother.

Athenais waved a little white hand negligently towards the woman: "Madame Marie-Ange Velot, my governess, whom we left behind in the Rue de Nantes; and this is my brother, Count Lucien de Rochambeau."

Roger made a leg to the woman then bowed to the boy, who returned his bow a little stiffly. The young Count's features were in the same cast as his sister's but distinctly heavier, his eyes, although also blue, lacked the brightness of hers, and both his nose and mouth were much thicker. Roger put him down as about two years younger than himself, and formed a first impression that he was of a somewhat sullen nature and dull-witted. However, with formal politeness, Count Lucien said:

"I have not the pleasure of knowing your name, Monsieur," and added, half-turning towards the priest, "but I should like to present you to my tutor, Monsieur l'Abbé Duchesnie."

As Roger and the Abbé exchanged salutations Athenais said, quickly: "Monsieur is one, Rojé Breuc, a native of Strasbourg. As I was telling you, they are after him for a killing. I have given orders that he is to dine with us, and over dinner he shall entertain you with his story."

At this announcement the governess and the Abbé exchanged a somewhat disturbed glance and the little Count, eyeing Roger's clothes disdainfully, said in a haughty voice: "Was it necessary to invite Monsieur to eat with us, sister? Surely Aldegonde could have attended to his wants, and he could have told us his story afterwards."

"Hold thy tongue, little fool," replied the girl, tartly. "Thou would'st do better to spend more time studying thy books and less in thinking of thy sixty-four quarterings."

But evidently Madame Marie-Angé Velot was of the boy's opinion as she said: "I hardly think, Mademoiselle, that Monseigneur your father would approve."

"My father, Madame, is in Paris," snapped Athenais. "And in his absence I am the best judge of what takes place here."

"Even so, Mademoiselle," hazarded the Abbé, "I feel sure Monsieur Breuc would find himself more at home below stairs, and I support the suggestion that he should be conducted there."

Athenais stamped her small foot. "I'll not have it, I found him; and he is mine, to do what I will with!"

Roger, now flushed with mortification at this unseemly wrangle as to if or no he was fitted to eat at their table, was about to declare hotly that he was an English gentleman and as good as any of them, when he was saved from this imprudence by the door opening to disclose Monsieur Aldegonde, who cried in a loud voice:

"Monsieur Le Comte et Mademoiselle sont servis!"

Athenais looked at Roger and said with extraordinary dignity in one so young: "Monsieur Breuc, your arm, if you please."

With his most courtly bow he proffered it to her; then, following the pompous Aldegonde, who held aloft a six-branched silver candelabra to light them, they traversed the big rooms again and crossed the landing to enter a lofty dining-room. At the table in it five places were laid and behind the chair set for each stood one of the tall footmen. Athenais took one end of the table, motioning Roger to a seat on her right, while her brother took the other. The Abbe1 said a short grace and the meal began.

The dishes were lighter and more varied and sumptuous than any­thing that Roger had encountered in England, but his good table manners soon showed the Abbé and Madame Marie-Ange that they had been wrong to judge him by his worn cloth suit as fitted only to eat downstairs in the kitchen, and both of them began to regard him with more friendly attention.

At their request he retold his story, giving additional details. His eleven weeks in France had improved his French out of all recognition, so that although he still had a noticeable accent he could talk with unhesitating fluency; and, since he was by nature a born raconteur, he kept the small company enthralled through several courses.

Athenais both fascinated and intrigued him. He thought her quite the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, and could only compare her in his mind to a fairy, from the top of a Christmas tree. It may be that she put the idea into his head herself as she seemed fond of fairy stories and made frequent references to them, chaffingly remarking that she felt sure he must be a Prince in disguise, or at least, a miller's youngest son, since they always leave home in search of dragons to kill and end up with a Princess for their bride.

Yet he found it extraordinarily difficult to place her satisfactorily. She was so small and slight of build that she could well have been taken at first sight for no more than thirteen; moreover, she frequently showed the most abysmal ignorance on many matters of common interest, and spoke with the petulant, dictatorial manner of a spoilt child. But, against this, the air of dignity and authority that she equally frequently assumed, and her rather surprising fund of know­ledge upon certain subjects, suggested that she might easily be a physically undeveloped seventeen.

Roger had yet to learn the reason for these strange anomalies, which were by no means uncommon among young people of her class in France at that time. Among the French nobility family life had degenerated to such an extent that it was the common practice for parents to leave their offspring during the whole period of childhood in the care of servants on their country estates, or often, even put them out to board with some almost illiterate family. There they were left, rarely seeing their parents and frequently entirely forgotten by them, until they reached their teens. They were only then belatedly given tutors and governesses, to fit them for the high stations in life they were to occupy; but, once they emerged from the sad neglect to which they had been subject, they were given rich clothes, money, fine apartments and a horde of servants to wait on them, and were, in fact, expected to behave like grown-ups with the full exercise of the authority over all inferiors which was assumed to be theirs by right of birth.

Athenais de Rochambeau was at this time actually fourteen and a quarter, while her brother Lucien was just one year younger, and it was a bare two years since they had been removed from their foster-parents to begin their education; yet in those two years they had both learned to regard themselves as people of great importance- in the small world they occupied, and born to be obeyed. Normally, despite the fact that he was the younger of the two, the boy would have been the dominant partner of the pair but, as Roger had rightly assessed, he was a dullard, so she, conscious that she was one of the greatest heiresses in Brittany, had made herself the pivot round which the life of the great mansion revolved during her father's absence.

They had reached a marvellous confection of violet ice-cream topped by a mass of spun sugar when the Abb<§ said to Roger

"And what is it your intention to do now. Monsieur Breuc?"

"I hardly know, Monsieur I'Abbé," replied Roger, but having by now had a chance to sort out his ideas to some extent he went on: "After some little thought, this man Fouché may realise that, as I could have no possible motive for murdering my poor old friend, his case is a weak one, and decide not to pursue it. If that occurs, as I pray it may, I feel under a natural obligation to arrange for Doctor Fenelon's burial. Then, too, I am most anxious to return to the Du Guesclin for the purpose of recovering the purse I dropped. It may still be lying in a dark corner of the passage or, if someone has picked it up, unless they are downright dishonest, they will have given it for safe keeping to the landlord. Yet I greatly hesitate to go there until I feel a little more confident that I'll not be putting my head in a noose. Would you, Monsieur L'Abbé do me the favour of giving me your advice?"

"I am no man of the robe," the old priest replied, "so 'tis outside my office to offer an opinion on legal matters. Yet it does seem to me that this purse containing fifty-four louis would have been motive enough to incite a young man in your situation to the crime, had he the nature of a murderer. According to your own account you fled with it, and I should not have thought it usual for one so many years junior to his partner to be entrusted with the whole resources of a partnership."

"There was an especial reason for that," Roger broke in quickly. "As I have told you "

The Abbé Duchesnie raised his hand. "I know, I know, my young friend. I do not seek to question your own explanation but, as I under­stand it, you have no one whom you can bring forward to give evidence of the Doctor's habits, and I am simply putting to you the view that the police may take of this matter."

From having regained some degree of optimism Roger was suddenly cast back into the depths of gloom. He realised now that the good food and wine and rich surroundings had given him a false sense of security and that in the cold light of impartial examination his case must look very black indeed. The Doctor had died by violence and he, Roger, had made off with what would undoubtedly be assumed to be his partner's money.

Madame Marie-Ange saw his look of misery and, being a good-natured, motherly woman, strove to comfort him, by saying:

"I do not see what this Monsieur Fouché has to gain by fixing the assassination on Monsieur Breuc."

"Why, to prevent it being fixed upon himself, Madame," promptly replied the Abbé.

"But he could equally well say that the Doctor took his own life to save himself from being arrested," urged the governess. " 'Twould be beyond reason vindictive in any man, however ill-natured, to send another who had done him no harm to the rope."

"A thousand thanks, Madame!" Roger exclaimed eagerly. "There is much in what you say. And in my own mind, I feel confident now, that Fouché called 'Murder' after me not so much with a view to getting me hanged, but to have me stopped so that he might secure the purse."

"Is he likely, though, once having made the charge, to withdraw it?" pessimistically remarked the Abbé.

" 'Twould be easy for him to say that people had misunderstood his cries," Madame Marie-Ange retorted. "He could claim that by his cry of 'Murder' he had meant no more than that a violent death had just occurred, and that those who heard him had confused it with his shouts of 'Stop, thief'!"

"By so doing he could save himself from the sin of perjury and avoid the burden of attending at a lengthy trial," the Abbé agreed. "And as you, Madame, have very rightly pointed out, there seems no particular cause for him to carry vindictiveness to the point of endeavouring to bring about our young friend's death."

Athenais shrugged her slim shoulders. "You have admitted, Monsieur l'Abbé, that you know little of such matters, and I know nothing. Why should we not send for the notary—what is his name—

Maitre—Maitre ?"

"Leger," supplied the Abbé.

"Yes, Maitre Leger. Let us summon him and find out."

She had no sooner had the idea than she turned to Aldegonde and ordered him to send a messenger with instructions that she required Maitre Leger to wait on her at once. Then, having toyed a little with the desserts, they all retired to the yellow salon to await the lawyer's arrival.

Within a quarter of an hour Maitre Leger was announced. He proved to be a man of about sixty and something of a dandy. His green suit was of cloth but very well cut, with padded shoulders and silver buttons. His cravat and wristbands were of fine lawn and his hair, which had been black, now being flecked with grey had the smart appearance of having been lightly dusted with powder. Beneath a broad forehead he had a pair of lively brown eyes, a very sharply pointed nose and a firm, thin mouth.

Having bowed to Athenais he thanked her deferentially as she waved him to a chair.

"In my father's absence, Monsieur, I require your services," she began at once, and with a slight turn of her head towards Roger, went on: "This is Monsieur Breuc of Strasbourg. He is accused of killing some old man. Please see to it that the charge is withdrawn."

The lawyer coughed. "I am entirely at your disposal, Mademoiselle; but I am sure you will permit me to remark that the law is made by the King, and is therefore above and beyond us all. Once set in motion its processes cannot be stopped by a mere request, even should the request be made by such a distinguished personage as Monseigneur, your father. However, I will assuredly do all I can if I may be permitted to know the full circumstances of the case."

Without replying Athenais waved her fan in Roger's direction and he once more related the nerve-racking sequence of events that had befallen him earlier that evening.

When he had done, Maitre Leger slightly inclined his handsome head. "If all that you have told me is correct, I think there is a fair hope that you are mistaken in your belief that Monsieur Fouché intended to charge you with the Doctor's murder. It seems to me more likely that his attempts to have you stopped were actuated by his desire to get possession of the money-belt, and that in your own excite­ment you confused his cries announcing that a killing had taken place with those calling upon the other occupants of the inn to stay your flight."

"There," exclaimed Madame Marie-Ange in triumph, " 'tis the very thing I said myself towards the end of dinner."

"I only pray that you may be right," Roger murmured, as the lawyer continued:

"Moreover, if a trial results, Monsieur Fouché will be forced to resort to statements containing much perjury in order to make a case against you. If one of them is proved false not only might the whole case break down but he would find himself in serious trouble. I can see no reason why he should elect to run such a risk when he can terminate the issue by frankly admitting that he killed the doctor himself in self-defence. That was in fact what happened, was it not?"

"Yes, it would be difficult to contend otherwise," Roger agreed, after a moment. " Twas all so sudden and so horrible that the thought had not occurred to me; yet I must admit that the Doctor had struck him down with the hilt of my sword, and was about to strike at him again just as he fired his pistol."

"Are you prepared to swear to that before a magistrate?"

"Yes; if I must."

"That is well. You must remember that in the moments succeeding your friend's death Monsieur Fouché had no reason at all to suppose that you would be willing to give evidence which would clear him of a charge of murder. It may be that he believed that you would attempt to get him hanged, if you could, and instantly made up his mind that his best prospect of escape lay in accusing you of the killing. It would then have been your word against his, and as you had taken the money the odds would have been in his favour. But there will be no official inquiry into the Doctor's death until to-morrow morning, and I will see Monsieur Fouché before the inquiry opens. If I inform him that you will come forward to give evidence that he killed the Doctor in self-defence, I feel there is every reason to hope that he will see the wisdom of admitting to it."

"I am indeed grateful, Monsieur," smiled Roger, now much com­forted. "What you have said takes a great load from my mind."

"You are not out of the wood yet," Maitre Leger warned him. "And if complications arise it may be that you will be detained while further inquiries are made; but at least it does not appear that you have any grave reason to fear that you will be hung."

"I thank you, Monsieur," said Athenais. "You have cheered us mightily, and I rely on you to do your best for Monsieur Breuc."

The elderly lawyer bowed. "Your wishes, Mademoiselle, are my commands."

Madame Marie-Ang6 then turned to him and said: "Did I not hear that you are but just returned from Paris, Maitre Leger. What news have you brought with you from the capital?"

"The talk is all of His Majesty's appointment of Monsieur de Calonne to be the new Comtroller-General of the Finances," replied, the man in green, " 'Tis to be hoped that he will make a better showing than those who have held brief office during these past eighteen months; for public confidence has suffered a sad decline since the dismissal of M. Necker."

"Who was M. Necker, Monsieur?" inquired Athenais, and Roger looked at her in some surprise; since even he knew that Necker was the great Swiss banker whom Louis XVI had called to his assistance in the hope of straightening out the incredible tangle of debt and dis­order into which the finances of France had fallen.

"He was for five years His Majesty's principal adviser, Mademoiselle," smiled the lawyer, "and a man of great ability. Before he was driven from office, getting on for two years ago, he published his Compte Rendu du Roi, which, for the first time in the history of our country, gave to the public a balance sheet showing how the King derives his revenues and how they are expended. 'Twas a sad pity that the Court prevented his continuing his progressive measures."

Count Lucien frowned. "I see no reason why the King should render an account to anyone of how he spends his money."

" 'Tis money obtained from the taxation of the people," Monsieur le Comte, "and surely they have some right to know what is done with it."

"That, I think, is generally accepted now," put in the Abbé "But am I not right in believing that M. Necker's Compte Rendu was misleading? Did it not show a credit balance which was later proved to have no real existence?"

Maitre Leger inclined his head. "Alas, Monsieur I'Abbé", that is so. Our state is far worse than we were led to suppose; yet the publication was a step in the right direction, and the alarming deficit was mainly due to our having taken up arms on behalf of the Americans against the English."

"That burden, at least, is lifted from us now," Madame Marie-Ange remarked. " 'Tis true, is it not, that the final ratification of the peace was signed last month?"

"Yes, Madame. And in Paris there were great rejoicings; particularly on the withdrawal of the English Commissioners from Dunkirk, which formed one of the stipulations of the treaty. It annulled the clause in the treaty of 1763, by which we were compelled to demolish the fortifications of Dunkirk and accept an English Commission there to assure that they were not re-erected. 'Twas a humiliation that the nation was well justified in resenting as long as it continued."

Athenais was looking bored, and asked suddenly: "Did you see my father, Monsieur, when you were in Paris?"

"Yes, Mademoiselle. Monseigneur le Marquis was much occupied, as he spends a great part of his time with the Count de Vergennes, His Majesty's Foreign Minister; but he did me the honour to receive me twice, and I am happy to be able to tell you that he is in excellent health."

"And did you go to Versailles?"

The lawyer smiled. "I have not the privilege of the entre to the Court, Mademoiselle."

"Yet you must have news of it; and such news is much more exciting than all this dreary talk of money and of foreign treaties?"

" 'Tis said to be as gay as ever. There are amusements from dinner at one each day until one the next morning. Three plays or operas are put on for their Majesties' entertainment each week and two balls, on Tuesdays and Thursdays, with great suppers, and cards for those who prefer the tables. The Queen has just recommenced the weekly masked balls that she gives throughout the winter, and the principal occupation of the courtiers during the other six days is the preparation of the costumes in which they intend to appear. For some time past, both Paris and Versailles have been full of English visitors, and 'tis reported that Her Majesty shows them especial favour."

"Why should she?" Athenais demanded, "since but eight months ago we were at war with them!"

