d drowned
myself.

They talked in low tones again, but soon got louder, and presently
I knew that they were speaking of La Jongleuse; and Bamboir--the fat
Bamboir, who the surgeon had said would some day die of apoplexy--was
rash enough to say that he had seen her. He described her accurately,
with the spirit of the born raconteur:

"Hair so black as the feather in the Governor's hat, and green eyes
that flash fire, and a brown face with skin all scales. Oh, my saints of
Heaven, when she pass I hide my head, and I go cold like stone. She is
all covered with long reeds and lilies about her head and shoulders, and
blue-red sparks fly up at every step. Flames go round her, and she burns
not her robe--not at all. And as she go, I hear cries that make me sick,
for it is, I said, some poor man in torture, and I think, perhaps it is
Jacques Villon, perhaps Jean Rivas, perhaps Angele Damgoche. But no, it
is a young priest of St. Clair, for he is never seen again--never!"

In my mind I commended this fat Bamboir as an excellent story-teller,
and thanked him for his true picture of La Jongleuse, whom, to my
regret, I had never seen. I would not forget his stirring description,
as he should see. I gave point to the tale by squeezing an inflated toy
in my pocket, with my arm, while my hands remained folded in front of
me; and it was as good as a play to see the faces of these soldiers, as
they sprang to their feet, staring round in dismay. I myself seemed to
wake with a start, and, rising to my feet, I asked what meant the noise
and their amazement. We were in a spot where we could not easily be seen
from any distance, and no one was in sight, nor were we to be remarked
from the fort. They exchanged looks, as I started back towards the
chateau, walking very near the edge of the cliff. A spirit of bravado
came on me, and I said musingly to them as we walked:

"It would be easy to throw you both over the cliff, but I love you too
well. I have proved that by making toys for your children."

It was as cordial to me to watch their faces. They both drew away from
the cliff, and grasped their firearms apprehensively.

"My God," said Bamboir, "those toys shall be burned to-night. Alphonse
has the smallpox and Susanne the croup--damned devil!" he added
furiously, stepping forward to me with gun raised, "I'll--"

I believe he would have shot me, but that I said quickly, "If you did
harm to me you'd come to the rope. The Governor would