This is his picture^ really and truly.
 
 MONSIEUR 
 D EN BROCHETTE 
 
 BEING 
 
 An Historical Account of Some of the 
 Adventures of Huevos Pasada Par Agua, 
 Marquis of Pollio Grille, Count of Pate 
 de Foie Gras, and Much Else Besides. 
 
 BY 
 
 BERT LESTON TAYLOR 
 := =& 
 ARTHUR HAMILTON FOLWELL 
 
 AND 
 
 JOHN KENDRICK BANGS 
 ILLUSTRATED BY FRANK A. NANKIVELL 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 M C M V 
 KEPPLER & SCHWARZMANN
 
 Copyright, 1905, by KEPPLER & SCHWARZMANN
 
 (Eontrnta 
 
 I. In which Count Pat de Foie Gras of En 
 Brochette has a strange adventure with 
 an unknown lady ..... i 
 II. In which there is something doing . . 17 
 
 III. In which I get out of a well and into a 
 
 select chateau . . . . .31 
 
 IV. In which I make a startling discovery . 45 
 V. In which the hero acquires a title . . 56 
 
 VI. In which there are dukes and dukes . 67 
 
 VII. In which a great historical mystery is 
 
 solved ....... 83 
 
 VIII. In which the Chevalier de Brie connects 
 
 with what was coming to him . . 96 
 IX. In which there are live and dead ones . 108 
 X. In which the king takes a hand . .122 
 XI. La Beldam Sans Merci and La Belle Isa- 
 
 belle 135 
 
 XII. In which there are doings on the stair . 148 
 XIII. In which Monsieur d en Brochette brings 
 to a close the first volume of his incom 
 parable memoirs ..... 163 
 
 XIII. In which appear two portraits plus a family 
 
 heirloom ...... 169 
 
 XIII. In which our hero sees his finish . . 174
 
 MONSIEUR D EN BROCHETTE
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 IN WHICH COUNT PATE DE FOIE GRAS OK EN 
 
 BROCHETTE HAS A STRANGE ADVENTURE 
 
 WITH AN UNKNOWN LADY. 
 
 AT twenty minutes past eleven 
 o clock on the morning of the fifth 
 Monday of March, 1684, anybody 
 had accosted me as I sat in the 
 large window on the Rue de June 
 Fourteenth side of the Cafe D CEuf, in the fifteenth 
 Arondissement of the Quartier Latin, Paris, France, 
 and offered me even so little as a sou for my 
 thoughts, I should, on my honor as a gentleman, 
 have closed the bargain then and there if per 
 chance the sale were for ready money, for to 
 confess the sorry truth, I, Huevos Pasada par 
 Agua, Count of Pate de Foie Gras and Marquis 
 Presumptive of the Estates of Pollio Grille in 
 Spain, just arrived after an eventful journey from 
 the paternal acres of En Brochette, had naught 
 within my purse, nor for that matter in the saddle 
 bags resting athwart the shoulders of my tried 
 and trusty steed Gambetta, now restlessly champ 
 ing his crupper buckle in full view of the merry
 
 ^ /Monsieur fc en JBrocbeite. ^ 
 
 breakfasters who surrounded me on all sides, 
 with which to pay the reckoning of my host. I 
 had breakfasted well, as the small slip lying upon 
 the immaculate napery before me attested, call 
 ing as it did for an immediate payment of two 
 hundred and fifty-seven francs thirty centimes, 
 without taking into account the quartier which 
 Henri the affable valet de place, who had served 
 me well, expected to receive as the price of his 
 good will. It was an awkward moment, albeit 
 not unanticipated, for I had entered the place 
 with the full knowledge that save my wits I had 
 nothing with which to square the account. 
 
 I had hoped when the demands of my 
 appetite I had eaten nothing since leaving the 
 castle ten days before I had hoped, I say, 
 when the demands of my large appetite for I 
 was, in very truth, upon the verge of starvation 
 from so long an abstinence I had hoped, I 
 repeat, that by the time my hunger was ap 
 peased, by playing the swashbuckler I could 
 have myself summarily ejected from the cafe" 
 without being called upon to pay, but to my 
 consternation my boisterous behavior served only 
 to increase the consideration with which I had 
 already been received. Nothing that I could 
 say or do seemed to surprise the managers or the 
 menials of the eating place. I had declared the 
 wines not fit to drink. I had thrown the Royal
 
 / had run the head-waiter through with my rapier. 1
 
 ^ a Strange B&renture. ^ 
 
 Worcester egg cup to the floor, declaring that 
 eggs should be eaten only from Sevres of the 
 resilience of cobwebs. I had run the head-waiter 
 through with my rapier and wiped the blade 
 upon the cloth of a neighboring table at which 
 three ladies sat, and had in every other wise done 
 my best to secure my forcible removal, but in vain. 
 Each roisterous ebullition but served to show me 
 in the eyes of those self-centered people to be 
 more and more surely a gentleman of quality. 
 It did not seem that by any human possibility I 
 could escape the gendarmerie, which would have 
 been fatal to my hopes and ambitions, for it was 
 only with the idea that I might some day be 
 come the Captain of the King s Police that I had 
 come to Paris, with a letter to rny father s old 
 friend Guillaume De Very, who held that exalted 
 office at the time of which I write. I)e Very 
 and my father, the Sieur de Foie Gras, had served 
 together in many a bloody campaign under 
 Charlemagne and Pepin the Little, but of late 
 years they had drifted apart, and though the old 
 friendship was strong and had been kept up by 
 correspondence, the two had not seen each other 
 since the Battle of Firenzi in the War of the 
 Tulips, when they had parted just before the final 
 charge which placed the laurels of victory upon 
 the banners of the Due de Maitre d Hotel, Com- 
 mander-in-Chief of the forces of" Pepin. I cud-
 
 V /Ifconsteur D en JSrocbettc. "V 
 
 gelled my brain for some ingenious way out of 
 my present scrape, but alas, the situation grew 
 more complex with each moment of reflection. 
 To gain time for further cogitation I called Henri 
 to my side by rapping upon the window-sill with 
 my dagger. 
 
 "Another platter of gateaux des pans" I cried. 
 "And have them better done^than the last, my 
 man, else will I slit thee into twins with this " 
 tapping the hilt of my rapier. 
 
 As I spoke, a silvery laugh, unmistakably 
 the laugh of a beautiful blonde, but patrician 
 withal, as I could tell from its rippling cadences, 
 broke upon the stillness of the cafe from behind 
 me. Turning quickly, my eyes rested upon the 
 most beautiful woman I had ever seen her 
 eyes had the liquid cerulean tint of a Mediter 
 ranean wave charged with the colors of heaven ; 
 beside her lips the ripest cherry seemed but an acid 
 bit of saffron ; her profile which was turned 
 toward me suggested the supervision of the sculp 
 tor of the Venus of Milo when the gods designed 
 her nose and brow and chin for the rest, since 
 she sat at table I could but divine it, yet was I 
 confident that even were her figure that of some 
 charwoman, there had been lavished upon her face 
 enough of beauty to blind the most fastidious to 
 all other imperfections. But alas ! All this beauty 
 instead of thrilling my soul with happiness turned
 
 ^ B Strange BSvcnturc. ^ 
 
 to gall every bit of sweetness in my heart, for I 
 perceived at once that her laughter had been 
 evoked by some slighting allusion to my horse, 
 Gambetta, and when from those lips there dropped 
 the words in Spanish, " I guess he s faster tied 
 than loose," my rage knew no bounds, for Gam 
 betta and I have been friends these many years, 
 bound together by a comradeship beside which 
 the vaunted friendships of Peleas and Melisandre, 
 Castor and Pollux aye of Ossa and Pelion 
 themselves pale into coldness mere partner 
 ships into which the affairs of the heart never 
 enter. My rage knew no bounds, I say, and 
 springing to my feet I again summoned the 
 waiter. 
 
 "Henri !" I cried, with that haughty arro 
 gance that I must confess becomes me well. 
 
 "Si, signer. Oui, Monsieur. Yah, Mein 
 Herr. Here, sir," he replied. 
 
 " My card, Henri to yonder haughty 
 beauty ask her name, or better the name 
 of her father, her brother, her lover, her fiance, 
 her attorney any man of prowess to whom I 
 may throw down my glove demanding satisfac 
 tion for this insult," I cried haughtily. " I admit 
 Gambetta s faults, but he shall not become an 
 object of ridicule at any fair lady s hands, how 
 ever beautiful. His spavins have been earned in 
 valiant service to his master and his King. That
 
 ^ dfoongieur D en JBrocbctte. -V 
 
 glander which you will observe behind his left 
 ear was won at the battle of Toulon. The pant 
 which affects his wind is but the badge of honor 
 able service in the campaign of Suabia, when no 
 less a personage than Henri of Navarre asked 
 Whose horse is that? The Dauphin himself 
 is more secure to-day for my beloved Gambetta s 
 existence, and I should be but a churl were I 
 to permit the smile of scorn to be pointed in his 
 direction. My card, Henri ! My card ! " 
 
 With this I drew myself up proudly and felt 
 for my card case. 
 
 // was gone. I had been robbed but I 
 had taken my stand, and a Pate de Foie Gras is 
 not lightly to be swerved from his purpose, espe 
 cially in the presence of women. My eye lighted 
 upon the check lying upon the table, and the 
 solution of my difficulties was before me. Hastily 
 scribbling my full name and title on the back of 
 the slip I handed it to Henri. 
 
 " For the lady, Henri," I muttered. "And 
 wait for an answer." 
 
 Henri immediately took the check on his 
 silver tray and handed it to the beautiful unknown, 
 who with a gesture of scorn wrote her initials 
 upon it. 
 
 " Certainly," I heard her say. " Certainly, 
 Henri, if the gentleman wishes it. Have it 
 charged to my account."
 
 ^ a Strange BDventure. -^ 
 
 " Sapristi !" I cried in my wrath at this 
 additional insult. " Shall I, Robert Gaston cle 
 Launay Alphonse, Count de Foie Gras, and heir 
 presumptive to the Marquisate of Huevos Pasada 
 par Agua and the Estates of Pollio Grille of 
 Spain, be thus affronted by a mere chit of a 
 woman, who first laughs at my horse and then 
 presumes to pay my score for breakfast ? Ja- 
 mais ! Never. Non-non. Oest impossible" 
 
 With this I turned my eyes full upon the 
 arrogant beauty and addressed her as follows : 
 
 " Madame, you are a woman I am a man, 
 therefore to cross swords with you is impossible. 
 Nevertheless you have seen fit to flout my horse 
 my poor but honest steed Gambetta, who for 
 forty years has served my father and myself, and 
 for twenty years before that did yeoman s service 
 at the plough of my grandfather, Gaston, Comte 
 de Ris de Veau, Due de Nesselrode, and Grand 
 Seigneur of the province of Petit Pois. Not con 
 tent with this, Madame,, you have treated con 
 temptuously me, the Count of Pate de Foie Gras, 
 who have measured foils with the proudest gen 
 tlemen of France, and have taken up the gaunt 
 let in many a tourney in which the hands of 
 fairer maids than thou were the prize of him who 
 by his valiant lance should prove himself worthy 
 of them. I am poor, but I am still a gentleman, 
 and such insults may not go unavenged. I there-
 
 ^ /Monsieur fc en JSrocbette. if 
 
 fore ask you, Madame, for the name the name 
 and address of some one, some man to whom 
 I may go to seek redress. And have a care, 
 Madame, that your choice be not lightly made, 
 for I am an En Brochette whose sword is no 
 plaything ; but a blade so keen it pierces ere it 
 strikes." 
 
 The proud beauty drew herself up haughtily. 
 
 "You have addressed these words to me, 
 M sieur ?" she said. 
 
 "To you, Madame. Despite thy beauty, 
 my rage knows no bounds, and if thy father, or 
 thy brother, or thy fiance, or thy attorney, be a 
 gentleman, he will not deny me satisfaction." 
 
 At this point I drew myself erect into an 
 attitude of hauteur which reminded me forcibly 
 of the portraits of my ancestor Cela Va Sans Dire, 
 the noble Touranian who fought so valiantly 
 under Philip of Spain, whence came our title to 
 the Huevos Pasada par Agua estates. A mur 
 mur of admiration burst instinctively from all 
 parts of the breakfast room, and I could see too 
 that the fair woman to whom my words were 
 addressed was stirred to the depths of her being, 
 for her cheeks mantled with the rich crimson of 
 her patrician blood, and the bursting of a button 
 from the wrist-band of her dainty glove showed 
 that her pulses were beating madly. 
 
 "It is true that I am a woman," she replied,
 
 ^ a Strange a&venture. ^ 
 
 dreamily. " Monsieur, I have scoffed at your 
 horse, and vised your breakfast bill, and I pre 
 sume I owe you satisfaction. I have no father 
 who is an adept at the foils. My brother is 
 bottled up at Tokio with Richard Coeur de 
 Davis and other Crusaders. I may not give you 
 the name of my fiance for I fear you would kill 
 him, which, it being the dearest wish of my heart 
 that some one should spit him well ere our wed 
 ding day on Tuesday next, would be the equiva 
 lent of murder. I can think of but one sword in 
 France, then, that is worthy to champion my 
 cause. The name of its wielder is there ! " 
 
 With that she rose from her table and, 
 throwing a card at my feet, swept majestically 
 from the room. As she disappeared through the 
 doorway I leaned over to pick up the fallen card, 
 for, by my faith, so beautiful she was I could not 
 take my eyes from off her sweet self before that. 
 One glance at the name sent me staggering to 
 the wall. 
 
 // was my own ! 
 
 "Check, sir," said Henri, as I started for 
 the door. 
 
 "Can t you see, fool, it is initialed?" I 
 retorted, thrusting the fellow aside. " Charge it, 
 as you have already been commanded." 
 
 With these words I rushed to the curb and 
 leaped blindly for the saddle and Gambetta s
 
 "V dbonsteur > en JBroctjette. -y 
 
 back, but the horse had been taken away and I 
 landed in much disorder in the middle of the 
 street.
 
 CHAFFER II. 
 IN WHICH THERE is SOMETHING DOING. 
 
 IHE RKADER of these imperishable 
 memoirs will recall that Chapter 
 One left me lying on my back in the 
 streets of Paris, a fraction of a kilo 
 metre from the doors of the Cafe 
 D Oeuf. For a moment, M sieurs, I was stunned 
 by the fall, but youth crushed to earth shall rise 
 again, and presently I was on my feet taking 
 account of stock. Alas, the inventory was but a 
 light one. I, Robert Gaston de Launay, Count 
 of Pate de Foie Gras and Marquis Presumptive of 
 the Estates of Pollio Grille in Spain, was bereft 
 of my card case and my beloved horse Gam- 
 betta; yet did I still have my health and my 
 long sword and my family name that was longer 
 still. Priceless possessions, with which I might 
 conquer the world ! 
 
 The loss of Gambetta (who, I afterward 
 ascertained, had been corralled by La Societe 
 Prevenir Cruciate d Animals} was swiftly repaired. 
 A handsome red mare stood tethered before the 
 cafe. I scribbled my I. O. U. for the price of 
 the beast, which I estimated at thirty francs, 
 
 7
 
 ^ /ifconstcui fc cn JBrocbctte. ^ 
 
 nailed the scrap of paper with my dagger to the 
 cafe door, flung myself into the stirrups and gal 
 loped away, my bridle hand resting lightly on 
 the pommel of my saddle. 
 
 Parblen ! you exclaim. Why this detail? 
 M sieurs, I am particular to mention the dis 
 position of my bridle hand, for had it not rested 
 as I have described for you, the map of Europe 
 would not be colored as it is to-day, nor would I, 
 Robert Gaston de Launay Alphonse, etc., have 
 But ma foi ! I am anticipating the last chap 
 ter. This, then, M sieurs, is what befell : As I 
 clattered down the long hill beyond Lyonnaise, 
 ten leagues from Paris, my bridle hand in some 
 manner pressed a spring in the saddle s pommel, 
 and this, opening, disclosed a secret recess in 
 which reposed a letter and a handful of bank 
 notes. One glance at the inscription and all my 
 wild Brochette blood surged madly to my brain ; 
 for the name was none other than that of the 
 powerful Duke des Pommes de Terre au Gratin ! 
 
 "Diable/" I murmured. "A conspiracy 
 against the King! Count Pate de Foie Gras, 
 your fortune is already made ! " 
 
 A thud of hoofs behind me caused me to 
 glance back, and I discerned a horseman dash 
 ing down the hill in a great cloud of dust. 
 Drawing rein I awaited his approach with my 
 customary sang froid, and presently found my- 
 
 18
 
 ^ Something Doing, ^r 
 
 self confronting a much agitated young man in 
 blue velvet. 
 
 "My horse!" he cried, leveling a passionate 
 finger at the red mare. "Rascal! My horse!" 
 " Not another franc," I returned firmly. For 
 answer he flung my I. (). II. in my face. "S" 
 death!" I roared, my temper giving away. "The 
 paper of a Foie (Iras has never before gone to 
 protest. Draw, shrimp !" 
 
 I leaped lightly to the ground, threw off my 
 cloak and hat and unfastened my pourpoint, the 
 young man in blue velvet following suit. 
 
 " M sieur," I remarked, as I tested the edge 
 of my blade on my thumb-nail, " I fancy a more 
 secluded spot for this encounter, preferably one 
 sheltered from the cold north wind by a high 
 wall and screened from the vulgar observation of 
 the passers-by. However, I observe you are in 
 haste, and myself am in some hurry to be gone, 
 and so have at you ! " 
 
 The blades kissed sibilantly, and poof! 
 it was really nothing at all. Three passes and I 
 had him spitted, and he expired almost instantly. 
 Poor fool ! to measure his feeble steel against the 
 best swordsman in all France. I tossed the 
 body into the bushes and went on my way. 
 
 I had killed the messenger to the Duke des 
 Pommes de Terre au Gratin, and I, Count Pate 
 de Foie Gras, was become the messenger. My
 
 ^ /fconsieur fc cn JBrocbette. ^ 
 
 course was plain. I should deliver the letter to 
 the Duke, and thus become a part of the con 
 spiracy. All else was as heaven willed. 
 
 But what of the beautiful blonde unknown 
 who had vised my breakfast bill at the Cafe 
 D Oeuf? In my haste to leave Paris I had for 
 the nonce forgotten her, and now the memory of 
 her exquisite face swept over me a tidal wave of 
 passion. A few hours ago I was penniless; now 
 I tapped the banknotes in my pocket I was 
 ready money. Until I had repaid my divinity 
 her trifling loan of two hundred and fifty-seven 
 francs thirty centimes, not forgetting the qttartier 
 for Henri the affable ralct de place, I could 
 not, as a gentleman and a Brochette, declare 
 my passion, a passion that flamed and crackled 
 with every recollection of the details of her in 
 comparable loveliness. For you must know, 
 M sieurs, that we of Brochette are as very tinder 
 to the smiles of a beautiful woman. For two 
 sous I would have abandoned the adventure 
 into which fate had thrown me and returned 
 to Paris ; but one thing decided me to go on 
 I was enormously hungry, and the lights of 
 Croquante were even now shooting out of the 
 eastern dusk. 
 