The lawyer coughed and replied discreetly: "The Queen is a law unto herself, Mademoiselle, and 'tis not always her pleasure to align herself with popular prejudice. In this case popular opinion is represented by many of the younger nobility, who served with Monsieur de la Fayette and the Count, your uncle, in the Americas. They found the way of life there much to their liking. They were greatly impressed by the free and easy manners, the sense of equality and the lack of restrictions on personal liberty, that are enjoyed by tile Americans. Who can blame them for desiring reforms which would bring about the same state of affairs in France? On the other hand there are many at Court who are strongly opposed to such reforms, as they feel that change would result in their having to sacrifice their ancient privileges. These last consider that our intervention on behalf of the Americans was a great mistake, since we aided them to defy their King and overthrow all established custom. Quite naturally they regard the English nobility who come to Versailles as the true representatives of law, order, and the countenance of a privileged caste. Therefore, headed by the Queen, they receive them with all friendliness and sympathy."

"The Queen is right then," declared Athenais promptly, "and my uncle wrong. Henceforth I'll take a better view of the English."

Maitre Leger made no comment, and there was a short silence before he said: "If Mademoiselle has no further use for my services to-night, may I beg leave to make my adieux?"

She nodded regally to him and, having promised Roger that he would endeavour to see Monsieur Fouché first thing in the morning, he bowed himself out of the room.

When he had gone they talked for a little, until Athenais put up her fan to hide a yawn, then announced her intention of going to bed.

Aldegonde was summoned and ordered to conduct Roger to a suitable chamber in which he could pass the night; and, having kissed the hand of his protectress, he followed the major-domo to a comfortable but plainly furnished room on the third floor of the mansion.

As he undressed he endeavoured to sort out his impressions. He was still badly shaken by the Doctor's death and his own precarious position, yet his thoughts never wandered for long from Athenais de Rochambeau.

She was, he knew, abominably spoilt and self-willed, but he attributed that entirely to her upbringing; and she possessed both courage and self-confidence—qualities which he greatly admired. But, beyond all, she was the most perfect expression of beauty that he had ever seen. The play of emotions on her face, and her every movement, were a joy to watch; and the strange mixture of child and woman that she embodied he found entirely fascinating. No other girl that he had met even remotely resembled her, and he knew now that he had never been in love with Georgina.

As he fell asleep his last thought was of the bright blue eyes and golden hair of Athenais, and he realised that he was already profoundly, desperately in love with her.

Yet neither his anxieties nor his new-found passion disturbed his slumbers, and he slept right on until one of the footmen called him by bringing his breakfast up to him on a tray. Except when ill of child­hood complaints he had never had a meal in bed in his life, so he was considerably surprised at this, and he was not quite sure if he liked the custom; but it did not interfere with his appetite. He would have much preferred a good, meaty English breakfast to eat either upstairs or down, but he had to admit to himself that a petit dejeuner in the house of a French nobleman was not without its attractions. Instead of the simple rolls, butter and jam served at the inns where he had stayed, his tray was loaded with a pot of frothy chocolate, rolls with caraway seeds in them, feather-light brioches, crisp horseshoe croissants, honey, three kinds of confiture and a dish of fresh fruit.

Having tried them all he got up, dressed and went downstairs. A score of servants were sweeping and cleaning in the great apartments, and the yellow drawing-room proving untenable he descended to the hall, since he was anxious now to be on hand and learn Maitre Leger's news the moment the lawyer should arrive.

Aldegonde, appearing on the scene, seemed to regard his presence there with surprised disapproval, and when Roger asked him what time Mademoiselle de Rochambeau would be down he replied stiffly: "Mademoiselle is rarely visible before ten o'clock."

Since it was only just after eight, this was small comfort, and Roger found his wait a dreary business as he was compelled to hang about for the best part of an hour. But, at last, a bell jangled somewhere and one of the footmen, slipping on his coat, went to the front door.

When the man threw it open, to Roger's amazement, not only Maitre Leger, but also Monsieur Fouché, walked in.

"Good day to you. Monsieur Breuc," said the lawyer, as they bowed to one another; then, turning to Fouché, he added; "Would you be good enough to wait here while I have a word in private with my client."

Leaving Fouché he came over to Roger, led him further away into an embrasure behind two of the tall marble pillars, and said in a low voice:

"I think matters will arrange themselves satisfactorily, but that now largely depends upon yourself. The Court sits to inquire into the death of Doctor Fenelon in half an hour and if Monsieur Fouché and yourself tell the same story I doubt not that they will be satisfied and discharge you both. However, this desirable result depends on you both giving the same account of the way in which Doctor Fenelon met his death, and Monsieur Fouché has already stated to the police that the doctor committed suicide."

He paused for a moment then went on: "You will appreciate, I am sure, that it is not for me, a lawyer, to suggest that you should attempt to deceive the Court, but what you choose to say before the magistrates is entirely your own affair. Mademoiselle de Rochambeau has given me implicit instructions to save you from trouble if I can and while such a step is highly unorthodox, it occurred to me that the best hope of doing so lay in bringing Monsieur Fouché and yourself together for a private conversation before the Court opens. I need scarcely add that your interests in this matter are now absolutely identical. Namely that the whole affair should be dismissed without further inquiry. Do you consent to talk with him?"

"If you advise it, and 'tis unavoidable," Roger agreed with some reluctance.

"Very well, then; come this way."

Recrossing the hall, and beckoning to Fouché to join them, Maitre Leger led the pair into a lofty room which, from the rows of shelves filled with ledgers that lined its walls, looked like an office. Having ushered them in he closed the door behind him and left them together.

Fouché walked over to the wide fireplace, turned, and with his back to the carved mantel stood there for a moment, his hands clasped behind his back, then, without looking at Roger, he said:

"It has always been against my principles to make enemies need­lessly. Your lawyer tells me that you are willing to compose this matter. If that is so, I am your man."

"I am naturally anxious to avoid being held for a lengthy period while an exhaustive investigation takes place," replied Roger frankly. "Yet I find it difficult to regard the murderer of my old friend as anything but an enemy."

"Your assumption that I murdered Doctor Fenelon has positively no foundation," said Fouché, his pale face remaining quite inscrutable. "I killed him in self-defence. You were a witness to it, and must have seen that had I not shot him he would have brained me with the hilt of the sword with which he had already struck me down."

Roger was forced to admit to himself the justice of this and asked: "Well, what is it that you propose?"

"I have already informed the officers of the law that some eight months ago I caused a warrant to be taken out for the Doctor's arrest. That can easily be verified by reference to the authorities in Nantes. I went on to state that finding the Doctor still to be at large I told him last night that, in the interests of justice, I intended to raise the matter with the authorities here. And that, in a fit of despair, he then pulled out a pocket pistol and before either you or I could stop him, shot himself through the head. As I had the good sense to leave the pistol beside the body such an account of the matter provides a loophole for us both; so all you will be called on to do is to verify my statement and, perhaps, testify that you knew the pistol to be the Doctor's property."

"It seems that you thought better of accusing me of murder," said Roger shrewdly. "And I see no reason why I should tell lies to get you out of trouble."

"Do you not. Monsieur Breuc?" Fouché’s small mouth broke into a thin smile. "Yet on entering this house this morning I found you still to be living a lie. You have passed yourself off here as a native of Alsace. As for last night, I took such measures as I thought might get you stopped and enable me to obtain possession of your money-belt.

I failed in that, but to-day is another day. Do you wish me to inform your noble friends, the de Rochambeaux, that they have taken up the cause of an impostor?"

Roger had been under no compulsion to deceive Athenais at the time of their meeting and it flashed upon him how utterly shamed he would feel if he were now shown up as having lied to her.

By a swift sideways glance from his heavily lidded eyes Fouché saw Roger's discomfiture and pressed home his advantage. "Besides, Mister Brook, I have not yet said my piece before the magistrates, and I have long made a practice of trimming my sails to every emergency. I can still tell them that, touched by your youth, on an impulse of compassion for you, when questioned last night, I sought to shield you from the results of your criminal act; but, to-day, my conscience smiting me, I feel constrained to tell the truth: That is, that, on informing the Doctor I intended to have him arrested you attempted to shoot me, but missed your aim and shot him instead, then panicked and endeavoured to escape with his money."

With growing trepidation Roger realised that behind the pale high forehead of this red-haired Oratorian teacher there lay a subtle and cunning brain. Such a story would square quite well with what Fouché had told the police the previous night, yet leave him, Roger, to face a charge of attempted murder or manslaughter, at the very least. He knew that he dared not face it, and said slowly:

"So be it. I will do as you suggest."

Fouché smiled down at his boots. "You may not have inherited the boldness associated with English Admirals, but in this you show a wisdom which will prove more profitable to you than any rash display of courage. You can leave me to do the talking. All you need do is to say that I have given a full and true account of the affair and, if you are asked, state that for as long as you had known him the Doctor had always carried that little two-barrelled pistol. 'Tis time now that we went, for the Court will soon be sitting."

On their leaving the room young Monsieur Fouché's pale smile was enough to tell Maitre Leger that they had reached agreement, and he hurried them both into his carriage.

At the Court House everything went according to plan. In a quarter of an hour the inquest was over. There was no jury, but after consulting for a few moments the magistrates declared their verdict: that Doctor Aristotle Fenelon had taken his own life while his mind was temporarily deranged owing to his having just been told that he was to be arrested on a charge involving the death penalty.

Afterwards, without a glance at Roger, the tall, thin Fouché left the Court House and walked away. As Roger watched him go Maitre Leger said: "What have you in mind to do now, my young friend?"

"I'm monstrous eager to get back to the inn, in order to collect my money," Roger replied. "But I feel that first I should let Made­moiselle de Rochambeau know that I have come safe out of this business."

"In that case I will drop you at the Hotel de Rochambeau," volunteered the lawyer.

Roger thanked him and, as they went out to the carriage, said a little diffidently: "And to you, Monsieur, I can never render thanks enough. My funds, unfortunately, are limited; but if your fee is within my means I will be most happy to pay it."

"Nay, I'll not deprive you of your money," replied the lawyer kindly. "It needs but half an eye to see that you are an honest youth and that Fouché is a rogue who deserves to hang. Think no more of it, I beg. 'Twas a pleasure to have been of service to you; and, in any case, 'tis a part of my livelihood to handle all legal matters in which the de Rochambeau family are concerned. The Marquis is rich enough to pay me a louis or two for my morning's work and never miss it."

Ten minutes later they were back at the Hotel de Rochambeau. Maitre Leger set Roger down there and drove away. Roger at once inquired if Mademoiselle Athenats would receive him.

After a short wait she came downstairs. With the sunshine streaming on her golden hair he thought his newly acquired divinity more beau­tiful than ever. Swiftly he told her of the morning's events and thanked her once more, both for the protection and the legal aid that she had afforded him.

He thought she took the matter very calmly and even seemed a little distrait, as she asked him what he intended to do now that he was no longer menaced by a charge of murder.

"I've hardly had time to think," he replied quickly. "But first I must return to the inn to see to the Doctor's burial, and to secure my money."

"Of course," she agreed. "If the occasion arises you must let me know if I can be of any further service to you." Then, having given him her hand to kiss, she turned away to issue orders about some band­boxes that two of her maids were carrying downstairs.

Roger was torn between the desire to linger with her and his urge to get back to the inn, but, seeing that she was now busy with other matters, he succumbed to the latter. With a farewell wave he left the mansion and, half running, half walking, made his way to the Du Guesclin.

On his arrival he learned from the landlord that the Doctor's body had been removed to the city mortuary. He then inquired about his purse. The man averred that he had neither found it nor had it been given to him, and together they went to the dark passage under the stairs to look for it.

The passage was a straight one with no niches in which such a thing could have remained concealed for long. In vain Roger stared at first one end of it then the other, and ran several times up and down the stairs to ascertain the exact point at which the purse had dropped, and if it could possibly have got caught up on something during its fall. After a quarter of an hour of frantic searching he had to admit that it was not there, and that whoever had picked it up must have made off with it.

It occurred to him that Fouché might have seen it drop, and, after the abortive chase, returned to the inn to make a search for it that had proved successful; but he had no proof of that and any one of the servants of the inn, the landlord or a visitor, might equally well have picked it up and decided that fifty-four louis were worth straining one's conscience to keep.

Sadly depressed, he gave up the hunt and set about making arrangements for the Doctor's funeral. Having no other resources than the few francs in his pocket he saddled Monsieur de Montaigne and, taking him to an apothecary, sold the remaining contents of his panniers for two louis. Then, he hardened his heart and disposed of the old mule for a further four crowns.

That afternoon he managed to raise two more louis on the Doctor's medical instruments; then he went in search of a priest who would give his poor old friend decent burial. As the verdict of the Court had spread about the town this proved far from easy; but by nightfall he found a poor priest in the parish of St. Helier de Vern who was broad-minded enough to undertake the business for a payment of three louis.

Next morning he was the sole mourner at the Doctor's funeral, and he came away from it with only four crowns and two francs in his pocket; the expenses of the funeral having absorbed the remainder of the money he had succeeded in raising from the sale of his late partner's effects.

Yet he was not unduly downhearted regarding his own prospects. He felt certain that his beautiful little protectress would find a means to open for him a new and much more promising career.

On leaving the cemetery he hurried to the Hotel de Rochambeau. At its door he was met by the supercilious Aldegonde. In less than a minute that pompous functionary shattered his hopes and took obvious delight in so doing.

"Mademoiselle left yesterday for Monseigneur It Marquis's chateau in the country," he announced with evident enjoyment. "And she will not be in Rennes again for several weeks." Upon which he rudely slammed the door.

Sadly Roger turned away. Once again Georgina's foretelling of his future had proved correct. No good had come to him from his partner­ship with old Aristotle Fenelon. He was back where he had started eleven weeks ago. In fact, his situation was somewhat worse, as the summer had gone; he was again almost penniless, and considerably further from home. At his age he could not conceivably set up to be a journeyman-doctor who had travelled the world in search of a hundred miraculous remedies, and he knew no other trade. Once more he was destitute in a strange land without either prospects or friends.

CHAPTER XII

THE MAN IN GREEN

As Roger walked aimlessly away from the Hotel de Rochambeau one fact emerged clearly from his unhappy musings; it was imperative that within the next few days he should find himself some sort of work.

Rennes was the best part of fifty miles from St. Malo, its nearest sea­port. Even had he now been prepared to admit defeat and endeavour to beg a passage home on promise of payment the other end, his few crowns would not support him for so long a tramp; and the poverty of the French countryside made it, unlike England, no place in which one could with any ease pick up a night's board and lodging here and there in return for casual work. Whatever he might decide to do later, he saw that, for the time being, he must somehow secure employment in Rennes which would enable him, by careful saving, to build up a capital of at least five louis before taking any further decision as to his future.

It then occurred to him that he was not altogether friendless. Maitre Leger had not only given him very shrewd legal advice the day before on Athenais's instructions, but behaved towards him in the most pleasant and kindly manner.

Turning about he retraced his steps to the Hotel and once more bearded the supercilious Monsieur Aldegonde, who told him that the lawyer lived in the Rue d'Antrain a few doors from the Hotel de Ville, and that the street lay only just across the Place.

Following these directions Roger soon found the house. It proved to be a commodious old building serving both as home and office, as could be seen from the green wire blinds in the ground floor room and the heads of several young men bowed over ledgers that were visible above them. Going in, Roger gave his name and asked to see Maitre Leger.

A youth, a little older than himself, with fiery red hair and a spotty face, took his message, and asked him to wait in a small musty-smelling ante-chamber. Ten minutes later he returned and conducted Roger to a room on the first floor, where he found the immaculately dressed lawyer seated at a big desk strewn with parchments and law books.

"Good day to you, my young friend," said the man in green affably. "In what way can I be of service to you?"

"I want your advice and help, if you would be kind enough to give it to me," replied Roger, sitting down in a comfortable elbow chair to which the lawyer waved him; and without beating about the bush he explained the precarious position in which Doctor Aristotle Fenelon's death had left him.

Maitre Leger adjusted a pair of steel-rimmed spectacles which were now perched upon his thin, sharp nose, sat back with the tips of his fingers placed together and listened attentively. When Roger had done, he said:

"Your position is certainly a difficult one, and I think that much your best course would be to return to your parents. If I advance you the necessary money for your journey to Strasbourg can you give me an honourable undertaking as to my reimbursement, in due course?"

