ood of irresistible emotions.
All at once his anger, heritage of an impetuous youth, blazed up hot and
furious. He trod a step farther forward, after his fashion advancing
close to that which threatened him.

"This lady, your Grace," said he, "has been known to me for years. Mary
Connynge, what do you masquerading here?"

A sudden silence fell, a silence broken at length by the voice of the
regent himself.

"Surely, Monsieur L'as," said Philippe, "surely we must accept your
statements. But Monsieur must remember that this is the table of the
regent, that these are the friends of the regent. We bring no
recollections here which shall cut short the joy of any person. Sir, I
would not reprimand you, but I must beg that you be seated and be calm!"

Yet the imperious nature of the other brooked not even so pointed a
rebuke. As though he had not heard, Law stepped yet a pace nearer to the
woman, upon whom he now bent the blaze of his angered eyes. He looked
neither to right nor left, but visually commanded the woman until in
turn her eyes sought his own.

"This woman, your Grace," said Law, at length, "was for some time in
effect my wife. This I do not offer as matter of interest. What I would
say to your Grace is this--she was also my slave!"

"Sirrah!" cried the regent.

"Ah, Dame!" exclaimed the Duc de Richelieu. And even from the women
about there came little murmurs of expostulation. Indeed there might
have been pity, even in this assemblage, for the agony now visible upon
the brow of Mary Connynge.

"Monsieur, the wine has turned your head," said the regent scornfully.
"You boast!"

"I boast of nothing," cried Law, savagely, his voice now ringing with a
tone none present had ever known it to assume. "I say to you again, this
woman was my slave, and that she will again do as I shall choose. Your
Grace, she would come and wipe the dust from my shoes if I should
command it! She would kneel at my feet, and beg of me, if I should
command it! Shall I prove this, your Grace?"

"Oh, assuredly!" replied the regent, with a sarcasm which now seemed his
only relief. "Assuredly, if Monsieur L'as should please. We here in
Paris are quite his humble servants."

Law said nothing. He stood with his biting blue eyes still fixed upon
Mary Connynge, whose own eyes faltered, trying their utmost to escape
from his; whose fingers, resting just lightly on the snowy Hollands of
the table cloth, moved tremulously; whose limbs appea