 I flung into the Pousse Cafe, on the far 
 edge of the village, with so much arrogance that 
 the entire machinery of the place was instantly
 
 ^ Something 2>otng. ^ 
 
 at my command. I was, as I have said, enor 
 mously hungry, and I had cached six capons, 
 a shoulder of mutton and ten bottles of wine 
 before 1 lifted my head from my work, attracted 
 by the bustle of a fresh arrival in the street 
 before the cafe. A coupe was drawn up at the 
 curb, and from it alighted mon Dieit ! scarcely 
 could I credit my eyes the haughty blonde of 
 the Cafe D Oeuf ! She was followed by a man 
 of distinguished bearing and exceedingly sour 
 visage, who had a pretty trick of gnawing his 
 under lip with his gleaming white teeth. I rose 
 as the party entered the cafe, and with a sweep 
 ing bow, "Madame," I said, -it was your treat 
 this morning. Permit me to set em back." 
 
 The lady drew herself up haughtily, then 
 suddenly yielded to a tinkling merriment, while 
 her companion rapped out an oath, scowling hor 
 ribly meanwhile. 
 
 "Venire c/iat noir !" said he. "Who is 
 your foolish friend ? " 
 
 Before the lady could reply I flung the 
 name full in his face : 
 
 "R-r-robert daston de Launay Alphonse, 
 Count Pate de Foie Gras, and Marquis 
 Shall I continue, M sieur?" 
 
 "No Tcutre chat noir . no," he bel 
 lowed, fishing out his card case. "Ma foi, 
 M sieur, your name is as long as your nose."
 
 ^ /iftcmsieur fc en JBrccbette. "V 
 
 As he spoke he handed me his card, and with 
 difficulty I repressed a start as I read : 
 
 " Gaspard Henri Pierre, Duke des Pommes 
 de Terre au Gratin. Tlnirsdays from 2 p. m. to 
 quarter past four. 
 
 "M sieur is pleased to allude to my nose," 
 I said, twisting the bit of pasteboard between 
 my fingers. "M sieur will find my sword even 
 longer." 
 
 " Parbleu ! as you will," replied the Duke 
 indifferently, putting on his hat. 
 
 "Oh inercif" sighed the lady with a pretty 
 moue. "Cannot we dine first? I am frightfully 
 off a we -" 
 
 "Business before pleasure, chere Isabelle," 
 replied the Duke grumbling. "Come, M sieur!" 
 
 As I bowed and prepared to follow, a light 
 hand on my arm detained me, and I looked into 
 the heavenly blue orbs of Isabelle. 
 
 "Beware the Duke, my brave Brochette," 
 she whispered swiftly. "He is un craqueur- 
 jacque." 
 
 I pressed her hand and with a heart beat 
 ing in wild joy followed my adversary from the 
 cafe. 
 
 The secluded spot chosen for the meeting 
 was precisely to my fancy. A high wall shel 
 tered us from the cold north wind, and the 
 ground was firm and smooth. Every facility
 
 ^ Something JDoinc?, ^ 
 
 for a first - class encounter was present. The 
 Duke s countenance expressed the utmost in 
 difference, whilst my own agitation proceeded 
 wholly from the thrilling handclasp of the beau 
 teous Isahelle. 
 
 "A la carte, I suppose," I remarked care 
 lessly. The Duke bowed, with a bored expres 
 sion, and the supple rapiers joined. 
 
 The Duke ventured a small order a la 
 carfe, but so swiftly did 1 fill it that he was 
 compelled to throw himself back to avoid the 
 lightning play of my point. The bored expres 
 sion vanished from his face, for at cnce he dis 
 cerned that he was up against it, as we of 
 Brochette have the saying. He next essayed 
 a thrust in tierce, and as I met this as promptly 
 I heard him mutter between his set teeth: 
 "Tierce, idle tierce ! " 
 
 As for myself 1 was never more at mine 
 ease. I was gay even, and hummed a ProveiiQal 
 ballad as I felt with my point for various parts 
 of my adversary s anatomy. Seeing that I was 
 his master at fence he played his last card, the 
 secret thrust of Girolamo of Naples. I laughed 
 as I parried it, for was it not I that had taught 
 Girolamo the stroke ? With an oath the Duke 
 leaped back and blew thrice upon a silver 
 whistle. 
 
 "Traitor!" I cried, but got no farther.
 
 ^ dfoongieur D en JSrocbettc. -y* 
 
 There was a rush of feet behind me, a heavy 
 blow descended on my head, and the subse 
 quent proceedings interested me no more. 
 
 When I was again able to sit up and take 
 notice, I found myself in Cimmerian darkness, 
 the lower half of my body lying in water. 
 Dazed though I was, I was able to reflect 
 that had the position of my body been re 
 versed my condition would have been even less 
 satisfactory. I put out a hand and touched a 
 wall of stone, overgrown with moss. 
 
 "Ma foi !" I murmured, sizing up the un 
 pleasant situation, " >na foi f" they have thrown 
 me into a well ! "
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 IN WHICH I GET OUT OF A WKI.L AND INTO A 
 SELECT CHATEAU. 
 
 \A FO1 7" 1 murmured again, as the 
 well-water drenched me to the 
 bone; "but had I here His Grace, 
 Gaspard Henri Pierre, Duke des 
 Pommes de Terre, right cheerfully 
 would I spit him thrice." 
 
 So hot for revenge, indeed, was I ; so das 
 tardly had been the trick which the Duke and 
 his minions had served me, that, verily, had it 
 not been for the well, then and there would I 
 have gotten up and gone in frothing search of 
 my assailant. 
 
 Still hot, I gathered my wits about me. 
 Where was 1 ? Down a well. What, then, to 
 do, I soliloquized. Should I yell and rouse some 
 slumbering lout ? A de Foie Gras yell ? Diable ! 
 Absurd ! Then, of a sudden, it occurred to me, 
 and I laughed the debonair, care-free laugh of 
 the Cafe D CEuf. It being a well, someone in 
 good season would come to it and lower the 
 bucket. Le sublime et le beau ! Composing my 
 self, I dozed. 
 
 3
 
 ^ ASonsieur yen JBrocbette. *& 
 
 How long I slept, I know not. But it was 
 dawn of day when the bucket with a vicious 
 swoop descended and struck me fairly on the 
 head. With an oath, I awoke. T was a beard 
 less youth who had lowered it and thrusting his 
 face beyond the well curb s edge, he ejaculated : 
 
 " Say ! " 
 
 A strange way, M sieurs, to address a de 
 Foie Gras, but I swallowed the affront and cried 
 in answer : 
 
 "What?" 
 
 "I bring a message for Robert Gaston de 
 Launay Alphonse, Count de Foie Gras. Is 
 M sieur it ? " 
 
 The dialect of the youth was strange and 
 new to me and yet mine own name and title right 
 readily did I recognize. 
 
 "Pull up, boy," I commanded, my being 
 thrilled with wonder at what the message might 
 be. "Haul up on yonder diablish rope and haul 
 carefully or, body of Saint Louis, your skull shall 
 pay for it." 
 
 "Z,e message est collect, M sieur," grinned the 
 youth above me. " Put three francs fifty cen 
 times in the bucket first or I 11 throw the mes 
 sage down. Voyez ! " 
 
 Sapristi ! For half a sou I would have 
 cracked his surly crown ; but what was I to do, 
 being in the well? Cursing roundly, I threw a 
 
 32
 
 i I saw with a thrill a perfumed note."
 
 *y* ut cf a Well ^ 
 
 bedraggled bank note in the bucket and watched 
 him pull it up. 
 
 " M sieur le Count is nn marque facile" he 
 gleefully chirped, on seizing the note. "And 
 now, M sieur, for the rescue." 
 
 Down came the bucket again, and this time 
 the rascal wound lustily at the rope till I neared 
 the curb. Then, fearing my avenging hand, as 
 Ma foi ! he had cause to he darted off 
 hot foot, leaving his chapeau behind him on 
 the dewy grass. 
 
 I looked at it and read across the band : 
 Croquante District Telegraphe 79," but I gave 
 it but an instant s attention, for close to the well- 
 curb, stuck upright in the soft, moist earth, was 
 as brave a rapier as gallant would wish to handle, 
 and tied to its diamond-studded hilt, I saw with 
 a thrill a perfumed note. 
 
 "From Isabelle !" rapturously I cried, seiz 
 ing the note and kissing it a thousand times. 
 What cared I for the night in the well? What, 
 for the varlet of a boy ? What, for my dripping 
 raiment? Naught, thrice naught ! Isabelle, the 
 beauteous, the adorable, the incomparable, had 
 given me her love. 
 
 I opened the note and hurriedly scanned it. 
 Parblcit . It was unsigned and unfinished, but 
 there was no mistaking the hand, the delicately 
 feminine hand. 
 
 35
 
 T? dfconsieur fc en JBvocbettc. -y 
 
 "From Isabelle!" I cried again, and with 
 beating heart read as follows : 
 
 "Mv BRAVK BROCHETTE: 
 
 I followed you from the Inn last night and saw and heard 
 all. I saw the Duke s hirelings throw you, swooning, 
 into the well. I saw them contemptuously snap your 
 sword the best blade in the whole of France and 
 my blood boiled 
 
 "Ah, chcre Isabelle," I cried, "Sweetheart! 
 Even as mine did in the darksome well." 
 Then I read on : 
 
 "Be not so credulous, my own, as to think that the Duke 
 believes you dead. The well, he knew, would revive, 
 not kill you. But beware, for now your life is indeed 
 in peril. The body in the bushes has been found. 
 The horse on which you rode to Croquante has been 
 recognized and seized 
 
 "Fool that I was," I hissed, "to have re 
 placed the Duke s letter in the saddle s pommel." 
 The letter went on : 
 
 "And you are a marked man. I send you secretly In- 
 trusty messenger a rapier; ; t is the Duke s. Use 
 it, my brave Brochette, but be prudent. Be wary 
 and, Oh, be watchful for my sake. While, if worse 
 comes to worst, as perchance it may right speedily, * 
 repeat boldly, no matter to whom, the words ; Deux 
 cafes cognacs, garden. T is the secret . " 
 
 There ended the note abruptly. Again I 
 pressed it to my lips and then consigned it to 
 my wallet. Dear as it was to me, there were 
 other things to think of now. Watchfully for 
 \vho could tell at what moment I would be set
 
 37
 
 V tit of a Udell, -y 
 
 upon ? I made my way back toward the Inn, 
 rapier in hand. 
 
 "Deux cafes cognacs, garfott" I memorized 
 softly; "Deux cafes cognacs, garfon." 
 
 It was barely sunrise, a silent time and 
 sweet; a time most fitting for deep reflections, 
 and mine Ma foi ! were deep enough. 
 
 So the young fool s body had been found. 
 Well, even so, what of it? Bodies had been 
 found before, and in bushes. My horse, Gam- 
 betta s successor, had been recognized and seized. 
 Again, what of it? They would press the pom 
 mel; the letter to the Duke would be found. 
 Aye, what then ? Seeking the well, they would 
 find in it only water, and then 
 
 "Ah, chere Isabelle ! Sweetheart !" I 
 thought, bending my rapier reflectively, "thy 
 words of caution were timely, truly, and I thank 
 thee from my soul." 
 
 Being steedless again, my first thought was 
 to secure a horse. Bien ! Nothing easier. There 
 were several of them in the Inn yard and it was 
 the work of a moment only to knock the stable 
 boy on the head and untether the best horse 
 there. 
 
 My next duty, naturally, was to get out of 
 the town, and this I did at a canter. Only 
 when out on the highroad, a good mile from 
 Croquante, did I pause and look back. The
 
 y /fccnstcut D en JSrocbettc. -y- 
 
 sun was gilding the spires and chimney pots ; 
 the birds were twittering in the poplars by the 
 roadside ; not a soul was in sight twixt the town 
 and myself. Once more turning straight in the 
 saddle, and with not a little satisfaction, I was 
 amazed beyond measure to see a stranger, silent 
 and motionless, waiting my pleasure beside the 
 horse s head. Imagine the start it gave me when 
 I recognized in him an outrider of the coupe in 
 which Isabelle and the Duke des Pommes de 
 Terre had tooled the day before to the Inn. 
 
 " Well, sirrah ! " I demanded. 
 
 " I would deliver a message to M sieur le 
 Count," he replied. 
 
 l *Ma foi . " I cried, blithely; "it is a day 
 of messages. It is my second, in sooth, since 
 sun-up. Speak freely, sirrah." 
 
 " Mademoiselle would see and hold con 
 verse with thee, M sieur le Count," the man con 
 tinued. "It is most urgent. There is no time 
 to be lost. She is at the Chateau Demi Tasse 
 at Poisson, a scant three miles from Bane 
 d Huitres on the road to Paris." 
 
 I looked the man steadily in the eye ere I 
 spoke. 
 
 "You are not deceiving me, sirrah?" finally 
 I said. "If you are " 
 
 "No, M sieur le Count, no," he replied 
 earnestly.
 
 V ut of a Well. V 
 
 "So be it!" I cried, my mind made up. 
 " I will seek Mademoiselle at the Chateau Demi 
 Tasse, but if she be not there, verily, at our next 
 meeting, I shall draw and quarter thee ! " 
 
 "M sieur le Count has spoken," the man 
 said, gravely; and touching spurs to my horse, 
 I left him standing in the high road. 
 
 Scenting treachery, but willing to go through 
 Hades itself for a glimpse of her who was more 
 precious than life, I took the Paris road, headed 
 for Poisson and the Chateau Demi Tasse. Un- 
 accosted on the way, I reached the village at 
 noon-day and straightway located the chateau on 
 the Rue de la Upper Main. 
 
 The place had a sinister aspect, dark, dank 
 and forbidding. Around the corner of the house, 
 as I entered the drive-way and tied my horse, 
 came a tradesman s boy with a box on his shoul 
 der and whistling cheerily a popular Deux Temps. 
 
 "Who resides here, boy?" I inquired. 
 
 "Lots," he replied. " T is Madame Filet s 
 Select Boarding Chateau." 
 
 With renewed presentiment of evil, I rapped 
 on the front door and was shown by a servant 
 into a room adjoining the main hall. 
 
 "M sieur wishes to engage lodgings?" she 
 interrogated. " I will go and call Madame Filet." 
 
 Before I could detain her she left the room, 
 and the next instant there arose from the apart-
 
 ^ Monsieur fc en ffirocbette. ^ 
 
 ment across the hall a shriek that I shall hear to 
 my dying day. It was the voice of Isabelle, 
 and 
 
 "They are choking me!" she cried. 
 
 Rapier in hand, I dashed madly to the 
 room whence the screams had come, and burst 
 ing open the door, I beheld not Isabelle, but the 
 Duke des Pommes de Terre. - My sword was 
 knocked from my hand by some one behind me ; 
 the door was slammed and bolted, and I was 
 alone with an ugly, glowering foe. 
 
 " Diable ! The Duke!" I exclaimed. 
 
 " Aye ! Diable ! The Duke ! " he repeated 
 harshly after me. "We meet again, you see, 
 M sieur le Popinjay." 
 
 My blood boiled again at the insult, but 
 what could I do? I was bladeless. I had only 
 my health and my family name. Then, of a 
 sudden, I recalled the mysterious words of Isa 
 belle. 
 
 "Deux cafes cognacs, gar(on ! Deux cafes 
 cognacs" I cried. 
 
 Mon Dien ! Shall I ever forget, M sieurs, 
 the change that came over the Duke !
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 IN WHICH I MAKE A STARTLING DISCOVERY. 
 
 IHE RICH mahogany hue of that dissi 
 pated face turned an ashen gray 
 as I gave voice to the phrase and 
 the Duke, staggering backward in 
 a sudden surge of dismay, dropped 
 sword upon the tesselated floor. To leap madly 
 forward and seize it by the hilt was but the work 
 of a moment; and again, as I found myself 
 armed once more, I hissed in the man s gaping 
 countenance the cry : 
 
 " Deux cafes cognacs, garc_on !" 
 "Man Dieu/" he muttered, a white froth 
 upon his lips, and his eyes rolling madly, as he 
 started aback. "The word !" 
 
 And then it all came over me like a flash. 
 The man s secret in that involuntary movement 
 backward was revealed, and the manifest wince 
 that crept over his being as the word garfon fell 
 from my lips showed him in his true colors. 
 
 The person who stood before me was not 
 the true Duke des Pommes de Terre, but some 
 base born churl masquerading in borrowed 
 nay, better put it stolen plumes. I eyed him 
 narrowly as he mopped his brow with his hand-
 
 V Monsieur D en JBrocbettc. -^ 
 
 kerchief, which in very truth bore the ducal crest, 
 although he handled it like a serviette. 
 
 " You heard ? " I cried. "Deux cafes cognacs, 
 garden . " 
 
 " Oui, M sieur," he answered, cringing low 
 and washing his hands in savon invisible. "In 
 stantly, M sieur," he added, placing the handker 
 chief over his wrist as though it were a napkin 
 and he merely the serving man of a Boulevard 
 salle a manger. 
 
 " Pah ! " I ejaculated as my scorn swept 
 over me ; and then for the first time came relief 
 to the over-tense situation for, ludicrously enough, 
 even as I blew the scornful exclamation from my 
 lips, this spurious Duke sat plump upon the floor 
 in the manner of an object that had been blown 
 over by some sudden, paralyzing gust of wind. 
 "Marionette!" I added. "Th-huh!" 
 
 " Non, Monsieur; non. Jules Fagot, Mon 
 sieur," he chattered. " Plain Jules Fagot at your 
 service, Monsieur." 
 
 " Ah Jules Fagot, eh ? Of where Fon- 
 tainbleu, or what other famous wood-pile ? " I 
 demanded. 
 
 " Le Cafe de la Paix, M sieur, of Paris," 
 was his quivering response. 
 
 "Head-waiter or chef?" I persisted, re 
 solved to press my questions home until the 
 man s very soul lay naked before me.
 
 ^ B Startling Discovery. ^ 
 
 "Non, Monsieur; valet de cuisine, M sieur, 
 settlement valet de cuisine" he mumbled. 
 
 "And his Grace the true Duke des Pommes 
 de Terre? What has become of him?" I cried. 
 
 A greater fear racked the form of the cring 
 ing coward before me, and he made as though 
 lie could not speak. The point of the rapier 
 restored him to utterance, however, for I made no 
 hesitation of puncturing his silken hosiery with 
 it until the sawdust fairly spouted from the 
 wound. 
 
 " He is a prisoner," replied Fagot, under 
 the pressure of pain, "in the wine cellar at the 
 Cafe de la Paix. He would not enter into the 
 conspiracy and it was necessary that he should, 
 else all of us would be hanged before sundown. 
 They seized upon me, the living image of the 
 Duke save as to the mole upon the chin, to assume 
 his personality, at least until the hour was ripe 
 for placing him upon the throne of his uncle." 
 
 "And had he not consented then?" I cried. 
 
 "Then I was to reign in his stead," Fagot 
 replied. 
 
 " A most foul conspiracy ! " I muttered. 
 "To place a base born churl upon the throne of 
 Charlemagne. Ventre Saltpetre, but it is incred 
 ible. I do not know whether to believe this 
 varlet s tale or not. Jules Fagot, it is true that 
 you greatly resemble the Duke, but, aha ! mayhap
 
 ^ Monsieur yen 38rocbette. -V 
 
 indeed thou art lie and lying to me, still" 1 
 added, bending over him threateningly, for as I 
 spoke I perceived the mole upon the chattering 
 coward s chin. "Thou hast the birth-mark-!" 
 
