her in doubt
of the meaning or dissent from the doctrine.

'Yes,' resumed the other, 'the great question is what will you do
with your Prince if you fail to make him a king? He will always be a
puissance; it remains to be seen in whose hands and for what objects.'

The baronet sighed, and looked a picture of hopeless dullness.

'Come, I will tell you a story, not for the sake of the incident, but
for the illustration; though even as a story it has its point. You knew
Gustave de Marsay, I think?'

'_Le beau Gustave_? to be sure I did. Ah! it was upwards of forty years
ago,' sighed he sorrowfully.

'It could not be less. He has been living in a little Styrian village
about that long, seeing and being seen by none. His adventure was this:
He was violently enamoured of a very pretty woman whom he met by chance
in the street, and discovered afterward to be the wife of a "dyer," in
the Rue de Marais. Whether she was disposed to favour his addresses or
acted in concert with her husband to punish him, is not very easy to
say; the result would recline to the latter supposition. At all
events, she gave him a rendezvous at which he was surprised by the dyer
himself--a fellow strong as a Hercules and of an ungovernable temper. He
rushed wildly on De Marsay, who defended himself for some time with his
rapier; a false thrust, however, broke the weapon at the hilt, and the
dyer springing forward, caught poor Gustave round the body, and actually
carried him off over his head, and plunged him neck and heels into an
enormous tank filled with dye-stuff. How he escaped drowning--how he
issued from the house and ever reached his home he never was able to
tell. It is more than probable the consequences of the calamity absorbed
and obliterated all else; for when he awoke next day he discovered that
he was totally changed--his skin from head to foot being dyed a deep
blue! It was in vain that he washed and washed, boiled himself in hot
baths, or essayed a hundred cleansing remedies, nothing availed in the
least--in fact, many thought that he came out only bluer than before.
The most learned of the faculty were consulted, the most distinguished
chemists--all in vain. At last a dyer was sent for, who in an instant
recognised the peculiar tint, and said, "Ah! there is but one man in
Paris has the secret of this colour, and he lives in the Rue de Marais."

'Here was a terrible blow to all hope, and in the discouragement it
inflicted three lo