T

HE King smiled, then frowned and sighed. "The princess is a charming woman," said the Chancellor. "I don't doubt it," said the King, turning at the window to walk back across the room. "Still, in choosing a wife-now if I were an ordinary man, I should have only to please myself. As it is, every one must be consulted-with the usual result."

"It is the misfortune of your high station, your Majesty. The King thinks of the welfare of his kingdom before his own happiness."

The King stopped at the window and looked down into the street. A blonde girl was passing below, escorted by a big lancer in gay uniform. The King watched them dreamily.

"Suppose," he said presently, in a speculative tone, "that I, the King, in a moment of, let us say, aberration, should marry Mdlle. Blanc Yvonne of the Opera, or the blonde girl in the street yonder. What would you do then, my Lord Chancellor ?"

"That moment of aberration, sire, would be your salvation," returned the Chancellor, with a faint smile. "His Holiness would have pity and annul the marriage."

"Ah!" said the King. He turned his back and looked out of the window again. "Your Majesty has still another choice," ventured the Chancellor, slowly. "There is the Princess Anabel. Her family is not so influential, perhaps, but she is personally very popular with the people. She is beautiful, if not rich, she is gay, witty,

and-"

The King moved impatiently.

"No," he said, frowning. "If I must marry, Louise shall be Queen. Anabel-" he stopped, laughed, and turned to the window again.

The Chancellor sighed. He was not in favor with the Princess Louise. If she became queen he must prepare for his own downfall. The King was young, hotheaded and most unaccountably prejudiced against the beautiful Anabel. Well, Louise was not queen yet, and, after all, to a De Berneau such things are trifles.

VOL. XXXIV - 12

"Enough of marriage for one day, De Berneau," said the King. "Let us leave business for pleasure for a while. Send Lucien to me as you go."

The Chancellor took his leave, and the King tapped monotonously on the window-pane while he waited.

In about two minutes, a tall, dashing young man entered the room. Count Lucien Manier enjoyed tne precarious distinction of being the King's favorite. He was brave, rash, wild, but withal coolheaded in a crisis, a somewhat rare combination of qualities.

The King threw himself into a chair. "Lucien," said he, with a prodigious yawn, "the King is dull."

"I have never thought it, sire," replied the Count, demurely.

The King laughed. "I mean, good Lucien, that I am dying of ennui."

"The King must be amused then," replied the dutiful Lucien.

"Yes," agreed his Majesty; "I must have excitement. A duel! an adventure of some kind!"

"You shall have an adventure," promised the courtier. "And I doubt not your Majesty will find it interesting enough."

"Good!" cried the King. "I knew that you would have something in mind. Tell me, what is it this time?"

"Wait," advised the Count. "You know adventures lose half their charm if one has them all planned beforehand."

"That is true," admitted the King. "Well, I will meet you to-night, at eleven, shall it be?-at the south gate of the garden. Then for the adventure!"

Eleven found Lucien at the south gate. Henri was eager, and did not keep him waiting.

"Whither are we bound?" asked the King, as they walked briskly toward the city.

"How can I tell?" answered Lucien, laughing. "But there is no dearth of adventure in the King's capital."

The Count beguiled the way with tales of duels, elopements, et cetera. He dwelt long on the subject of romantic love, and on the tale of King Cophetua and the

beggar maid, which Henri did not seem to think improbable, and it made him sigh. On a corner Lucien paused.

"How the moonlight mellows these old houses," he said poetically. "What deep shadows it casts under the hedges yonder, while in the middle of the square it is almost like day."

"And what an admirable ambush those same shadows make for some highwayman to spring out from, upon an unsuspecting victim," replied the King, with a laugh.

As he spoke, a man and a woman came out from a postern in the opposite garden, and started across the square toward them. But just as they stepped into the moonlight, two men sprang from the shadow and waylaid them. One seized the woman to stifle her screams, while the other engaged the man, who drew his sword and defended himself fiercely. So quickly was the whole thing done, that the King stood a moment, transfixed with surprise. Then with an exclamation that such things should be in his own capital he darted to the rescue, Lucien at his heels. The King flew to protect the lady, Lucien to protect the King. The ruffians were at first undaunted by this reinforcement, but, finally, finding themselves getting very much the worst of it, they took to flight. Lucien wished to follow, thinking this would be an easy way to avoid troublesome gratitude. But the King, his eyes fixed upon the lady's face, did not move, and Lucien dared not leave him.