 " Oui, M sieur," he replied, his pallor deepen 
 ing as one having been caught with stolen goods, 
 "but it is spurious." And with this he flicked 
 the mole from off his chin with his thumb-nail 
 and handed it to me. My first impulse was to 
 toss the thing out of the window in sheer disgust, 
 but second thought made me keep it, since there 
 was no telling how far such material evidence of 
 their dastardly plottings would go to bring mel 
 low fruit to the spreading branches of the gal 
 lows-tree. So, having no other where to put it I 
 affixed it firmly to my own chin, little recking 
 what tremendous influence this simplest of acts 
 was to have upon the history of France and my 
 self during the next forty-eight hours. 
 
 "A damnable conspiracy this of yours, my 
 Fagot," said I. 
 
 " France has been ruled by its cavaliers long 
 enough," he growled. "It is time the makers of 
 the true France came into their own." 
 
 "The Makers of true France, varlet?" I 
 cried. " Sapristi tie Santa Maria and who may 
 they be ?" 
 
 "The Chefs, M sieur," he replied. "The 
 Chefs of Marseilles, of Toulon, aye, and of la
 
 fO
 
 -^ B Startling JDtecomg. ^ 
 
 Belle Paris. It is we who have won glorious 
 renown for our beautiful country, yet where is 
 our recognition. Our generals who in time of 
 war have won great victories have risen to places 
 of honor and power. Field Marshall Vicomte de 
 Tureen has been ennobled for a single moment s 
 brave display of reckless courage on the plains 
 of old Compiegne. M. le Baron Bar-le-Duc for 
 his tragedy at Fontenoy was taken into the Coun 
 cil of the King and dowered with vast posses 
 sions. M. le General de Roquefort has received 
 the richest rewards the country lavishes upon the 
 fortunate ones of war; but we, sir, we the Chefs 
 who in times of peace and war have shed lustre 
 upon the tables of our King we still go un 
 rewarded. T is well to lift on high the arms of 
 France, but he contributes most to a nation s 
 lasting greatness who keeps its stomach fair and 
 fed, its palate sated, and its dreams of glory safe 
 and sane and sweet." 
 
 Faith, but the fellow s words went deep into 
 my soul and stirred it well, and had he been less 
 cringing and kept his hands apart instead of giv 
 ing them that low born wring and twist that 
 marks the menial as a servitor for aye, right 
 gladly would I have offered him the softened 
 glance of sympathy. But there he was intrin 
 sically the valet of the kitchen, and I, of course, 
 a Huevos Pasada par Agua, to say nothing of
 
 ^ /Bbonsieur fc en JSrocbettc. ^* 
 
 my claim to the blood of a d en Brochette, could 
 not well descend unto the level of such canaille. 
 Moreover, it infuriated me beyond the power of 
 epithet to think that such a one had crossed 
 swords with me the wielder of one of the 
 proudest blades of France. 
 
 "Go on, fellow," I commanded, suppressing 
 the momentary impulses of sympathy. 
 
 "We have united and form a party 
 2,000,000 strong of active workers, each one 
 of whom can count upon a hundred sympathiz 
 ing friends or 2,000,000 subjects " 
 
 " Ventre Saint Ambergris ! " I cried, pacing 
 the floor in agitation at the stupendous revelation 
 I had stumbled upon. "A hundred times the 
 population of our land." 
 
 "In truth, yes," he replied, quietly. "And 
 that, Milord, without a vestige of a surface agi 
 tation. You may well pause in the face of such 
 figures, for if they mount so high in secret effort, 
 to what will they amount when a public propa 
 ganda brings the rest flocking to our standards!" 
 
 What my answer would have been I hardly 
 know, for we were interrupted by three soft 
 knocks upon the door. Fagot, his cringing in 
 stantly faded into resolution, sprang to his feet 
 and reached for the knob. 
 
 "If you call for help you are a dead man ! " 
 I whispered, blocking his path and holding my
 
 ^ B Startling Discovery. ^ 
 
 sword point directly at his throat. "Send them 
 away." 
 
 "Who s there !" he called, hoarsely. 
 
 "It is I, Monsieur le Duke Le Chevalier 
 de Brie, Captain of the Camembert Carabiniers." 
 
 My heart fluttered with excitement, for the 
 name of that bravo was already a terror to half 
 of France. 
 
 "Tell him you are engaged or you die !" I 
 whispered, emphasizing my command by prick 
 ing the varlet s Adam s apple, with the tip end 
 of his own sword. "Quick!" I added, as he- 
 hesitated. 
 
 "Later, Chevalier, later," the spurious Duke 
 called aloud. " I am on the point ouch ! 1 
 am on the point of settling a delicate matter, 
 mon Capitainc. I will give thee audience latef." 
 
 Ma foi, but I was relieved to hear the clank 
 ing spurs of the receding footsteps without. Not, 
 let me tell you, that in single combat I feared de 
 Brie, nor that L held unwelcome the prospect of 
 crossing blades with hirn some day. In sooth, the 
 contrary was more to my real taste, for had I not 
 made a vow to a fair lady of Castile the lovely 
 Catherine de Savon, my cousin that for her 
 wedding gift, the curled chin whisker of de Brie 
 woven into a chatelaine, would go to her once the 
 nuptial hour was set? But at the moment, I had 
 other things to think on. The rascal, Fagot, and 
 
 5.?
 
 +jf Monsieur D en JBrocbette. -V 
 
 his base conspiracy were fitter things for Huevos 
 Pasada par Agua at the pressing hour, and so I 
 say, I was much relieved to hear the clanking 
 spurs of the receding footsteps without. 
 
 " Now, you miserable atom of the prole 
 tariat," I observed, turning to the cringing Fagot, 
 "continue with your tale of infamy. In what 
 way is the fair Isabelle mixed up in this in 
 trigue ? " 
 
 " My fiancee," he answered, his sickly, green 
 face lighting up with passion, his head madden 
 ingly chirked as though he were, indeed, a devil 
 among the ladies. 
 
 "Yours?" I cried, my wrath surpassing 
 bounds. 
 
 "Well his the real Duke des Pommes 
 de Terre, but mine by right of succession," he 
 answered, setting his arms akimbo and twirling 
 his moustachios in a surge of conceit. 
 
 To grab him by the throat and toss him 
 violently across the room into a corner as if he 
 were so much mere bagging was the work of an 
 instant and, Venire Saint Petersburg, his last hour 
 were indeed come, had not a piercing shriek from 
 behind the wainscot distracted my attention. 
 
 "To me Huevos to me !" came a de 
 spairing woman s voice. "Man Dieu to me 
 or I die."- 
 
 It was again the voice of Isabelle. 
 
 54
 
 y- S Startling SMscoverg. ^ 
 
 I leaped to the wainscot and madly felt 
 along its panelled sides for some possible hidden 
 spring that should open a secret door leading to 
 the distressed lady s quarters. Inch by inch, I 
 covered the whole side of that accurst wall with 
 thumb and ringer, until click ! The center 
 panel slid to one side, and a black corridor with 
 out disclosed itself. Plunging through the open 
 ing, I started to run. Fagot, as I did so, rose 
 hastily and slid back the panel, leaving me with 
 out and in utter darkness. 
 
 "A moi, Huevos, a tnoif" came Isabelle s 
 voice from the fore, and I began to run towards 
 it. A mocking laugh from behind the panel 
 grated harshly upon my ears. 
 
 "Run, you squirrel, run !" called Fagot. 
 "The maid to the fore; the oubliette behind ! 
 Ha-ha Ha-ha!" 
 
 And then, as I sped along, I realized the 
 horrid truth. 
 
 The floor of that cursed corridor was naught 
 else than an easy running treadmill, and run till 
 I lost my wind, scamper as I might, I could not 
 get a single step forward, and what was more 
 devilish still, I could not stop for rest. 
 
 For behind me lay the oubliette. 
 
 Squirrel indeed ! That was I. A winded 
 one at that.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 IN WHICH THE HERO ACQUIRES A TITLE. 
 
 JONSIDER, M SIEURS, the emotions of a 
 man, however stout of heart, con 
 demned to run forever in a Stygian 
 blackness, with the appalling alter 
 native of pitching backward into 
 the slimy maw of an oubliette ! 
 
 Was ever woman in this humor wooed ? 
 Was ever Pate de Foie Gras in this manner 
 served ? 
 
 As with desperate feet I whirled the accurst 
 treadmill, my hands pressed flat against the cor 
 ridor end, I hastily reviewed the later phases 
 of the adventure into which fate and a sus 
 ceptible heart had hurled me. The Duke des 
 Pommes de Terre au Gratin was a prisoner in 
 the cobwebbed cellars of the Cafe de la Paix 
 in Paris, and his beautiful fiancee, Isabelle, was 
 in the power of the pseudo Duke, the base-born 
 Jules Fagot. For Fagot and his wretched con 
 spiracy I cared not a sou, but my blood seethed 
 as I reflected that Isabelle was ignorant of 
 Fagot s real character. Unhappy girl, she had, 
 like so many of her sex, been betrothed without 
 havin seen the fare of her fiance. The reflec-
 
 ^ tlbc t)ero Bcquires a Citle. ^ 
 
 lion was at once a pleasure and a pain. She 
 had not seen the real Duke; why, then, should 
 she love him? And in a battle lor a woman s 
 heart, all a Brochette has ever asked is a fair 
 field and no favor. All this, M sieurs, by the 
 way of running comment. 
 
 1 had run, I judged, some three hours ere 
 my strength, enormous as it has always been, 
 fled from me utterly. A shuddering dread of 
 the oubliette had upborne me, but even that 
 vanished at last against my deadly exhaustion. 
 I tottered, like some mouldering old castle riven 
 by a lightning bolt. I sank upon one knee, 
 my brain reeling. I breathed the name of Isa- 
 belle, and fell forward upon my face. The 
 oubliette had claimed its victim ! 
 
 Strange, I reflected a few moments later, 
 I have had no sensation of falling into a pit. 
 Man Dieu ! A maddening suspicion coursed 
 like quicksilver through my whirling brain. I 
 struggled to my feet, struck a match, and by the 
 flaring of its small light I saw that my suspicion 
 was very truth. There was no treadmill ! There 
 was no oubliette ! 1 had been victim of a fiend 
 ish suggestion assisted by my own heated fancy. 
 For three hours I had turned an imaginary 
 treadmill at the blind end of a dark corridor, 
 and all the while stood a door at my elbow, 
 ready to be passed. 
 
 57
 
 ^ Monsieur O en JBrocbette. & 
 
 In a towering rage I dashed open the door 
 and found myself in an unoccupied chamber 
 giving on the street. A lace handkerchief lay 
 crumpled on the floor. I picked it up, and a 
 wave of passion swept over me. I recognized 
 the perfume. It was Isabelle s. I flung out of 
 the chamber and clattered down the stairs. Too 
 late ! Too late ! The vulture and the dove had 
 flown ! 
 
 For a space of five minutes or more the 
 denizens of the Chateau Demi Tasse had oppor 
 tunity to judge the quality of a Brochette balked 
 of his prey. The original bull in the china shop 
 was not more destructive, nor had he half so ter 
 rible a bellow. 
 
 " Sacre nom de chat noir !" I raged, hurling 
 a water bottle through the best window; and 
 "Venire de inoJon !" crushing with a chair a 
 thousand francs of Sevres china and cut glass. 
 The servants cowered in affright, the lady cashier 
 fled, Mme. Filet ran for the gendarmerie. I 
 strode to the stables. The garfon d ecurie took 
 to his heels, and undisturbed I saddled the best 
 horse in sight. As I jingled into the street 
 Mme. Filet returned with a score of gendarmes, 
 but I rode the canaille down and set my face 
 toward Paris. 
 
 I had galloped a league or more before 
 my wild Brochette blood resumed its normal
 
 /rode the canaille down." 
 
 59
 
 Hcquires a tlitle. 
 
 flow. Then suddenly I made a discovery that 
 banished for the nonce all memory of my late 
 disaster. The saddle I sat in was the saddle 
 of the dead messenger to the Duke des Pommes 
 de Terre ! With trembling fingers I pressed the 
 pommel. The letter lay again before my eyes 
 intact, the seal unbroken. 
 
 "A ISrochette ! A Brochette !" I cried ex- 
 ultingly. The road to fortune was again open. 
 
 But first I must have fresh apparel and a 
 rapier. These I should purchase at Manchet, 
 toward which I spurred my horse. I thrust the 
 precious letter in my pocket and stroked my chin 
 reflectively. As I did so my fingers encountered 
 the property mole which, a few hours before, 
 I had flicked from the chin of the impudent 
 impostor, Jules Fagot, and thoughtlessly affixed 
 to my own countenance. 
 
 "So," I mused, tapping the mole, "with 
 this pitiful bit of make-up the wretched Fagot 
 hoped to cozen the world. Ass ! Why, one 
 would say that I, Count Pate de Foie Gras, 
 was become the Duke. And, I/HI foi! with 
 more of reason, for my blood is as good as his, 
 and were I suitably apparelled " I glanced at 
 my disordered raiment "I should look the 
 Duke in very sooth." 
 
 Humoring thus my whimsey I rode into 
 Manchet and sought a department store, where 
 
 61
 
 ^ dfconsteur D en JBrocbette. ^ 
 
 I purchased a princely suit of clothes of im 
 peccable cut and quality, and a rapier of best 
 Toledo. 
 
 " C est le Due," I overheard a demoiselle de 
 boutique remark to her neighbor, and the whisper 
 ran from counter to counter : " C est le Due. 
 C est le Due" 
 
 I felt my chin. The mole was still there. 
 In a flash the cringing servility of the proprietor 
 was explained. Bent double, he accompanied 
 me to my horse. " Your Excellency is well ? " 
 he said obsequiously. "Shall I not send your 
 Excellency s purchases to the chateau?" 
 
 "A word in your ear, canaille" I answered, 
 scowling at him. "I am not what I seem 
 to be." 
 
 "Instantly I perceived that by your Excel 
 lency s disguise," he answered, with a glance 
 at my travel-stained and adventure-rent ward 
 robe. "Your Excellency may command my dis 
 cretion." 
 
 "Very good," said I. "Now tell me, has 
 aught occurred at the chateau ? " 
 
 " Nothing, Excellency. The chateau is de 
 serted, save for the servants." 
 
 I mounted and tied my purchases to the 
 saddle horn. "One final question, canaille: 
 where is the chateau?" 
 
 The man stared open-mouthed. Then a
 
 acquires a title. 
 
 smile cleft his countenance. "Your Excellency 
 is pleased to jest," he said. 
 
 "Answer me!" I thundered. Startled, he 
 pointed up the road. 
 
 " Half a league, Excellency." 
 
 " Now silence ! " I said, piercing him 
 with a glance. 
 
 "Your Excellency may command my dis 
 cretion," he mumbled, as I pricked up my horse 
 and galloped away. 
 
 So ; my resemblance to the Duke was 
 more than casual. You will scarcely credit it, 
 M sieurs, but I had forgotten my own features. 
 I was no self-worshipping Narcissus. T was 
 years since I had looked into other mirror 
 than that of woman s eyes. Impelled by curi 
 osity I sprang from my horse and gazed into the 
 glassy depths of a wayside pool. I saw a 
 man of five and twenty, remarkably handsome 
 and distingue, with a very white skin and in 
 tensely black hair and eyes. "Ma foil" I mur 
 mured, " I did not know I was so well favored." 
 
 Parbleu ! An inspiration! I led my horse 
 into a thicket and attired myself in my new rai 
 ment. "Farewell, Count Pate de Foie Gras!" 
 I cried, as I tossed away my shabby garments. 
 " Henceforth you are the Duke des Pommes de 
 Terre ! " 
 
 Thus bravely accoutred and feeling every
 
 *y~ Aonslcut ft en 36rocbcttc. ^*- 
 
 inch a Duke, I rode boldly into the chateau 
 courtyard, dismounted, and flung the reins to a 
 waiting man-at-arms. 
 
 The chateau wore a deserted look, but it 
 had a grand and lordly air, and appeared in excel 
 lent repair. A minion in livery, whom I took to 
 be the Duke s valet, preceded me up a magnifi 
 cent staircase and into a suite of rooms furnished 
 with the utmost luxury and elegance. The 
 second of these was a large and admirably pro 
 portioned apartment ; a log fire roared up the 
 enormous chimney, and in a curtained alcove I 
 observed a sumptuous and luxurious bed. Over 
 the high, richly ornamented chimney-piece hung 
 a portrait of a gentleman. The face seemed 
 strangely familiar to me, yet I could not remem 
 ber where I had seen it before. Suddenly, "Ma 
 foil" I burst out, smiting my hip, " // is myself! " 
 That is to say, M sieurs, it was the Duke des 
 Pommes de Terre, but the resemblance was per 
 fect. There was but one flaw : I had affixed the 
 mole to the wrong side of my chin. This error 
 I had no sooner corrected than my ear was 
 assailed by a bustle in the courtyard. I stepped 
 to the balcony, and 
 
 Sapristi ! Whom should I behold but the 
 arch-plotter Jules Fagot, the beauteous Isabelle, 
 and that most truculent of bravos, the Chevalier 
 de Brie, Captain of the Camembert Carabiniers ! 
 
 64
 
 " T U as the face of Fagot that riveted mv attention 
 
 6s
 
 ^ be Ibcio Scqimcs a Citle. ^ 
 
 Upon the bravo I bestowed but a glance ; upon 
 the glorious face of Isabella my gaze rested but 
 for an instant. T was the face of Fagot that 
 riveted my attention. Ma foi ! would you be 
 lieve it, M sieurs? myself had not noted it 
 before the fellou looked as like me as two cen 
 times ! Upon his chin he had glued another 
 mole, to replace the one I had taken from him ! 
 
 Instantly my quick mind took in the situ 
 ation with one sweeping cerebration. It was to 
 be a battle of wits between the rival Dukes. 
 "Ha!" I muttered exultingly, as my eagle eye 
 pounced upon the chin of my antagonist, " I have 
 the fellow on the hip ! Fool ! He has over 
 reached himself ! " 
 
 FAGOT HAD MISPLACED THE MOLE !
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 IN WHICH THERE ARE DUKES AND DUKES. 
 
 |IFE ! LIFE ! Ah, what is life, M sieurs, 
 beyond the sunny borders of be 
 loved France ? Where else does the 
 blood so swiftly course ? Where 
 else has the day, from sun to sun, 
 such a pageant of events ? Where else but 
 Mon Dieu ! Why wander thus ? The facts for 
 themselves shall ably testify. 
 
 Marvel, M sieurs; t was scant two days 
 since, seated souless in the large bow window on 
 the Rue de June Fourteenth side of the Cafe 
 D Oeuf, I had first held converse with Isabelle, 
 the incomparable, yet within that brief time, I 
 had journeyed from Paris to Croquante, from 
 Croquante to Poisson and the house of Demi 
 Tasse and from Poisson to Manchet, where with 
 Mole secure and eye commanding, I was now 
 impersonating the Duke des Pommes de Terre 
 in the Duke s own chateau and expecting 
 momentarily the coming of Fagot, the despic 
 able ! Ah, France ! France ! Where else but 
 in thy fragrant realm ? Where else but neath 
 thy glowing skies? 
 
