gorge. His Excellency was giving the
ladies an account and history of the Chevalier's wounds, when in the
middle of it the horses stopped with a jerk. A commotion without any
words appeared to be going on outside. The Prince put his head out and
found himself looking into the barrels of a horse-pistol, while a masked
man of heavy build summoned him to be quiet. He saw moreover nine or ten
half-naked fellows also disguised in rude masks, posted about, with
muskets and pistols pointed at the grooms and himself. The Princess fell
in a faint. The Abbe threw himself under the seat. Such scenes were
being enacted every day on the highroads in that lumbering old handmade
century.

The head of the man who had charge of the Prince was, as it were,
thatched with a torn hat and his black hair straggled past his mask in
tufts down to his shoulders.

"Purses!" he growled harshly, putting his head in at the window.

"Cut-throat!" cried the Prince. "You shall swing for this as sure as
there is a Lieutenant of Police in Paris."

The big man's answer was a ferocious "Enough!"

And as his black finger twitched threateningly upon the trigger, Cyrene
laid her restraining hand on her cousin's arm. She took out her purse
with her other hand and passed it to the man. She promptly also pulled
out that of the Princess. The Prince handed his own to her and it was
passed over with that of his wife.

"Watches!" was the next order.

With the same coolness she passed these likewise.

He scowled next at the brooch Cyrene wore at her neck.

"Give me that," he commanded. She stopped and said firmly--

"Thou hast sufficient, thou."

"I must have that."

With a momentary impatience she tore it off.

"Consult thy best interests and go," she said in a stern voice.

He did not lack the necessary quickness of judgment, and signed to his
mates who retreated into the woods, keeping the lackeys well covered
with their firearms.

"My ladies and my Lord," said the big man, still holding his pistol
aimed at the Prince. "We levy this tax in _the name of the King_." That
is what you say when you steal from us, the people. "We commend you the
consolation of your formula."

Having made this singular speech, to the infinite fury of the Prince,
who would have drawn his sword and leaped out at him had it not been for
Cyrene, he retired backward into the forest.

Germain came into sight at this juncture. The scene shocked and
astonished him, he drove