lk
certainly, but what an existence! And those are not the worst off. The
other day a Bourbon, a real Bourbon, ran after an omnibus. 'Full, sir,'
said the conductor. But he kept on running. 'Don't I tell you it is
full, my good man?' He got angry; he would have wished to be called
'Monseigneur'--as if that should be known by the tie of his cravat!
Operetta kings, I tell you, Frederique. It is to escape from this
ridiculous position, to insure a dignified and decent existence, that I
have made up my mind to sign this."

And he added, suddenly revealing the tortuous Slavonic nature molded by
the Jesuits:--"Moreover, this signature is really a mere farce. Our own
property is returned to us, that is all, and I shall not consider myself
in the slightest degree bound by this. Who knows?--these very thousands
of pounds may help us to recover the throne."

The Queen impetuously raised her head, looked him straight in the eyes
for a moment, then shrugged her shoulders, saying:

"Do not make yourself out viler than you are. You know that when once
you have signed--but no. The truth is, you lack strength and fortitude;
you desert your kingly post at the most perilous moment, when a new
society, that will acknowledge neither God nor master, pursues with its
hatred the representatives of Divine right, makes the heavens tremble
over their heads and the earth under their steps. The assassin's knife,
bombs, bullets, all serve their purpose. Treachery and murder are on
every side. In the midst of our pageantry or our festivities, the best
of us as well as the worst, not one of us does not start if only a man
steps forward out of the crowd. Hardly a petition that does not conceal
a dagger. On leaving his palace what king is certain of returning alive?
And this is the hour you choose to leave the field!"

"Ah! if fighting could do it!" eagerly said Christian II. "But to
struggle as we do against ridicule, against poverty, against all the
petty meannesses of life, and feel that we only sink deeper every day--"

A ray of hope lit up her eyes:--"Is it true? would you fight? Then
listen."

Breathlessly she related, in a few rapid words, the expedition she and
Elysee had been preparing for the last three months by letters,
proclamations, and dispatches, which Father Alphee, ever on the move,
carried from one mountain village to the other. This time it was not to
the nobility they appealed, but to the people; the muleteers, the
porters o