 I meditate now, M sieurs, and I dream be-
 
 y Dufcee anfr 2>ufces. -^r 
 
 sides. But when I stepped back from the bal 
 cony after seeing Isabelle, Fagot and the Che 
 valier de Brie in the castle yard below, believe 
 me, I neither dreamed nor meditated. The first 
 thrill of triumphant exultation, which I felt on 
 perceiving from the window that the base-born 
 Fagot had misplaced the mole, gave way instanter 
 to a sober reflection that the game was not yet 
 won ; nor, indeed, fairly begun, though speedily 
 enough did I begin it. 
 
 A duller pate than mine, M sieurs, for 
 dullness was ne er a trait of any d en Brochette 
 would easily have noted with whom the ad 
 vantage lay. The churl Fagot was ignorant of 
 my presence in the Duke s chateau and still more 
 ignorant of the pleasing truth that for the time 
 being, at least, the Duke was I, and I the Duke. 
 
 "Ma foil" I muttered grimly, giving to my 
 mole a final pat, " I shall not, methinks, be tardy 
 in acquainting him." 
 
 Striding past the fire and the portrait of His 
 Grace here I laughed, as who could help? A 
 warm blaze in the massive fire place; a sump 
 tuous repast, I doubted not, whenever I chose to 
 order it; servants galore at my beck and call, all 
 these, in sooth, for Brochette, while the Duke 
 Mon Dieu the Duke lay shivering and cursing 
 in the dismal wine vaults of the Cafe de la Paix. 
 M sieurs, I shrugged my shoulders and strode on. 
 6 9
 
 ^f /foonsteur & en JBrocbctte. ^ 
 
 It was the way of the world, M sieurs; of the 
 world and France. 
 
 Reaching the door, I called lustily for a 
 menial. Promptly, one responded, low bowing. 
 
 " Get you to the yard, fellow," I com 
 manded, "and you will find there three travelers, 
 newly arrived; a lady and two male companions" 
 the word gentlemen, M sieurs, stuck in my 
 throat "Approach the stouter of the men 
 are you attending strictly, sirrah?" 
 
 " Oui, Your Grace." 
 
 "Approach the stouter of the men and re 
 peat to him these words, no more, no less : Deux 
 cafes cognacs, Carbon. Deux cafe s cognacs? Now, 
 be off." 
 
 For a second, the man stared wildly and 
 hesitated. 
 
 "Go!" I repeated. "Do you understand?" 
 
 With quaking knees and shaking head, the 
 fellow started down the mighty stair case. 
 
 "Sapristi!" I laughed, as I watched him 
 turn the landing, "friend Fagot s face will be well 
 worth scanning, I trow, if yonder menial proves 
 not a dolt." 
 
 Still inwardly laughing, I listened, for the 
 spirit of the jest was bubbling within me, and 
 eagerly did I await the developments which I 
 knew must soon come. T would be d en Brochette 
 who first would score in the tournament of wits. 
 70
 
 y- Dukes anfc Dufces. ^ 
 
 Anxious to see as well as to hear, I de 
 scended softly to the landing below. Cautiously, 
 but with a lively sense of anticipation, I directed 
 my gaze upon the entrance hall. The trio were 
 within the chateau. How Fagot, masquerading 
 as the Duke, had passed unchallenged by the 
 warder and the men-at-arms was at first a mys 
 tery profound to me. Then I recalled that the 
 guard at the gate had been changed at sun-down 
 and the thing in a twinkling was clear. The 
 men who saluted Jules Fagot, bogus Duke cles 
 Pommes de Terre, were not the same set that an 
 hour before had presented halberds on the com 
 ing of d en Brochette likewise bogus, but 
 Saints witness it in a worthy cause. There 
 were two Dukes in that house, M sieurs, and I 
 alone as yet was aware of it. 
 
 " Delicious ! " exultantly I cried. " And now 
 for Fagot s welcome. It shall be a royal one, 
 believe me, M sieur -valet de cuisine." 
 
 Carefully, I peered beyond the stair rail. 
 The shadows of nightfall were gathering apace 
 and there was scant danger that I should be seen 
 till I chose deliberately to disclose myself. Fagot 
 cringing scullion, how my hands ached to 
 throttle him ! Fagot at that moment was divest 
 ing Isabelle of her cloak, and their forms were 
 sharply silhouetted in the glow of the great hall 
 fire. The Chevalier de Brie, Captain of the 
 
 71
 
 "V /fooneleur JXen ^Brocbette. -^ 
 
 Camembert Carabiniers, stood silent to one side, 
 near the foot of the grand stair case and 
 Diablc ! To him came the menial whom I had 
 entrusted with the words ! Fagot s back was 
 turned. He did not hear. This clown of a 
 trencherman, this ass of the household, would 
 deliver my address of welcome to the wrong man ! 
 
 " Sac ~re saucisson de Bologne ! " I hissed, 
 grinding my teeth together like the upper and 
 nether stones of a mill. " T is now a game of 
 chance, with skill at a discount." 
 
 "D-deux c-cnk-cafes c-cognacs, Gar M sieur" 
 stammered nay, almost whimpered my don 
 key of a messenger. 
 
 "What sayest them, varlet?" the chevalier 
 fiercely inquired. 
 
 "D-d-d-dcux c-cafcs cug-cognacs, M sieur?" 
 
 "Parbleu ! " cried the Chevalier. " A strange 
 refreshment, truly, to offer a hungry man; but 
 certainly, bring them, if it be the Duke s custom 
 and the way of the chateau." 
 
 " Oni, M sieur," chirped the doltish lackey, 
 evidently much relieved, and starting rapidly for 
 the family sideboard. The Chevalier, however, 
 detained him. 
 
 " Garfon" he said, " Hither ! " 
 
 " Oi/i, out, M sieur," chirped the blithering 
 fool once more. And then said the Chevalier: 
 
 "Make it three, gar(on."
 
 V 1 SHihes and Dukes. ^ 
 
 "Sacre saucisson de Bologne ! " again I hissed, 
 in the darkness of the stair. "He has taken 
 their orders. Idiot that I was to expect aught 
 else of a waiter." 
 
 But t was bootless, M sieurs, to waste time 
 in regrets. The game for the instant had set 
 against me. Stay set, it should not. The next 
 run of cards should tell another tale. 
 
 I remained by the rail of the landing only 
 long enough to see Fagot, Isabelle and the Che 
 valier De Brie, attended by obsequious retainers, 
 start in the direction of the stair. The servants 
 bore lights, and the nook in which I stood would 
 soon become untenable. Swiftly and softly, for 
 I was not yet ready to disclose my presence, pre 
 ferring to wait instead till the time was fully ripe, 
 I tip-toed to the large apartment, to which, in 
 the guise of the Duke, I had at first repaired, 
 and entering silently, barred the door. Safe did 
 I feel in doing so, M sieurs, for was not Fagot, 
 like myself, whoHy unfamiliar with the Chateau s 
 interior, and as unlikely as would I have been 
 to take chances with closed doors, when sus 
 picion is so readily roused ? I leaned forward, 
 with an ear to the panel, and listened intently. 
 Sapristi ! I had recked aright. The trio had 
 passed. 
 
 Whither, I cared not at least for the 
 moment. A plan of action was shaping in my 
 
 75
 
 ^ dfeoneteur fc en ^Brocbctte. ^ 
 
 mind, but I myself Ma Joi ! I was in no 
 hurry. The dinner hour, I felt, would best serve 
 my purpose, and in the meanwhile I determined, 
 I must communicate with Tsabelle. To arrange 
 a meeting was by no means difficult. I had but 
 to send for her, and she would come. Hence, I 
 pulled the silken bell cord, unbarred the door 
 and then resumed my seat by the mammoth fire 
 place. 
 
 "Your Grace rang?" queried the valet who 
 responded. 
 
 " Even so," I replied, on such good terms 
 with myself that I relaxed my dignity a little. 
 Then I resumed : " Seek you the lady who came 
 here at sundown er Simon, and say that the 
 Duke awaits her here in this room." 
 
 Then this man stared also. Ma foi ! But 
 they were a staring set in the Chateau Pommes 
 de Terre. 
 
 "Well, sirrah?" I queried, sharply. "What 
 now ? " 
 
 "An* it please Your Grace," stammered the 
 fellow, who was evidently a pampered family 
 retainer. "But did I not just see Your Grace, 
 with the lady Your Grace just named, in the blue 
 saloon adjoining the great hall?" 
 
 "Zounds, vassal !" I thundered. "But this 
 passeth patience ! Suppose thou didst? Get 
 thee to the lady with my message. Hold ! " 
 76
 
 an> IDufces. 
 
 the fellow s chance warning had stood me in 
 good stead " Deliver it not, save she be alone." 
 
 The will of a Duke in his own chateau is 
 akin to the law of the land. Obeyed it must be. 
 Isabelle obeyed, and the same family retainer 
 ushered her into my presence. Midway between 
 the door and the firelight, she stopped apruptly, 
 the scorn intended for Jules Fagot expressed in 
 every line of her marvelous face. So; she had 
 naught but contempt for him, duke or scullion, 
 as who could doubt who knew her? 
 
 " You sent for me ? " she asked icily, and 
 then with magnificent irony, "Your Grace !" 
 
 I arose from my seat and she started 
 slightly. 
 
 "Aye, Mademoiselle," was my measured 
 reply. " I sent for you, t is true. Your cries of 
 the Chateau Demi Tasse are answered at last, 
 Mademoiselle ! " 
 
 " What mean you ? " she gasped, and then, 
 "Who are you? Man Dieu ! Not " 
 
 " D en Brochette," I whispered, tremulously. 
 "Aye, d en Brochette, Mademoiselle, risen from 
 the well." 
 
 An instant more, and she was in my arms, 
 an embrace of body and soul. Then into her 
 eager ear, I poured the tale; the tale of Fagot 
 and the tread-mill ; of my visit to the department 
 store and the discovery of my resemblance to the
 
 O en 36rocbette. 
 
 Duke; of my coming to the Chateau and, last, 
 of my bold, rash plan, in which she must help. 
 
 "Banque on me, my brave Brochette !" she 
 cried, passionately. "Though no love have I 
 for the Duke des Pommes de Terre, to whom 
 unhappily I am betrothed, my heart bleeds when 
 I think of the wrong these ruffians have done 
 him. As for Jules Fagot " 
 
 "As for Jules Fagot, Mademoiselle," said I. 
 " Look you ! There read his doom." 
 
 As I spoke, I pointed to the Portrait of a 
 Gentleman and in a few more words, for time 
 was precious now, I told her the story of the 
 misplaced mole. Then, speaking quickly, I 
 unfolded my plan. 
 
 "To-night," said I, "when you, Mademoi 
 selle, dine in the Great Hall of the Chateau with 
 Fagot and De Brie, take my appearance on the 
 threshold as a signal. When there you see me, 
 hesitate not, nor waver, but with steady, unerring 
 fingers, reach for Fagot s face and wrench the 
 mole from his chin. Do this, and fear not, for 
 men-at-arms will be in the corridor, ready to rush 
 in at my command and bear both Fagot and De 
 Brie to the lowermost cell of the donjon." 
 
 Again came Isabelle s passionate assur 
 ance, but trebly intensified: " Banque on me, my 
 brave Brochette. Banque on me !" 
 
 Ma foi ! Can you not for yourselves pic- 
 
 7*
 
 & -
 
 ^ Dufcee anD Dufces. v 
 
 ture it, M sieurs? Myself, with the Duke s men- 
 at-arms, silent in the gloom of the corridor; 
 Isabelle, Fagot and De Brie seated in the Great 
 Hall at the Duke s table, dining off the Duke s 
 plate and waited on by the Duke s menials; then, 
 just as the entree was served, M sieurs, myself on 
 the threshold, rapier in hand, and Isabelle 
 
 Ah, Messieurs ! The sight of Isabelle at 
 that magic moment shall dwell in my mental gaze 
 till the end of all. Rising calmly, as if to drain 
 a toast, she played her part to the letter. 
 
 "At last, gamin of the gutter !" she cried, 
 flicking the spurious mole from Fagot s detest 
 able chin and into his brimming wine cup. "At 
 last, gamin of the gutter, we are quits ! " 
 
 Fagot, taken aback with surprise and alarm, 
 cowered in his seat, but De Brie, scenting dan 
 ger, arose and drew his blade. 
 
 " Diablc /" he roared, with a soldier s oath. 
 " T is the finish ! " And in a flash of the eye 
 both he and Fagot were helpless in the grip of 
 the men-at-arms. 
 
 "To the keep with them !" I commanded, 
 speaking to the captain of the guard. " And, 
 mark you, bind them well lest they escape. To 
 the keep with them ! " 
 
 Scarce were the words uttered, M sieurs, 
 when a furious clatter, a rush of many feet and a 
 jingle of spurs, arose from below. I glanced 
 
 81
 
 V flfcongieur D en JSrocbette. ^ 
 
 fearfully toward the door. Isabella stood motion 
 less. Fagot and De Brie, despairing though 
 they were, raised their eyes anew. Then came 
 a growing volume of voices that caused my heart 
 to bound wildly. 
 
 " C est le Due ! C est le Due /" was the cry. 
 
 A final clatter, a final jingle of spurs, a final 
 shout, and there, standing in the doorway, even 
 as I had stood five minutes before, stood the real 
 Duke des Pommes de Terre; escaped, released, 
 I know not which, M sieurs, from the Cafe de la 
 Paix !
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 IN WHICH A GREAT HISTORICAL MYSTERY is SOLVED. 
 
 |H, but those were days of quick think 
 ing and often of quicker action. 
 Dynasties were moved by the sud 
 den impulses of most emergent 
 moments, and such a moment had 
 arrived for Huevos Pasada Par Agua, and foregad, 
 it was not his skin so much as his neck that stood 
 in peril. Imagine it, M sieur. Here was I mas 
 querading as the real Duke des Pommes de Terre, 
 confronted by the man himself, who had been 
 mocked, put upon, deprived of his liberty, and 
 all for what ? Because, forsooth, he had declined 
 to enter into a conspiracy against the Crown itself ! 
 I could already feel the noose tightened about 
 my neck, could hear the squeak of the gallows 
 steps as I mounted them for my last appearance 
 on any stage and yet, my word on it as a 
 gentleman and a Pate de Foie Gras, more intol 
 erable to me was the thought of the loss of Isa- 
 belle, whom I had come to love passionately. 
 What were home, father and mother, what was 
 family, what were the innumerable fiancees I had 
 left behind me in Brittany, Normandy, Provence
 
 y flfeonsteur fc en JSrocbettc. ^ 
 
 and old Castile to this new love that had 
 awakened my heart? Nothing, I swore by the 
 sacred helmet of Vin Blanc himself. 
 
 "Brochette is dead," I murmured; "long 
 live the Duke des Pommes de Terre ! " 
 
 Then aloud, quick as a flash, fixing a steely 
 gray eye upon the real Duke, I asked sternly : 
 
 "Your errand, Sirrah?" 
 
 "What would you do?" gasped Isabelle, 
 sinking back in a fainting condition. " Be not 
 too rash, my Huevos !" 
 
 "Fear not, sweetheart," I whispered, hur 
 riedly. "Only be staunch and true to me." 
 
 "Till death!" she murmured, revived by 
 my unfaltering courage, and drawing herself up 
 proudly and glancing haughtily at the real Duke. 
 
 "My errand?" screamed the latter, taken 
 completely off his poise by my calmness. " My 
 errand, in my own Chateau ? Venire Saint Verdi 
 gris, but this is too much ! " 
 
 " T is well to ask too much," I retorted, 
 " since the too little that one gets may yet be 
 more than enough. Your own Chateau, M sieur ? " 
 I added. "What lunacy is this? 
 
 "Lunacy?" he shouted. "Aye, my own 
 Chateau. Is not this the Chateau Pommes de 
 Terre Au Gratin?" 
 
 " Yes what then ? " I demanded, with a 
 contemptuous smile. 
 
 84
 
 is Solved, 
 
 "What then?" roared Pommes de Terre. 
 " Now, by our Lady of Gorgonzola, this is again 
 too much ! " 
 
 "This is twice too much," I acquiesced, 
 seeing from his growing wrath that I held the 
 affair well in hand. 
 
 "But I I am the Duke des Pommes de 
 Terre am I not?" he cried, hoarsely gutteral 
 in his speech. 
 
 " Laugh laugh as you value my life ! " I 
 whispered hurriedly in my Isabelle s ear. "This 
 is the crisis." 
 
 And even as I spoke the tinkling ripple of 
 her laughter filled the hall. 
 
 "Ha, ha!" I too burst forth. "A merry 
 jest, my Lords and Gentlemen. He the Duke 
 des Pommes de Terre, setting up his claim in the 
 face of me your overlord and Prince by birth ! 
 By the Beard of my Ancestors, but thou art a 
 brave clown, Sirrah, thus to enter the very ban 
 quet hall of the Royal Chateau and set up so 
 strange a claim." 
 
 The effect was instantaneous. The Duke s 
 guard and the castle retainers had already shown 
 a disconcerting uncertainty and it required but a 
 feather s weight to turn the scale for or against 
 me, but the laughter of Isabelle and our bluff 
 retort made for a successful issue out of my 
 present embarrassments. 
 
 85
 
 ^ .Monsieur D en asrocbette. -y 
 
 "Merry jest, sayst thou?" roared the Duke, 
 leaping toward me, his hand on the hilt of his 
 sword. 
 
 "Aye," said I, my brow furrowing into a 
 frown; "but, by my halidome, see that thou 
 carryest it not too far or else will I have thee 
 strung high in yonder orchard close, even as did 
 my venerated ancestor Louis the Eleventh of 
 sacred memory with those who did offend him." 
 
 These words were spoken with a deliberate 
 intent to offend my new enemy and at the same 
 time to impress the arrayed witnesses to an 
 astonishing scene. It had the desired effect, 
 though after a fashion I had not reckoned on, 
 for the Duke des Pommes de Terre, enraged 
 beyond control, now leaped upon the table and 
 waving his rapier high above him, gave voice to 
 the battle-cry of his clan. 
 
 " A moi, les Pommes Souffles a moi / " 
 
 It was a brave act, and as the men-at-arms, 
 halberds drawn and buskins primed to the muzzle, 
 thronged in from the corridors without, my heart 
 sank, for their force was overwhelming, and there 
 sat I, caught like a rat in a corner, with no hope 
 of getting out of it save by the use of what wits 
 the patron saint of a d en Brochette had given 
 him. 
 
 " We are lost ! " moaned Isabelle ; and, by 
 my faith, but for the despair in that dear voice I
 
 Then look at yon pretender gentlemen!" 
 
 87
 
 ^ /HSgeterg is SolveD. ^ 
 
 believe we all would have been. T was that 
 alone that spurred me on to redoubled effort. 
 
 Raising my hand and summoning all the 
 imperiousness of a masterful nature to my aid I 
 commanded silence. 
 
