are no ties nor obligations which impose the necessity
of bearing insult. If you tell me, then, that Maurepas seeks a quarrel
with me, that he has been carrying a grudge against me for weeks back,
I will ask of you--and, as my countryman, you 'll not refuse me--to call
on him for satisfaction.'

'It can't be helped,' said Dillon, speaking to himself.

'Why should it be helped?' rejoined Gerald, overhearing him.

'And then, Maurepas is the very man to do it,' muttered the Count again.
Then lifting his head suddenly, he said: 'The Marquise de Bauffremont
is at Paris, I believe. I 'll set off there to-night; meanwhile do you
remain where you are. Promise me this; for it is above all essential
that you should take no step till I return.'

CHAPTER II. A NIGHT ON DUTY

Scarcely had the Count set out for Paris when Gerald remembered that it
was his night for duty, he was _de service_ in the antechamber of the
king, and had but time to hasten to his quarters and equip himself in
full uniform. When he reached the foot of the grand staircase he found
several dismounted dragoons, splashed and travel-stained, the centres of
little groups, all eagerly questioning and listening to them. They had
arrived in hot haste from Paris, where a tremendous revolt had broken
out. Some said the Prince of Lambesi's regiment, the 'Royal Allemand,'
were cut to pieces; others, that the military were capitulating
everywhere; and one averred that when he passed the barrier the Bastille
had just fallen. While the veterans of the Swiss Guard and the household
troops conversed in low and anxious whispers together, exchanging
gloomy forebodings of what was to come, the two or three courtiers whom
curiosity had attracted to the spot spoke in tones of contempt and scorn
of the mob.

'They are shedding their blood freely, though, I assure you,' said a
young sous-lieutenant, whose arm was in a sling. 'The fellow who smashed
my wrist had his face laid open by a sabre-cut, but seemed never to heed
it in the least.'

'Have you despatches, Monsieur de Serrans?' asked a very
daintily-dressed and soft-voiced gentleman, with a wand of office as
chamberlain.

'No, Monsieur le Marquis. I have a verbal message for his Majesty from
the Duc de Bassompierre, and I crave an early audience.'

'His Majesty is going to supper,' replied the chamberlain. 'I will try
and obtain admission for you to-morrow.'

'The Duc's orders were very pressing, Monsieur le Ma