Roger flushed slightly. For a moment he thought of taking the money and using it to return to England, but his whole mind still revolted at the thought of reappearing penniless at home to throw himself on his father's mercy; so he said, a triffly awkwardly:

"Your offer. Monsieur, is most kindly meant, and I deeply appreciate it. But I left home on account of a most bitter quarrel with my step­father, who had made my life unbearable, so I am most loath to go back as long as there is the least possibility of my being able to earn my own livelihood."

The lawyer nodded sympathetically. "Well, in that case, if you will tell me your qualifications, I will see if I can suggest anything."

"At school, Monsieur, I did well at composition and I write a fair hand. Unfortunately, I know nothing of bookkeeping, but I am strong in languages; my Greek is fair and my tutor was good enough to com­pliment me many times upon my Latin."

Maitre Leger looked at him with a sudden increase of interest. "A good understanding of Latin is a valuable asset; and, of course, you speak and write fluent German?"

This was a facer that Roger had not expected, and to have denied it would have immediately disclosed his story of being a native of Alsace to be false, so he avoided telling a direct he by saying quickly: "I also did well in English; in fact, 'tis said that I have quite a gift for that tongue."

"These languages, coupled with a legible hand and the ability to compose, clearly fit you to enter one of the learned professions," Maitre Leger announced. "Has it ever occurred to you to take up the law?"

Again Roger was slightly nonplussed. He had wanted a life of excitement and travel, and few things could have been further removed from that than the dry-as-dust occupation of poring over legal documents. But in his mind at this moment there was no thought of choosing a permanent career, only of obtaining some temporary work which would stave off starvation; so he answered tactfully: "No, Monsieur, but it is an honourable profession, and no doubt interesting."

The lawyer smiled drily. "It gives one as good a status in France as one can have if not born of the noblesse. But whether so high-spirited a young man as yourself would find it interesting is quite another matter. How old are you?"

"Seventeen," lied Roger, stretching his age as far as he thought he could do so with plausibility.

"You are a little old, then, to be bound as an apprentice; and 'tis the custom for parents whose boys are articled to me to pay a consider­ation for their learning the profession. So 'twould be resented by the others if I took you without a fee."

On seeing Roger's face fall, Maitre Leger went on tactfully: "How­ever, that might be overcome. I have formed the impression that you have a quick and intelligent mind, and if your Latin is as good as you say I may be able to offer you employment." Sorting quickly through his papers he selected one and, passing it across his desk, added: "See what you can make of this?"

For a moment Roger was sadly baffled by the legal terms with which the document was besprinkled, but he soon found he could understand enough of it to pronounce it to be a mortgage on some fields and a small vineyard, and to state the terms of interest and repayment.

"Since one can hardly expect you to be acquainted with our legal jargon, that is none too bad," Maitre Leger declared, "and most of the papers with which we are called on to deal are in Latin. I have recently lost my second Latin copyist, so I could offer you his place; but the remuneration would not be large."

"What figure have you in mind?" asked Roger anxiously.

"Twelve louis a year."

Again Roger's face fell. It was less than five shillings a week. He had always known that clerks were a down-trodden and ill-paid class, but had not imagined the remuneration of their most junior grade to be quite as miserable as this.

" 'Tis very kind of you," he murmured unhappily, "but I fear I could barely live on that."

"You would not have to," the lawyer replied. But perhaps I did not make my whole thought plain. We had been speaking of my apprentices and, while circumstances do not permit of your being articled to me, in view of your youth I was thinking of you in those terms. That is to say, you would bed and board with them here at my cost, and the louis a month would be yours to spend as you willed on small enjoyments or keeping some young woman in ribbons."

This put a very different complexion on the matter. A louis a month was no fortune and, Roger felt, a sad decline in his earnings after the near half a louis a day that he had been making as his share in his recent partnership. It seemed all wrong that the rewards of honest work should be so infinitely less than those of merry charlatanism, but that was to be expected; and the present offer at least meant security from want throughout the winter with a prospect of having saved enough to return to England by the spring if no better approach to fortune had occurred in the meantime. In fact, as the lawyer was usually paid to take his apprentices and in this case was offering a wage, it seemed he was behaving very generously; and Roger, with his usual honesty when not forced by circumstances to conceal his motives, said so when accepting the proposition.

Maitre Leger smiled again. " 'Tis true that I was in part prompted by the thought that no man works well and happily unless he has a few francs for his private necessities in his pocket, yet I believe that I have the reputation in Rennes of a shrewd man at a bargain. You will learn soon enough that my apprentices are an idle, slovenly lot, with scarce a peck of brains or learning between them; whereas you, Monsieur Breuc, are clearly a young man of superior education and if you choose to apply yourself with even moderate endeavour to the tasks which are set you will, I have no doubt, earn your twelve Louis a year and show me a good profit in addition."

"I shall certainly do jury best to repay your kindness," Roger replied with genuine sincerity. "When do you wish me to start?"

"Why, the sooner the better, since you have only to fetch your things from the Du Guesclin. Come with me now and I will present you to your future colleagues; then you can collect your belongings and settle in this evening."

As he stood up the lawyer paused a moment, staring down at his papers thoughtfully; then he said: "My senior apprentices are older than yourself and are still working without a wage after three years here. You will be sharing their accommodation and be one of them in all but name. I am anxious to avoid any jealousy arising from the fact that you are being paid, so I think it would be wise to resort to a small deception. My wife is a native of Artois and has many relatives in the northern provinces. I propose to give out that you are a distant cousin of hers, as the relationship will appear an adequate reason for the special arrangement I have made in your case."

"It is good of you to provide against my being subject to un­pleasantness," said Roger. "But to carry the matter through would it not be advisable for you to present me to Madme Leger before I meet any of your employees, in order that we may arrange some details of this consulship against anybody questioning me con­cerning it?"

"I would do so, but Madame Leger accompanied me on my recent visit to Paris, and is not yet returned. I will inform her by letter of the arrangement, so that when she gets back she may greet you at once as her relative; but for the moment all you need tell anyone who questions you; is that your mother was a Colombat, since that was my wife's maiden name." As he finished speaking, Maitre Leger led the way downstairs and proceeded to introduce Roger to his new colleagues.

The chief clerk was a bent old man named Fusier, but Brochard, his number two, a broad-shouldered, thick-set man of about forty, struck Roger as having much more personality. Three other clerks were employed, Guigner, Taillepied and Ruttot, the latter being the senior Latin copyist under whom Roger was to work. He thought all of them dreary, depressed-looking men, and was thoroughly glad that he had no intention of making the law his permanent profession.

The apprentices were introduced as Hutot, Quatrevaux, Douie, Monestot and Colas; that being the order of their seniority. Roger judged that the age he had given himself, of seventeen, made him younger than the two senior, about the same age as Douie and older than the two who had most recently joined the firm; but that in actual fact he was probably about of an age with the youngest.

Hutot was a big, fair-haired, stupid-looking lout; Quatrevaux a dark thin fellow of better dress and appearance than the others; Douie the youth with the violent red hair who had shown him up to Maitre Leger, Monestot a pimply-faced youngster who looked as if he had outgrown his strength; and Colas a bright-eyed, impish-looking lad.

Roger found that the whole of the ground floor appeared to be offices. The apprentices all worked in a room at the back, under the supervision of the thick-set second head, Brochard. The clerks occupied the front room, with the exception of the old chief clerk Fusier, who had an office to himself on the opposite side of the stairs, next to the waiting-room. It was decided that as Roger was to be employed copying documents it would be best for him to work in the clerks' room at a desk next to that of his senior, Ruttot.

When the introductions had been completed Roger was handed over to the junior apprentice, Colas, to be shown his living quarters. The mischievous-looking youngster took him upstairs to the top of the house where, beneath the roof, two attics had been converted into one room for the apprentices. Even so, the space seemed extraordinarily small; the six truckle beds were no more than a few inches apart and the low ceiling made the crowded chamber appallingly stuffy.

"That's yours," said Colas, pointing to a bed in the far corner. "And, by all the saints, I'm pleased to see you."

"Thank you," replied Roger giving him a slightly suspicious look, at this somewhat curious welcome.

Colas grinned. "You don't know what you are in for yet. 'Tis you who are the junior apprentice now, and a dog's life you'll find it, till some other poor greenhorn is articled and takes your place."

"But I have not been articled," said Roger firmly, "so I am not an apprentice."

"To the devil with that!" Colas declared truculently. "As you are to share our room you'll count as one. 'Twill be for you in future to get up an hour before the rest of us and fetch up the pails of water for our washing. You'll have to run errands for us, too; get us our tucker from Julien, the pastry-cook, and carry billet-doux from Hutot and Monestot to their mistresses. You'll empty the slops and make our beds in the midday recess. You won't have time for that in the mornings since 'twill be for you now to sweep out the office, clear the wastepaper baskets and fill the inkpots, unless you choose to do that overnight; but I've always been too tired by evening after eight hours of that old brute Brochard's driving."

Roger's mouth hardened. When he had accepted Maitre Leger's offer he had expected to be faced with long hours of dreary and uninteresting work, but not to be sent back to school again; and young Colas had painted a picture of a more exacting life than that led by the most junior fags at Sherborne.

"I'll do all there is to do in the office, if 'tis required of me," he said, "but you can all get your water for yourselves and run your own errands."

"We'll see about that," scoffed Colas. "Hutot is as strong as a bull, and as easily angered. Cross him if you like but 'twill be the worse for you. And don't think 'twill do you any good to go tale-bearing to Maitre Leger. If you do we'll make your life hell for you."

He paused for a moment, then went on more kindly. "Take my advice and do as Hutot tells you without complaining. You'll soon get used to it, and I will lend you a hand now and then. I'll give you a good tip, too. Keep on the right side of Brigitte, the cook, and she'll give you a decent portion at meals."

Roger accepted this belated olive branch but reserved his decision as to how far he would make himself a slave to the other apprentices; then, as the day was now well advanced, he said he would go and fetch his belongings from the Du Guesclin.

He had already settled up there that morning, so he had only to collect his bag, and, on the way, he decided to take a walk through the town in order to think over the new situation in which he found himself.

Apart from the personal loss he felt over the death of old Aristotle Fenelon he was just beginning to realise how much he would miss the free life of the road, as the constant change of scene and interest had suited his temperament. By comparison the lawyer's office offered not only a narrow life but one of drudgery. Yet to settle down there for a time at least offered security and seemed his only way of escape from the perils which beset a life of homeless vagabondage.

There was, too, the question of Athenais. Even with his other pre­occupations during the day she had never been far from his thoughts and, although Monsieur Aldegonde had said that she would be absent from Rennes for some weeks, she was certain to return there in due course. He felt that, come what might, he could not possibly bring himself to leave Rennes without seeing her again; so the obvious course was to make the best of things for the time being at Maitre Leger's.

One point about his new position worried him considerably. His master had naturally assumed that he knew German, and, although it seemed unlikely that much German correspondence passed through the office, he did not want to be caught out; not only for his own sake but because of the awkward position in which it would place his benefactor, now that he was presumed to be one of Maitre Leger's relatives by marriage.

It was clear that he could not hope to master the language in a few weeks without proper tuition, but he felt that with the aid of a German grammar, for such secret study as he could get in during his spare time, he might be able to learn sufficient of it to make out the contents of a letter; so he walked the streets until he found a bookshop on the Quai de Lamennais, where he managed to buy a "First Steps in German" and a French-German dictionary.

Darkness was now falling, so, quickening his pace, he collected his things at the Du Guesclin and made his way back to the lawyer's house in the Rue d'Antrain.

Up in the attic he found his new room.-mates tidying themselves up before going down to supper. They immediately all crowded round him with a spate of questions. He did his best to answer civilly but without committing himself too far on the score of his past circumstances.

The dark, well-dressed Quatrevaux proved his most persistent questioner, but it was the surly-looking Hutot who said:

"So; you're a relative of Madame Leger's, are you? Well, don't imagine that We shall treat you any differently on that account. You are now the junior here and will consider yourself as our servant."

"Nay, nay," Quatrevaux protested in a mocking voice, "how crudely you put things, Hutot. Monsieur Breuc is not our servant, but a friend who will be delighted to render us certain services; and, as an earnest of his friendship, he was just about to suggest procuring half a dozen bottles of good wine in which we could drink his health to-night."

Roger knew that the custom of paying one's footing was a common one on entering many walks of life, so he replied at once: "I will do so with pleasure, Messieurs, if you will be good enough to tell me where best to buy them."

"After supper I will take you to a good place round the corner," volunteered Quatrevaux. "But there is supper, so let us go down."

A handbell had begun to clang as he was speaking and, on hearing it, all the others made a dash for the door, leaving Roger and Quatrevaux to bring up the rear.

"Ill-mannered brutes," murmured the dark young man. "By the way they rush for their food anyone could tell that they come from peasant families; but I saw at the first glance, Monsieur Breuc, that you are a person of some breeding."

" Tis true, Monsieur, and I am happy to be able to return the compliment."

"I trust we shall be friends, then. In these times persons who have any pretensions to quality should stand together. But I warn you to have a care how you cross Hutot. He is cunning as well as strong and in a position to make your life a misery if you refuse to obey his slightest whim."

"Thanks for the warning," said Roger gratefully. "As for your offer of friendship, Monsieur, I am most happy to accept it. If my lot is to be a hard one here 'twill be a great consolation to have someone to whom I can talk freely."

On their reaching the ground floor Quatrevaux led Roger through a short passage at the back of the hall to a one-storeyed wing of the house that jutted out along the side of a small courtyard. It contained Maitre Leger's dining-room and the kitchen quarters.

Roger had supposed that the apprentices would eat with the master of the house, but Quatrevaux told him that only Brochard enjoyed that privilege, and that of being waited on by Aimee, the little fifteen-year old maid. The rest of the staff lived out, and to fend for themselves in the kitchen was considered good enough for the apprentices.

The others were already seated at a big deal table and Brigitte, the ample-bosomed young cook, was ladling stew from a saucepan on to their plates. Roger wished her good-evening and, as soon as she had helped him, set to; but before he was a third of the way through, the others had guzzled their portions and were calling for a second helping. By the time his turn came Hutot had demanded a third and the saucepan was empty, which provoked a general laugh at Roger's expense. There was only bread and cheese to follow, but ample of that, so he made up on it and did not leave the table hungry.

When they bad finished they all went out into the town and, leaving their companions, Quatrevaux took Roger to a small tavern nearby: on entering which he at once suggested that they should drink a bottle together on their own.

" 'Twill take us half an hour or more to dispose of a bottle," Roger hazarded, thinking of his extremely small store of crowns. "Will not the others become angry at being kept waiting for so long?"

"Nay, we have ample time," Quatrevaux shrugged. " 'Tis perhaps some excuse for the way they bolt their food that on weekdays after supper is our only time of recreation. All of us have a tryst with some wench most evenings, but must be in by ten, as Brochard locks up at that hour and has a dozen unpleasant ways of taking it out of late­comers. Tis on that account we are forced to celebrate by taking bottles up to our room; but you can depend upon it that none of them will be back before St. Pierre's bells have begun their chiming."

"In that case what wine will you drink?" asked Roger, endeavouring to hide his anxiety as to whether his funds would run to this evening's entertainment.

To his relief his new friend answered: "They have a good Chateau Neuf du Pope here that is not expensive, and for the wine we are to take back the Vin Ordinaire will serve. Those clowns have no palates for a good vintage. They scarce know one wine from another and require only something upon which they can sozzle themselves."

At a table in one of a line of partitioned recesses they enjoyed their bottle and, meanwhile, Quatrevaux gave Roger quite a lot of informa­tion about Maitre Leger's household. The lawyer himself was a shrewd man and a not unkindly master. His wife, as Roger no doubt knew, was much younger than himself, a pretty creature and a born coquette. Old Fusier knew his law but otherwise was a dotard and rarely interfered with anybody. Brochard, who aspired to a partner­ship, really ran the place. He was both clever and exacting. His only interest outside the firm was politics. He was a reformer of the most rabid type and if the present discontents ever came to a head would prove dangerous. Douie, the third apprentice, on the other hand, was deeply religious, and the Church still wielded immense power in Brittany. He, Quatrevaux, was not himself a Breton; he hailed from Provence. As Brochard was a freethinker he and Douie often had terrific arguments.