 "Gentlemen," said I, as the din of many 
 voices subsided and some semblance of order 
 had been restored. " Gentlemen I beg of you 
 
 one moment ere we proceed to stern meas 
 ures. A question of identity has arisen between 
 that er that gentleman and myself. He 
 claims that he is I, when by a single glance you 
 can see that he is not I." 
 
 " C esf vral tres rrai/" murmured one or 
 two of the hotter heads who had come uncom 
 fortable close. 
 
 "ie>i," I continued, "now let us reason 
 this out and if I am in the wrong let me bear 
 my punishment. The Duke des Pommes de 
 Terre, gentlemen, is a gentleman above all." 
 
 " He is ! He is ! " came shouts from all 
 parts of the room. 
 
 "Then look at yon pretender, as he stands 
 sword in hand upon the dining table, gentlemen 
 
 upon the dining table, mark you, his left foot 
 planted upon a golden fruit compote, his right 
 crushing beneath its weight the exquisite confec 
 tion which our chef had prepared for this lady 
 and myself," and by a graceful wave of my
 
 ^ /foonsfeur D en JBrocbettc. -^ 
 
 hand I called their attention to Isabelle, who 
 with the high color mounting to her cheeks 
 looked more beautiful th an ever. " Is that, my 
 lords and gentlemen, the behavior of a Prince of 
 blood ? Is it the act of a gentleman to spring 
 upon the milk-white napery of a Ducal board 
 while yet his heels are clad in the boots in which 
 he has travelled the muddy roads of France ? " 
 
 A hoarse murmur of disapproval fell upon 
 the true Duke s ears. Verily, the battle was 
 going my way. 
 
 " Look at his spurs ! " I continued with 
 vehemence. "The steel point of the right spur 
 in his mad flight to this strange position in 
 which you see him has torn the gold lace from 
 the cloak of my good friend the Marquis of 
 Hors D Ouvre. Upon the left you will see the 
 socket of yonder candelabrum which he has 
 crushed out of all semblance to the lovely handi 
 work of Benvenuto Cellini which once graced 
 my table and all this work of destruction, this 
 clamor and this din, this invitation to a brawl 
 unworthy of the tap-room this gentleman in 
 dulged in in the presence of this fair lady my 
 fiancee your future Duchess." 
 
 The turmoil that ensued was indescribable. 
 The Duke, seeing the tide turning against him 
 and his cause hopeless, since by no peradventure 
 wa s there any gainsaying the justice of my scorn- 
 
 90
 
 ^ /Hasten? is Solved, -y 
 
 ful indictment of his breeding, albeit he was in 
 truth better bred than 1, jumped madly from the 
 table and was making his way to the door. 
 
 "A la lanterne ! " cried the now thoroughly 
 aroused retainers, surging about him threaten 
 ingly. 
 
 "Nay, gentlemen !" I cried, "no violence. 
 The man is mad, bring him hither." 
 
 " Noble Brochette ! " whispered Isabelle 
 with a soft "pressure of my hand which set my 
 whole being to tingling. "You have spared his 
 life." 
 
 " It shall not be death," I continued. 
 " T ^Yas but a madman s prank." 
 
 "The mask !" they cried. "The iron mask 
 and the Bastille, that he may never again de 
 ceive us by his marvellous likeness to your 
 grace. The mask and the Bastille ! " 
 
 It was an inspiration, and I must confess 
 my heart leapt wildly at the thought of this easy 
 and permanent way out of my poverty and 
 predicament. The real Duke, his countenance 
 forever hid within the cold steel mask, could 
 ne er again demand recognition, and once 
 clapped into the Bastille as an enemy to the 
 King, what hope was there for him ? And yet I 
 hesitated, for the poor Prince had never injured 
 me, was even now demanding only .his rights 
 and again I looked on the face of fair Isabelle
 
 y jftfconeteur 5 cn SBrocbette. -^ 
 
 and scruple fled. To abandon this only way 
 out of our dreadful troubles was to abandon 
 Isabelle to him, and myself, unwittingly forced 
 by the tide of circumstances into all my recent 
 actions, to the gallows, thereby placing the first 
 blot on the escutcheon of a proud and noble 
 family. Moreover t was but an accident of birth 
 that made me a Pate de Foie Gras and him a 
 Pommes de Terre. Had my grandmother mar 
 ried her first betrothed instead of eloping with 
 my grandfather, should I not have been born to 
 the title? T was merely nature insisting upon 
 my destiny, and I yielded. Do you blame me, 
 M sieurs? 
 
 "Aye, the mask !" I cried; "but the Bastille, 
 that is as my uncle the King shall say. The 
 mask, the mask." 
 
 The ugly instrument was brought at once 
 from the armory and without more ado was 
 placed upon the head of him who but yesterday 
 was the proudest Prince in all France, he pro 
 testing and fighting valiantly the while, but 
 against overwhelming odds. 
 
 "To the donjon with him to await the 
 King s pleasure !" I cried. "Meanwhile, saddle 
 my horse, Simon, and I will ride to Paris and 
 lay the question before his majesty at once." 
 
 With cheers for myself, maledictions for the 
 victim of my wit, and many a salutation of
 
 9?
 
 (5 
 
 respect to my future Duchess, the men-at-arms 
 and other retainers, little suspecting the real 
 truth, hustled the unhappy Prince below. Simon 
 sallied forth to- saddle a fresh steed for my jour 
 ney to Paris, and thinking myself at last alone 
 with Isabelle I turned to greet her. 
 
 Imagine my consternation, M sieurs, to find 
 her gone, and standing between me and the 
 doorway to her apartment no less a person than 
 the Chevalier de Brie, Captain of the Camem- 
 bert Guards. 
 
 "At last, my Lord Duke !" he hissed 
 ironically. "At last we meet." 
 
 "The Duchess!" I cried. "And Fagot?" 
 
 His answer was a mocking laugh.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 IN WHICH THE QHEVALIER DE BRIE CONNECTS 
 WITH WHAT WAS COMING TO HIM. 
 
 ILUSHED with victory, insolent with 
 success, I surveyed the Chevalier 
 de Brie, who barred my way to 
 Isabelle, with immeasurable, un 
 fathomable contempt. 
 "Venire de skate /" I cried, laying my hand 
 upon a bell cord. "I have but to pull this, 
 jackal, and your bones will bleach through the 
 centuries at the bottom of the chateau s oubliette. 
 Stand aside, hyena, or I will summon the 
 guard." 
 
 "Feigling!" hissed the Captain of the 
 Camembert Carabiniers, his face a purplish 
 gray. "Feigling!" 
 
 The epithet stung me like a whiplash, all 
 the more because t was couched in German, 
 a language, M sieurs, I have detested ever since 
 (if you will pardon the anachronism) the dis 
 tressing affair of Alsace-Lorraine. 
 
 I stayed my hand for a few moments of 
 indecision, then flung the bell-cord scornfully 
 from me. 
 
 "No, jackal," quoth I, "I shall not sum-
 
 ^ DC .tBrie Connects, ^f- 
 
 mon the guard. It would be said that I feared 
 you you who are accounted the lustiest bravo 
 in all France. Instead" my words were 
 tipped with steel "I shall kill you with your 
 favorite weapon. You that have lived by the 
 sword shall perish by the sword. Follow me ! " 
 
 I preceded the bravo to the small dining- 
 room and rang for lights and food. 
 
 "My dear Chevalier," I said mockingly, 
 and with that icy politeness which I knew so 
 well how to assume, "when the new hour begins 
 I shall spit you like a well-done potato. Mean 
 time, pray accept my hospitality. We shall 
 fight much better on a filled stomach, I assure 
 you. If you remember, we did but come to the 
 entree when our dinner was interrupted by that 
 unhappy man on whom the Bastille gates will 
 soon forever close." 
 
 "Saint Paty du Clam . " growled de Brie 
 cavernously, " thou art a greater villain than 
 Fagot. He did but detain the Duke in the 
 wine cellar of the Cafe de la Paix, whilst 
 you . . . . " He drained his wine goblet at 
 a gulp. 
 
 "A Brochette does not do things by halves, 
 M sieur," said I, with a glittering smile, and 
 signed to the serving man to refill the goblets. 
 "When once a Brochette puts his hand to the 
 sword and his shoulder to the wheel he does not 
 
 97
 
 ^ flfconsieur > en 3Brocbette. -y- 
 
 descend the ladder. What think you of that for 
 a metaphor? Ha!" 
 
 " Bah ! " cried de Brie, attacking a capon. 
 
 "When I have killed you and Fagot my 
 secret will be safe," I continued. " History will 
 pretend that the Man with the Iron Mask was 
 Count Matthioli, or General de Bulonde, or the 
 Duke of Vermondois, or that soldier of fortune 
 the gallant Marechiel, or I know not else. But 
 none shall penetrate his real identity until are 
 given to the world the incomparable memoirs of 
 Robert Gaston de Launay Alphonse, Count Pate 
 de Foie Gras and Marquis Presumptive of the 
 Estates of Pollio Grille in Spain." 
 
 " Bah ! " said de Brie, draining his glass. 
 
 " Eat, drink and be merry, my friend, for in 
 the next hour you die ! " I pointed to a Swiss 
 clock on the wall, ticking off the inexorable 
 minutes. 
 
 " Bah ! " said the Carabinier again, and rose 
 to his feet. "Come, let us to it. Saint Drey 
 fus! I shall prod thee as full of holes as a 
 colander." 
 
 "Be seated!" I thundered. De Brie drop 
 ped back in his chair, scowling darkly. "You 
 are but a churlish guest, ma foi! Restrain your 
 temper; you will fight the better for it. And try 
 one of these cigars; they are excellent. Not that 
 you will not smoke in the next world," I added, 
 
 9 8
 
 ^ De .tBrie Connects. -^ 
 
 maliciously. This in the days I write of was 
 accounted a very good jest. 
 
 With an ill grace De Brie lighted a perfecto 
 and flung himself back in his chair. "I am no 
 entertainer, your Grace," said he, with ironic 
 emphasis upon the title. " I am but a plain 
 fighting man, and, fore gad, I fret to be at the 
 game that I may slit thy soul." 
 
 "The soul, Chevalier, is indestructible, un- 
 slittable. Were there time," I glanced again at 
 the clock , "I should discourse to thee about the 
 soul. As t is, thou rt in a fair way to know 
 more about it than I can teach thee. What, 
 ho! more lights!" I commanded. "And turn 
 on the music." 
 
 A company of minstrels entered, and rang 
 ing themselves in a semi-circle sang songs of the 
 sunny South ; and for the remainder of the hour 
 we smoked in silence, De Brie moody, myself 
 wholly engrossed in the music. 
 
 The Swiss clock struck the hour, and De 
 Brie sprang to his feet. I signed to the serving 
 men to remove the table and other furniture and 
 then to close the doors upon us. 
 
 "Will you measure the swords, M sieur?" 
 said I. 
 
 De Brie drew a tape from his doublet and 
 stretched it along his blade. " Six feet seven 
 inches, " he announced. 
 
 99
 
 ^ Monsieur yen 36rocbette. ^ 
 
 " Ma foi . " I cried, "why not carry a spear? 
 My rapier is scant six feet. However, t will serve." 
 
 I unfastened my pourpoint, loosened my 
 suspenders and removed my boots, De Brie 
 following suit. 
 
 " And now, M sieur," I remarked, testing 
 the tip of my rapier, "is there any particular 
 place you would like to be run through ? " 
 
 " Bah ! " growled the Chevalier, and the 
 blades met hissingly. 
 
 The Captain of the Carabiniers attacked 
 like a sea-lion bereft of its young, but finding 
 me a wall of steel he grew more careful and 
 attentive. For my part I had never before 
 encountered so stubborn a blade, and I give 
 you my word, M sieurs, we fought an hour by 
 the Swiss clock without either gaining the ad 
 vantage of the other. 
 
 "Saint Paty du Clam \" puffed De Brie, 
 leaning on his blade, " you fight like the devil, 
 M sieur." 
 
 "A bottle of wine, Chevalier?" I suggested. 
 "We have all the time there is." 
 
 " No, no," replied De Brie, falling again 
 into position. "Let us finish. A la mort!" 
 
 " You have some reason for your haste ! " 
 I cried, pierced by a sudden suspicion. A malig 
 nant smile traversed De Erie s coarse features as 
 the supple blades joined.
 
 Six feet seven inches," he announced. 
 101
 
 y- DC JGric Connects. *y+ 
 
 "What devil s work is afoot?" I wondered. 
 In my zeal politely to entertain and kill the bravo 
 I had forgotten my beauteous mistress Isabelle, 
 who might even now be victim of another hell 
 ish plot. 
 
 "Jackal!" I hissed. "Where is Fagot?" 
 
 I)e Erie s reply was a fierce lunge, which I 
 parried in my usual neat and nobby fashion. 
 
 "Venire de blanc mange!" I cried. "You 
 are in haste, M sieur. Trcs bien, you shall be 
 satisfied." 
 
 I became a very whirlwind of attack, driv 
 ing the bravo before me like an autumn leaf 
 before an equinoctial gale. A la tierce, a la carte, 
 a la table d hote, my blade forked like lightning 
 through his guard, puncturing him now here, 
 now there, until he streamed like the colander he 
 vaunted he should make of me. 
 
 " They say, M sieur," I mocked, as I en 
 larged a hole in his chest, "that lightning does 
 not strike twice in the same place ; but, voila !" 
 I ran him through the third time, and he fell 
 crashingly on the tessellated floor. 
 
 I pulled the bellcord, but not a servitor 
 responded. I flung open the doors. A hoarse 
 murmur came distantly to my ears. 
 
 Sacre nom de plume . " I exclaimed, awed 
 by a feeling of impending disaster. 
 
 I turned back for a final look at De Brie. 
 
 103
 
 ^ /Monsieur fc en JBrocbette. ^ 
 
 He had raised himself on his elbow, and was 
 regarding me with a last malignant smile. His 
 countenance was contorted with hatred. 
 
 Bang! 
 
 A terrific explosion rocked the chateau. The 
 walls of the rooms fell out, the roof fell in. By a 
 miracle I escaped being crushed by the rain of 
 stone and timber. A hollow groan told me that 
 De Brie had not been so fortunate. It was pitch 
 dark, so I could not locate him. But I shouted : 
 
 " De Brie, De Brie, what has happened? 
 Speak, De Brie!" 
 
 A rattling laugh answered me. 
 
 " The debris speaks for itself," the carabinier 
 jested in his last moments. "Fagot has blown up 
 the chateau ! Saint Dreyfus . Half of it is on 
 my chest-" 
 
 "Courage!" I cried, and guided by his 
 groans I reached his side. 
 
 A lurid glare had replaced the Cimmerian 
 gloom. The ruins of the chateau were in flames. 
 
 The unfortunate De Brie was pinned down 
 by an enormous block of stone. This I tossed 
 aside, and hastily examined the bravo s condition. 
 
 Nothing could be done for him, and so I 
 informed him. 
 
 " Aferci, Sir Doctor, and search my pockets 
 for your fee," he sneered. " Ventre de petit pois ! 
 I had this coming to me. Adieu, your Grace !"
 
 ^ S)c 38rie Connects. ^ 
 
 With this last fling at my ducal pretensions the 
 bravo fell back dead. 
 
 Now to save myself and the beauteous Tsa- 
 belle. It was high time. The flames were crack 
 ling all about me, and above the roar of them 1 
 fancied I heard the exultant laugh of the detest 
 able Fagot. 
 
 107
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 IN WHICH THERE ARE LIVE AND DEAD ONES. 
 
 [ow I ESCAPED death, M sieurs,will ever 
 
 to me be a mystery. Mon Dieu! 
 
 The horror of that fearful instant ! 
 
 From light to pitchy blackness; 
 
 from security to utter chaos; from 
 laughter, music and feasting to groans and horror 
 indescribable; from earth to eternity; and all, 
 M sieurs, in one brief moment. 
 
 How much of the Chateau was still intact, 
 how much of it had fallen I knew not, and no 
 mind had I at the time to ascertain. My first 
 thought, my all absorbing thought, was of Isa- 
 belle: Where was she? Had she, like myself, 
 been spared by a miracle ; or was she, like the 
 Chevalier de Brie, a lifeless ? Mon Dieu! 
 Even now, and years afterward, I shudder as I 
 think and tell of it. 
 
 I knew not then as I staggered to my feet 
 and stumbled dizzily for the first few steps that 
 the doings of the night were far from over. I 
 knew not then, what is more, that the wretched 
 Fagot s cowardly crime would set a new scene 
 in the drama of D en Brochette; that ere the
 
 ^ Xive anD Deafc nes. -y- 
 
 night was through, I would l)e a witness of 
 developments impossible had the stones of 
 Chateau Pommes de Terre remained, as they 
 had been before, one atop the other. Lastly, J 
 recked not that for the time being even thoughts 
 of Isabelle would be driven from my mind; only 
 to return, however, a thousand fold on the strength 
 of that which I was to see and hear. Paniien ! 
 M sieurs, that was a night ! 
 
 Shaken, bewildered, but still with a sense of 
 direction, 1 felt my way o er a mass of building 
 material to the door of the room in which De 
 Brie and I, but minutes before, had supped and 
 fought. Through a shattered window, a ray of 
 moonlight shone, and creeping inch by inch 
 toward the center of the floor, it bathed the face 
 of the dead De Brie, fixed and grim, in a ghastly 
 hue. Some wreckage from the table had fallen 
 on the Chevalier s breast - plate, and peering 
 closer, an upturned dish of Glace de Peches a la 
 Creme I perceived it to be. 
 
 "By Saint Entremet!" I muttered, laugh 
 ing the while a low, unearthly laugh. "Thou 
 hast, indeed, thy desserts, Chevalier. Sucre nom 
 de diable ! What is that ? " 
 
 Straight before me, M sieurs, mingling the 
 fitful light of a candle with the feeble illuming of 
 a waning moon, I saw a portly female of middle 
 age. Her dress, of a whitish material and of a
 
 "V Monsieur yen JBrocbette. ^ 
 
 strange bygone fashion, was much disordered. 
 Her hair, likewise. But her eyes paibleu! 
 they burned and flashed with a fire unquench 
 able. In her right hand she carried what I 
 judged to be a mahogany table-leg. In her left, 
 high above her head, evidently to guide her 
 through the mazes of the chateau on some 
 ghostly quest, she held a single candle. 
 
 Easily could I have kept from her sight had 
 the thought occurred to me, or the need required 
 it, but so struck was I with the unlocked for 
 spectacle a spectre-like female, solitary and 
 silent, treading her way at midnight through a 
 ruined chateau that for the moment I gave 
 no thought to self at all; and thus it was she 
 saw me when but inches of floor space were 
 between us. 
 
 For perchance four seconds, she gleamed, 
 glowed, glared at me with those demon eyes and 
 then 
 
 At last !" she hissed. 
 
 "At last ! !" she cried. 
 
