a drawn by two magnificent
horses, and in the victoria lolled a man. An old man with a gray beard,
who lolled on the cushions of the carriage, and looked about him with the
languid indifference of a king and the arrogance of a megalomaniac.

It was Leopold, King of the Belgians.

When Berselius's eyes fell upon that face, when he saw before him that man
whom all thinking men abhor, a cold hand seemed laid upon his heart, as
though in that person he beheld the dead self that haunted his dreams by
night, as though he saw in the flesh Berselius, the murderer, who, by
consent, had murdered the people of the Silent Pools; the murderer, by
consent, who had crushed millions of wretched creatures to death for the
sake of gold; the villain of Europe, who had spent that gold in nameless
debauchery; the man whose crimes ought to have been expiated on the
scaffold, and whose life ought to have been cut short by the executioner
of justice, many, many years ago.

It was thus at one stroke that Berselius saw his other self, the self that
haunted him in his dreams, saw it clearly, and in the light of day.

The terrible old man in the carriage passed on his way and Berselius on
his.

When he reached home, in the hall, just as he was handing his hat to a
servant, Maxine appeared at the door of the library. Her beauty,
innocence, and sweetness formed a strange vision contrasted with that
other vision he had seen near the Madeleine. Was it possible that God's
world could hold two such creatures, and that God's air should give them
breath? For a week or ten days after this, Berselius remained in his own
suite of apartments without leaving the house.

It was as if the sight of Leopold, so triumphantly alive, had shown him
fully his own change and his weakness had demonstrated to him clearly that
he was but the wraith of what he had been.

CHAPTER XXXVIII

THE REVOLT OF A SLAVE

The day after that on which Berselius had seen Leopold, Madame Berselius,
moved by one of those fits of caprice common to women of her type, came
back suddenly from Trouville.

She knew of her husband's return, but she knew nothing of the injury or of
the alteration that had come in him until Maxine, who met her at the
station, hinted at the fact. Berselius was standing at the window of his
private sitting room when Madame Berselius was announced.

He turned to greet her; even as he turned she perceived the change. This
was not the man who had lef