ned
ceiling was carried on fluted pillars with gilded capitals. The door by
which he entered, and the windows that opened upon the garden, were of
an enormous height--almost, indeed, the full height of the room itself.
It was a room overwhelmingly gilded, with an abundance of ormolu
encrustations on the furniture, in which it nowise differed from what
was customary in the dwellings of people of birth and wealth. Never,
indeed, was there a time in which so much gold was employed decoratively
as in this age when coined gold was almost unprocurable, and paper money
had been put into circulation to supply the lack. It was a saying of
Andre-Louis' that if these people could only have been induced to put
the paper on their walls and the gold into their pockets, the finances
of the kingdom might soon have been in better case.

The Seigneur--furbished and beruffled to harmonize with his
surroundings--had risen, startled by this exuberant invasion on the part
of Benoit, who had been almost as forlorn as himself since their coming
to Meudon.

"What is it? Eh?" His pale, short-sighted eyes peered at the visitor.
"Andre!" said he, between surprise and sternness; and the colour
deepened in his great pink face.

Benoit, with his back to his master, deliberately winked and grinned at
Andre-Louis to encourage him not to be put off by any apparent hostility
on the part of his godfather. That done, the intelligent old fellow
discreetly effaced himself.

"What do you want here?" growled M. de Kercadiou.

"No more than to kiss your hand, as Benoit has told you, monsieur my
godfather," said Andre-Louis submissively, bowing his sleek black head.

"You have contrived without kissing it for two years."

"Do not, monsieur, reproach me with my misfortune."

The little man stood very stiffly erect, his disproportionately large
head thrown back, his pale prominent eyes very stern.

"Did you think to make your outrageous offence any better by vanishing
in that heartless manner, by leaving us without knowledge of whether you
were alive or dead?"

"At first it was dangerous--dangerous to my life--to disclose my
whereabouts. Then for a time I was in need, almost destitute, and my
pride forbade me, after what I had done and the view you must take of
it, to appeal to you for help. Later..."

"Destitute?" The Seigneur interrupted. For a moment his lip trembled.
Then he steadied himself, and the frown deepened as he surveyed this
very change