 "At last, Gaspard Henri Pierre, Duke des 
 Pommes de Terre," she was screaming now, and 
 her voice broke twice with vindictive passion. 
 "At last, after fourteen years, we face each other. 
 Who knows better than I the purpose of this 
 plot of plots? Who knows better than I whom 
 you designed to kill aye, to kill when with
 
 ^ live anD 2Dea& nee. *y* 
 
 giant-powder you achieved this wreck of wrecks ? 
 Who knows, better than I, knave of knaves, that 
 your shameless schemes are frustrated? I am 
 free once more. The explosion, which basely 
 you planned and executed, hoping thereby for 
 the death of your lawful and wedded wife, did 
 but burst asunder the walls of her secret prison, 
 and she she it left unscathed. Varlet, this 
 is but the first ! " 
 
 With a swiftness and suddenness remark 
 able in one so aged, and so liberally endowed 
 with averdupois, this foaming, fuming female, 
 this hag of Hades, drew back the table-leg which 
 she carried and brought it down full force in line 
 with my unclad head. With an oath, I dodged, 
 but at that, the thing descended on my shoulder, 
 and half felled me. 
 
 " Ventre Moulin Rouge, woman ! " I cursed. 
 "What fiend s deed is this? Who are you 
 speak ! " 
 
 Then ere she could answer, the dame s fren 
 zied words flashed o er me and behold ! I knew. 
 "His lawful and wedded wife." Whose for 
 sooth ? Why, who else but the Duke des Pommes 
 de Terre, M sieurs. He, and no other. And this 
 woman, the Duchess, if her words were true, had 
 been walled up a prisoner in her own domicile 
 for fourteen years ; the Duke, meanwhile, as a 
 bachelor or a widower I knew not which he 
 
 "3
 
 <%? /Hbonsicur ft en .iCiocbcttc. V 
 
 called himself having gaily gadded from one 
 end of France to the other. 
 
 "And thrice spit him ! " thought I, in a rage, 
 "betrothed at this moment, if he be still alive, to 
 the virtuous, the incomparable Isabelle ! " 
 
 Thanking the fates for their timely inter 
 ruption, I made up my mind instanter. This 
 masquerading should cease. 
 
 "Madame," I cried. "Your Grace I 
 crave your pardon, but I am not your husband." 
 
 "Not my husband?" she queried, incredu 
 lously. "Not the Duke? Then who, i the 
 devil s name, are ye ? " 
 
 She was fingering the table-leg again and 
 discreetly I drew back. 
 
 " T is even so," she said at length, after 
 scanning me well in the candle light, "you are 
 not he. You are a younger man. But so like, 
 so like." 
 
 "See," added I. "Reck you that His 
 Grace, your beloved spouse, was. possessed 
 among other things of a mole? Behold!" 
 and with a deft movement, I flicked the putty 
 from my chin. 
 
 " Enough ! " cried the Duchess, " I am quite 
 convinced. Deprive yourself of nothing more, 
 M sieur, I beg." And then, in something of the 
 shrewish voice in which I first had heard her 
 speak "But if you are not the Duke, in truth, 
 114
 
 y Xive anD 2>eaD ties, y 
 
 then where is //<" ? Where is the prop of my 
 declining years? My soul s affinity? Answer! 
 But do not tell me he is dead." 
 
 She was screaming again and her screams 
 echoed and re-echoed through the dark and 
 silent chateau silent save only for the drop, 
 from battlements to wine vaults, of an occa 
 sional girder. 
 
 "Your Grace," I began, bowing low, "My 
 lord, the Duke, to the best of my poor knowl 
 edge and belief, is alive and fairly well ; though, 
 it may be, a trifle shaken up." 
 
 " For that, the Saints be glorified ! " she 
 cried. "New zest and keen hath it added to the 
 chase. And I shall find him where, M sieur?" 
 
 " In the bottom-most cell of the Keep, your 
 Grace." 
 
 "Whither he went to escape destruction, I 
 doubt not, whilst some of his minions blew up 
 the Chateau. Blew up this chateau ! Hah ! 
 the wretch of wretches ! which, mark me, 
 M sieur, he has held for years in my name ! On 
 to the keep. And you, M sieur, take you the 
 light and prithee lead the way." 
 
 She was raving again and twitching the 
 table-leg. 
 
 Over piles of debris, over beams and tim 
 ber, over furniture in hopeless chaos and floors 
 bestrewn with stone and mortar, we took our
 
 ^ monsieur fc en JSrocbette. ^ 
 
 painful way to the gloom of the donjon. Not a 
 trace of a guard, alive or dead, was to be seen, 
 but there, almost under our feet, as we crept 
 cautiously along, I saw with a thrill shall I 
 say a thrill of triumph, M sieurs? the body of 
 Jules Fagot. 
 
 " Tis he! :> shrieked the Duchess, as she 
 came within the circle of light. " Killed ! Killed ! 
 And I not by his side ! " 
 
 The Duchess was sobbing now. 
 
 "Ah, M sieur," she added, grimly, I thought, 
 "in my present mood, five minutes by his side 
 would have been quite sufficient, both for him 
 and for me." 
 
 Should I tell this woman, pondered I, 
 that once again she was mistaken ? Should 
 Fagot be honored, even in death, by the atten 
 tions of a Duchess? I hesitated, M sieurs; and 
 then, as if expressly to dispel my doubts, we 
 heard a cry. 
 
 "A moi, les Pommcs Souffles, a >noi. f " were 
 the muffled words. The voice came from the 
 depths of the keep, at the entrance to which we 
 stood, and I recognized it at once as the Duke s 
 own. Instantly I stole a glance at the Duchess. 
 She, too, had recognized. 
 
 " M sieur," she said, and how strangely calm 
 her voice was now, "I wot not how many Dukes 
 this house hath harbored since, fourteen years 
 
 116
 
 The mask, T beseech ye f
 
 ^ live anD BcaD ncs. *y 
 
 come Micklemas, 1 was brutally thrust in a secret 
 chamber and guarded, but that, M sieur of the 
 putty mole, is the voice of the Duke I used to 
 know. The key is there, M sieur. Unlock you 
 the door." 
 
 " Prithee, your Grace, one moment," mur 
 mured I, my hand on the massive boll. "Is t 
 courteous, think you, to now disturb my lord, the 
 Duke? He may wish to spend in meditation 
 the few remaining hours of his bachelorhood. 
 His Grace I no longer can conceal it His 
 Grace is betrothed to one Isabelle, the reigning 
 Paris beauty, and the wedding, so t is said, is 
 set for Tuesday at high noon." 
 
 What a scream was that, M sieurs, which 
 sounded in my open ears ! Parbleau ! Beside it, 
 the others had been whispered nothings. 
 
 "Betrothed! Married! High Noon!" 
 shrieked the Duchess. "Sucre Beurrc Noir . 
 Stand aside and let me to him ! " 
 
 Wide I swung the donjon door. 
 
 "Coming, Gaspard Henri Pierre!" shrilled 
 this Fury Emeritus, rushing headlong down the 
 passage toward a dim light at the farther end. 
 "Coming, Gaspard, after fourteen years. A moi, 
 les Pom me s Souffles, a moi !" 
 
 Fast as 1 could, I followed, but even so, my 
 speed was that of the snail compared with hers. 
 Mercury himself, i faith, knew no such winged feet.
 
 ^ /ifconsteur D en JSrccbettc. "V 
 
 When at length I reached the cell, in which 
 but scant two hours before how like an age it 
 seemed I, d en Brochette, had ordered the 
 Duke cast, I witnessed a tableau that will ever 
 come before me, an I choose to recall it. 
 
 Parblcu ! If great is the fury of a woman 
 scorned, what may not the anger be of one 
 locked up for fourteen years? I saw with a 
 start that the Duke s head was bare. The Iron 
 Mask to this day, M sieurs, I marvel at it 
 lay cracked and broken on the damp stone floor. 
 To this day, moreover, I wot not whether it was 
 the concussion of Fagot s blast that loosened it, 
 or whether t was the table-leg in the lusty grasp 
 of Her Grace. 
 
 "The Mask ! The Mask !" the Duke in his 
 chains was groaning. " Sucre Sam/ion Hol- 
 landaise ! The Mask, I beseech ye. Once more 
 within it encase my hapless head. To the 
 Bastille with me ! To the gallows ! To the 
 devil ! But away from Pommes de Terre ! " 
 
 There was a grating in the masonry of the 
 Duke s cell, a cell so deep that it had escaped 
 the devastation above. It communicated with 
 the outer air just atop the level of the water and 
 from it the outer wall and the principal gate of 
 the chateau were plainly to be seen in the flood 
 of moonlight. On this gate, then, at the very 
 moment the Duke brought his tirade to an end,
 
 ^ Hive anD 2>eaJ> tics. ^ 
 
 there fell a steady succession of mighty blows, 
 delivered it must seem, with fists of mail, so all 
 compelling were they. Then there came stern 
 shouts and Ma foi ! Have your hearts ever 
 tenanted your throats, M sieurs? Mine, forsooth, 
 arose straightway. 
 
 " Open ! " came the stern command. " Open, 
 at once, in the King s name " 
 
 "In the King s name !" I gasped blankly. 
 
 "The King?" said the Duchess, pleasantly. 
 "Prithee, who is King now? Details like that 
 were not vouchsafed me in the fourteen years 
 just past." 
 
 "The King?" muttered the Duke, in rapidly 
 growing delirium. "The King, say you? Aye, 
 bid him welcome. Open the gates. Down with 
 the draw-bridge, vassals. Minions, attend, and 
 receive your lord." 
 
 Then came the knocking and the shouting 
 anew. 
 
 "Ol KN? Ol KN IN THE KlNG s NAME?"
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 IN WHICH THE KING TAKES A HAND. 
 
 |HE MOMENT was more than a trial. It 
 was torture. Not especially grate 
 ful ever to heaven for my relatives, 
 1 never had less stomach for an 
 uncle real or spurious than now as 
 I awaited the opening of the gates and the 
 entrance of his sovereign Majesty, Louis the 
 Fourteenth of the name. None the less there 
 was I committed to the emprises fate held in 
 store for me and my blood was up. No Huevos 
 Pasacla Par Agua had ever flinched in the hour 
 of trouble, nor bent beneath another s yoke, and 
 as the portals flung wide I drew myself up as 
 proudly as though the man who was to enter was 
 my inferior instead of my liege lord and master. 
 His Majesty was singularly agitated as he 
 entered. It was evident from his demeanor that 
 he suspected the bomb that had wrought such 
 havoc on the fair demesne of Pommes de Terre, 
 had been designed for himself, and from the 
 expression of his countenance it was clear to me 
 that upon whomsoever that day his displeasure 
 might fall, the victim of his wrath would account 
 the rack a bed of roses and the thumb-screw the
 
 pressure of his loved one s hand beside the things 
 the morrow would bring into his experience. 
 
 \\ hat then, my nephew!" he cried ad 
 dressing himself to me. "What means this unto 
 ward reception to your uncle and your King?" 
 
 "I pray your Majesty pardon this disorder 
 in my Chateau," I began. We were not aware 
 of the distinguished honor you were about to 
 confer upon our house and certain alterations in 
 the facade and interior of our humble dwel 
 ling " 
 
 "Certain alterations?" roared his Majesty, 
 visibly relieved by my reply. "Certain? By 
 the beard of Navarre and all the white lilies of 
 1 Yance, cousin, they seem to me to be conducted 
 with much uncertainty." 
 
 "A careless workman, Sire," I returned, 
 "may wreck much havoc with the fairest scenes." 
 
 "I faith, t is true," quoth Louis. "I have 
 e en known La Valliere s tinted cheek to suffer 
 from too rough a handling of the rouge." 
 
 With such a jest upon his lips, the King 
 surveyed the scene, of ruin. His haughty eye 
 rested only for a moment upon the prostrate 
 Pommes de Terre, who with his glance fixed 
 upon the Duchess, was doing his utmost to crawl 
 away into obscurity, and then 
 
 "Hold!" cried the Duchess. " Hold, Sire 
 yon fair appearing wight is an imposter.
 
 $? jfl&onsieur J> en JSrocbette. ^ 
 
 There lying like a worm upon the floor and seek 
 ing exit through some chancing crevice is thy 
 nephew Gaspare! Henri Pierre, Look, Sire 
 look upon him and then upon this man who 
 claims a kingly kinship with thee, his sovereign 
 lord." 
 
 " Peace, woman, peace," said the King. 
 "Thy servants, cousin, do not seem to me " 
 
 "It shall not be," shrieked the Duchess in 
 the frenzy of her anger. " Look, Sire," she con 
 tinued, levelling her shaking finger at me, "if 
 not upon the worm at least upon the fox. Hath 
 he the mole, the hall-mark of the Duke des 
 Pommes de Terre?" 
 
 " Pray, Madame," said the King drawing 
 himself up with dignity, "the question s not 
 who s he who lies upon the floor, nor if the man 
 who seems to be my well-beloved nephew hath 
 the mole, but who art thou who thus pre 
 sume 
 
 " Marie Louise Nanette Babette Anne 
 Katharine of Chambertin, the loyal wife and 
 Duchess of yon grovelling Duke des Pommes de 
 Terre," she cried. "Thy niece by marriage, but 
 thine aunt by birth " 
 
 "You?" cried the King. 
 
 " Oui . Moi I am she," wept the woman. 
 
 The King was moved and with a troubled 
 frown upon his face glanced first at Gaspard
 
 V b ^HHI (Takes a 1>an&. ^ 
 
 and then at me, hut my wits saved me. The 
 temporary diversion of his Majesty s attention 
 from myself, caught here heyond peradventure 
 without the mole, to Madame La Duchesse, had 
 given me time to gash my chin with a bit of 
 jagged rock that lay at my feet, splintered from 
 a gargoyle fallen from the roof. 
 
 "What say you to this lady s claims, my 
 cousin?" the King demanded with a frown. 
 "The mole in very truth should hear witness to 
 her contentions." 
 
 I turned my toin countenance full upon the 
 King and drew myself up to my full height. 
 
 "The lady, as a lady ever, should hath 
 spoken the truth about the mole, dear uncle," I 
 replied. "And it grieves me much that now 
 when first 1 find my title questioned, circum 
 stance hath so ordered things that it ma" not be 
 produced." 
 
 "May not be produced, man?" growled 
 the King, his brow furrowing with mistrust, and 
 advancing a step. 
 
 "It may not be, your Majesty," quoth I, 
 "for when the blast untimely pulled the chateau 
 down about mine ears, this wretched bit of gar 
 goyle served me thus." 
 
 And with this 1 pointed to my bleeding 
 chin. 
 
 "Crushed like a rat e en though a simple
 
 y Monsieur D en 38rocbette. ^ 
 
 mole," I added. "Gone the choicest heritage 
 of my ancestors, the heir-loom that I ve prized 
 and eke protected all these many years, sent bur 
 rowing whither I know not. All I know is t is 
 gone." 
 
 " Venire d Haricots rerts, but this is passing 
 strange," muttered the King, turning from me and 
 looking sternly at the Duchess. " My nephew s 
 explanation, Madame, hath much plausibility." 
 
 A wild laugh was the response. 
 
 "Ask yonder worm the truth," was her dis 
 dainful comment, and then, M sieurs, such grovel 
 ling actions as the prostrate Uuke indulged in. 
 It seemed as if he were possessed to grate his 
 face away upon the rock and gravel neath his 
 jowl. Were he indeed the missing mole itself 
 personified, no more anxious burrowing into 
 Mother-earth could have been expected of him. 
 Fate trembled in the balance and there was 1 
 helpless to throw a bit of weight in either scale. 
 
 " Rise, groveller," ordered the King address 
 ing the Duke, "and let us see what truth lies in 
 this lady s accusation. Hast thon the mole?" 
 
 The Duke rose up and with hang-dog look 
 and shuffling feet approached his Majesty. A 
 crlance at his face showed me I was saved. The 
 
 O 
 
 reasons for his burrowings were now made clear. 
 He Ji ad flayed the mole away by attrition with 
 the earth. 
 
 128
 
 ^ Che fting Cafees a 1ban<x -y 
 
 "Who art thou, man?" demanded the 
 King. "Art thou in truth the Duke des Pommes 
 de Terre ? " 
 
 Again it seemed as if my life hung on his 
 lips, but as I saw him cringe before the glower 
 ing glances of the Duchess, my courage mounted 
 high. T was clear that death itself were prefer 
 able in his mind to live with such a one. 
 
 "I m not the Duke, Majesty," he replied. 
 "My name is Fagot Jules Fagot your Gra- 
 ciousness." 
 
 "Fagot ?" 
 
 "Aye, Majesty, Fagot ralct dc cuisine, 
 Cafe de la Paix, Paris." 
 
 "What do you here?" 
 
 " I have come, Your Majesty, to wreak 
 vengeance upon yon tyrannous Gaspard Henri 
 Pierre, who worked me wretched wrong. T was 
 I blew up the Chateau. T is I, oh grand and 
 glorious monarch, who hath wrought this ruin, 
 and I await my punishment, no matter what 
 it be." 
 
 "He lies ," the Duchess began, waving 
 her hands and preparing to rush upon the Duke. 
 
 "Peace, woman !" cried the King, restrain 
 ing her with a gesture. "His shrift will be a 
 short one if but half his tale is true without thy 
 further calumnies. Speak, nephew, know you 
 this Fagot ? "
 
 "V /Monsieur O cn JBiocbcttc. ^ 
 
 "I know him well, Sire," I replied. "Too 
 well, in fact. The wrong I did him was to beat 
 him well for offences that he knows of 
 
 "Of what nature?" demanded the King. 
 
 " He brought me Moselle wines in place of 
 Chambertin, and at the breaking of my fast on 
 Monday last t was he poured bromides in my 
 sauce in place of salt," I replied. " For this I 
 trounced him well. For that hath he destroyed 
 my home." 
 
 "The penalty is death !" cried the King, 
 shrinking from the malefactor in aversion. 
 
 "Nay, uncle, not so," I protested, not wish 
 ing to have the crime of murder on my soul. 
 " Let us be merciful. I doubt me not the man 
 hath suffered much from me and my kind in my 
 roisterous days at Paris, and the first offense was 
 but the vengefulness of an untutored mind. This 
 last more serious crime but shows him mentally 
 deformed. Give him to me, my King a small 
 favor, Sire and let me deal with him, accord 
 ing to my whim." 
 
 "Ah, Softheart !" cried the King. " T was 
 ever a weakness of thine, Gaspard, but it shall 
 be as you wish." 
 
 "A blank warrant of commitment to the 
 Bastille, and I shall be satisfied," was my reply. 
 
 Tapping me on the shoulder affectionately, 
 his Majesty, ordering his Chamberlain to fulfill
 
 And in a moment more, 1 wan folded in lier arms, 
 3
 
 ^ Cbc fktiicj Safteg a t>an&. v 
 
 my wishes, passed on into what remained of the 
 gardens, leaving me alone with the Duchess and 
 the self-denying Duke. 
 
 "There is another mask below, Your Grace," 
 suggested the Duke. "While that woman lives 
 I shall account the Bastille and the iron visor 
 comfort the one to sequestrate my body from 
 her approach, the other lest perchance she have 
 an opportunity again to kiss me." 
 
 And so it was. In a jiffy s time the new 
 mask was adjusted upon the shoulders of the 
 Duke, the commitment signed by the royal hand 
 was filled in the name of Fagot, and under 
 strong guard Guspard Henri Pierre, Duke des 
 Pommes de Terre, was on his way to the dun 
 geons of the dread prison house of France, the 
 Bastille. There let us leave him to the con 
 sideration of history. He does not enter again 
 upon my narrative. 
 