As the catalogue went on Roger gathered that these two were, apart from Maitre Leger, the only serious people in the house. The others either lived the lives of cabbages or were solely concerned with a succession of ever-changing love affairs.

"How is it that you have no tryst to-night?" Roger inquired, after he had listened to Quatrevaux's revelations about several of his colleagues' illicit amours, made with evident approval.

The handsome young Provencal gave him a sly look. "You have not met Manon Prudhot yet, have you? She is a niece of Maitre Leger's, and keeps house for him in Madame's absence. She is a Parisien and infinitely superior to these little Rennes trollops with whom the others amuse themselves. Why should I go outside the house when such good fare is to be had within it?"

As the Cathedral clock struck the quarter they collected the six bottles of Vin Ordinaire, which to Roger's relief cost only half a franc a-piece, and carried them back to their lodging. A few minutes later the rest of the apprentices began to arrive, pewter mugs were pro­duced, the corks of the bottles were drawn and the small company settled down on their beds to toast Roger's initiation.

For some time the talk was general, with many allusions to the other inmates of the house and various girls of the town, which meant nothing to Roger; but then they began to ask him again about himself and he had to call largely upon his powers of invention.

From the crosstalk that ensued he soon discovered that they were just primitive and boorish rather than malicious, and that, apart from Quatrevaux, he already knew far more of the world than all of them put together. They had all been brought up in narrow parochial surroundings; none of them had ever been in a town larger than Rennes and his English public school education far surpassed anything they had received at the hands of Catholic priests in small town colleges.

By the time five out of six bottles had been consumed he knew that he had created something of an impression and that they now regarded him with a certain respect, even if their admiration was somewhat offset by a grudging envy; so he felt that if he played his cards well he might be able to secure a reasonable deal from them. With a view to further enhancing his prestige he launched into an account of his sword fight with De Roubec, although retailing the affair as though it had occurred in Strasbourg and had resulted from a chance encounter with a drunken rake on the way home one night.

At first they obviously believed him to be boasting and soon began to taunt him with half-drunken sneers of derision; but, quite good-humouredly, he pulled his long sword from under his bed, displayed it to their surprised gaze and said:

"Believe me or not as you like, but I am perfectly prepared to fight anyone here, either in a fencing school with buttoned foils or somewhere outside the town with naked steel."

His half-playful announcement was followed by a brief, strained silence. He doubted if any of them had ever handled a sword in their lives, and felt certain that his challenge would not be accepted; but he waited with interest to see how they would take it.

After a moment the hulking Hutot spoke up for the rest:

"I am of the people and the rapier is not for such as us; but I am strong enough to break you in half, my little man, and you would remember a good kick from me for a month afterwards. While 'I am here you'll show me the respect and service due to your elders."

Roger was quick to seize upon the point. He had known all along that he would never be able to intimidate Hutot, or overawe the others as long as they had the support of their senior; so he launched a project that he had in mind for splitting the party.

"Monsieur Hutot," he said with sudden gravity, "Believe me, you will never find me lacking in respect to you or unwilling to oblige you in anything you may require of me. But I am sure you will agree that, since I am not an articled apprentice, I am entitled to suggest that my age should be the governing factor in whom I serve here and whom I do not."

" 'Tis an innovation that I'll not stand for," declared Douie.

"You will hold your peace and do as you are bid," said Quatrevaux sharply. "How old are you, Breuc?"

"Seventeen and three months," Roger lied, once more stretching his age to the maximum which he thought might pass as credible; yet, had he known it, he could safely have added another six months, since so impressed were they by his savoir-faire and comparative breadth of knowledge, they would still have believed him.

"We celebrated Douie's name-day towards the end of September," Quatrevaux remarked, "so he can be but seventeen and a few weeks. I am eighteen and a half, and Hutot nearly twenty."

"Very well, then," said Roger. "I will serve you, Monsieur Quatrevaux, and Monsieur Hutot, to the best of my ability, but the other three must arrange matters among themselves."

" 'Tis all against our custom," demurred Hutot.

"And what of the cleaning of the office?" cried little Colas angrily. "I've done it daily for eight months and thought my time was nearing its end. Yet now, the sixth bed here is occupied, Maitre Leger cannot take another apprentice until Hutot leaves, and that will not be till next Whitsuntide. 'Tis unjust that I should be saddled with it for sixteen months when the normal period is something less than a year."

For a moment it looked as though Roger's plan for saving himself from becoming the general drudge hung again in the balance, but he said quickly:

"The office work I am prepared to share with you." Then picking up the last bottle of wine he refilled the glasses of the two seniors and added: "The decision rests with you, Monsieur Hutot, but in view of my age and the fact that I am not an articled apprentice I appeal to your sense of fairness."

Quatrevaux suddenly came to his assistance. "Breuc has made a good case. We are all lawyers here, and our rulings should be just ones."

"I'll not start to run my own errands again," Douie put in suddenly, and the silent, stupid-looking Monestot nodded agreement.

"Colas will continue to serve you two while Breuc looks after us," said Quatrevaux. "That is fair enough, is it not, Hutot?"

The burly Hutot shrugged his broad shoulders. "As you will. So long as my needs are attended to without question I care not how the juniors arrange matters between themselves."

So the question was settled and now, half befuddled by the wine they had drunk, they went to bed: Roger feeling no little pleased with himself that his skilful diplomacy had succeeded in at least reducing his new masters from five to two.

Next morning, having carried up the washing-water with Colas and helped him to dean out the office, Roger breakfasted with the others in the kitchen and, immediately afterwards, was set to work under Ruttot's supervision on copying Latin documents.

The senior copyist was a frail looking, bespectacled fellow of about thirty-five, who suffered from an habitual and irritating cough. He was a man of no ambition, having been a copyist for the past ten years and expecting to continue as one all his life. But he was competent at his work and evidently anxious that Roger should become so, too; as he took the trouble to make out a list for him of Latin legal expressions and helped him without grumbling whenever he found himself in difficulties.

As Roger bad feared, the work proved extremely monotonous and, as soon as its newness had worn off, he began to feel more than ever that Fate had played him a scurvy trick in forcing him to earn a pittance in such a manner.

He soon found, too, that although he had saved himself from becoming the slave of all his colleagues, fagging for Hutot alone was worse than anything he had endured as a new boy at Sherborne. The only interests of this coarse and powerfully built young Breton were drink and women. Brigitte, the fresh-faced cook, was his permanent stand-by, but on such nights as he did not creep down to the little room that she occupied on the ground floor, and they were many, he left the house by stealth after it had been locked up to spend the best part of the night with other girls of loose morals who lived in the neighbourhood.

His method of doing so was to lower himself by a rope from the attic window to the roof of the out-jutting kitchen and, from there, scramble down into the courtyard. But lest the rope should be seen from one of the lower windows during his absence it had to be hauled up after his descent and lowered again on his return. This now became one of Roger's duties and, since Hutot rarely returned till the early morning, his abettor bad to sleep with a piece of string attached to his little finger, the other end of which, having been passed through the window, hung down into the yard so that Hutot could pull it as a signal that he had returned.

Roger intensely resented being violently woken three or four nights a week by a painful jerking of his hand, and even more the fact that Hutot often returned drunk, which necessitated putting him to bed and afterwards clearing up the disgusting mess he had made when he had been sick. Yet there was nothing to be done about it as, on the only occasion that he had had the temerity to protest, Hutot had knocked him down and kicked him savagely.

Another less unpleasant but irritating duty that Roger was called on to perform was, during the midday recess, to carry Hutot's billet-doux to his latest conquests. As the senior apprentice was not the least particular about looks or class these ranged from washerwomen to girls who were known to be the common property of the town.

They were a coarse and vicious lot, and several of them, having made advances to Roger himself without success, then took a special delight in jeering at him as a prude and trying to make him blush by obscene remarks every time he had to visit them. Not only did he come to hate these missions but they took much of his free time that he would have otherwise employed in studying his German. He dared not let his books be seen by anyone at Maitre Leger's, so his only opportunity of getting down to them,, except on Sundays, was on fine days when he could spend an hour after dejeuner sitting on a bench in the Jardin des Plantes.

Quatrevaux continued to treat him as a friend when the others were not about but, possibly from fear of losing his own prestige, was also exacting in his requirements of service. Nevertheless, his demands were much less onerous than Hutot's and mainly consisted in buying ribbons, bonbons and other presents for Mademoiselle Manon Prudhot.

Roger met Manon occasionally, going in or out of the house or on the stairs, and he did not consider her particularly pretty; but she had a beautiful figure, dressed with great elegance and had dark, roguish eyes. She was about twenty-two and, for those times, old not to be already married; but rumour had it that a scandal resulting from her having had an illegitimate child had hampered her chances in Paris; hence her coming to live with her uncle at Rennes. In any case, Roger knew that she could be no prude as often, when he was roused in the early hours of the morning by Hutot returning home, he saw that Quatrevaux's bed was empty.

After three weeks of his boring and humiliating existence at Maitre Leger's Roger felt that he could not possibly bear it much longer. The thought of Athenais had alone sustained him so long, but he had known her for only one evening and even the indelible impression made upon him by her fairy-like yet imperious beauty was becoming slightly blunted in his memory. She would, he knew, remain his dream divinity for years to come, yet his prospects of seeing much of her in the future now seemed remote, and those of his ever being able to make her his wife, positively nil.

While pondering his unhappy state one day towards the end of October it occurred to him that it was now just on three months since he had left home. By this time his father should have been re-posted and, if despatched to a distant station, would not be back in England for another year or more. If that were the case the coast was now clear for his own return. His homecoming, it was true, would not have the glamour with which he had once hoped to invest it, but at least he could say that he had succeeded in supporting himself in a foreign country for three months, which, at his age, was no small achievement. And while he was still not prepared to face his outraged father he felt that he could quite well bring himself to eat humble pie before his mother.

With this in mind he decided to write to her and, as he was apt to act at once on any impulse he felt to be a good one, he set about it that very day.

In his letter he said nothing of his nearly disastrous crossing with the smugglers, or of poor old Aristotle Fenelon, and he made his position sound considerably better than it was in fact. He once more begged pardon for the anxiety that his running away must have caused her, then went on to say that he was in excellent health and had obtained a good position with the leading lawyer in Rennes. It was, he admitted, a come-down for a gentleman to serve in a lawyer's office as a clerk, but even that was, in his eyes, an infinitely better condition of life than the miserable existence led by a midshipman in a man-o'-war. He added that while he had no intention of making law his career he should certainly stick to it until something better offered rather than return if his father was still at home. But that if the Admiral had been given a command and gone to sea again he was quite willing to take ship for England and discuss with her any ideas which she might have as to a more promising future for him. He refrained from informing her that he lacked the necessary funds to get back as he did not wish to admit that he was practically penniless, and he felt that it would be time enough to ask her to send him the money for his passage if her reply was favourable.

Having completed his letter he was anxious to get a reply to it as speedily as possible. On inquiring at the Hotel des Postes he learned that his missive might take anything up to a month to reach England, but that if he sent it by express it should get there, depending on the state of the weather, in a week to ten days; so he spent his last two crowns in sending it by the faster service.

His father having so recently been made a Rear-Admiral could be taken as a sure sign that he would be fairly speedily re-posted, so Roger felt that all the odds were on his parent being already once more at sea. It had cost him a lot to propose returning, as he would still have to face a possibly scornful Georgina and tell her what a poor figure he had cut in the matter of her jewels. But now that he had taken the decision he was glad of it and, much comforted by the thought that he would, almost certainly, be back in his own comfortable home by the end of November, he returned to face his daily drudgery and Hutot's outrageous demands with a more cheerful countenance than he had been able to put upon them for some time.

It was eight days after he had written and despatched his letter that he again saw Athenais. His flair for foreign languages made his study of German sufficiently interesting for him to continue working at it after lunch each day, although he now counted on getting home in the near future; and, having left the Jardin des Plantes, he was on his way back through the Rue St. Mélaine when he recognised her coach. He knew it at once from the liveries of the servants, and as it passed him a moment later at a fast trot he caught sight of her inside. She did not see him, as she was sitting bolt upright, beside Madame Marie-Ange Velot, staring straight in front of her, but the one glimpse of her lovely and imperious profile was enough to set his heart thumping like a sledge-hammer.

As he turned to gape after the coach he felt that she was ten, nay a hundred, times more beautiful than the picture he had kept of her in his memory; a little goddess who had descended to this sordid earth on which no mortal was even fitted to be a footstool for her feet. Yet, before the coach had turned the corner of the street he had determined that he must kiss her hand that very night.

That afternoon, for the first time, Monsieur Ruttot had to upbraid him severely for really slipshod work in his copying, but he simply could not keep his mind on his task and, that evening, having smartened himself up as well as he could, he bolted his dinner with the avidity of the other apprentices in order the more quickly to get out of the house.

On his arriving at the Hotel de Rochambeau one of the footmen answered the door to him and went to summon Monsieur Aldegonde. The major-domo greeted him with his usual look of haughty disapproval and when Roger asked for his name to be taken up to Mademoiselle de

Rochambeau replied that Mademoiselle could not be disturbed at present as she was still at dinner.

His ardour somewhat damped by this rebuff Roger set to slowly pacing back and forth across the great marble-floored hall, while Aldegonde reascended the staircase to resume supervising the service of the meal. For over half an hour he waited, at first somewhat consoled for the delay from having learned that his divinity was definitely at home and had not merely been in Rennes on a flying visit that after­noon; then with ever-growing impatience to have sight of her.

At last footsteps sounded again at the top of the stairs and, to his surprise, he saw young Count Lucien, followed by Aldegonde, coming down towards him. Ceasing his pacing he greeted the Count with a smile and made him a low bow.

The little Count halted two steps from the bottom of the staircase and returned the bow only with the faintest inclination of the head, then he said in a shrill voice:

"I am told that you have requested an audience with Mademoiselle, my sister, Monsieur. For what purpose do you require it?"

"Why, Monsieur le Count, to pay my respects to her," Roger replied a trifle uneasily.

"Is it true that you have become a clerk in our lawyer's office?"

"Yes, and I do not seek to bide it. But 'tis only a temporary measure. You will recall, no doubt, the straits in which I was left on the death of Doctor Aristotle Fenelon, and I was forced to take the only employment that offered, or starve."

"I care not if you starve or no," cried the young Count, giving vent to his anger. "How dare you presume on the fact that Mademoiselle de Rochambeau was impulsive enough to bring you here one night out of charity. You were then naught but a penniless vagabond, and you are little better now. The de Rochambeaux do not consort with lawyer's clerks and your request to wait upon Mademoiselle is an outrageous insult."

Roger had gone pale to the lips. "You stuck-up little fool!" he suddenly burst out. "Whatever work I may do I'm as much a gentleman as you any day. Keep your tongue between your teeth, or 'twill be the worse for you!"

Count Lucien's hand shot out, and he shrilled to Aldegonde: "Seize that impudent upstart and throw him out!"

At Aldegonde's signal the tall footman advanced upon Roger, grasped him by the shoulders and, swivelling him round, thrust him towards the door.

"By God!" he shouted over his shoulder, "I'll get even with you for this!"

Next moment he was at the top of the steps. He heard Count Lucien cry: "If you dare to show your face here again I'll have you whipped by my lackeys."

Then the footman's knee caught Roger a hefty biff on the behind. He pitched forward down the short flight of steps and fell sprawling in the courtyard; the door was slammed to behind him.

Picking himself up he turned round and shook his fist in impotent fury at the dark facade of the mansion; then, literally sobbing with rage, he staggered out into the street.

For a week he could scarcely think of anything but the abominable humiliation to which he had been subjected. He came from a country where there were still very marked class distinctions, but in which there had grown up during the centuries a feeling that all classes were necessary to a well-ordered society, and that each was worthy of respect from the others as long as in the main its representatives contributed their quota to the common good. The better educated and more fortunately placed planned and ordered the way of life of the majority. They gave of their blood unstintingly in leading the defence of the country in time of war, meted out impartial, unbribable justice to their equals and inferiors alike, and tided the country people over times of difficulty whenever there was a failure of the crops. The others gave loyal service in peace and war and did not question the wisdom of their intellectual superiors in directing the affairs of the nation. Yet all stood fairly on their own feet with a true sense of their own dignity as individuals and proper rights as free men; and all had a ready word of good cheer for the others in their daily lives. The humblest labourer would talk as an equal about the prospects of crops or village affairs with his landlord and the noblest in the land was not ashamed to crack a joke with the yokels over a cup of ale in the village inn.