"Gentlemen," panted he who had been attacked, "how can I express my gratitude to you? I fear it would have gone hard with us had you not been near.'

"It was indeed a happy fate that led us to this spot," murmured the King. He stood by the lady's side, with head uncovered, his sword still in his hand.

"We merely intended to cross the square to our house yonder," continued the other. "We are strangers in Alesia, and did not think of danger. Pray step into the house with us, and let us offer you some light refreshment. I would know more of our preservers. Will you honor me with your names? I am Charles Ferrette-this my sister Constance."

"I am Lucien Manier, and this my friend Count St. Aubyn," replied Lucien,

smiling and purposely naming himself first.

Ferrette instantly recognized the name of the King's favorite, and his courtesy became boundless. Lucien was about to invent some excuse for declining his invitation, for the King might be recognized at any moment-if not by these, by their friends or servants.

But the King, interrupting him, eagerly accepted and led the way with Mdlle. Ferrette. His favorite could not but follow with her brother.

Under the glare of lights in the salon, Lucien marked anew the extraordinary beauty of the King's companion. She was dark as the King was fair, with melting southern eyes and luscious lips. He was handsome, she was beautiful, and each in a glance fell in love with the other. The favorite saw this mutual infatuation, and thought he could please his Majesty no better than in letting the search for adventure end here. Wine was brought, and all were merry. Late as the hour was, the two lingered some time, the wily Lucien engrossing Ferrette's attention, thus leav ing Henri to his enchantress. In parting the King and his courtier kissed the lady' hand and took formal leave of her brother the latter viewing St. Aubyn's ardent at tentions with evident pleasure.

On the way back to the palace, Lucier was informed that the King and Mdlle Ferrette were made for each other, which seemed improbable, and that his Majest would renounce his religion, his kingdom rather than lose her.

Lucien made haste to inform him tha this would hardly be necessary after th lady learned his true station.

The King resented this cynicism, an declared that she should love him for him self alone; that Fate had surely sent hi abroad that night to meet the one th gods intended for him.

The favorite, being some years olde than the King, felt no apprehension tha the affair might prove serious, while th King's own thoughts naturally reverted t his morning's conversation with De Be

neau.

Hardly a day passed thereafter that L cien was not the bearer of tender missiv and various presents from the King ↑

Mdlle. Ferrette, who returned his affection as ardently. And the King, as often as he could escape from what he was now pleased to term his gilded misery, betook himself to pay his court in person. So the threads of Fate tightened around them, until at last, a frightened priest united Henri the King and Constance Ferrette in a bond which the former mentally defied his Holiness to break. Lucien was there, an unwilling witness, filled with awful forebodings of what his share in the romance might lead to.

It was some days after this ceremony that Lucien presented himself at the door of Mdlle. Ferrette, the Countess St. Aubyn, the Queen of Alesia, or whatever she might choose to be called. Being a somewhat frequent visitor he was at once admitted to the lady's presence. She was surpassingly beautiful, and she had an air truly queenly. Lucien was more than half infatuated himself.

"You bring me a message?" she asked graciously.

"From St. Aubyn," replied Lucien, with a slight smile.

She read the love-letter, a tender blush suffusing her cheeks, which Lucien noted with a sigh was not for him. She prepared an answer, and when she had given it to him, he hesitated.

"I came also on an errand of my own," he said, slowly, and knelt before her. "I would pledge my allegiance to your Majesty!"

She did not start, only looked searchingly into his face with deep and calm

eves.

"There is yet time for that," she said softly, extending her hand.

"But I would be first," pleaded Lucien, pressing his lips to her fingers.

"So be it, then. In return, I will be your friend, and believe me, Lucien, a not altogether impotent one."

Something in her tone caused him to look up wonderingly. In the calmness of her eyes, in the benignity of her smile, there was the gracious dignity of conscious power, and Lucien knew that, from that hour, whoever stood at Henri's side, this woman alone would be ever queen to him. She motioned him to rise. "Come, Count," she said, "now we understand

each other. Be careful not to betray to St. Aubyn that I am aware of his true identity. There may yet be-developments."