 The Duke disposed of thus, I turned to join 
 the King, when, fury of furies, the worst of all 
 befell. The Duchess, resolved to make the best 
 of existing conditions, now stood between me 
 and the garden gate, her hag-like face lit up by 
 the fires of love, her bosom heaving with emo 
 tion. 
 
 " Forgive me, my Gaspard, for having 
 doubted," she cried, and in a moment I was 
 folded in her arms. 
 
 133
 
 ^ Aonsieur O en JBrocbette. -7*- 
 
 Vcntrc Saint Cafe Noir, but if this woman s 
 wrath were a thing to be feared, her love was to 
 be dreaded ten times more. 
 
 "Ye Gods !" I cried in a muffled voice, as 
 she amorously pressed my nose against her 
 breast-pin.
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 LA BELDAM SANS MERCI AND LA BELLE ISABELLE. 
 
 JNHAND ME, woman ! " I cried, and 
 sought to break the amorous clutch 
 in which the Duchess held me. 
 But as the ivy clings to the oak, 
 or the devil-fish to its prey, the 
 infatuated woman hung on. I must temporize. 
 "Enough, Marie," I said. "I do surrender 
 I am thine for all eternity." 
 
 With a cry of joy she pressed my unhappy 
 nose still more erotically against her breast-pin. 
 Ventre Verdi Gris ! It is sore to this day. 
 
 "And you will never donjon your little 
 Marie again?" she whimpered. 
 
 " Never, on my honor as a Pommes de 
 Terre au Gratin ! " 
 
 Reluctantly she unclasped her arms. I 
 rubbed my proboscis ruefully. 
 
 " Poor ittle nosie ! " she cooed, touching it 
 tenderly. "Diddum naughty pin scratch him?" 
 "It diddum, Madame!" I roared. "By 
 Cyrano, it diddum ! " 
 
 The Duchess took my arm. " Let us leave 
 this place, my love," she said. "It is frightfully 
 out of repair."
 
 j Monsieur D cn SSrocbettc. ^ 
 
 I glanced around at the ruins of the cha 
 teau the chaotic heap of toppled masonry and 
 twisted girders. As a place of residence it was 
 indeed passe, not to say de trop. 
 
 Not a soul was in sight. In the distance I 
 heard the echoes of a bugle; the King was 
 returning to Versailles. It was dark as Erebus, 
 save for the flickering light from the flames of 
 the wrecked chateau. 
 
 "We must put up at the hotel, sweet 
 Marie," quoth I. "And appearance hath it that 
 we shall walk perforce, for of horses and re 
 tainers I see nothing. Methinks the varlets have 
 perished in the wreck. Remain here, my Sappho, 
 whilst I repair to the village t is but half a 
 league for a conveyance for thy precious self." 
 
 "Nay, Gaspard; thou It not leave me 
 again," replied the Duchess, determined not to 
 lose sight of her prey. " I shall accompany thee 
 to the hotel on foot. I have need of exercise, 
 my love, having taken on flesh during the past 
 fourteen years. I acknowledge, my cruel Gas 
 pard, thou hast fed me well." 
 
 "Come, then, my Helen of Troy," said I, 
 with an inward groan. And we set forth toward 
 Manchet, the Duchess with feet of thistledown 
 and I with leaden heel. 
 
 En route I searched my wits for means to 
 disencumber myself of La Beldam Sans Merci, 
 136
 
 V JBetoam ano JBette. -^ 
 
 but could think of nothing short of murder; and 
 this, with my customary delicacy, I shrank from. 
 The hotel lights surprised me with not an idea 
 in my pate usually a tropic forest of ideas. 
 
 " My love, we will sup," I remarked, having 
 registered. 
 
 "Mon Diei/, Gaspard, I was at the dessert 
 when the Chateau blew up." 
 
 "Tush, sweetheart ! The walk has given 
 me an appetite," I insisted gently. And escort 
 ing her to the dining-room, I gave orders for a 
 sumptuous repast. 
 
 Whilst this was preparing I engaged a suite 
 of rooms for an indefinite period; and as the 
 shops were still open, it being Saturday night, I 
 despatched servants for a fresh wardrobe, bidding 
 them purchase the most costly goods to be ob 
 tained. It was hard upon midnight when a 
 cringing menial advised me that the banquet was 
 prepared. 
 
 Despite her protest, the Duchess discovered 
 an excellent appetite, and as we supped we 
 chatted of many things a new chateau to be 
 built in the Spring, our winter house in town, a 
 cruise in the Mediterranean. The Duchess cast 
 on me the most languishing of glances, whilst I 
 madly revolved in my mind a thousand futile 
 avenues of escape from her Circean toils. 
 
 The expectant valet de place, with an ob- 
 
 137
 
 "V /Monsieur D en JBrocbette. -^ 
 
 sequious bow, laid beside my plate the bill for 
 the repast. I glanced at the figures and started 
 violently. 
 
 Two hundred and fifty-seven francs, thirty 
 centimes ! 
 
 "Ventre de Gargantua ! " I murmured to 
 myself. The precise amount, to a centime, 
 M sieurs, of the bill which my lost Isabelle had 
 vised for me at the Cafe D Oeuf, in Paris, not 
 forty-eight hours before ! Again, at this touch 
 of a vanished hand, a wave of passion swept 
 over me. 
 
 Into those forty-eight hours had been crowded 
 more incidents than the ordinary man expe 
 riences in a lifetime, even in these days of swash 
 and buckler. Save for the hours I lay uncon 
 scious in the well at Croquante, I had not slept, 
 nor was there prospect of my sleeping for days 
 to come. I vowed to myself that I should not 
 close my eyes until I had recovered Isabelle, if 
 years were required to the search. 
 
 Now, as on that fateful morning when first 
 I beheld my divinity, I was without a sou. 
 Mechanically I thrust my hand in my pocket, 
 though no purse was there, and drew forth a let 
 ter. I stared blankly at it, then suddenly I re 
 called that it was the letter to the Duke des 
 Pommes de Terre which I had taken from the 
 ill-fated courier on the road from Paris. The
 
 ^ JSelCmm an& JBelle. -y- 
 
 seal was still unbroken. Like myself, the letter 
 had had remarkable adventures. 
 
 Never, M sieurs, was there stranger caprice 
 of circumstances. I had become, for better or 
 worse, the actual Duke des Pommes de Terre. 
 The lett-er, therefore, was for my eyes. Thus was 
 I in conspiracy against the King, as this fatal 
 paper was unquestionably a link in the chain of 
 plotting. 
 
 "From a woman, Gaspard?" queried the 
 Duchess, kindling with jealousy. 
 
 "Nay, my love; t is but a tailor s bill," I 
 answered lightly, opening it. 
 
 Diable . It was in truth a tailor s dunning. 
 It read : 
 
 "To making one business suit, with extra 
 breastplate and surcingle, 125 francs. To 
 cleaning and riveting business suit, 10 francs. 
 Please remit by messenger." 
 
 The paper fluttered from my hand. I sat 
 dumfoundered. 
 
 "A message for the Duke des Pommes de 
 Terre," announced the valet de place, laying a 
 perfumed missive before me. My heart leaped : 
 the perfume was Isabelle s. The Duchess snatched 
 wildly at the letter, but I thrust her back in her 
 chair and broke the seal of the odorous message. 
 
 39
 
 ^ /Ibonsieur D en ^Brocbette. ^ 
 
 One glance and my wild Brochette blood flamed 
 for an instant action : 
 
 "Mv BRAVE BROCHETTE True heroine 
 of romance that I -am, I am once more up 
 against it. Come at once. Love will find the 
 way. 
 
 "ISABELLE. " 
 
 I leaped to my feet, upsetting my chair with 
 a crash; and flinging the unpaid dinner bill at 
 the Duchess, who fell fainting across the table, 
 in three bounds I had gained the street and was 
 running like a deer in the direction of Paris. 
 
 Love showed the way. Venus was evening 
 star, and swung, a beckoning beacon, before me. 
 
 I had run a league or more when suddenly 
 two dark shapes sprang up as from the earth and 
 barred the highway. I reached for my sword, 
 but sapnsti ! I was defenceless. Powerful 
 arms seized me, a bandage was placed over my 
 eyes, and I was hurried whither I could make 
 no shift at guessing. 
 
 Presently I heard a gate click; my feet 
 touched gravel; I mounted a stair; the bandage 
 was plucked from my eyes ; Man Dieu ! I be 
 held the beautiful Isabelle, her eyes shining like 
 stars. 
 
 " My brave Brochette ! " she cried, and sank 
 into my arms. 
 
 " My pearl of fabulous price ! " I murmured.
 
 ^ JBelfcam an> JBelle. -^ 
 
 "It was very good of you to come, my 
 brave Brochette." 
 
 " Now that I am here I shall never leave 
 you!" I swore, and took tribute of the tremu 
 lous lips that neighbored mine. 
 
 "Oh, Robert," she murmured "your name 
 is Robert, is it not?" 
 
 "Robert Gaston de Launay Alphonse. 
 Wear upon thy lips, my love, whichever name 
 best pleases thee." 
 
 "I am undecided, my preserver, twixt 
 Alphonse and Gaston. Both are sweet." 
 
 " T is all one to me, sweetheart," said I. 
 " Help yourself." 
 
 "Then Alphonse be it," she replied. "Oh, 
 Alphonse, I feared you could not come to me; 
 that fate, so inconsiderate of lovers, had placed 
 you hors dn combat once again." 
 
 "Tell me, my adored," I said, glancing 
 about, " what is this place in which I find you ? " 
 
 " T is a villa, and deserted. Ask me not 
 how I came here; t would require an entire 
 chapter, and time and space press like thee," 
 she said, pantingly. For a Brochette, M sieurs, 
 is a very bear at the game of hugging. "Thank 
 heaven you are in time, my brave Alphonse. 
 One fight more, my cavalier, and then our 
 troubles will be over, and we shall live happily 
 ever afterwards."
 
 ^ /IfconBieur yen 38rocbette. ^ 
 
 " Ha ! " I cried, sniffing the battle afar off. 
 "You expect an attack?" 
 
 "At any instant. Hark!" She raised a 
 warning hand. A sound of breaking glass fell 
 crunchingly upon the silence. "They are in the 
 cucumber beds. In another minute they will 
 force the door ! " 
 
 "A sword ! A sword ! My dukedom for 
 a sword ! " I roared. 
 
 Isabelle ran lightly to a clothespress and 
 drew forth a naked blade of i8-karat Toledo. 
 I snatched it eagerly, and to test its temper ran 
 it through a haircloth sofa. 
 
 "Shall we not barricade the door?" asked 
 Isabelle, pushing the piano into position. 
 
 "Nay, my love," I replied. "We shall 
 make it a staircase affair. With your sweet 
 voice to encourage me, I could hold a stair 
 against more men than fronted Horatius in the 
 brave days of old." 
 
 A crash below stairs told me that the door 
 had been forced. I sprang out upon the land 
 ing, Isabelle following with a piano lamp. A 
 pack of armed ruffians were swarming up the 
 stair. 
 
 " Twenty count them twenty ! " cried 
 Isabelle, her voice high with excitement. "A 
 Brochette ! A Brochette ! " 
 
 I snatched a kiss from her scarlet lips, and 
 
 44
 
 A pack of armed ruffians were swarming up the stair. 
 145
 
 y .IBelOam anD JSelle. y 
 
 bidding her hold the lamp high I turned to the 
 work in hand. 
 
 " Twenty count them twenty ! " cried 
 Isabelle again. "Have at them, valiant Bro- 
 chette." 
 
 And then, to the hireling cut-throats swarm 
 ing on the stair: 
 
 "Come on, canaille, come on ! I d have ye 
 meet a gentleman a gentleman of France ! " 
 
 A chorus of maledictions swelled from the 
 throats of the baying pack at the foot of the 
 stair.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 IN WHICH THERE ARE DOINGS ON THE STAIR. 
 
 |T WAS warm toil, M sieurs. A second 
 after Isabella had issued her sweep 
 ing challenge, the foremost ruffians, 
 with drawn swords, came bounding 
 at me. Poor fools ! They knew 
 not who I was. 
 
 " By the mass, shrimps," I grimly jested, 
 " Naught have I against ye save my blade, but 
 that were more than enough, I trow, for such 
 as ye." 
 
 T was the work of an instant to extract my 
 steel from the one and plunge it, quivering, into 
 the other. Then, with their two bodies as a 
 dead-line, I faced the eighteen scamps remaining. 
 Sapristi ! But the lust of the fight was strong 
 upon me ! 
 
 " Swine of the trough ! " I roared in a 
 terrible voice, while cowed momentarily by the 
 loss of two of their number, the band hesitated, 
 "Swine of the trough ! Though the knife of the 
 butcher were fitting steel for all of ye, sticking 
 pigs in an abattoir was ne er a fad of d en 
 Brochette s. I like not their squeal, to be frank 
 with ye" here I touched with buskin toe the 
 148
 
 ^ Doings on tbc Stair. ^ 
 
 body of him nearest me "And by your leave, 
 sweet sirs, I ll finish this killing with dispatch." 
 
 " Now, by the Lord Harry, and by gad s 
 daggers, blades and scabbards, no man shall call 
 Miles Giles a pig and live to boast of it in a six- 
 bescellar." 
 
 These, M sieurs, were the ranting words 
 that followed my taunting pleasantry. They 
 came, what is more, from the leader of the pack ; 
 a burly knave of an Englishman, whose speech, 
 as you will observe, was studded with strange 
 oaths, and expletives as outlandish as himself. 
 
 " No, by my halidom," he bellowed in a 
 passion a passion not made less violent by a 
 contemptuous smile from me "no man shall 
 call Miles Giles a pig and not himself be badly 
 stuck. Oddspluts, mates ! To the floor with 
 this smirking snail eater !" 
 
 "To the floor with him !" echoed the other 
 ten and seven ; meaning me, M sieurs, the 
 modest teller of this tale. 
 
 With that they made a concerted onslaught, 
 beside which their opening rush was naught but 
 a minuet. In the center came Miles Giles of 
 Merrie England, while flanking him on all sides 
 were the swashbuckling blades and leerjng 
 tongues of his seventeen snarling companions. 
 
 For the instant, M sieurs, I confess that I 
 quaked ; for after all I am only human. The
 
 ^ dfeonsicur D en JSvocbetie. -y? 
 
 emotions which sway men, sway me. The fears 
 that men feel, I at times feel also, though may 
 hap in lesser degree. In short, for the moment, 
 I quaked. Then reflecting that but two more 
 slain would shorten the odds against me to 16 to 
 i something which readily is overcome, as ye 
 know, M sieurs I made a lunge at the nearest 
 scamp and Mon Dieu ! But for the restrain 
 ing hand of Isabelle, I should have slid sans 
 dignity to the very bottom of the stair case, 
 where even now my assailants were floundering 
 and cursing in a conglomerate heap. And the 
 stairs, M sieurs the stairs, from a flight of 
 polished oak steps, had changed in a second to 
 a steep, smooth incline, with neither break nor 
 visible joint from the head of it to the foot. 
 
 " Sacre saucisson de Bohgne ! " breathlessly 
 I gasped. "What dark age witchery is this?" 
 
 Small thought had I, M sieurs, that the 
 riddle would be answered, yet answered it was, 
 and by Isabelle at my side. 
 
 " No dark age witchery is this, dear heart," 
 she said, with superb coolness coolness simply 
 marvelous considering the uproar below " Tis 
 rather the perfection of modern stair building; 
 a device which shortens considerably the stay of 
 one s boorish guests and gives them in parting 
 la peche chute, as they of Normandy quaintly 
 say." 
 
 150
 
 The stairs . . . had changed . . . to a steep, smooth incline.
 
 ^ Doings on tbe Stair. ^ 
 
 I looked at the girl in sheerest wonder. 
 
 "And thou, bravest of the fair and fairest of 
 the brave," said I, " Is this thy work?" 
 
 I pointed with dripping rapier to the stairs 
 that were, and the baffled gang below. 
 
 " Ay," she laughed, with a saucy toss of her 
 head. " And whose else, M sieur, indeed ? For 
 deft effects about the house is not a woman s 
 hand ever responsible ? T was I who pressed 
 the secret spring, most certainly." 
 
 " Isabelle ! Incomparable Isabelle!" I 
 began tremulously, mindful for the moment of 
 naught but her. 
 
 " No time is this for honeyed words," she 
 interrupted firmly. "Look you, my Alphonse. 
 He who calls himself Miles Giles of England is 
 climbing up the balusters." 
 
 Taking from her the piano-lamp, and hold 
 ing it at arm s length, I flashed its light down 
 ward. 
 
 " Meet amusement, good sooth, for a grown 
 man," I sneered at the ascending ruffian. " I 
 faith, in France, sweet sir, climbing the balusters 
 is deemed an infant s pastime. But choose your 
 transit as ye will Parbleu ! The end is the 
 same in any event, and swift to come." 
 
 " Oddslidikins, caitiff ! " hissed he whom I 
 addressed, "but for the scurvy trick just played 
 by yon staircase, there would have been ere now 
 
 153
 
 $i flfeonsieur yen JBrocbette. ^ 
 
 on that broad landing the deadest swaggerer in 
 all France." 
 
 So grimly savage were his tones, to say 
 nothing of the hoarse, growing growl of the men- 
 behind him, that Isabelle with a shudder clasped 
 my hand in hers and clung more closely to me. 
 
 " Fear not, sweet one," said I, reassuringly. 
 " Yon Creeping Charlie is naught but a loutish 
 braggart, like all of his detestable race. I have 
 but to stand at the head of this balustrade and 
 prick them one by one as they come within my 
 sword s length. Ma foif" here purposely I 
 raised my voice " It will be like stringing 
 beads." 
 
 " Bah ! Gadsobs ! " was all the response 
 that came from one Miles Giles of England. 
 
 And then, M sieurs, I noted what I should 
 have seen before ; that Miles Giles, half way up 
 the balusters, was but part of a stratagem; a 
 decoy for the time being ; a mere means to 
 catch and concentrate my whole attention. 
 When I solved the trick Parbleu ! It was too 
 late to do aught but leap back ; back out of the 
 way of two falling columns of armed masculinity. 
 The followers of Miles Giles, bandits and cut 
 throats, were skilled acrobats and tumblers as 
 well. Taking advantage of the dark, for all was 
 pitch dark in the lower hall, two squads of them 
 had mounted on each other s shoulders and 
 
 154
 
 ^ Doincie on tbc Stair. ^ 
 
 fallen up, M sieurs, the stairs which they could 
 not climb; the topmost villans landing at once 
 but scant three feet in front of me. 
 
 " Odds whips and wheels, have at him, 
 mates !" roared Giles from the balusters. "Tilts 
 or tumbling, t is all one to us, by Gys ! Odds- 
 devilkins ! Huddup !" 
 
 For the moment, I was dismayed by the 
 suddenness of the move, but for the moment 
 only. In the next, Brochette was again 
 Brochette. 
 
 " Come closer with the light, sweetheart," 
 to Isabelle I cried, "Come closer or turn it up, 
 else I can not see to carve." 
 
 "Mercy! Mercy, M sieur!" shrieked the 
 next victim of my blade, in agonized terror. 
 
