llow lately come into authority. The other man graced
the ornate uniform of an aide in Maximilian's imperial household.

"Your Mercy is--is the Emperor?" stammered the poor fat administrador.

He had, indeed, heard rumors of Maximilian on one of his ostentatious
voyages. The first Belgian, however, was in no way embarrassed at the
question. It was a natural mistake, in his opinion.

"Explain to this imbecile," he ordered, "since there's no better here to
receive us."

The aide explained. His Imperial Majesty, Maximiliano, was returning to
his capital. Fascinated by the beauty of the tropics, as well as ill of
a cough, he had lingered for a week past at the adjoining hacienda of
Las Palmas. He had also been deep in studies for the welfare of his
people. But now the business of the Empire demanded that he relieve the
Empress of her regency. Accordingly, His Majesty and His Majesty's
retinue had left Las Palmas that very morning, and would shortly pass by
the hacienda of Moctezuma. His Majesty, when en voyage, always took a
loving interest in his subjects, and a sincere ovation never failed to
touch his heart. So Monsieur Eloin--here the aide glanced with some
irony at the first Belgian--so Monsieur Eloin thought that the master of
La Moctezuma would be grateful to know of His Majesty's approach, in
order to gather the peons from the fields to welcome him. It would be as
well, perhaps, to reveal nothing to the Emperor of this thoughtful hint.

"To make it quite plain," concluded the speaker, "can you assemble
enough men within an hour to do a seeming and convincing reverence to
your ruler?"

"And tell him," interrupted Monsieur Eloin, "not to forget the green
boughs waving in their hands. Make him understand that there will be
consequences if it's not spontaneous."

As they galloped back to rejoin Maximilian, the imperial aide was
thoughtful. "I can't help it," he said aloud, "I feel sorry for him. How
his blue eyes glisten--there are actually tears in them--when he talks
to these Indians of freedom and a higher life! He thinks they love him!
And all this elegance--no wonder they believe that the Fair God is come
at last to right their sorrows."

"The loathsome beasts!"

"But I do feel sorry. He really believes that he will verify the
tradition and be their savior. It's his sincere goodness of heart. Man,
how exalted he is!"

"But where's the harm?"

"Because, because the poor devils were fooled once before. A