Here in France everything was utterly different. The country people lived in the direst poverty and were treated, not like human beings but like animals, by a stupid, hidebound and stony-hearted nobility of whom, Roger felt, little Count Lucien was a typical repre­sentative. Even the townsfolk were a race apart, despising the peasants and in turn despised by the aristocracy. Owing to the decay of feudalism the whole system had become hideously false and distorted so that the links binding one class to another had now utterly disappeared, leaving gaping voids of hatred and envy where good will, trust and mutual service had once held sway.

In this week of personal bitterness he became an inarticulate but fervid revolutionary; and, while quite illegally divorcing Athenais de Rochambeau from her caste, hoped that the day would soon come when the whole decadent French nobility might be stripped of its antiquated privileges and thrown upon a dungheap. Yet, beyond all, he longed as he had never longed before to return to the green and smiling fields of England.

Morose and silent he laboured on at his work and did as he was bid by the senior apprentices without a murmur of complaint, but he was now counting the hours until a letter from his mother should bring him release from his bondage.

At last, on the 16th of November, it arrived. Brochard handed it to him on his entering the office first thing that morning and gave him a look of curiosity as he remarked:

"You must have friends who travel far afield, young man, to correspond with them in England."

But Roger ignored the implied question, stuffed the letter in his pocket and, excusing himself hurriedly, dashed upstairs to read it. He was already cursing his short-sighted policy in not having asked his mother for funds with which to return, as now he would have to write again, and another three weeks must elapse before he could receive her reply with the money which would enable him to set out. In his mind he made a swift calculation. Three weeks would bring him to the 7th of December and allowing another four days, which should be ample for his journey, he should reach Lymington by the nth. Even with unforeseen delays he would be home in plenty of time for Christmas.

With hasty, fumbling fingers he tore the letter open, and ran his eye swiftly down the close-written pages. The letter was only mildly reproachful and full of loving phrases. As he skimmed through it a paragraph near its end suddenly riveted his attention.

In it, his mother urged him to write frequently, and said how relieved she was to hear that he was comfortably settled as, much as she would love to see him, it would be most ill-advised to return as yet. With time she hoped to bring about a softening of his father's heart, but Roger's conduct had angered him to such a degree that he had sworn never to receive him into the house again. As to the Admiral's going to sea, to her own great joy, apart from the fact that it would deprive her of seeing Roger, there would be no prospect of that for a long time to come. He had, early that month, been appointed C.-in-C, Portsmouth, and his command being so hear Lymington would enable him to practically live at home for the next two years.

CHAPTER XIII

FIRST LOVE

Two years! At Roger's age that sounded like a life sentence. Aghast and dumbfounded, tears welled up into his eyes. As they misted over he could no longer make out his mother's fine writing and he dropped the letter on to his truckle bed. This then, was the price he must pay for his liberty. To slave for eight hours a day, week after week, in a musty office, to feed in a kitchen and sleep with five others in the sordid, depressing attic room. No holidays, apart from the principal Saints' days, were ever given; Saturday was a working day like all the rest and, even had there been some periods of leisure to look forward to, he had neither the money nor the friends with which to enjoy them. Yet, where could he go? What could he do? Other than continue to face this dreary round, which appeared to be his sole means of securing the bare necessities of life.

Gamely he fought back the tears, blinked his eyes clear and picked up the letter again to read it through properly, in the hope that he might yet discover in it some ray of comfort. But there was none. Evidently his mother had read into his overdrawn picture of the position he had secured that he was content to remain where he was for the present unless his father was prepared to forgive and forget the past. She praised him for his initiative in having obtained a post of responsibility while still so young and said how fortunate he was to have been taken into the house of a kindly and respectable lawyer. The rest of the letter contained only local news and much good advice as to how he should care for his health through the winter.

Her reference to the winter brought back to Roger's mind a problem that had been causing him much concern of late. Apart from a change of linen he had no clothes other than those he stood up in; and, now that it was mid-November, he sadly needed a warm coat.

As his prospects of returning home had been so rudely shattered, it occurred to him that, while he could not ask his mother to send him money without loss of face, he could ask her to send him his wardrobe. Monsieur Brochard, who acted as cashier as well as second head in the office, would, he felt sure, give him his November pay in advance if he asked for it. Then he could buy himself a coat at once, still have cash in hand and, by selling some of his things that he did not particularly require when they arrived from England, make good the outlay he contemplated at the moment.

This project helped a little to take his mind off the sad blow he had just received and, during the course of the day, he carried it out. The possession of the new coat, a good warm garment of maroon cloth with a big triple collar, cheered him considerably; and the next day being Sunday, he went to Mass in it.

Roger had been brought up with a horror of Popish mummery, as the practices of the Roman Catholic church were then termed in England; but upon going to live at Maitre Leger's he had found himself in a most invidious position. None of the household, apart from the red-headed Douie, appeared to be particularly religious, and from their conversation it was clear that a number of them were actually free­thinkers; yet everyone in the household went to at least one service in the Cathedral every Sunday, and Roger was obviously expected to go too.

As he was supposed to have come from a German province he had thought of saying that he was a Lutheran, but he soon realised that he would be inviting serious trouble for himself if he did. During his two months in France he had already learned that all Protestants were penalised there even more rigorously than were Catholics in England, and that Brittany was the most rabid of all Catholic strongholds. Not being of the stuff of which religious martyrs are made and fearing to add to the many difficulties with which he was already beset, he had decided, like King Henry of France and Navarre before him, that a quiet life was worth a Mass, and, taking the line of least resistance, had accompanied Julien Quatrevaux to St. Pierre.

To his relief he found that most of his colleagues neither took Communion or went to Confession with any regularity; so, not being called upon to imperil his immortal soul, as he would have regarded so doing, he was able to attend the service simply as an interested spectator. The gorgeous robes of the priests, the pageantry of the ceremonial, the incense and the music all appealed to his imagination; and he thought the short but colourful ritual a great improvement on the long and uninspiring services he had been accustomed to attend in England; so he had formed the habit of going to Mass without a qualm.

On this occasion a surprise was in store for him. There were no pews in the nave of the great Cathedral and the bulk of the congregation stood about in little groups, only the richer among them using stools or prie-dieu which were brought to church and carried home again by the servants who accompanied them. This led to people often changing their position during the course of the service and, about halfway through the Mass, a tall man having planted himself in front of Roger, he moved to a less congested place. From it, he suddenly caught sight of Athenais.

For the remainder of the service he could not take his eyes off her and, at its end, he moved again so that she would have to pass close to him on her way to the door.

Flushed and excited he nerved himself to meet her glance as, having moved on an impulse, he was suddenly beset by an awful fear that he had deliberately offered himself to a new humiliation. Count Lucien was not with her, only Madame Marie-Ange and a footman, but her brother might have told her how he had had her uninvited visitor thrown out of the house and Roger, burning with shame at the memory, now dreaded that on seeing him her look would hold only contempt.

Panicking at the thought he sent up a swift prayer that she would not see him after all; but it was too late—their eyes had met.

For a second hers showed only surprise, then she made a slight inclination in response to his deep bow. When he raised his head again she was passing within a foot of where he stood. Suddenly she turned her dazzling smile full upon him. His heart missed a beat and he barely suppressed a gasp of astonished delight. By the time he could draw breath again, she was gone.

For several moments he remained standing where he was, his eyes unseeing and quite unconscious of the crowd that was streaming about him towards the doors of the Cathedral. He knew that he was trembling but he could not collect his wits, then suddenly it dawned upon him how much difference that single radiant smile had made in his life.

He might be condemned to daily drudgery and nightly irritations; he might be penniless and with only the most slender prospects of bettering his condition for a long time to come. But he still held the interest and friendship of the loveliest and most adorable person in the whole world. By remaining in Rennes, he could see her from time to time. If only he were patient Fate could not be so unkind as to fail to provide him with an opportunity of talking to her again.

All Sunday afternoon and evening his mind was filled with delicious daydreams. Some powerful noble would besmirch the beautiful Athenais's name and he, Roger, would call the fellow out. As he thought of it he could feel the stretch of his shoulder muscles in the furious lunge by which he would drive his blade clean through the villain's black heart. Her coach would be beset by footpads one dark night and, single-handed, he would drive off the whole brutal gang, to receive as his reward for her rescue Count Lucien's apologies and the grateful thanks of the Marquis, her father. Better still, he would render some amazing service to his own country, for which King George would make him an Earl, or perhaps, a Duke; and he would then return to France as a resplendent nobleman himself to demand from the Marquis, Mademoiselle de Rochambeau's hand in marriage.

But on the Monday, to the obvious surprise of Ruttot, he threw himself with an entirely new enthusiasm into his work. Overnight he had abandoned his wild imaginings. He had suddenly realised that as long as he remained a copyist he would be tied to his office stool all day, but if he could make himself really useful to Maitre Leger he might, like the senior clerks, sometimes be entrusted to conduct outside missions; he might even be given the de Rochambeau papers to handle, and thus be provided with an adequate reason for making frequent visits to Athenais's home.

For some days, apart from Ruttot's praise, the great improvement in his work gained no recognition; but towards the end of the week it brought him a quite unexpected amelioration of his lot.

It so chanced that Maitre Leger, who was generally so absorbed in his own affairs that he had hardly spoken to Roger since engaging him, had to go out on the Saturday morning to keep an exceptionally early appointment. On his return he found Roger and Colas still cleaning out the front office. Pausing in the doorway, a frown of disapproval on his sharp features, he said to Roger:

'Why are you down so early, Breuc, and thus engaged? 'Tis for the junior apprentice to clean out the offices. And, even if they have counted you as such so far I will have it so no longer. Your work has greatly improved of late and 'tis not right that a competent copyist should be put to such menial tasks."

Flushing with pleasure, Roger thanked him and determined to redouble his efforts. Little Colas was furious, but there was clearly no appeal from this decision of the master, so, henceforth, Roger was enabled to enjoy an extra half-hour in bed each morning.

Next day he was at the main door of St. Pierre half an hour before High Mass was due to begin, but, although he stood there until the service had got well under way, he did not see Athenais arrive. Thinking she might have entered the Cathedral by one of the other doors he went in and moved about as discreetly as he could among the crowd, but his search for her was in vain. This was a grievous disappointment as the whole of his leisure during the past week had been given to the anticipation of seeing her again and being the recipient of another of her divine smiles.

In bed that night he tortured himself with all sorts of probable and improbable reasons for Athenais's non-appearance at Mass. She had been taken ill; was perhaps at death's door, and he was powerless to help her. Madame Marie-Ange had seen her smile at him the previous Sunday and, like Count Lucien, disapproving of the association, had insisted on taking her to hear Mass somewhere else. She had repented of her kindness and later, feeling angered at his presumption in forcing himself upon her notice, had determined not to allow such a situation to arise again. On the other hand, she had, perhaps, been looking forward to seeing him as much as he had been to seeing her, but Madame Marie-Ange had told Count Lucien of the episode and he had told his father; upon which Athenais's harsh and brutal parent had locked her up on a diet of bread and water. This last fantasy filled him with hot indignation and, at the same time, an almost unbearable thrill from its wild assumption that she might conceivably love him and have accepted suffering rather than agree to give him up.

A surly order from Hutot, to get the rope from under the bed as he meant to go out, brought Roger back to earth. Then, shivering from the cold night air, he snuggled down into his narrow bed again, and told himself that it was no good building "castles in the air" and that he must get through the coming week with such patience as he could, till next Sunday brought mm another possibility of seeing Athenais.

Yet, when the longed-for day came he had no luck. Neither did he on the following Sunday, although he attended every service at the Cathedral from dawn onwards and searched each crowd of worshippers, with frantic eyes, for his beloved.

In the week that followed, however, he met with real good fortune in another direction. On the Tuesday word ran round the house that Madame Leger was at last expected back from Paris on the coming Friday, and from the pleased looks of his colleagues it was clear to Roger that this lady was universally popular with her household. She arrived by the diligence that set its passengers down at the Hotel des Postes at six in the evening, and at that hour the whole staff crowded into the hallway to welcome her on her return.

As one of the most junior among them Roger modestly took his place right at the back of the hall, so on her entrance his view of her was obscured by the tall, pimply Monestot, who was standing in front of him. It was only by peering round Monestot's shoulder that he managed to see that she was a woman of about twenty-seven, with remarkably fine blue eyes but a sadly receding chin.

For the past few days Roger had been anticipating her home­coming with considerable uneasiness. Although on his first arrival Maitre Leger had given him out to be his wife's cousin no further reference had been made to this fictitious relationship, and Roger was now afraid that by this time the lawyer might have either forgotten all about it or neglected to prime his wife upon the point.

His fears were soon set at rest. While Madame's baggage was being carried in by willing hands she seemed to have a kind word for every­body; then, suddenly pausing in her loquacious greetings, she looked round the crowded hall and cried: "But where is my young cousin, Roje Breuc?"

Much relieved, Roger came forward, and was about, to make her his most gallant leg, but, after one quick look of approval, she placed her hands on his shoulders and gave him a hearty kiss on either cheek.

Next moment she broke into a spate of swift questions about people of whom he had never even heard. How had he left Aunt Berdon? Was Cousin Marote married yet? How was Uncle Edmond's gout? It was so long since she had seen them all and she was positively dying to hear all the news.

Since none of her questions called for an answer that he could not easily invent, Roger entered into the game with zest, and even went so far as to give her tidings of entirely non-existent people. She appeared much amused at his quick wit and, before going upstairs to change out of her travelling clothes, tapped him on the arm and said: "Thou shalt tell me more of the gossip of Strasbourg, little cousin, over dinner." And when dinner-time came Maitre Leger sent the servant girl Aimee to fetch him.

The party consisted of Maitre Leger and Madame Leger, Manon Prudhot, Brochard and Roger. The meal was a gala one and all of them were in high good humour. At first, Roger was a little nervous that he might over-play his hand and arouse the suspicions of the sharp-eyed Brochard, but he had ample time to get accustomed to his new surroundings since, to begin with, Madame almost monopolised the conversation by regaling them with an account of her last weeks in the capital.

In due course, however, obviously enjoying the part she was called on to play, she asked him further questions about her relatives in Strasbourg. His replies were as prompt as before and once more he invented a few amusing stories, but he was suddenly disconcerted by Manon saying:

"I am, of course, of the Leger side of the family, but I must confess that I have never heard of half these relatives you mention."

Quickly recovering himself he smiled at her. "That is quite under­standable, Mademoiselle. My family is an exceptionally large one and even Madame, here, may scarcely remember some of these people of whom I have been speaking."

"Have you, perhaps, also relatives in England?" Brochard inquired with apparent unconcern.

Roger instantly realised that the question was inspired by a still unsatisfied curiosity about the letter he had received and, knowing that others would be arriving for him as time went on, he determined on a bold course.

"Why, yes, Monsieur," he replied, amiably. "My godmother married an Englishman by the name of Jackson, and she now lives there. Only last spring I spent some months at their home in Hampshire and 'tis to that visit I owe my slight knowledge of English."

"I had quite forgotten that," remarked Maitre Leger with his dry smile and, evidently wishing to amuse himself by testing Roger's powers of invention further, he began to question him about his visit.

Here, although it remained unrealised by anyone present, Roger was naturally on much safer ground, and he was able to provoke much hearty laughter by relating what he knew they would regard as some of the strange and barbarous customs of their hereditary enemies. But he also took occasion to establish the fact that he and his "god­mother" doted on each other and kept up a regular correspondence.

At the close of the meal Maitre Leger took occasion to say that he found his young protege such excellent company that he must dine with them again sometime.

On this Madame raised the well-marked eyebrows above her big blue eyes and exclaimed: "Do'st mean to tell me that thou hast allowed my young cousin to feed all this while with the apprentices in the kitchen! For shame. Monsieur! In future he must take his meals with us."

"You are most kind, Madame," Roger demurred, fearing that Maitre Leger might not approve, "but I have no wish to intrude, or to slight my colleagues by appearing to have sought a place above them."

"Nay," said the lawyer, with a kindly smile, " 'twill be no intrusion, as Madame likes to have young people about her. You can tell the others that it is Madame's desire on account of the relationship you bear her."

