tter had previously remarked, had called out:

"Fill Monsieur St. Georges's glass, Pierre. Fill it, I say. Fill the
glass of Monsieur St. Georges.--Monsieur St. Georges," raising his
own, "I drink to you. To your good health and prosperous ride to
Paris. And afterward, Monsieur St. Georges--afterward."

CHAPTER III.

IT IS THE MAN.

The wine _was_ good! Worthy of whatever _clos_ it had ripened on! A
glass of it went far to repay St. Georges for any discomfort he had
suffered during the wretched meal just concluded, and made amends for
all that had passed hitherto. As for the Bishop of Lodeve, he drank
two glasses rapidly in succession, smacked his lips, and peered at the
ruby liquid held between the guttering candle and his eye in the most
approved fashion, and seemed to be making or receiving amends for the
miserable meal he had also partaken of, though so sparingly that the
soldier thought he must either have made a better one recently or be
about to make one later on.

Then, after he had put three of the logs together--which seemed at
last as though about to burn with some effect--by the summary method
of kicking them close to each other with his foot, he said quietly,
though quite unexpectedly on the part of the other:

"His Most Christian Majesty--or rather Louvois for him--wrote me that
I might expect a visit from you on your way from Franche-Comte to
Paris."

"Indeed!" said St. Georges, looking, as he felt, astonished. After
which he added: "Truly, for a poor lieutenant of horse, such as I am,
the king seems much interested in my doings. I marvel much that he
should be so."

"Family interest, perhaps?" said the bishop, glinting an eye at him
from behind the glass which he was again holding up to the light of
the guttering candle. "Family interest is useful at court."

"Family interest!" exclaimed the other, pushing his glass away from
him. "Monseigneur, it is evident you know nothing of Georges St.
Georges, or you would not mention that. Still, how should you know my
affairs?"

"How, indeed!" replied Phelypeaux, though again there was a flash from
the eye--"how, indeed! I--I never heard of you until his Majesty said
you would honour me with a visit. Yet, Captain--I mean Monsieur--St.
Georges, there must be something which guides Louis in sending for
you--in removing you from the miserable garrison in the Jura to Paris.
Ah, Paris!" he interjected with an upward glance. "Paris! Paris!" But
hav