( No. 45. a 5 \ Second Series, > Cents. American Tales, THISBE Price a o BS x | ee} a cS S- m a ap e 3 4 ae y THE PRINCESS PALMIST The Queen’s Musketeer. No. 89. Complete’ Series, ) One of Dr. Robinson’s Great Stories! We give, as our next issue of the favorite AMERICAN TALES, Number 47, out February 3d, one of the best stories ever written by the great ee and delineator, viz. -ALETHE: THE CHILD OF THE CORD. ¥ A TALE OF JUNGLE AND BUNGALO LIFE. Something so out of the beaten track of modern life and love romance as to excite surprise and unqualified admiration, The author’s fertile imagination seems to have run riot with his incidents and charactets—so novel and exciting are they.. : . Alethe is a magnificent Indian beauty—at once of ravishing beauty, astonishing courage, an adept, in all the mysteries ot the Hindu upper and lower caste, devoted in times of danger, and a most singular creature for a real down-east Yankee’s wife! That Yankee and his elephant, Methuselah ; the tame tigress, Iepas; the old English officer and his two beautiful daughters; the dreaded Thug, of servant of the Silent - Death; the old Meerob or poison conqueror—all, and others, are active prenene ina tale of exceeding power, beauty and excellence, ‘The following excellent books are already published in this series: 1, Loyal Heart, the Pale-face Hunter. 2. The Trail-hunter. 3. The Pirates of the Prairies. _ 4, The Trapper’s Daughter, 5, Pathaway. 6. Whitelaw. 7, The White Wizard. 8. Hirl, the Hunchback, | 9. The Red Warrior. 10. Quaker Saul, the Idiot Spy. ll. Mountain Max. — 12, Thayendanegea, the Scourge. . The Mysterious Spy. 14, Prairie-flower. _ _ 15. Redpath, the Avenger, 16. Tiger-slayer. 17. Red Kalph, the Ranger. 18. The Silent Rifleman. 19. The Flying Horseman. | 20. The Gold-guide, 21. ‘The Death Track. 22. The Blue Brotherhood. be | BEADLE J AND OOMPANY, Publishers, 98 William Street, N.Y, 23. Alapaha, the Squaw. _ 24, The Border Bandits. 25. Assowaum, the Avenger 26. The Texan Spy. 27. The Red Trail. 28. The Sea Bandit. 29. Old ‘Tiger, the Patriot. 30. The Bush Ranger. 81. The Outlaw-hunter. 82. Giant Jake, Patrol of the Mountain. 33. The Robber Prince. 34. Long-armed Sampson. 35. The Smuggler. 36. The Giant Trailer. 37. The Doomed Guide. 38. The Ranger's Rifle. 39. War Axe. 40. Scotto, the Scout. 41. The Pirate Send, ot 42, Pepe, the Scout. The Shell Hunter, 44, The Scarlet Knight, BS a = For sale by all Newsdealers ; or will be sent, post-paid, on receipt of price—FIFTEEN ORNTS BACH. THISBE, THE PRINCESS PALMIST; OR. 'THE QUEEN'S MUSKETEER. BY GEORGE ALBANY. CHAPTER I. __ Ona very pleasant morning in June, in _ the year 1520, a young man in a rusty suit of _ brown entero the city of Paris on foot, in the hope of fortune. _ He bad, only a few minutes before, disposed | Of his horse to a butcher in the suburbs, | from whom, before taking the seventeen _ ¢rowns which he received for the animal, ex- acted a promise that he would treat it kindly always, and toa peck of oats immediately ; - “for,” said he, “the poor beast, which has beenin my family for seventeen years, has rought me a long way, and has besides had hothing to eat since daybreak, and then only traveler's fare. ‘ In physical appearance, the young man _ Was prepossessing. [fe was slightly above ie medium height, of aslender but firm and symmetrical build, with fine Grecian features, large clear dark-brown eyes, a su- _ perb throat and neck, and a sumptuous pro- Portion of dark brown hair, which, in ac- Cordance with the custom of the day, hung wavy luxuriance about his neck and Shoulders. He wore a slouched hat, with, for its only Ornament, aheron’s feather, fastened with a loop of tassel-cord; a close-fitting jerkin, Yeaching to his hips, and showing to the fuli the graceful proportion of his figure ; a ‘oad be:t, with deep tabs; trunked panta- loons; russet shoes, with brown rosettes and igh heels; and over