t de Batz. "There now," she added, speaking once
more to the child, "drink like a good boy, and say your lesson to please
maman, and then you shall go to bed."

She took a glass from the table, which was filled with a clear liquid
that de Batz at first took to be water, and held it to the boy's lips.
He turned his head away and began to whimper.

"Is the medicine very nasty?" queried de Batz.

"Mon Dieu! but no, citizen," exclaimed the woman, "it is good strong eau
de vie, the best that can be procured. Capet likes it really--don't you,
Capet? It makes you happy and cheerful, and sleep well of nights. Why,
you had a glassful yesterday and enjoyed it. Take it now," she added in
a quick whisper, seeing that Simon and Heron were in close conversation
together; "you know it makes papa angry if you don't have at least half
a glass now and then."

The child wavered for a moment longer, making a quaint little grimace of
distaste. But at last he seemed to make up his mind that it was wisest
to yield over so small a matter, and he took the glass from Madame
Simon.

And thus did de Batz see the descendant of St. Louis quaffing a glass of
raw spirit at the bidding of a rough cobbler's wife, whom he called by
the fond and foolish name sacred to childhood, maman!

Selfish egoist though he was, de Batz turned away in loathing.

Simon had watched the little scene with obvious satisfaction. He
chuckled audibly when the child drank the spirit, and called Heron's
attention to him, whilst a look of triumph lit tip his wide, pale eyes.

"And now, mon petit," he said jovially, "let the citizen hear you say
your prayers!"

He winked toward de Batz, evidently anticipating a good deal of
enjoyment for the visitor from what was coming. From a heap of litter in
a corner of the room he fetched out a greasy red bonnet adorned with a
tricolour cockade, and a soiled and tattered flag, which had once been
white, and had golden fleur-de-lys embroidered upon it.

The cap he set on the child's head, and the flag he threw upon the
floor.

"Now, Capet--your prayers!" he said with another chuckle of amusement.

All his movements were rough, and his speech almost ostentatiously
coarse. He banged against the furniture as he moved about the room,
kicking a footstool out of the way or knocking over a chair. De
Batz instinctively thought of the perfumed stillness of the rooms at
Versailles, of the army of elegant high-born ladies who had ministere