ce, deadly pale, had lost all presence of mind, as the
curricle came rushing by the spot where Miss Amethyst's carriage stood.

"I'm blest," Frederick exclaimed to his companion, "if it ain't the
prince a-drivin our missis! They'll be in the Serpingtine, or dashed to
pieces, if they don't mind." And the runaway steeds at this instant came
upon them as a whirlwind.

But if those steeds ran at a whirlwind pace, Jeames was swifter. To jump
from behind, to bound after the rocking, reeling curricle, to jump into
it, aided by the long stick which he carried and used as a leaping-pole,
and to seize the reins out of the hands of the miserable Borodino, who
shrieked piteously as the dauntless valet leapt on his toes and into his
seat, was the work of an instant. In a few minutes the mad, swaying rush
of the horses was reduced to a swift but steady gallop; presently into a
canter, then a trot; until finally they pulled up smoking and trembling,
but quite quiet, by the side of Amethyst's carriage, which came up at a
rapid pace.

"Give me the reins, malappris! tu m'ecrases le corps, manant!" yelled
the frantic nobleman, writhing underneath the intrepid charioteer.

"Tant pis pour toi, nigaud," was the reply. The lovely Amethyst of
course had fainted; but she recovered as she was placed in her carriage,
and rewarded her preserver with a celestial smile.

The rage, the fury, the maledictions of Borodino, as he saw the
latter--a liveried menial--stoop gracefully forward and kiss Amethyst's
hand, may be imagined rather than described. But Jeames heeded not his
curses. Having placed his adored mistress in the carriage, he calmly
resumed his station behind. Passion or danger seemed to have no
impression upon that pale marble face.

Borodino went home furious; nor was his rage diminished, when, on coming
to dinner that day, a recherche banquet served in the Frangipane best
style, and requesting a supply of a puree a la bisque aux ecrevisses,
the clumsy attendant who served him let fall the assiette of vermeille
cisele, with its scalding contents, over the prince's chin, his Mechlin
jabot, and the grand cordon of the Legion of honor which he wore.

"Infame," howled Borodino, "tu l'as fait expres!"

"Oui, je l'ai fait expres," said the man, with the most perfect Parisian
accent. It was Jeames.

Such insolence of course could not be passed unnoticed even after the
morning's service, and he was chassed on the spot. He had been but a