he
fire occurring in the night, it was beyond control before it was
discovered, and by daylight the old manoir was a pile of ruins, only a
part of the blackened wall remaining.

Gaston Cheverny received the news early in the morning of a very
important day. It was the day on which the king announced to his
officers of high rank that any interference on the part of Austria
with the election of a king in Poland would mean war. And Austria, it
was well known, would interfere.

When the letter telling Gaston Cheverny of his losses was placed in
his hands, we were in the act of starting from the Luxembourg for
Versailles, accompanying Count Saxe. Gaston glanced at the letter
hurriedly, and his face grew pale, but he mounted and rode forward
without a word, thrusting the letter in his pocket. It was a cold,
bright February morning, and we traveled briskly. Count Saxe called me
to his side, and as we followed the road, talked with me concerning
the change in his affairs made by the death of the King of Saxony and
the impending war. For my part, since the dose I had had in Courland
of elective crowns, I had a rooted aversion to them and only pitied
the man who would aspire to one of the accursed baubles.

When we were some miles on our way, Count Saxe turned his head, and
seeing Gaston Cheverny with a rueful face, riding among the suite,
asked me the cause; for Gaston had a natural gaiety of heart, very
becoming to a soldier. I told Count Saxe of the ill news Gaston had
just received. Count Saxe then called to him, and on Gaston's riding
up, promised him some recompense in the way of a fortune, that he
might rebuild his house, for which Gaston expressed his thanks.

"And there is great joy ahead," continued Count Saxe, loud enough to
be heard by all of the suite, "for we may reckon to be at odds with
the Austrians by June, at least."

With that Gaston's countenance cleared as if by magic and the
youngsters in the suite began cheering with pleasure. We were crossing
the bridge near Sevres, that bridge where Monsieur Voltaire got one of
his celebrated canings, and the thought of fighting so pleased Gaston
Cheverny that besides cheering loudly with the rest, he stood up in
his stirrups, and for very joy flung his hat into the river. The other
youngsters followed this gallant example, and except Count Saxe and
myself, not a man in the party had a hat when we reached Versailles.
Count Saxe told the story to the king, who was v