t!_"

"Yes. Is there not a god of laughter to whom I may pray? I have used up
my stock of it. When Cicero came in one day, he fetched a letter to
Stephen Girard from my Pearl. She had won her mother to consent, and
Girard arranged it all, and, lo! the great prize of money is gone long
ago to help the poor and the sick. Now the ministers of Princeton
College may pray in peace. Laugh, young man!"

But he did not. "And she thought to do that?"

"Yes; but as yet none know. They will soon, I fear."

"But she took it, after all. What will Friends say?"

"She was read out of meeting long ago, disowned, and I do advise them to
be careful how they talk to Madame of the girl. There is a not mild
maternal tigress caged somewhere inside of the gentlewoman. 'Ware claws,
if you are wise, Friend Waln!" De Courval laughed, and they went on
their way again, for a long time silent.

At Flat Rock, above the swiftly flowing Schuylkill, they sat down, and
Schmidt, saying, "At last the pipe tastes good," began to talk in the
strain of joyous excitement which for him the beautiful in nature always
evoked, when for a time his language became singular. "Ah, Rene, it is
worth while to cross the ocean to see King Autumn die thus gloriously.
How peaceful is the time! They call this pause when regret doth make the
great Reaper linger pitiful--they call it the Indian summer."

"And we, the summer of St. Martin."

"And we, in my homeland, have no name for it, or, rather, _Spaetsommer_;
but it is not as here. See how the loitering leaves, red and gold, rock
in mid-air. A serene expectancy is in the lingering hours. It is as
still as a dream of prayer that awaiteth answer. Listen, Rene, how the
breeze is stirring the spruces, and hark, it is--ah, yes--the Angelus of
evening."

His contemplative ways were familiar, and just now suited the young
man's mood. "A pretty carpet," he said, "and what a gay fleet of colors
on the water!"

"Yes, yes. There is no sorrow for me in the autumn here, but after comes
the winter." His mood of a sudden changed. "Let us talk of another
world, Rene--the world of men. I want to ask of you a question; nay,
many questions." His tone changed as he spoke. "I may embarrass you."

De Courval knew by this time that on one subject this might very well be
the case. He said, however, "I do not know of anything, sir, which you
may not freely ask me."

He was more at ease when Schmidt said, "We are in the strange positio