his young dandy of the court.

"France's religion should be that of France's king," said he, "and if my
own guardsmen thwart me in such a matter, I must find others who will be
more faithful. That major's commission in the mousquetaires must go to
Captain de Belmont, Louvois."

"Very good, sire."

"And De Catinat's commission may be transferred to Lieutenant
Labadoyere."

"Very good, sire."

"And I am to serve you no longer?"

"You are too dainty for my service."

De Catinat's arms fell listlessly to his side, and his head sunk forward
upon his breast. Then, as he realised the ruin of all the hopes of his
life, and the cruel injustice with which he had been treated, he broke
into a cry of despair, and rushed from the room with the hot tears of
impotent anger running down his face. So, sobbing, gesticulating, with
coat unbuttoned and hat awry, he burst into the stable where placid Amos
Green was smoking his pipe and watching with critical eyes the grooming
of the horses.

"What in thunder is the matter now?" he asked, holding his pipe by the
bowl, while the blue wreaths curled up from his lips.

"This sword," cried the Frenchman--"I have no right to wear it! I shall
break it!"

"Well, and I'll break my knife too if it will hearten you up."

"And these," cried De Catinat, tugging at his silver shoulder-straps,
"they must go."

"Ah, you draw ahead of me there, for I never had any. But come, friend,
let me know the trouble, that I may see if it may not be mended."

"To Paris! to Paris!" shouted the guardsman frantically. "If I am
ruined, I may yet be in time to save them. The horses, quick!"

It was clear to the American that some sudden calamity had befallen, so
he aided his comrade and the grooms to saddle and bridle.

Five minutes later they were flying on their way, and in little more
than an hour their steeds, all reeking and foam-flecked, were pulled up
outside the high house in the Rue St. Martin. De Catinat sprang from
his saddle and rushed upstairs, while Amos followed in his own leisurely
fashion.

The old Huguenot and his beautiful daughter were seated at one side of
the great fireplace, her hand in his, and they sprang up together, she
to throw herself with a glad cry into the arms of her lover, and he to
grasp the hand which his nephew held out to him.

At the other side of the fireplace, with a very long pipe in his mouth
and a cup of wine upon a settle beside him, sat a strange-l