Thus, through Maitre Leger's original prevarication and Roger's own ready wit, a new, broader and far happier life suddenly opened out for him. He dined each night at leisure in comfortable surroundings and enjoyed good talk. In addition he was granted the use of the parlour afterwards, where he sometimes played cards with Madame and Manon, and at others read books from Maitre Leger's well-stocked shelves. Sometimes, too, the family invited friends in for a musical evening, so Roger took up the bass-viol; but he had no ear and did little credit to the Leger quartet in their renderings of chamber music.

In the first week of December he saw Athenais again, but, once more, only a fleeting glimpse of her as she drove past him in her coach, and she was not looking in his direction. The mystery of her non-reappearance at the Cathedral remained unsolved, but, at least he had the satisfaction of knowing that it was not due to illness. Her little face, framed now that winter had come in a fur hood, looked as lovely as ever and remarkably healthy.

That afternoon he was further cheered by receiving a reply to his second letter to his mother; in it she said that she had despatched all his clothes and other things that she thought might be useful to him in a spare sea-chest of his father's, as it had a stout lock and being strongly made would travel well. Then, on the twentieth of the month, he had a note from the authorities to say that it had arrived by barge from St. Malo and was down at the quay awaiting collection.

To his annoyance he found that he had to pay a heavy duty upon certain of the articles it contained, but Brochard advanced him the money to cover this, and it was a great joy to have a good store of clothes and certain possessions of his own again. He explained the arrival of the chest and its contents by saying that they were the things he had taken with him to England on his visit to his godmother the previous spring, and he had expected them to have reached Rennes by the time of his own arrival; hence his arriving there so ill-provided, but for several months the chest had been lost in transit.

After a careful sorting out he sold about a third, of his things, which enabled him to repay the advance he had had and left him enough money over to buy small Christmas presents for the Legers, Manon, Brochard and Quatrevaux. As they were accustomed to exchange gifts at the New Year they were somewhat surprised at receiving his presents on the 25th, but Maitre Leger unconsciously saved him from the slip by remarking that the Germans always kept Weihnachtsfest instead of Nouvelle Annie.

When the New Year came his tactful gifts at Christmas were more than repaid. Quatrevaux had told Manon something of the dance that Hutot led Roger and she had told Madame Leger. In conse­quence the two women had cleared out a little boxroom on a half-landing and furnished it as a bedroom; then on New Year's morning they blindfolded Roger, led him upstairs and removed the bandage when he was in his new abode.

It was a tiny place and had no window, but it was his own and meant an end of getting up at all sorts of godless hours to lower the rope for Hutot; so Roger could not have been more delighted, and his two laughing benefactresses were amply repaid for the trouble they had taken by the pleasure he showed.

Thus, with the New Year of 1784 Roger entered on a far happier period than he had known for some time. His work was still monotonous, his prospects entirely uninspiring and his affair with Athenais at a standstill; but he was free of Hutot; well fed, comfortably clothed and housed, and accepted as a member of a pleasant, laughter-loving family.

His open adoption by the Legers as their cousin also led to his making many other acquaintances, since, when they had friends to dine, the visitors often included Roger in their return invitations, and when Manon Prudhot was invited to a young people's party he was now generally asked to accompany her.

It was at her suggestion that he took up dancing. He assented willingly, as at home he had learnt only a few country dances and he felt that he was now reaching an age where he should be able to lead a lady out to a minuet, quadrille or gavotte without embarrassment. Manon was in the habit of going once or twice a week to the Assembly Rooms or other public dance places with Julien Quatrevaux, but she was anxious not to make her affair with him too conspicuous, so they welcomed Roger as a third. They were able to introduce him to plenty of partners and he soon attached himself to one girl in particular, named Tonton Yeury.

Tonton was the daughter of a goldsmith, and a dark, vivacious little thing. She had a retrousse1 nose, brown almond-shaped eyes and was never serious for a moment. Few girls could have been in stronger contrast with Athenais, and that was perhaps one of the reasons why Roger was attracted to her. His love and longing for the imperious Mademoiselle de Rochambeau remained unabated, but in Tonton's merry company he was able temporarily to forget his secret passion.

By early January one of the severest winters that France had known for many years developed with extreme rigour, so that the canals and the river Vilaine were frozen a foot thick, and after Mass each Sunday the richer inhabitants of Rennes made carnival on the ice. Roger and his friends joined in the skating, sledging and tobogganing with great zest; but in all other respects they suffered considerably from the severity of the weather. None of them had any heat in their bedrooms and the offices in which Roger and Julien laboured for long hours each day had only small wood-burning stoves. In consequence they had to work in the frowsty cold, muffled up in their overcoats, and each time they dressed or undressed their teeth chattered from the icy blast that seemed to whistle in through every crevice.

On his third skating expedition Roger again saw Athenais. Count Lucien and a dark, good-looking young man somewhat older than himself were with her, so he did not dare approach; but, to his joy she gave him a friendly wave as the two youths propelled her swiftly past in a lovely little single-seated sleigh fashioned like a swan.

That night he was torn between bliss at her recognition of him and agonising jealousy at the thought that the dark young man must inevitably be in love with her and that she, quite probably, returned his love. Yet the sight of her served to revive all his old ambitions and he began to seek for an opportunity to secure advancement in the firm.

It came a few evenings later. Towards the end of dinner, Maitre Leger and Brochard were discussing a case in which one of the firm's richest clients was involved and, seizing on a point that did not appear to have occurred to either of them, Roger felt that without appearing impertinent he might draw their attention to it.

The point was quite a minor one but both men looked a little surprised that he should have sufficient shrewdness to appreciate that it might be of some value. Maitre Leger would no doubt have thought no more of the matter had not Brochard remarked, with a smile:

"You display good reasoning powers. Monsieur Breuc, and we shall make a lawyer of you yet," which gave Roger the opening to reply:

"Thank you, Monsieur, but 'twill take a long time, I fear, from the little experience I gain as a Latin copyist."

"I would that we could give you something of more interest," said Maitre Leger, "but to set anyone without proper training to the drafting of documents usually results in additional labour for someone else later on."

Brochard gave a somewhat spiteful little laugh. " 'Twould be easy enough for me to teach Monsieur Bruec the rudiments of the business in the evenings, but I am sure he is much too occupied in gallivanting about the town with his friends to desire that!"

"On the contrary. Monsieur," Roger took him up swiftly. "If you would be so kind, I place my leisure entirely at your disposal."

A new interest suddenly showed in Brochard's alert eyes and, with a shrug of his broad shoulders, he replied:

"So be it, then. Two evenings a week should suffice. Let us say Tuesdays and Thursdays, and after dinner we will adjourn to old Fusier's office. Being smaller it is warmer than the others and I will have the fire kept up after he has gone."

The legal coaching that resulted from this arrangement did not seriously interfere with Roger's amusements and made him feel that at last he was getting somewhere, if only towards a better job than the wearisome monotony of endless copying. He found, too, that beneath Monsieur Emile Brochard's rather severe and taciturn manner there lay a very vital and likeable personality.

Brochard was a Bordelals, and he had inherited a strong share of that tradition which made the great city of Bordeaux, from having been a fief of the English Crown for so many centuries, still markedly English in customs and sympathies. He had a passionate admiration for the British, formed mainly from the quite erroneous belief that everything they did was based on reason and, as a freethinker, he re­garded "Reason" as the Supreme Deity. He was, like the great majority of educated people in France at that time, convinced that his country was on the verge of ruin, and that only the granting of a liberal Constitution by the King, coupled with the abolition of all aristocratic privileges, could possibly save it from complete disaster. And, again and again, he pointed out to Roger legal cases where the verdict would go to a noble, simply because he was a noble, whereas under English law the verdict would have gone to a commoner, not because he was a commoner, but because reason and justice were on his side.

Roger proved so attentive and appreciative an audience to these disquisitions that they fell into the habit of talking for an hour or so on such matters after the evening's lessons were concluded.

On one occasion, towards the end of February, Brochard remarked that the English were sensible enough to turn even their apparent misfortunes to advantage, as was instanced by the swift reorientation of their policy towards the United States. Having lost the war they had wasted no time in bitterness and rancour, but had at once set about relieving the acute shortage of manufactured goods that had resulted from their own five-year blockade of the Americas. Before there had even been time for the British Army to be evacuated British merchants by the hundred had crossed the Atlantic to offer the hand of friendship and, as the Americans possessed hardly any industry of their own, Britain was now enjoying a tremendous trade boom.

Roger replied a little dubiously: "That may be so, but when I was in England last year I heard many people express the opinion that the country was showing grave signs of decadence and was, in fact, pretty well on its last legs. It is the general view here, too, that, while England succeeded by the skin of her teeth in securing a reasonably good peace, the American war cost her exceeding dear, both in money and prestige; and that the many victories of the Continental Allies during it have more than made up to France for the defeats she suffered in the earlier Seven Years' War."

"You have been listening to the talk of wishful-thinking fools," scoffed Brochard. "In the war of '56-'63, we lost our hold on India and were thrown out of Canada for good. Nothing we have gained in the more recent conflict is one-tenth the value of either of those great dominions. And Britain still controls the seas to the detriment of our commerce. As for the English having become decadent, I am amazed to hear that any among them are pessimistic enough to think it. Decadence comes only to countries that are governed by the old, and since last December Britain has had for her Prime Minister young Mr. Pitt, who is not yet twenty-five years of age. What greater proof of vitality and will to develop new ideas could any country give than that?"

It was the first that Roger had heard of this remarkable appoint­ment of so young a man as Billy Pitt to the highest office under the British Crown. His mother now corresponded with him regularly, but her letters contained little other than local news and she never mentioned politics.

As long as the fierce frosts held the land in their grip he got what fun he could skating every Sunday. Twice more in February and March he saw Athenais in her little white and gold swan sleigh, but each time she was accompanied by several people so he did not dare to approach her.

The bitter cold continued right up to April so that people almost began to despair of the winter ever ending, and in many parts of the country starvation was widespread. Paris had for two months been without wood for fires and the situation there was said to be desperate. The King had given lavishly from his private purse to succour the thousands who were starving and ordered a great acreage of the royal forests to be cut down for fuel. He had also forbidden the use of private horse-drawn vehicles in the streets of the capital, since the recklessly-driven cabriolets of the younger nobility had knocked down and killed hundreds of poor people who were unable to get out of the way in time owing to the slipperiness of the icy roads. But these measures did little to alleviate the general distress or lessen the ever-growing hostility of the masses towards the warmly-clothed and well-fed upper classes.

Brochard declared that the worst evil lay in the infamous Pacts de famine by which a group of unscrupulous financiers and nobles controlled the grain supply of the whole country, and released it only in comparatively small quantities in times of shortage, such as the present, in order to make enormous profits. He said that the old King, Louis XV, had himself taken the lead in this iniquitous traffic, to which had been due the three years' famine of '67-'68, and that although Louis XVI had done his best to suppress it the monopolists had proved too powerful for him, and continued to make vast fortunes from the sufferings and death of the people. Roger was horrified, and agreed that the mere depriving of their privileges of these highly-placed criminals was far too lenient a punishment for such inhumanity.

With May there came several changes in the Leger household. A new apprentice at last arrived to relieve Colas of his drudgery; and Hutot left, regretted by none, to take up a position with a lawyer at Dinan. The following week Maitre Leger took on a junior Latin copyist and to Roger's great satisfaction he was promoted to the drafting of documents under Brochard with an increase of salary to eighteen louis per annum.

Now that he had a chance to set his wits to work, Roger found a new interest in the law, but his love affair could hardly have been in a worse state. He had not even had a distant glimpse of Athenais during the past two months and, as he had learned in casual con­versation from Maitre Leger that the de Rochambeau family always spent the summer on their country estate, he had little hope of doing so for another five.

He had already tired of Tonton Yeury's empty, facetious laughter, and for some time past had been striving to console himself with a tall, serious-minded blonde named Louise Ferlet. When the weather was fine on Sundays they went for picnics and read poetry together; but as he lay on the grass beside Louise he could never for long escape a secret craving that, instead of her golden head, it was Athenais's that rested on his shoulder.

In August their picnics came to an end on account of bad weather, accompanied by exceptionally high winds. A few days after the most devastating of several bad storms there was some excitement in Rennes, on account of the Marquis de Castries spending a night in the town on his way through to Cherbourg. De Castries was a Marshal of France and the Minister for the Navy, and he was going in person to inspect the damage that the storms had caused to some new works that were under construction at the Breton port.

From various conversations Roger learned that this fine natural harbour was in process of conversion into a huge new naval base. A mole was to be formed of eighty immense cases of conical form filled with stones, sunk close to one another, each costing twelve thousand louis. When completed, as it was hoped that it would be in eight years, the anchorage would be capable of sheltering no less than one hundred ships of the line; and it was further proposed to build a great watch-tower on the high ground behind the port, from which, through a glass, the coast of England would be visible, and, in clear weather, British squadrons entering or leaving Portsmouth roads could be kept under constant observation. Quite clearly this vast labour and expenditure could have been undertaken with only one object—the determination of the French to dominate the Channel.

As Roger continued to spend two evenings a week studying with Brochard, he took an early opportunity of asking him why, in view of the recent treaty of peace and France's deplorable financial situation, she should undertake such a stupendous outlay in preparation for another war.

The Bordelais shrugged his broad shoulders. " 'Tis said that the King wishes for peace, yet he never ceases to build ships of war with every few francs that he can scrape together. The truth is that he is weak as water and swayed in his opinion from one side to the other by every person that he talks to. One day he supports M. de Vergennes, his Foreign Minister, who desires a better understanding with England, the next M. de Castries and M. de Segur, the Minister of War, who naturally desire to set their dangerous toys in motion. The Peace of Versailles stipulated that within a year France and England should enter into a Commercial Treaty. Twould greatly benefit both countries by a reduction of the present crushing duties that they level on one another's merchandise. If 'tis concluded the peace party should triumph. But the nobles, in the main, look to war as a pleasurable excitement from which they may win personal glory and the bulk of the spoil from any victorious campaign, so they are ever eager for it.

Others, like our client, the Marquis de Rochambeau, consider that France should by right dominate the world, and spend their lives intriguing to embroil us with one country or another in the hope of bringing a new slice of territory under the banner of the Fleur-de-Lys. But, make no mistake, if they force us into another conflict within the next ten years France will become bankrupt on account of it."

The idea of spying on behalf of his country had never entered Roger's head, and to send home a chance come-by military secret of a people who were affording him hospitality seemed a mean thing to do; yet, having thought the matter over, he decided that the Cherbourg project was so flagrantly a pistol levelled at the very heart of England that he could not possibly rest easy while his own country remained in ignorance of it; so he wrote to his mother giving her as full particulars as he could gather, and asked her to pass them on to his rather for submission to their lordships at the Admiralty.

Although he was totally unaware of it he had pulled off a coup that any professional spy would not have stuck at murder to achieve. His mother acknowledged the letter and a week later, greatly to his surprise, he received a terse note from his father, which ran:

I cannot find it in me to forgive the unpardonable affront you put upon me personally and the deliberate wrecking of all my cherished hopes in you. Yet I am pleased that you have not so far forgotten yourself as to fail in your duty as an Englishman. Their Lordships were mightily pleased with what you sent and have commanded me to convey their thanks to you, hence this letter. I may add that any more of the same or similar that you may be able to send will be received with appreciation; but, since I may be from home on a round of inspections, 'twould be better that you write direct to one Gilbert Maxwell, Esq., of No. 1 Queen Anne's Gate, Westminster, to whom your name has now been given.

On re-reading the note it was clear to Roger that his father would never have written to him at all had he not been commanded to do so by their Lordships, and, as there was no other information worth reporting, that appeared to end the matter.

Summer merged into autumn and the only change that it made for Roger was that he gave up reading poetry with the fair-haired Louise to resume dancing; this time with another brunette, named Genevieve Boulanger. But now he was looking forward to Athenais's return from the country and daily his hopes rose of once more catching sight of his little goddess.

In October all Europe was electrified by a war scare, caused by Marie Antoinette's brother, the Emperor Joseph II of Austria, manifesting most bellicose intentions towards the Dutch. The news sheets were full of most contradictory reports about the grounds of the quarrel, so Roger, as usual in such matters, went for enlightenment to the knowledgeable Brochard.

