ing subtly cruel in the turn of the
nether lip, as though the spirit and the flesh were constantly at war.
He was young, possibly not older than the Chevalier, who was thirty.

The priest, as if feeling the Chevalier's scrutiny, raised his eyes.
As their glances met, casually in the way of gratifying a natural
curiosity, both men experienced a mental disturbance which was at once
strange and annoying. Those large, penetrating grey eyes; each seemed
to be looking into his own as in a mirror.

The Chevalier was first to disembarrass himself. "A tolerably shrewd
night, Monsieur," he said with a friendly gesture.

"It is the frost in the air, my son," the priest responded in a mellow
barytone. "May Saint Ignatius listen kindly to the poor. Ah, this
gulf you call Paris, I like it not."

"You are but recently arrived?" asked the Chevalier politely.

"I came two days ago. I leave for Rouen this night."

"What! you travel at night, and leave a cheery tavern like this?" All
at once the crinkle of a chill ran across the Chevalier's shoulders.
The thumb, the forefinger and the second of the priest's left hand were
twisted, reddened stumps.

"Yes, at night; and the wind will be rough, beyond the hills. But I
have suffered worse discomforts;" and to this statement the priest
added a sour smile. He had seen the shudder. He dropped the maimed
hand below the level of the table.

"You ride, however?" suggested the Chevalier.

"A Spanish mule, the gift of Father Vincent."

"Her Majesty's confessor?"

"Yes."

"You are a Jesuit?"

"I have the happiness to serve God in that order. I have just
presented my respects to her Majesty and Cardinal Mazarin. I am come
from America, my son, to see his Eminence in regard to the raising of
funds for some new missions we have in mind; but I have been
indifferently successful, due possibly to my lack of eloquence and to
the fact that my superior, Father Chaumonot, was unable to accompany me
to Paris. I shall meet him in Rouen."

"And so you are from that country of which I have heard so much of
late--that France across the sea?" The Chevalier's tones expressed
genuine interest. He could now account for the presence of the
mutilated hand. Here was a man who had seen strange adventures in a
strange land. "New France!" musingly.

"Yes, my son; and I am all eagerness to return."

The Chevalier laughed pleasantly. "Pardon my irrelevancy, but I
confess that it excites my