"Command me," said Lucien. "My sword and my life are forever at your service."

On the following morning, much to the surprise of the Count Manier, he was summoned to attend upon his Majesty and De Berneau, who were apparently going for a drive. They entered a closed carriage, though the morning was fine. The King's eager young face was somewhat set and stern, as if he had made up his mind to be moved by nothing. De Berneau's face was as usual a mask of imperturbability. Only, as Lucien appeared, he gave him

a

quick, inquiring glance. Lucien shrugged his shoulders in reply. It was of no moment to him where the King went; his duty was merely to follow. But when the carriage rolled rapidly into a well-known street, a light broke over his face, and the King's eyes grew tender.

De Berneau gave no sign of surprise when they stopped before a house only. half seen through trees and shrubbery, nor when they were shown into the room in which yesterday Lucien had knelt to kiss the hand of Constance Ferrette.

The room was empty, and the servant who had conducted them thither, immediately departed. There was a short pause.

"De Berneau," began the King, tentatively, "doubtless you are surprised at my bringing you to this place, but there are certain things which have been kept secret from the Prime Minister which the King now wishes to reveal to him.. And this house, strange as it may seem, is the only proper place for me to make my-confession."

"Confession, sire?" De Berneau raised his eyebrows.

"I am sure you have not forgotten a conversation we had some weeks ago, in which we discussed my proposed marriage?"

The King had been too long under De Berneau's thumb not to feel some apprehension as to the result of the avowal he was about to make.

"I remember perfectly," said the minister, somewhat interested.

"In that interview," continued Henri, "I discovered that my friends and subjects were determined to marry me to the Princess Louise, a charming woman, no doubt, as your excellency remarked, but one whom, aside from political advantages, I consider entirely unsuited to me. It seemed to me that I had a right to please myself in that which concerns my personal happiness, even though I am unfortunately, I had almost said-a King. Well, the story is not long. I fell in love with a girl as far below me in station as she is above me in goodness and beauty, and I have married her!"

De Berneau's face remained expressionless. Perhaps the King thought this an ominous sign, for he sprang to his feet and raised his voice authoritatively.

"I, Henri, the King, married Constance Ferrette; and in defiance of my court, my subjects, his Holiness the Pope, and De Berneau the Prime Minister, I abide by that marriage!"

Behind him the portieres silently parted,

and Mdlle. Ferrette appeared between them. She must have heard the King's fervent declaration, but her beautiful face. betrayed no agitation. De Berneau, raising his studiously lowered eyes, was the first to discover her presence. The woman and the statesman looked at each other with a deep, searching scrutiny of gaze that told of confidence on either side, and in the glance of each a gleam of triumph.

The King turned. "Constance!" he exclaimed, and sprang to her side. He kissed her cheek, smiled into her eyes, took her hand in his, and faced De Ber

and knelt at her feet, and kissing her extended hand, swore his allegiance. The King looked on in astonished triumph. Was the politic De Berneau after all so bewitched by the mere beauty of Constance that he forgot his deep-laid schemes for the aggrandizement of Alesia? It seemed almost fatuity to think so. Yet he knelt to her, and the oath of a De Berneau is no slight thing.

De Berneau rose. "Sire," he said gently, "I have sworn allegiance to the Queen of Alesia, but, mark me well, not to her who was Constance Ferrette, but to her who was the Princess Anabel!"

"The Princess Anabel!" stammered the bewildered King.

"Henri, forgive me." cried the masquer ading princess, throwing herself at his feet. "I loved you, and wished you to love me for my own sake. I came to Alesis and-Fate did the rest. Have I done so wrong?"

her. "Why not?" he said. "It is you The King smiled dazedly, and raised

love, under what name I care not."

"But her Majesty having been a prin cess saves complications," muttered D Berneau, dryly.

Lucien heaved a sigh of relief.

And the King never knew that th whole affair was a well-laid and clever, i somewhat theatrical, scheme of De Ber neau's and that the Princess Anabe Count Lucien Manier, and sundry othe personages were his very able and willin confederates.

So in due time it was announced the the Princess Anabel was King Henri chosen bride, and the populace rejoiced a cordingly.

"Sometimes," said De Berneau, "I kno better than himself what the King wants