" 'Tis the well-being of the great port of Antwerp that is at the bottom of it," Brochard informed him. "Long ago, after the Dutch had rebelled against the Spaniards and gained their independence in the United Provinces, the Treaty of Munster gave them the land on each side of the mouth of the river Scheldt, while the Spaniards retained the city of Antwerp, which lies some way up it. In due course Antwerp and the Belgian Netherlands passed from Spain to Austria, and, as you know, they still form part of Joseph II's Empire, although separated from its main part by numerous German Principalities. The Dutch built forts on both sides of the river mouth and for many years have levied the most crushing tolls on all merchandise either going up to Antwerp or coming seaward from the port. In short, they have virtually levied a tax on the whole sea trade of the Austrian Netherlands and, in consequence, Antwerp has declined from one of the greatest cities in Europe to a town of a mere forty-thousand souls of whom, 'tis, said, twelve-thousand are now reduced to living on charity."

"And the Emperor has formed a resolution to "open up the port?" put in Roger.

Brochard nodded. "Precisely. Unlike his sister, Joseph II is a great reformer. He has spent most of his reign travelling to all parts of his dominions, and in others, to see things for himself; and to find out in what way he can better the lot of the many races that go to make up his people. When he visited the Austrian Netherlands he was infuriated to find that his subjects there had become desperately impoverished solely to enrich the Dutch. He demanded that they should open the Scheldt to his traffic. Since, after a year's arguing, they still refuse to do so, this month, as a test case, he sent two Austrian ships up the river with orders to refuse to halt at the forts. The Dutch fired on both ships and drove them back, so the Emperor is now reported to be mobilising an army with a view to invading the United Provinces."

" 'Tis surely unfair that one nation should be in a position to tax another out of existence," observed Roger. "So it would seem to me that the Emperor's cause is just."

"One cannot but sympathise with it," Brochard agreed. "Yet as legal men we should be the last to approve the ignoring of the sanctity of a solemn treaty; and 'tis that which the Emperor asserts his right to do."

" 'Tis a nice point: but why, if the Austrians and the Dutch do decide to fight it out, should all Europe become involved, as the news sheets would have us believe?"

"The Low Countries have ever been the scene of the greatest European conflicts, and for that there are many causes. For one thing they form a racial no-man's-land where the Latin and Teuton stocks are mingled together. For another, the two great blocks of southern Catholic Europe, and northern Protestant Europe, meet head on there. Then it has always been a cardinal factor in English foreign policy that they should not be allowed to fall into the hands of any great power, since their possession by such would prove a constant menace to England's safety. And for that same reason the war party in France has always hankered after them."

"Yet none of these reasons apply to the present quarrel."

"They might. Austria is a great power and the English may well decide to support the Dutch by force of arms, rather than see Joseph II master of the United Provinces. Again, our own war party is no doubt inciting the Dutch to resist in the hope of being called in to their support."

"But in that case France and England would be allied in a common cause against the Emperor."

Brochard shook his head. "Nay. It goes deeper than that, for the Dutch are divided against themselves. The Stadtholder, William V of Orange, has little power. The States-General, as the Dutch Parliament is called, practically ignores him and has strongly revolutionary tendencies. Yet, like all his family, he is the protégé of England and, if the English come in, 'twould be to maintain him on his throne. France, on the other hand, is behind the rich burghers who wish to establish a republic, and if she came in would use them as a cat's-paw to secure the domination of Holland to herself."

Long afterwards Roger was to recall this conversation with intense interest, as it made plain things of the utmost importance to him which he would not otherwise have understood.

In November he saw Athenais in her coach once again, and the sight of her rearoused all the violent emotions that had lain dormant within him throughout the summer. But she still did not reappear at the Cathedral of St. Pierre.

Nevertheless, seeking among the crowd for her there on the following Sunday gave him a sudden idea, and he was furious with himself that it had never occurred to him before. Athenais must go to Mass somewhere each Sunday. Why should he not wait outside the Hotel de Rochambeau until her coach came out, then run after it until it reached the church that she attended?

A week later he posted himself in the Rue St. Louis, a good half-hour before there was the least hope of Athenais appearing. When at last her coach emerged from the courtyard he slipped out from the archway in which he had been lurking and pelted hot-foot in pursuit. As he had foreseen, in the narrow streets of the town the cumbersome vehicle was unable to make any great pace, so he was easily able to keep up with it; and it had covered scarcely a quarter of a mile before it halted outside the church of St. Melaine.

Breathless and excited he followed Athenais, Madame Marie-Ange, and the footman who carried their prie-dieux inside, and took up a position in which he could keep his eyes glued to the face of his beloved during the whole service. Except on the evening of their first meeting he had never had the opportunity of observing her for so long at a stretch, and by the end of the Celebration he felt positively intoxicated by the sense of her beauty. So bemused was he that he forgot to leave his place in time to catch her glance as she left the church, and he returned home still in a state of half-witted exultation.

He could hardly wait for next Sunday and counted the hours till it came round. This time he was waiting on the church steps for her arrival and, noticing him as she was about to enter the sacred building, she gave him a smile. Towards the close of the service he moved quietly over to the stoop, as he had often seen gentlemen in Catholic churches dip their hands in the Holy Water and offer it to ladies of their acquaintance who were about to leave, and he meant to boldly adopt this courtesy towards her.

As she approached she smiled again and, seeing his intention, withdrew her hand from her muff. Only with the greatest difficulty could he keep his hand from trembling as he dipped it in the water and extended it to her. For a second their fingers touched. Lowering her brilliant blue eyes she crossed herself and murmured, "Merci, Monsieur"; then she had passed and was walking on towards the door. Again bemused with delight Roger left the church. After nearly fourteen months of longing he had once more touched her hand and heard her voice.

Genevieve Boulanger had already gone the way of Louise Ferlet and Tonton Yeury, and he was now spending a few evenings a week with an attractive young woman named Reine Trinquet, but he determined to see no more of her. He could not bear the thought of letting any other girl even touch the hand that Athehais had touched. Henceforward he must keep it as sacred as though it were a part of her.

The next Sunday and the next he went through the same ritual with his adored at the church of St. Melaine, but he was terrified that if he made any further advance he might lose the precious privilege that he had gained. At the same time, having given up the two or three evenings a week dancing to which he had become accustomed, for all his marvellous day-dreaming about Athenais, he found time begin to hang heavily on his hands.

As a remedy for this, taking out his sword one night to clean it provided him with an idea. It was over a year since he had done any fencing, and he had no intention of remaining a lawyer's clerk all his life. If he meant to become a really first-class swordsman it was high time that he got in some practice.

Inquiries soon provided him with the address of a fencing-master; one M. St. Paul, an ex-trooper of His Majesty's Musketeers. M. St. Paul's academy proved to be mainly a resort of the local aristocracy, but in this one matter of practising with weapons they seemed to have no class prejudices whatever; many old soldiers went there for an occasional bout and anyone who could handle a rapier or sabre efficiently was welcome. Roger's first visit resulted in the wiry little ex-Musketeer taking him on himself and, after expressing his satis­faction, agreeing to his coming whenever he wished on payment of a franc an evening.

In December the Emperor Joseph was reported as moving through the German States towards Holland with an army of 50,000 men, and, to the perturbation of the peaceable citizens of Rennes, all leave for the French army was cancelled as from the 1st of January. But Roger was now too taken up by thoughts of his weekly meetings with Athenais to bother his head any more about whether or no Europe was on the point of bursting into flames.

As Christmas approached he thought of sending her a New Year's gift, but could think of nothing that he could afford to buy which, in his eyes, would be worthy of her acceptance. Then, on further thought, he realised that in any case it might be extremely ill-advised to send her a present. Madame Marie-Ange no doubt regarded his offering Athenais the Holy Water each Sunday as a harmless courtesy inspired by gratitude; but if he sent a present the duenna might guess that he had a much stronger feeling for her charge and adopt Count Lucien's attitude towards him. Yet he felt that he could not allow the season of good will to pass without showing Athenais some mark of his feelings for her.

The inspiration then came to him to write a poem as, folded up into a small packet, he felt sure he could manage to slip it into her hand on the Sunday nearest New Year's day without Madame Marie-Ange seeing him do so.

Roger had a definite gift for expressing his thoughts clearly on paper and using French as a medium was no handicap to him as, after seventeen months in France without speaking a single word of English, he now habitually thought in French; but he had no flair for poetry. The result was that after several nights of cudgelling his brain he pro­duced only a strange effusion which any serious critic would have regarded with scornful amusement. Nevertheless it did not lack for feeling and, being no critic himself, he was rather proud of it.

Without Madame Marie-Ange apparently noticing anything he managed to slip his verses into Athenais's hand, then he waited with the greatest impatience for the next Sunday in the hope that she might reward his efforts by some acknowledgement of them. In this he was disappointed, yet she gave him her usual gracious smile so he at least knew that she was not offended. In consequence, he set to work on another, longer, poem and, although the correspondence continued to be one-sided, he henceforth produced one a week for her.

This winter of 1784-85 the river did not freeze hard enough for there to be any skating, so he saw his beloved only at church and occasionally driving through the streets; but on none of these occasions was she accompanied by the young man he had seen pushing her sleigh on the ice the previous winter, so he had no cause for jealousy.

By February two French armies were being mobilised, one in Flanders and another on the Rhine, and war was now thought to be inevitable. But Roger took scant notice of such news, since he was wholly absorbed in his weekly poems for Athenais.

Spring came at last and with it, on a Sunday in mid-April, an event that created a drastic change in his whole outlook. As usual at the end of Mass he had, concealed in his hand, a poem for Athenais. Just as he was about to hand it to her she dropped her missal and stooped to recover it. He, too, bent swiftly to pick the book up for her. While they were both bent above it she stretched out both her hands, took his poem with one and, with the other, pressed into his free hand a Uttle three-cornered billet-doux; then she retrieved her missal and, with a smiling bow to him, walked on towards the door.

Trembling with delight and impatience to read this, her first love letter to him, he hurried into a side chapel and unfolded the single sheet of paper. On it were a few scrawled lines in an untidy, illiterate hand that looked more like the laborious effort of a child of nine than the writing of a girl of nearly sixteen. It read:

Dear Monsieur Breuc,

This is to tell you how much I have enjoyed your poems. I think it very clever of you to write them. I wish that it was possible for us to meet so that we could talk again. I found you very unusual. You interested me very much because you have seen a side of life that I shall never know. But social barriers forbid us the pleasure of such conversations. This letter is also to bid you farewell. To-morrow I leave for our Chateau at Bicherel where we always spend our summers. Next winter I do not return to Rennes. 'Tis the desire of my father that I should join him at Versailles where I am to be presented and live at Court. So we shall not see one another any more. Good fortune to you Monsieur Breuc and may God have you in His Holy keeping.

Athenais Hermonaie de Rochambeau.

Had the roof of the church fallen upon Roger he could hardly have been more shaken. The fact that she had written to him at last, the pleasure she had derived from his poems, and her obvious liking for him all went for nothing beside the one heartbreaking thought that he was never to see her again. In all his previous trials he had managed to restrain his tears but, although he was now seventeen, he leant against a pillar of the chapel and wept unrestrainedly.

For a fortnight or more he could take no interest in anything. Madame Leger, Manon, Julien and Brochard all saw that he was desperately miserable about something, but he would not confide in any of them and their efforts to cheer him up were of no avail.

In the spring of that year there had been exceptionally little rain and May was a month of glorious sunshine, but it brought upon France the evil of a terrible drought. Even in Brittany, normally rich in dairy produce, butter, milk and cheese rose to phenomenal prices. The dearth of cattle fodder was so great that the King took the unprecedented measure of throwing open the Royal Chases to the livestock of his suffering people. Yet, as usual, while the rich went short of nothing the poor had to go without, and discontent against the ruling caste caused sullen murmurings in all the great cities.

It was one day in May that Roger saw sixty wretched men all manacled together being marched through the streets under a strong guard of soldiers. They had barely passed him when they were halted on the Champ de Mars, outside the barracks; so out of curiosity he turned back a few paces and asked one of the Sergeants of the guard who the unfortunate creatures were.

"They are felons, friend," replied the Sergeant. "We've marched them all the way from the Bicerre prison in Paris, and are taking them to Brest. They are to be. put on one of M. de la Perouse's ships. As you may know he is the great explorer, and he is shortly making a voyage to a strange land called New Zealand. 'Tis said that there are fine hardwood trees there for making ships' masts and such-like. 'Twas Admiral de Suffren's idea, I'm told, to dump this lot there as colonists. They'll hew the wood and each year one of our ships will pick it up, then we'll be a move ahead of the English."

Roger thanked the man and turned away. He knew that Captain Cook had hoisted the British flag in New Zealand some fifteen years earlier and this looked as if the French intended making a secret attempt to jump the British claim. The matter certainly seemed worth reporting, so he wrote an account of it to his father's friend, Mr. Gilbert Maxwell, and in due course received a formal acknowledgement.

Austria and the United Provinces were still wrangling over the opening of the Scheldt, while their armies and those of France marked time on the frontiers, but it was now definitely felt that open hostilities would be averted, at least for this summer's campaigning season.

Gradually Roger's grief grew less poignant and he began to take up his amusements of the previous summer. At first he did so only half-heartedly but, finding that the society of other young women gave him a temporary respite from the gnawing longing he felt for Athenais, he plunged recklessly into a bout of dissipation, in an attempt to banish her altogether from his mind.

To a limited degree this violent medicine had the desired effect, but by the middle of July he was both disgusted with himself and utterly wearied of making love to girls for whom he did not give a fig.

One Sunday he went again to St. Mélaine, where Athenais had caused him so many violent heart-throbs, and, after Mass, remained on there when the church had emptied, taking stock of his situation. It was two years, all but a few days, since he had run away from home, and where had he got to? Where were all the fine high hopes with which his dear, ambitious Georgina had imbued him? Where would the road that he was treading lead him? Certainly not to fortune. He had become a lawyer's junior clerk, working for a pittance.

He realised that in some ways he was very fortunate and that few young men of the bourgeoisie would have found any reason to complain at his lot. He lived in reasonable comfort with a family and friends who were kindness itself to him. His salary was small but, actually, more than sufficient for his needs, since life was very cheap in Rennes. As there were no theatres, except for occasional travelling shows, and the French did not either indulge in, or go to watch, any sports the young people were, perforce, thrown back on love-making as almost their sole amusement. They thought and talked of practically nothing else and, as only the girls of the upper classes were at all strictly chaperoned, there was abundant opportunity to indulge in casual affairs. But he, as some variety to that, also had his fencing and his interesting talks with Brochard on politics and international affairs.

He felt that he really had no right to be discontented yet he could not escape the worrying thought that this life of laissez-faire was leading him nowhere. When he had first started in Maitre Leger's office it had been his intention to work there only until such time as he could save enough either to return to England or set out in search of more promising employment. He could have done so many months ago, and he suddenly realised that it was only his love for Athenais which had kept him in Rennes for so long. Now that she had gone why should he remain there longer? He had six louis put by. That was ample to keep him on the road for the best part of two months; and it was high summer again. Before he left the church he had made up his mind to give in his notice to Maitre Leger and set out once more to seek a better fortune.

After dinner that evening he asked the lawyer if he could spare him a few minutes in his office. Immediately they were settled there he went straight to the point, and said:

"I trust you'll not think me ungrateful, Monsieur, for all the kindness and hospitality you have shown me; but I feel that the time has come when I should make a change and seek some other employ­ment."

Maitre Leger placed the tips of his fingers together and regarded Roger thoughtfully through his steel-rimmed spectacles.

"I'll not say that I am altogether surprised to hear this, Rojé. In fact, for some time past I've observed that you have become somewhat unsettled. I need hardly add that I am loath to lose you, and you will leave a sad gap in our little family circle. But you have an excellent intelligence and should go far. I take it that the cause of your wishing to leave us is that you feel there are not sufficiently tempting prospects for you here?"

"I must admit that is the case, Monsieur; but I am deeply touched by the kind things you say, and I, too, shall miss all of you prodigiously, wherever I may go."

"That sounds as if you have no plans as yet?"

Roger nodded. "I have nothing in view at all, but I have saved a few louis; enough to support me for some weeks, and during then I hope to find a fresh opening which at least may add to my experience." I admire your courage, but is that not rather rash?"

