e enemies?"

"Why, the king, to be sure."

"Then would it not be better to be without him?"

The guardsman shrugged his epaulettes in despair. "We shall both wind
up in the Bastille or Vincennes at this rate," said he. "You must know
that it is in serving the country that he has made these enemies. It is
but five years since he made a peace at Nimeguen, by which he tore away
sixteen fortresses from the Spanish Lowlands. Then, also, he had laid
his hands upon Strassburg and upon Luxembourg, and has chastised the
Genoans, so that there are many who would fall upon him if they thought
that he was weak."

"And why has he done all this?"

"Because he is a great king, and for the glory of France."

The stranger pondered over this answer for some time as they rode on
between the high, thin poplars, which threw bars across the sunlit road.

"There was a great man in Schenectady once," said he at last. "They are
simple folk up yonder, and they all had great trust in each other. But
after this man came among them they began to miss--one a beaver-skin and
one a bag of ginseng, and one a belt of wampum, until at last old Pete
Hendricks lost his chestnut three-year-old. Then there was a search and
a fuss until they found all that had been lost in the stable of the
new-comer, so we took him, I and some others, and we hung him up on a
tree, without ever thinking what a great man he had been."

De Catinat shot an angry glance at his companion. "Your parable, my
friend, is scarce polite," said he. "If you and I are to travel in
peace you must keep a closer guard upon your tongue."

"I would not give you offence, and it may be that I am wrong," answered
the American, "but I speak as the matter seems to me, and it is the
right of a free man to do that."

De Catinat's frown relaxed as the other turned his earnest blue eyes
upon him. "By my soul, where would the court be if every man did that?"
said he. "But what in the name of heaven is amiss now?"

His companion had hurled himself off his horse, and was stooping low
over the ground, with his eyes bent upon the dust. Then, with quick,
noiseless steps, he zigzagged along the road, ran swiftly across a
grassy bank, and stood peering at the gap of a fence, with his nostrils
dilated, his eyes shining, and his whole face aglow with eagerness.

"The fellow's brain is gone," muttered De Catinat, as he caught at the
bridle of the riderless horse. "The sight of Paris has s