came keen with the
old-time cynicism and philosophy, as a coal glows and fades in a fitful
wind. In all these weeks he had left his bed but once . . . to find
that his son was lost in the woods, a captive, perhaps dead. Too late;
he had always been too late. He had turned the forgiving hand away.
And how had he wronged that hand?

"Margot?" he said, speaking to a shadow.

Jehan rose from his chair and approached his master. His withered,
leathery face had lost the power to express emotion; but his faded eyes
sparkled suspiciously.

"Monsieur?" he said.

"What o'clock is it?" asked the marquis, irritably.

"It is midnight, Monsieur."

"Monsieur le Comte has not come in yet? With his sponging friends, I
suppose; drinking and gaming at the Corne d'Abondance." Thus had the
marquis spoken in the Rochelle days. "A sip of wine; I am cold."
Jehan put his arm around the thin shoulders of his master and held the
glass to the trembling lips. A hectic flush superseded the pallor, and
the delusion was gone. The coal glowed. "It is you, Jehan? Well, my
faithful henchman, you will have to continue the journey alone. My
relays have given out. Go back to Perigny in the spring. I shall be
buried here."

Jehan shivered. The earth would be very cold here.

"The lad was a prophet. He told me that I should die in bed like this,
alone, without one of my blood near me at the end. He spoke of
phantoms, too. . . . They are everywhere. And without the consolation
of a friendly priest!"

"Monsieur, do you know me?"

"Why, yes, Jehan."

"Brother Jacques and Monsieur le Comte returned this day from the
wilderness. I have seen them."

The marquis's hands became still. "Pride has filled my path with black
pits. Jehan, after all, was it a dream?"

"What, Monsieur?"

"That duel with D'Herouville"

"It was no dream, Monsieur."

"That is well. I should, like to see Monsieur le Comte. He must be a
man now."

"I will call him."

"Presently, presently. He forgave me. Only, I should like to have him
know that my lips lied when I turned him away. Brother Jacques; he
will satisfy my curiosity in the matter of absolution. Death? I never
feared it; I do not now. However, I leave with some regret; there were
things which I appreciated not in my pursuit of pleasure. Ah well, to
die in bed, Jehan, was not among my calculations. But human
calculations never balance in the sum total. I have dropped a figure
o