nting with the
Marquis and Mademoiselle Berthe and some people behind. And he comes
on a wandering showman with a performing bear. A simpleton with long
black hair like feathers, and a bear that sat on its rump and did
little tricks and wore a belt. The prince had got his gun. I don't
know how it came about but the prince he got an idea. He said, 'I'd
like to kill that bear, as I do in my own hunting. Tell me, my good
fellow, how much shall I pay you for firing at the beast? You'll not
be a loser, I promise you.' The simpleton began to tremble and lift
his arms up in the air. He loved his bear! 'But my bear's the same as
my brother!' he says. Then do you know what the Marquis of Monthyon
did? He just simply took out his purse and opened it and put it under
the chap's nose; and all the smart hunting folk they laughed to see how
the simpleton changed when he saw all those bank notes. And naturally
he ended by nodding that it was a bargain, and he'd even seen so many
of the rustlers that he turned from crying to laughing! Then the
prince loaded his gun at ten paces from the bear and killed it with one
shot, my boy; just when he was rocking left and right, and sitting up
like a man. You ought to have seen it! There weren't a lot there; but
_I_ was there!"

The story made an impression. No one spoke at first. Then some one
risked the opinion. "No doubt they do things like that in Hungary or
Bohemia, or where he reigns. You wouldn't see it here," he added,
innocently.

"He's from Austria," Tudor corrected.

"Yes," muttered Crillon, "but whether he's Austrian or whether he's
Bohemian or Hungarian, he's a grandee, so he's got the right to do what
he likes, eh?"

Eudo looked as if he would intervene at this point and was seeking
words. (Not long before that he had had the queer notion of sheltering
and nursing a crippled hind that had escaped from a previous run, and
his act had given great displeasure in high places.) So as soon as he
opened his mouth we made him shut it. The idea of Eudo in judgment on
princes!

And the rest lowered their heads and nodded and murmured, "Yes, he's a
grandee."

And the little phrase spread abroad, timidly and obscurely.

* * * * * *

When All Saints' Day came round, many of the distinguished visitors at
the castle were still there. Every year that festival gives us
occasion for an historical ceremony on the grand scale. At tw