prey of others, or bringest thou quarry of thine own? Art thou a
warrior sated with spoil, master of the sports, spectator of the fight,
Prince, or Pistol? Answer, what art thou?"

And he, with a touch of his old insolence, though with something of
irony too, for he had hoped for a different fashion of greeting, said:

"All, lady, all! The Olympian all! The player of many parts. I am
Touchstone, Jacques, and yet Orlando too."

"And yet Orlando too, my daughter," said Malbrouck, gravely. "He saved
your father from the hoofs of a moose bent on sacrifice. Had your father
his eye, his nerve, his power to shoot with one arm a bull moose at long
range, so!--he would not refuse to be called a great hunter, but wear
the title gladly."

Margaret Malbrouck's face became anxious instantly. "He saved you from
danger--from injury, father"? she slowly said, and looked earnestly at
Gregory; "but why to shoot with one arm only?"

"Because in a fight of his own with a moose--a hand-to-hand fight--he
had a bad moment with the hoofs of the beast."

And this young man, who had a reputation for insolence, blushed, so that
the paleness which the girl now noticed in his face was banished; and to
turn the subject he interposed:

"Here is the live moose that I said I should bring. Now say that he's a
beauty, please. Your father and I--"

But Malbrouck interrupted:

"He lassoed it with his one arm, Margaret. He was determined to do it
himself, because, being a superstitious gentleman, as well as a hunter,
he had some foolish notion that this capture would propitiate a goddess
whom he imagined required offerings of the kind."

"It is the privilege of the gods to be merciful," she said. "This
peace-offering should propitiate the angriest, cruellest goddess in the
universe; and for one who was neither angry nor really cruel--well, she
should be satisfied.... altogether satisfied," she added, as she put her
cheek against the warm fur of the captive's neck, and let it feel her
hand with its lips.

There was silence for a minute, and then with his old gay spirit all
returned, and as if to give an air not too serious to the situation,
Gregory, remembering his Euripides, said:

"........let the steer bleed,
And the rich altars, as they pay their vows,
Breathe incense to the gods: for me, I rise
To better life, and grateful own the blessing."

"A pagan thought for a Christmas Eve," she said to him, with her fingers
f