 "Mercy!" qoth I. "What mercy shall a 
 tumbler have who would take unawares a fall 
 out of d en Brochette ? None, sirrah ! " 
 
 And breaking his feeble guard, I drove my 
 flashing steel, not through that man alone, but 
 through him directly behind. 
 
 I weary you, I fear, M sieurs, with these 
 bare commonplaces, these dull details of a life 
 lived every day. Protest not politely to the 
 contrary ; t is to Frenchmen I am talking. Let 
 this then be sufficient : In scarce ten minutes, by 
 Isabelle s Swiss hour glass, I despatched upon 
 the journey whence no traveler returneth all but 
 
 55
 
 "V Monsieur fc en ffirocbette. -^ 
 
 two of my loutish enemies. Upon one of the 
 latter I was busily engaged, even preoccupied, 
 pressing him back, back to the carven wains- 
 cotting, finally spitting him, when 
 
 " S death !" hissed a voice at my elbow. 
 " Odds blushes and blooms ! Yield thee ! " 
 
 Parbleu ! For the first time since the 
 fracas began, I was at a disadvantage, but by 
 other eyes than mine was my peril discerned. 
 Isabelle had seen, and seeing, acted. 
 
 " Die, English muffin ! " she cried, and 
 using the piano lamp as a knight s lance of old, 
 she caught Miles Giles beneath his bearded chin 
 and neatly severed his jugular. 
 
 " S blood ! " he roared in fury, rolling limply 
 down the erstwhile stairs, and then at the foot 
 we heard him murmur weakly : 
 
 " Pishtush, m lord. What mummery is 
 this!" 
 
 Miles Giles of Merrie England, M sieurs, 
 was taking his last wander in his mind. 
 
 Now, when we were safe at last and there 
 was need no longer for parry and thrust, reaction 
 seized me and I felt so weak that I staggered. 
 Moreover, the lamp went out when it struck 
 Miles Giles, and the ensuing darkness did not 
 aid me to recover. 
 
 " It was going out anyway, sweetheart," 
 said Isabelle, through the blackness. " In sooth, 
 156
 
 ^ IDoings on tbe Stair. ^ 
 
 t was beginning to sputter e en when I did 
 strike." 
 
 "My preserver!" I answered trembling, 
 reaching her at last. " Though as yet I can not 
 see thy face, I swear before thee on bended knee 
 that that lamp henceforth shall be more precious 
 to Brochette than ever Aladdin s was to him. 
 Where we go, it shall go. Where we dwell, it 
 shall dwell. And if by fortune s favor, I shall 
 ever amass vast wealth in gold and estates, no 
 chateau shall be too imposing, no apartment too 
 rich in furnishings, to deprive yon lamp where- 
 ever it is at this black moment of the place of 
 honor." 
 
 " But first, my sweet," whispered Isabelle in 
 reply, "I must make for it a new shade. The 
 present one, I fear me, is a trifle passe. And 
 now," she added brightly, " let me lead you out 
 of this this chamber of horrors." 
 
 " Of joys, sweetheart, since you are here," I 
 gently corrected. 
 
 She answered with a pressure of the hand, 
 and led on in silence. 
 
 " Tell me, dear one," I interposed, " who 
 those ruffians were who so boorishly disturbed us 
 this night ! " 
 
 " I know not, Alphonse," the girl replied. 
 
 " But what came they for ! " 
 
 " That, also, I know not, Alphonse." 
 
 159
 
 ^ flfconsieur D en JBrocbette. "V 
 
 " But why, sweetheart," I persisted, " should 
 they ever have come at all ?" 
 
 Again Isabelle made answer : 
 
 " Alphonse, once more must I say that I 
 know not, unless " 
 
 " Yes, my pearl, unless " 
 
 "Unless t is because," she ventured, "we 
 live in historical times." 
 
 Feeling our way down a back and obscure 
 stairway one unequipped with the patent 
 folding device we reached at last the villa 
 garden and beheld the gray of dawn.
 
 /Y y;/,/.sy//;A".V .YO TK. 
 
 [T is with regret that we have to announce a failure 
 upon the part of the three collaborating authors of 
 tins romance, historical though it be, to agree upon the 
 tenor of the concluding chapter of their story. We are 
 compelled, ivith apologies to the reader, to print all three 
 versions of the conclusion as they have been supplied to us. 
 The situation is a novel one and we arc not aware that 
 there is any precedent by which we may be governed in 
 the matter, and the solution of the difficult v that we have 
 chosen seems to be the only, as well as the shortest way, 
 out of a disagreeable complication.
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 I\ WHICH M SIKI R IJ EN 15ROCHETTK IjRINGS TO A 
 
 CLOSE THE FIRST VOLUME OK His IN-COMPARABLE 
 MEMOIRS. 
 
 7> r Jyert Lesion Taylor. 
 
 |OR THK third time within the brief 
 space of forty-eight hours I took an 
 account of stock, and found myself 
 no better off, in a worldly way, 
 than at the beginning of my last 
 series of adventures. Still did I possess my 
 health, a sword, and my family name ; but to 
 the debit side of the ledger was added a beauti 
 ful woman, soon to be my wife ; an extravagant 
 beauty, too, if one might judge by her gowns 
 and jewels. 
 
 Before the world I was, it is true, Duke 
 des Pommes de Terre au Gratin, master of 
 broad acres and coffers of gold ; but with the 
 relic of the real Duke still in existence, and pur 
 suing me with implacable passion, I had no 
 mind for further masquerade. 
 
 In the days of which I write, M sieurs, 
 there was but one employment for a centimeless 
 gentleman his sword. Now, in all France
 
 ^ Monsieur D en JBrocbette. -y 
 
 was there no more honest and industrious 
 swordsman than myself, and whether I worked 
 by the hour or the piece, I put my heart into my 
 employ and gave good value for every franc of 
 remuneration. But at the ruling wage, even for 
 skilled workmen, I could not hope to maintain in 
 luxury a wife so highly born as Isabelle, and the 
 highest class of work, the unmasking of con 
 spiracies against the King, usually rewarded with 
 a title and a great sum of money, was distributed 
 by chance, and as often as not fell to the least 
 deserving. The morrow, the week, might bring 
 me such employ. But the day, the instant, 
 pressed. I was without a sou, and Isabelle s 
 suggestion of breakfast threw me into a profound 
 melancholy. 
 
 As we left the villa, deserted save for the 
 stiffening corpses on the stair, I hailed a passing 
 fiacre and bade the charioteer drive to the 
 nearest cafe, promising him an extra thrust from 
 my rapier if he made haste. In the pre 
 occupation induced by the state of my finances 
 and my solicitude for Isabelle, who was sleeping 
 soundly on my shoulder, I did not remark the 
 direction in which we were proceeding. Pre 
 sently the fiacre stopped, and looking out I 
 beheld the cafe in which I had left the Duchess. 
 An ambulance was backed up at the curb and a 
 great crowd was gathered. 
 164
 
 ^ fins Incomparable dfcemotrs. y- 
 
 "What is wrong, Alphonse?" murmured 
 Isabelle, sleepily. "An ambuscade?" 
 
 " Nay, sweetheart ; an ambulance. Ho, 
 varlet," to the driver, "inquire the cause of this 
 blockade." 
 
 The fellow departed on his errand and re 
 turned with the news that a lady had dropped 
 dead in the cafe, some hours before, of heart 
 disease. 
 
 "Her name, scoundrel!" I cried, a great 
 hope leaping within me. "Did st learn her 
 name ? " 
 
 "Otii, ^rsicnr" he replied. "The un 
 fortunate lady was the Duchess des Pommes de 
 Terre au (Ira tin." 
 
 My tale is done. T is the story of two 
 days in a lifetime of romance, much of it his 
 torical the first volume of my incomparable 
 memoirs. 
 
 I take leave of you now as the Duke des 
 Pommes de Terre au Gratin, husband of the new 
 and beautiful Duchess Isabelle, Chatelaine of 
 Castle Brochette a name that piques the curi 
 osity of all France, which marvels whence and 
 why I chose it. 
 
 How in one fleeting year I was widowed, 
 and careless of life sought balm for my great - 
 167
 
 ^r /fconsteur fc en JBrocbette. *< 
 
 grief in the wars the King waged against all 
 Europe ; how I fought under Conde and turned 
 the sword aimed at his heart in the thick of the 
 conflict ; how in my King s fourth war I under 
 took a perilous mission in his behalf that led me 
 to Madrid, and how I became the husband of 
 the glorious Inez of Arragon, these things, 
 M sieurs, will be found set down in succeeding 
 volumes of memoirs, sold only by subscription. 
 Permit me to recommend the set in half-levant, 
 edition de luxe, each copy of which is numbered. 
 M sieurs, I drink your good health, and for 
 the time adieu ! 
 
 [THE END.] 
 
 i6S
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 IN WHICH APPEAR Two PORTRAITS, PLUS A FAMILY 
 HEIRLOOM. 
 
 By Arthur II. Fohvell. 
 
 [PAIR OF centuries, plus several years, 
 glide swiftly away. 
 
 "And is this his picture, Grand 
 pa; really and truly!" asked a 
 grave-faced boy of a bent old man. 
 "Yes, Brochette," the old man responded. 
 "This is his picture, really and truly." 
 
 They were standing, these two, before the 
 portrait of a Gentleman ; a quaint portrait, and, 
 moreover, the portrait of an exceptionally quaint 
 person, judged by modern standards. A plumed 
 hat, wide of brim, sat jauntily upon a luxuriance 
 of fine hair, while below the haughty, striking 
 face and its crisp, challenging moustachios was a 
 ruff like a fluted grindstone, which rested 
 proudly, even arrogantly, upon the Gentleman s 
 broad shoulders. 
 
 Opposite this portrait there hung on the 
 wall another; the portrait of a Lady. The 
 Lady, also, wore a plumed hat, wide of brim, 
 769
 
 ^ Monsieur D en $rocbette. ^ 
 
 and her hair, though differently arranged, was 
 quite as abundant as the Gentleman s. Besides, 
 and again like her framed companion, she was 
 seen emerging from a ruff. The patrician 
 character, both of the Lady and the Gentleman, 
 no one who saw the portraits newly come fresh 
 from a skilled restorer could question for a 
 an instant. 
 
 "Yes, Brochette," the old man repeated, 
 " this is his portrait, and that is hers. They are 
 your honored ancestors; yours and mine; the 
 layers of our family s foundation in America." 
 
 The boy regarded them with wondering 
 respect. 
 
 "I ve heard it," he said, "a great many 
 times, but I can not remember, somehow, more 
 than half of it now. Let me see. This was 
 Mr. and Mrs. Huevospasadaparagua, wasn t it, 
 Grandpa ? " 
 
 The old man smiled as who could help? 
 
 " Not Mr. and Mrs., Brochette," said he, 
 gently chiding. "Say rather, Huevos Pasada 
 par Agua, Count of Pate de Fois Gras and 
 Marquis presumptive of the estates of Pollio 
 Grill in Spain, and Isabelle, his wife." 
 
 The old man, small need to add, had a 
 Family Tree of no mean girth a veritable lord, 
 in fact, of the Forest Genealogical. 
 
 "And when they came to America," the 
 170
 
 Ibefrloom. 
 
 little fellow continued, "did they come in the 
 first cabin, Grandpa, with a stateroom way up 
 high on the promenade deck, like the one we 
 had last summer?" 
 
 "Yes, yes," said the other, absently. "Or 
 rather, no. The promenade deck was not for 
 those times, my boy. Our family s founder and 
 his charming bride had a stateroom, I dare say, 
 near the stern-post, with the rudder chains creak 
 ing and clanking near their heads. But I do 
 not know; I do not know, Brochette. Your 
 Gran dad. sir, is getting old and forgetful." 
 
 " But tell me. When did Mr. I mean 
 our family s founder first meet Mrs. I should 
 say, that is er our family s foundress?" 
 
 "The beauteous Isabelle, no doubt you 
 mean, my boy. Ah !" said his grandfather. 
 "That was what they called her: The beauteous 
 Isabelle! She was married, I believe, somewhat 
 hastily to the Count. There are blanks in our 
 family history which no one now can fill, and 
 one of them occurs unfortunately at the very 
 period of their nuptials. The elaborate wedding 
 feast and ceremony seem in this case, to have 
 been strangely omitted. 
 
 "The story is told of the Count and Isa 
 belle that they traveled in great haste to Paris 
 from somewhere or other and thence to Calais, 
 pursued for some reason, it is said, by an in-
 
 H? flfconsteur fc en 3Brocbette. -^ 
 
 furiated dame. Who this woman was and why 
 she pursued them, there is no record left to show. 
 I know only of the pursuit ; and remember 
 seeing in my boyhood an old journal of the 
 Count s, written in French, wherein the strange 
 woman s rage was described with graphic humor. 
 She stood, it seems, on the dock at Calais and 
 shook her fist wildly at the departing ship, 
 screaming and ranting the while in impotent 
 fury." 
 
 "How funny!" cried the boy. "I should 
 like to have been there, grandpa; would n t 
 you?" 
 
 "On the ship, perhaps, my boy, but not on 
 the dock," was the old man s prudent comment. 
 
 " Oh, grandpa," then exclaimed the child, 
 a new thought striking him suddenly, "haven t 
 you got in your big cabinet anything to remem 
 ber them by? Something they left, you know." 
 
 "You have hit upon my life puzzle, 
 Brochette," said he, gravely. "Come." 
 
 Leading the way to the lighted library, he 
 unlocked a drawer and from it withdrew a small, 
 carved box. Within it lay a tiny package, 
 silken in its wrappings. The latter, outspread, 
 disclosed to view a dry speck of something 
 something round and hard like a bit of baked clay. 
 
 "And what is it, Grandpa?" asked the boy, 
 wonderingly.
 
 & ffamilB Ibeirloom. 
 
 The old man shook his head. 
 
 "It was his," said he, pointing to the 
 Portrait of a Gentleman; "but what it is I can 
 not tell. This goes with it it is his hand 
 writing." 
 
 The boy looked at the now faded parch 
 ment and read hesitatingly : 
 
 Found by Isabella in the pocket of my 
 best hose, five days out of Calais, aboard the 
 good ship, Mayonnaise. "T would seem as 
 though I ne er could lose it. 
 
 They laid the thing on the library table and 
 regarded it together. 
 
 "Why, I tell you what it looks like, Grand 
 pa," the boy said, laughingly, "It looks just like 
 a mole that came off-" 
 
 The old man smiled at this flash of childish 
 fancy. 
 
 [THE END.]
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 IN WHICH OUR HERO SEES His FINISH 
 
 By John Kendrick Bangs. 
 
 JLAS, that I, Huevos Pasada Par Agua, 
 should have to recall the dire 
 misery of that which was to follow. 
 Has ever a gallant heart been called 
 upon to narrate such woeful hap 
 penings as now befell? I trow not; and yet, from 
 the beginning of these Memoirs to this, the end, 
 I have swerved not from the path of truth. 
 Destiny, human destiny, is a thing that man may 
 not evade, and here in my last chapter must be 
 set down the terrible story of defeat at the 
 moment of triumph yet what a happy death 
 but I anticipate. 
 
 It was into a cold gray dawn that Isabelle 
 and I, our enemies, the hireling swashbucklers of 
 an unidentified foe, laid low in death, now es 
 caped. The garden was deserted, save by an 
 occasional tree-toad who sent up his melancholy 
 song to greet the dawning day, and no impedi 
 ment to a happy ending to the troublous court 
 ship of my love seemed to intervene but who 
 can tell what the future hath in store ! Stand-
 
 ^ ur 1bero Sees 1fote jfinieb. ^ 
 
 ing on the brink of happiness, the next moment 
 my beloved companion and I were hurled into 
 eternity. 
 
 With the fleet foot of the hind we sped 
 down the path, to the gate issuing upon the 
 highway to Paris and the nuptial hour, when 
 suddenly with a crackling sound and a sudden 
 crash the ground gave way beneath our feet, and 
 ere we knew what had come about, the fair lady 
 and I had fallen into a deep pit half filled with 
 water whose depth went down and down and 
 down into the abysmal bowels of the earth. 
 
 "Help, my Huevos!" came the startled 
 cry from Isabelle as she sank into the turgid 
 waters. "I am sink 
 
 The appeal was never finished, a mere 
 gurgle blotting out forever that beloved voice. 
 
 Frenzied with my impotence to help her I 
 too went under, and, foregad, it seemed as 
 though I ne er should rise again. But my 
 moment was not yet come, for with a few strokes 
 of my arms, and kicks with my heels, I came 
 again to the scum-covered surface of the pool, 
 where I called right lustily for help. A mocking 
 laugh was the sole answer, and I was thrust 
 under by a garden rake in the hands of one 
 whom through the growing light of day I per 
 ceived to be none other than the deserted true 
 Duchess of Pommes de Terre. 
 
 175
 
 "V dfeoneteur j>*en JBrocbette. -^ 
 
 "By the sacred tooth of Navarre," I 
 gurgled as I went down the second time, "if 
 Isabelle and I unwed must rest our bones forever 
 at the bottom of this slimy pool, no future age 
 shall make scandal of the fact, for we shall not 
 go to death unchaperoned." 
 
 With which, reaching upward, I seized the 
 rake s end and with one dexterous jerk pulled the 
 unwieldly Duchess herself into the pit, shrieking 
 and imploring Heaven to save her to the end. 
 
 Again, because of this movement, I rose to 
 the surface, perceiving the Duchess floundering 
 down past me, as sputtering I once more 
 breathed, my head well above the waters. But, 
 alas, no more breath was left me to call again for 
 help, and for the third and last time I sank 
 down, down, down into the depths never to rise 
 again, but to rest through all eternity by the side 
 of my heart s best treasure, my Isabelle. 
 
 A dreadful end in truth; but what could be 
 happier than that cool grot, far removed from the 
 turmoil of life, beside the form of her I loved so 
 true, there to lie until that last dread day when 
 all are summoned before the judgment seat ? A 
 kindly fate let my now lifeless corpse down to 
 the spot where that of Isabelle lay still and 
 strangely beautiful, and then the end. I was 
 no more ! The Duchess caught some twenty 
 feet under upon a shelving rock, so that no dis- 
 
 176
 
 / pulled the unwieldy Duchess herself into the pit. 
 
 177
 
 ^ ur 1bero Sees 1ti0 jfinisb. V 
 
 cordant intrusion on our death-embrace was ever 
 to be feared. 
 
 Gentle reader, t was two hundred years 
 before our bleaching bones were found by 
 dredgers clearing away the pool. By them the 
 romance of our days was well respected, for in 
 stead of parting us, as well they might have 
 done, our bones were tenderly placed elsewhere, 
 and together; and that is why you, in passing 
 through the Convent yard of Mere la Chaise, 
 will see to-day one small mound marked by a 
 simple stone upon which are inscribed the words : 
 
 LES AMANTS INCONNUS 
 FOUND DROWNED. 
 
 It is the grave, dear reader, of the lovely 
 Isabelle and myself, Robert Gaston de Launay 
 Alphonse, Marquis of Pate de Foie Gras and 
 Heir Presumptive to the Estate of Huevos 
 Pasada par Agua in old Castile. 
 
 [THE END.] 
 
 179
 
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