ire," commanded the marquis. "The volume on the
table, idiot! Ah! here is what I wish: 'It takes twenty years to bring
man from the state of embryo, and from that of a mere criminal, as he
is in his first infancy, to the point when his reason begins to dawn.
It has taken thirty centuries to know his structure; it would take
eternity to know something of the soul; it takes but an instant to
kill him.' But an instant; but an instant!" he repeated.

He puffed feebly at the cigar.

"It is cold here, Francois."

The servant consulted the thermometer.

"It is five degrees warmer than you are accustomed to, my lord," he
replied.

"Bring me the thermometer," commanded the old man. "You should not
lie, Francois. It is a bad fault in servants. Leave it to your
masters; it is a polite vice. The privilege of the world's potentates,
diplomats and great people. Never fall into the rut of lying,
Francois, or you will soon outlive your usefulness as a valet."

"You can see that I speak the truth, my lord," was the response, as
calm as ever, for nothing disturbed or ruffled this ideal servant.

He held out the thermometer for the marquis' inspection and the latter
examined it carefully. The cigar fell from his fingers to the floor.
The attentive valet picked it up and threw it into the grate.

"I believe, Francois," stammered the marquis, "that the fault lies
with me. It is I--I, who am growing cold like death."

"Yes, my lord," answered the calm and imperturbable servant.

"'Yes?' you blockhead!" shrieked the master. "Do you know what you are
saying?"

"Well, no, then, my lord," responded the unmoved valet.

"Yes and no!" shouted the marquis in a voice that was wildly
discordant. "What do you mean?"

"Whatever my lord pleases," was the quiet response.

"_Mon Dieu_! I'll discharge you."

The servant only smiled.

"Why did you smile?"

"Oh, my lord--"

"Was it not that you thought it a good joke for a dying man to
discharge his servant?"

"My lord is quick to catch the humorous side of anything," returned
Francois.

"Begone, idiot! You are waiting for my death to discharge you. I can
see it in your eyes. Yet stay, Francois, for, if you leave me, I shall
be alone. You will not leave me?"

"As my lord desires," was Francois' response.

"I imagine I should feel better if I had my footbath."

The servant removed the shoes and silken stockings from his master's
feet and propped him up in a chair, throwing a blan