that would overwhelm us utterly. Does it not
suffice that we confess the truth of that saddest adage, tolled in our
ears by every passing bell,

Those whom the gods love well die young?

Royston and his companion were crossing the terrace on their way home
when the former stopped suddenly.

"Go on, Hal," he said; "it is too late for you to be standing about, but
I must speak to that poor Chateaumesnil. I shall see you at dinner." He
went up to a wheeled chair that was being drawn by at the time.

Its occupant was a man of large frame, as far as could be made out
through the thick wrappings of furs; his head was bent forward and low,
resting on his hands, that were crossed on a crutch-handle. He appeared
profoundly unconscious of all that was passing, and never moved till
Keene addressed him. Then, very slowly, he lifted up his face. Few of
us, fortunately for those who have strong imaginations and weak nerves,
see its like twice in a lifetime, or there would be wild work in
dreamland.

It was not distorted in any way, nor deformed, except by a ghastly,
livid pallor; gaunt and drawn as the features were, they still bore
evident traces of a rare manly beauty, that even the neglected beard of
iron-gray could not conceal. But it was the savage face of one who has
wrestled with physical pain till it has assumed almost the visible and
tangible shape of a personal enemy--a mocking devil, that always is
ready, with fresh ingenuity of torture, to answer and punish the
rebellious question, "Art thou come to torment me before my time?" The
lines on the forehead were so strongly marked and dreadfully distinct,
that, like the markings of the locust, they seemed to form characters
that might be read, if it were given to mortal cabalists to decipher the
handwriting of God.

Look once more: it is worth while, if you are curious in contrasts and
comparisons. Five years ago that bowed, blasted cripple was the most
reckless dare-devil, the most splendid Paladin, in all the army of
Algiers; the man for whom, after an unusually brilliant exploit, St.
Arnaud, loving him as his own right hand, could find no higher praise
than to write in his dispatches, "_Les 3me Chasseurs se sont conduits
en heros; leur chef-d'escadron en--Chateaumesnil._" And it was true that
the annals of his house could boast of no nobler soldier, though they
had been fighting hard since Clovis's day. His name is known very well
in Africa. The _spahis_ talk of it