"Maybe it is," Roger agreed. "But the urge to try my luck again has come upon me."

"When do you wish to depart?"

"As soon as I have tidied up such matters as I have in hand and it is convenient to yourself, Monsieur."

"Will you seek employment here in Rennes, or elsewhere?"

"I had it in mind to go to Paris, Monsieur, and try my luck there at securing a secretaryship to some rich nobleman."

For a moment Maitre Leger remained silent, then he said, "I much dislike the idea of your leaving us so ill-provided, and going to the capital with no security whatever as to some future means of livelihood. I am sure that if I recommend you to my Paris correspondent, Maitre Jeurat, he would be willing to furnish you with similar employment to that which you have had here while you look round for something that may please you better. Would you like me to do so?"

"You overwhelm me," Roger replied with real gratitude. "In fact, you make me feel a positive ingrate for proposing that I should leave your service. If that could be arranged it would give me ample time to search for a really promising opening."

"So be it then," Maitre Leger smiled, "I will write to Maitre Jeurat to-morrow. We should hear something from him in a fortnight or so."

Despite its pleasant termination the interview had been something of a strain on Roger, so he decided to say nothing of his proposed departure for the time being to the other members of the Leger family and, wanting to think things over again, he went early to bed.

He could not help wondering if he had not been a fool to burn his boats like this. As he had never lived in a large city the idea of endeavouring to establish himself in Paris now frightened him a little. True, he would not be altogether without friends there if Maitre Jeurat consented to accept him into his office as a temporary clerk; yet it was too much to expect that he would again have the luck to be adopted into a delightful family; and the memory of his first months in Rennes flooded back to him with horrid clarity. He felt that he would be unlucky indeed if he was forced once more to become a slave to another Hutot, but common sense told him that the best he could anticipate was loneliness in a cheap, uninspiring lodging-house. Beset by renewed uncertainty as to the wisdom of the step he had taken and dark forebodings as to his probable future, he fell asleep.

Yet he was not, after all, destined to go to Paris and work in Maitre Jeurat's office. Fate once again took charge of his affairs in a most unexpected manner. The following afternoon Maitre Leger sent for him and, looking up from his papers with a smile as Roger entered his office, said:

"My young friend, I think you must have been born under a .lucky star. Did you not say only last night that you would like to obtain a secretaryship to someone of importance?"

"Indeed I did, Monsieur," replied Roger with quick interest.

Maitre Leger picked up a letter from his desk. "Then I think I have here the very thing for you. One of our most distinguished clients writes to me asking if I will find for him an assistant secretary to undertake some special work. The qualifications required are a certain amount of legal experience and a good knowledge of Latin. Board and lodging will be provided and the remuneration offered is forty louis per annum. If you like the idea I feel confident that I can recommend you for such a position with a clear conscience."

"I'd like nothing better!" Roger exclaimed with a happy laugh. "But tell me, Monsieur; where am I to take up this new situation, and what is the name of my proposed master?"

"Ah, yes!" said the lawyer. "Did I not mention it? You will proceed to the Chateau de Becherel and make your service to Monseigneur le Marquis de Rochambeau."

CHAPTER XIV

THE BARRIER

FOUR days later Roger arrived at Becherel. The village lay about twenty miles to the north-west of Rennes and some five miles off the main road from the Breton capital to St. Malo. It consisted only of a single street of houses and a small stone church; half a mile beyond it, on the far side of a belt of trees, lay the chateau.

The building was E-shaped and had been designed by Francois Mansard about one hundred and forty years earlier. The two wings of the E formed an open courtyard, and the recessed central block contained the main entrance. It was of three storeys, the windows of the third being set in its high, steeply sloping slate roofs, from which projected an array of tall, symmetrically-placed chimneys. The long facade at its back gave on to a balustraded terrace below which there was a formal garden. Beyond this and to either side stretched wide parklands.

Roger would have liked to make his appearance cavorting grace­fully on a mettlesome horse with a servant riding behind him, or at least, in a hired coach. But he could not afford such luxuries and he hoped that Athenais was not looking out of one of the windows as the one-horse cart, in which he and his heavy sea-chest had travelled from Rennes, slowly ambled past the front of the chateau and drew up at the stable entrance round its east side.

A servant found his old enemy. Monsieur Aldegonde, for him and the pompous major-domo showed considerable surprise on learning that Roger had come to take up his residence at the chateau; but he took the letter for the Marquis that Roger presented and twenty minutes later returned to give orders for his accommodation. A footman named Henri took him up to a bedroom on the third floor, under the Mansard roof, in the east wing, then led him down to a small chamber on the ground floor and told him to make himself comfortable there.

It was already evening and when he had sat there for some time the footman returned bringing him a meal on a tray. This was a sad disappointment, as Roger had thought that, as a private secretary, he would rank with the duenna and tutor, and feed with the family.

When he had eaten he expected to be sent for by the Marquis but two hours drifted by without his receiving any summons. Not knowing whether to wait up or go to bed, he pulled the bell and when the footman came asked to be taken to Aldegonde. Henri led him down several echoing passages and showed him into a room where the major-domo was sitting in a comfortable elbow chair, his wig and coat off, his feet up on a hassock and with a bottle of wine beside him on a small table.

It had already occurred to Roger that he might save himself many minor irritations during his stay at Becherel if he took the trouble to placate the vanity of this arrogant head-servant, so he bowed politely and said:

"Pardon me for disturbing you at this hour, Monsieur Aldegonde, but I wondered if you could give me any idea if Monseigneur is likely to send for me to-night?"

" 'Tis most improbable," replied the fat major-domo, without stirring from his chair, "since Monseigneur is five miles away dining with his neighbour, Monsieur de Montauban. Normally, no doubt Monseigneur's secretary, M. L'Abbé d'Heury would have given you your instructions, but he too, is from home, and not expected back from Dinan until Friday."

"Thank you, Monsieur," murmured Roger; then, flushing slightly he took the big fence that he thought it wise, however painful, to get over once and for all.

"Last time we met it was in circumstances most embarrassing to myself. As you will recall, M. le Comte Lucien had me thrown out of the house; but I wish you to know, Monsieur, that this was only owing to my ignorance of social observances in this part of the world. You see, I come from one of the German provinces where life is vastly different; but while I am here, I shall endeavour to observe Breton customs, and I should be grateful if I may seek your guidance when I find myself in any difficulty."

Aldegonde gave him a sharp sideways glance. "That is a wise decision, Monsieur Breuc, as it is a good thing that senior servants should have a mutual respect for one another. On the score of Count Lucien you need trouble yourself no further, as he left us for the Military School at Brienne over a year ago. For the rest we will do what we can to make you comfortable."

To Roger, this was most excellent news and, after some further, rather stilted, small talk, Henri was summoned to show him the way up the back stairs to his bedroom.

In the morning Henri called him and said that his petit dejeuner would be served in half an hour in the room where he had eaten the night before. When he had had it he sat there all through the morning. He would have liked to explore the house and grounds, but did not like to do so from fear that, at any moment, he might be sent for.

He was still too excited at the thought that he would soon see his adorable Athenais again to be unduly depressed by this neglect of him, and whiled away the hours by browsing through some books in an old press that occupied one wall of the room. It was not until an hour after the midday meal that a footman he had not seen before came to say that Monseigneur required his presence.

The servant led him across a great echoing hall with balustraded balconies and, opening one-half of a pair of high double doors, ushered him into a room at the back of the house. It was a splendidly proportioned library with tall windows looking out on to the garden. In front of a great carved mantel, his hands clasped behind his back, stood the Marquis.

He was a tall, well-built man of about fifty, and one glance at his strong, haughty features was enough to show how Athenais had come by her imperious manner and good looks. His coat and knee-breeches were of rich, dark-blue satin, his stockings were of silk and his hair was powdered, being brushed back from his broad forehead and having set rolls above the ears. A pale-blue ribbon of watered silk came from each of his shoulders down to his chest then, forming a double V, ascended again to be clasped at its centre by a great diamond cluster in the fine lace jabot at his throat. He was an imposing and resplendent figure.

Roger made a deep bow: "Your servant, Monseigneur."

The Marquis took a pinch of snuff and raised one eyebrow. "You seem very young for the work I have in mind. How old are you?"

"Nineteen, Mohseigneur," Roger lied, adding, as had long been his custom, two years to his age. "And I have worked in Maitre Leger's office for twenty-two months."

"He gives you a good recommendation for intelligence and states that your Latin is excellent. Do you consider that you are capable of deciphering a mass of old documents and making a competent precis of their contents?"

"I trust so, Monseigneur. I had frequently to deal with old mortgages and contracts in my late employment."

"Very well then; come with me."

The Marquis led Roger upstairs to a sparsely-furnished room on the third floor, near his own. Against one wall there was a huge, old, iron-bound chest with a great cumbersome triple lock. Walking straight over to it the Marquis unlocked it and, with his strong, capable hands, lifted the heavy lid. It was full to the brim with hundreds of neatly tied rolls of parchment, the majority of which were yellowed with age.

"These papers," he said, with a swift glance at Roger, "all have some bearing on a large estate in Poitou, named the Domains de St. Hilaire. 'Tis my contention that through the marriage of my great-aunt this property should belong to me; but my claim is denied by the de Fontenay family, who still retain possession of it. The estate is valued at a million and a half livres; so 'tis worth some trouble to obtain sufficient data on which to base an action for its recovery. It will take many months, perhaps a year or more, of industrious application to extract all that may be of value from these documents, and I did not wish them to pass out of my possession for so long a period. Hence my idea of asking Maitre Leger to recommend some suitable person to enter my employ and go through them here. This is your task. If you can produce enough evidence for me to establish my claim you will not find me ungrateful."

"I thank you, Monseigneur," Roger replied. "If the evidence is there you may rest assured that I will find it for you."

For the first time the Marquis looked at him as though he was a human being, and not merely an automaton with some legal training who might, or might not, serve his purpose.

"You show great self-confidence for one so young," he said, his beautifully modelled mouth breaking into a faint smile. "I think that, perhaps, Maitre Leger was right to send you to me, rather than some dried-up old fogey. Shortly I am returning to Paris. I have no idea when I shall visit Becherel again; but wherever I may be I do not wish to be bothered with this matter until your work is completed. In the meantime this room is yours to work in and my major-domo will pay you your salary and furnish you with anything you may require to facilitate your task."

"Am I—er—to continue to take my meals alone?" Roger hazarded.

The Marquis's eyebrows lifted. "Why, yes, I suppose so. Surely you would not prefer to eat them in the kitchen?

"Oh, no, Monseigneur," said Roger hastily. "It was only—well, that I fear I shall find such a life a little lonely."

Again the Marquis regarded him with human interest. He was not used to his employees raising the question of their well-being with him and found himself, for once, rather at a loss.

"You could make a friend of the Cure in the village," he suggested after a moment, "then there is Aldegonde, and Chenou, my chief huntsman. The last is an excellent fellow. Are you town or country bred?"

"I was born in the country, and have lived in it most of my life."

"In that case you can ride, then. I am no votary of the chase, myself, and the coverts here are always overthick with game. Tell Chenou that I have given you permission to ride the horses in the stables, and to take out the falcons or go coursing when you wish."

"I am indeed grateful, Monseigneur. And in the long winter evenings? I am very fond of reading, particularly history. Would it be possible for me to borrow a few books?"

"Eh! Yes, why not. I prefer that my books should not be removed from the library; but no one ever uses the room when I am not here. In my absence you may read there if you like."

The Marquis was a man of quick perceptions and it had already struck him that Roger was a young man much above the run of the ordinary lawyer's clerk; otherwise it would never have occurred to him to make such concessions. But now his mind passed to another matter with which he was concerned and, as Roger thanked him, he murmured: "That will be all, then. The sooner you get down to work the better. Report to me when you have finished." Then, with a brief nod, he walked out of the room.

That evening Roger began to list the documents in the chest and, anxious as he was to see Athenais, he felt that he would be wise not to attempt to do so until her father was well out of the way; so for the next few days he continued his solitary existence and concentrated on his task.

When Sunday came the footman who looked after his simple require­ments told him that Mass would be celebrated in the chapel of the chateau at eleven o'clock and informed him how to get there. Having donned his best suit and dressed with care he made his way across the great hall downstairs to the west wing, in which the chapel was situated. On learning that he was not, after all, to act as a private secretary to the Marquis, he had been greatly disappointed, but that did not affect his happiness at having become a permanent resident under the same roof as Athenais and now, at last, he would be able to gaze his fill at her once more.

On his reaching the chapel, Aldegonde beckoned him to a place between himself and a tall, black-bearded man, whom, in a whisper, he introduced as Monsieur Chenou. They were occupying the third pew; the two in front remained empty, while those behind were rapidly filling up with two or three score of other servants, all of whom took their places in order of rank, the back pews being filled with scullions and laundry girls. The men occupied the right-hand side of the aisle, the women the left. When everyone had taken their places the music began, then the Marquis came in with Athenais on his arm. At the top of the aisle they separated, stepping into the front pews, and Madame Marie-Ang6, who had followed them in, took her place in the second pew, behind Athenais.

From his position Roger was able to look at his divinity's cameo­like profile from a slightly sideways angle, and he watched her all through the service, only wishing that it had been longer. On coming in she had not noticed him but as she came out on her father's arm her glance met his. It showed surprise, then a little frown that he had no means of interpreting, but which worried him all through the rest of the day.

As he left the chapel, however, his thoughts were temporarily diverted by Chenou asking him if he would like to see round the stables. Although he was in no mood to show as much interest as he normally would have done he accepted politely, as it was the first kind word that had been addressed to him since his interview with the Marquis three days previously.

The chief huntsman was a handsome-looking man in his late thirties, with clear grey eyes and a fine black beard and moustachios. He told Roger that he had formerly been a Sergeant in the Breton Regiment of Dragoons and that he controlled all the outside staff of the chateau while Monsieur Aldegonde was responsible for running the inside of it. He lamented the fact that his master was not the least interested in venery, but was delighted to hear that Roger had received permission to ride and the freedom of the chases. That afternoon they went out for a ride together and Chenou became even more well-disposed when he found that Roger was a competent horseman, with, for a young lawyer, a quite remarkable knowledge of hunting, shooting and fishing.

This new and promising friendship did something to take his mind off Athenais's unexpected coldness, but he was still worrying about it next morning when he received a visitor.

After an abrupt knock, a gaunt, stooping priest with thin, greying hair, a high forehead and piercing black eyes, came with a catlike step into his room.

Roger had seen him in the chapel the previous day assisting the Cure in the Celebration of the mass, and guessed that he must be the Marquis's secretary.

"I am L'Abbd d'Heury," the priest introduced himself, confirming Roger's guess, "and I felt that I must make your acquaintance before leaving for Paris, in case there is any way in which I can be of assistance to you."

After Roger had thanked him and assured him that he had every­thing he wanted, the Abbé lingered for only a few moments to make a few general remarks on the difficulties of the task that Roger had undertaken, then quietly withdrew.

The following morning, with two coaches, the first for himself and the Abbé d'Heury, the second for his personal chef, barber and valet, and preceded by a troop of outriders to clear his way through towns and villages, the Marquis set out for Paris. In consequence, when evening came, Roger decided to avail himself of the permission he had received to occupy the library, and went down the main staircase in the hope that somewhere in that part of the house he might happen upon Athenais.

Having hung about the hall for a little, and, not liking to enter any of the other rooms uninvited, he went into the library and half­heartedly began to examine some of the shelves of beautifully bound books. He had been thus engaged for some half-hour when he heard a faint sound behind him and, turning, saw Athenais standing in the tall doorway.

She was in simple country clothes with her golden hair unpowdered, and to him she looked absolutely ravishing. But she did not acknow­ledge the leg he made her or return his smile. Instead, she said sharply:

"Monsieur Breuc! What are you doing here?"

"Your father gave me permission to use this room and to read his books," Roger replied in surprise.

"I do not mean that. What are you doing at Becherel, living in the chateau?"

"I am analysing the contents of some documents for Monseigneur."

She made an impatient gesture. "Yes, yes! I learned that on Sunday after seeing you at Mass. Do you not understand that I resent, intensely, your following me here and insinuating yourself into my home?"