I can to serve you. But where is this
Mr. Temple of whom the letter speaks? His family in Charlestown is known
to me by repute."

"By Madame de St. Gre's invitation he remained at Les Iles," I answered,
speaking above the roar of the rain.

"I was just going to the table," said Monsieur de St. Gre; "we will talk
as we eat."

He led the way into the dining room, and as I stood on the threshold
a bolt of great brilliancy lighted its yellow-washed floor and walnut
furniture of a staid pattern. A deafening crash followed as we took our
seats, while Monsieur de St. Gre's man lighted four candles of green
myrtle-berry wax.

"Monsieur Gratiot's letter speaks vaguely of politics, Mr. Ritchie,"
began Monsieur de St. Gre. He spoke English perfectly, save for an
occasional harsh aspiration which I cannot imitate.

Directing his man to fetch a certain kind of Madeira, he turned to
me with a look of polite inquiry which was scarcely reassuring. And I
reflected, the caution with which I had been endowed coming uppermost,
that the man might have changed since Monsieur Gratiot had seen him.
He had, moreover, the air of a man who gives a forced attention, which
seemed to me the natural consequences of the recent actions of his son.

"I fear that I am intruding upon your affairs, Monsieur," I answered.

"Not at all, sir," he said politely. "I have met that charming
gentleman, Mr. Wilkinson, who came here to brush away the causes of
dissension, and cement a friendship between Kentucky and Louisiana."

It was most fortunate that the note of irony did not escape me.

"Where governments failed, General Wilkinson succeeded," I answered
dryly.

Monsieur de St. Gre glanced at me, and an enigmatical smile spread over
his face. I knew then that the ice was cracked between us. Yet he was
too much a man of the world not to make one more tentative remark.

"A union between Kentucky and Louisiana would be a resistless force in
the world, Mr. Ritchie," he said.

"It was Nebuchadnezzar who dreamed of a composite image, Monsieur," I
answered; "and Mr. Wilkinson forgets one thing,--that Kentucky is a part
of the United States."

At that Monsieur St. Gre laughed outright. He became a different man,
though he lost none of his dignity.

"I should have had more faith in my old friend Gratiot," he said; "but
you will pardon me if I did not recognize at once the statesman he had
sent me, Mr. Ritchie."

It was my turn to laugh.

"Monsieur,"