esired it. And you, my boy," he went on, addressing the tearful page,
"think you that I would turn adrift an orphan, whom a dying mother
trusted to my care? Nay, child, I am as much your servant as you are
mine, so long as your love turns towards me."

For all answer the page kissed his hand in a sort of rapture, and
flinging back his clustering hair from his classic brows, surveyed the
domestics, who had taken their dismissal in silent acquiescence, with a
pretty scorn.

"Go, all of you, scum of Paris!" he cried in his clear treble
tones--"you who know neither God nor devil! You will have your
money--more than your share--what else seek you? You have served one of
the noblest of men; and because he is so great and wise and true, you
judge him a fiend! Oh, so like the people of Paris--they who pervert
all things till they think good evil and evil good! Look you! you have
worked for your wages; but I have worked for HIM--I would starve with
him, I would die for him! For to me he is not fiend, but Angel!"

Overcome by his own feelings the boy again kissed his master's hand,
and Heliobas gently bade him be silent. He himself looked round on the
still motionless group of servants with an air of calm surprise.

"What are you waiting for?" he asked. "Consider yourselves dismissed,
and at liberty to go where you please. Any one of you that chooses to
apply to me for a character shall not lack the suitable recommendation.
There is no more to say."

A lively-looking woman with quick restless black eyes stepped forward.

"I am sure," she said, with a mincing curtsey, "that we are very sorry
if we have unintentionally wronged monsieur; but monsieur, who is aware
of so many things, must know that many reports are circulated about
monsieur that make one to shudder; that madame his sister's death so
lamentable has given to all, what one would say, the horrors; and
monsieur must consider that poor servants of virtuous reputation--"

"So, Jeanne Claudet!" interrupted Heliobas, in a thrilling low tone.
"And what of the child--the little waxen-faced helpless babe left to
die on the banks of the Loire? But it did not die, Jeanne--it was
rescued; and it shall yet live to loathe its mother!"

The woman uttered a shriek, and fainted.

In the feminine confusion and fuss that ensued, Heliobas, accompanied
by his little page and the dog Leo, left the hall and entered his own
private room, where for some time I left him undisturbed.