. He betrayed
Monsieur de St. Gre and others into O'Reilly's hands, and when my father
was cast into prison he was seized with such a fit of anger that he
died."

Monsieur de St. Gre was silent. Without, under the eaves of the gallery,
a white rain fell, and a steaming moisture arose from the court-yard.

"What I have told you, Monsieur, is common knowledge. Louisiana has been
Spanish for twenty years. I no longer wear the white cockade, for I am
older now." He smiled. "Strange things are happening in France, and the
old order to which I belong" (he straightened perceptibly) "seems to be
tottering. I have ceased to intrigue, but thank God I have not ceased to
pray. Perhaps--who knows?--perhaps I may live to see again the lily of
France stirred by the river breeze."

He fell into a revery, his fine head bent a little, but presently
aroused himself and eyed me curiously. I need not say that I felt a
strange liking for Monsieur de St. Gre.

"And now, Mr. Ritchie," he said, "will you tell me who you are, and how
I can serve you?"

The servant had put the coffee on the table and left the room. Monsieur
de St. Gre himself poured me a cup from the dainty, quaintly wrought
Louis Quinze coffeepot, graven with the coat of arms of his family. As
we sat talking, my admiration for my host increased, for I found that he
was familiar not only with the situation in Kentucky, but that he
also knew far more than I of the principles and personnel of the new
government of which General Washington was President. That he had little
sympathy with government by the people was natural, for he was a Creole,
and behind that a member of an order which detested republics. When we
were got beyond these topics the rain had ceased, the night had fallen,
the green candles had burned low. And suddenly, as he spoke of Les
Isles, I remembered the note Mademoiselle had given me for him, and
I apologized for my forgetfulness. He read it, and dropped it with an
exclamation.

"My daughter tells me that you have returned to her a miniature which
she lost, Monsieur," he said.

"I had that pleasure," I answered.

"And that--you found this miniature at Madame Bouvet's. Was this the
case?" And he stared hard at me.

I nodded, but for the life of me I could not speak. It seemed an outrage
to lie to such a man. He did not answer, but sat lost in thought,
drumming with his fingers on the tables until the noise of the slamming
of a door aroused him to a li