The Refugees | Page 4

skin in his hands. "The bear is for your father, mademoiselle,"
said he. "This little skin I have brought from America for you. It is but
a trifle, and yet it may serve to make a pair of mocassins or a pouch."

Adele gave a cry of delight as her hands sank into the depths of its
softness. She might well admire it, for no king in the world could have
had a finer skin. "Ah, it is beautiful, monsieur," she cried; "and what
creature is it? and where did it come from?"
"It is a black fox. I shot it myself last fall up near the Iroquois villages
at Lake Oneida."
She pressed it to her cheek, her white face showing up like marble
against its absolute blackness. "I am sorry my father is not here to
welcome you, monsieur," she said; "but I do so very heartily in his
place. Your room is above. Pierre will show you to it, if you wish."
"My room? For what?"
"Why, monsieur, to sleep in!"
"And must I sleep in a room?"
De Catinat laughed at the gloomy face of the American.
"You shall not sleep there if you do not wish," said he.
The other brightened at once and stepped across to the further window,
which looked down upon the court-yard. "Ah," he cried. "There is a
beech-tree there, mademoiselle, and if I might take my blanket out
yonder, I should like it better than any room. In winter, indeed, one
must do it, but in summer I am smothered with a ceiling pressing down
upon me."
"You are not from a town then?" said De Catinat.
"My father lives in New York--two doors from the house of Peter
Stuyvesant, of whom you must have heard. He is a very hardy man, and
he can do it, but I--even a few days of Albany or of Schenectady are
enough for me. My life has been in the woods."
"I am sure my father would wish you to sleep where you like and to do
what you like, as long as it makes you happy."

"I thank you, mademoiselle. Then I shall take my things out there, and I
shall groom my horse."
"Nay, there is Pierre."
"I am used to doing it myself."
"Then I will come with you," said De Catinat, "for I would have a word
with you. Until to-morrow, then, Adele, farewell!"
"Until to-morrow, Amory."
The two young men passed downstairs together, and the guardsman
followed the American out into the yard.
"You have had a long journey," he said.
"Yes; from Rouen."
"Are you tired?"
"No; I am seldom tired."
"Remain with the lady, then, until her father comes back."
"Why do you say that?"
"Because I have to go, and she might need a protector."
The stranger said nothing, but he nodded, and throwing off his black
coat, set to work vigorously rubbing down his travel-stained horse.


CHAPTER II.
A MONARCH IN DESHABILLE.

It was the morning after the guardsman had returned to his duties. Eight
o'clock had struck on the great clock of Versailles, and it was almost
time for the monarch to rise. Through all the long corridors and
frescoed passages of the monster palace there was a subdued hum and
rustle, with a low muffled stir of preparation, for the rising of the king
was a great state function in which many had a part to play. A servant
with a steaming silver saucer hurried past, bearing it to Monsieur de St.
Quentin, the state barber. Others, with clothes thrown over their arms,
bustled down the passage which led to the ante-chamber. The knot of
guardsmen in their gorgeous blue and silver coats straightened
themselves up and brought their halberds to attention, while the young
officer, who had been looking wistfully out of the window at some
courtiers who were laughing and chatting on the terraces, turned
sharply upon his heel, and strode over to the white and gold door of the
royal bedroom.
He had hardly taken his stand there before the handle was very gently
turned from within, the door revolved noiselessly upon its hinges, and a
man slid silently through the aperture, closing it again behind him.
"Hush!" said he, with his finger to his thin, precise lips, while his whole
clean-shaven face and high-arched brows were an entreaty and a
warning. "The king still sleeps."
The words were whispered from one to another among the group who
had assembled outside the door. The speaker, who was Monsieur
Bontems, head valet de Chambre, gave a sign to the officer of the guard,
and led him into the window alcove from which he had lately come.
"Good-morning, Captain de Catinat," said he, with a mixture of
familiarity and respect in his