his left shoulder a aceful short cloak, with a deep square col- r. At his side hung a long cross-handled _ $word, in a brass sheath, which had evident- a £, seen service ; while, suspended by a strap rom his belt was a dirk of the same pattern, 1 tor closer quarters. : His mien was at once modest, masculine, _ &nd dignitied ; but with a something in it, as = well as in the rich bronze of his cheeks, that betrayed a more intimate life-acquainiance with the country than with the town. Nature had been kinder to him than for- tune; for his garments, as we have already insinuated, indicated that he was of a proud but worthy family, that sustained its position With difficulty, and therefore found it neces- ary to make the most of little. : ‘The young man bent his steps toward the central part of the city, looking to the right and to the left for some intimation of lodg- ings to be let; but being unsuccessful in this respect, he at length turned toward the mar- ket-place in the lower part of the town, and was leisurely proceeding, when he was startled by loud shouts, as of a pursuing mob. The next instant he heard, from a short distance, a woman’s scream, upon which he quickened his steps, and was the next mo- ment round the corner and ia tho market- place, when a young female, in the pictur- esque costume of a gipsy palmist or for- tune-teller, pursued by a yelling crowd, bounded up to him, like a frightened fawn, and throwing herself at his feet, cried, with uplifted hands : “Save me from these men—save me!” “ Rise,” said the stranger, lifiing her up. “ Noone shall harm you.” “ Put her away, she is a sorceress!” roar- ed the. crowd, variously armed with clubs and staves, running up. “Put her away, or take her fate!” “ Back, dastards !” shouted the young man, whipping out his sword. “ Back, it is a wom- an, and touch her at your peril!” “She is a sorceress. She has bewitched the King; put heraway. Down with him ; down with her—slay them both!” variously exclaimed the mob, furiously pressing for- ward, 4 “'Talce care,” cried the stranger, with ad- mirable coolness, to the nearest ruflians. “Mine is a Toledo blade—and you are press- ing uponits point?’ Then suddenly bring- ing the weapon around him with a sweep, he added, in a loud voice, “Stand back. I want air-and room: Stand back, I say! Come, maiden,” encircling her with his left arm; “ there is no danger.” “Upon my life, I do believe the fellow hinks there is not !” observed, in a low tone, one of two young ladies, looking down from the window ofa linen-draper’s, at the scene, which they were watching with interest. Her companion, evidently a: visitor, for she still wore her hat, and who carefully vailed her face from public view, made no reply, but kept her eyes steadily upon the stranger, not a movement or word of whom escaped her. “Put her away; she isa sorceress;.an enemy of her kind. She has bewitched the King. Down with her, with him—down with them!” yelled the crowd, flourishing their clubs.and staves. * Back, I say—back!” shouted the young man, in a voice of thunder. “I am of Nor- maudy, where it is an. axiom, that he. who strikes or will not. defend a woman in dan- ger is a coward, which no Norman ever yet was. Back, I say—~back !” “Right doctrine!.. Vm with you in that!” cried springing forward, one of the mob—a tall double-jointed fellow, armed with a long heavy club, which he flourished as if it were buta whip. “Iwasa little hasty in joining the crowd, but Im always open to rigut doc- trine !” “ At them !” roared. the throng. with them—down !” “ Cowards, stand back!”, threateningly ex- claimed the Norman, to-the mob who were pressing upon him on all sides. “Stand back, or, a3 I live, my ‘Toledo shall drink your recreant blood.” A stave, from some base hand at this mo- ment grazed the top of his head, and carried off his hat... lu. an instant, such. were the nearness.and force of the projectile, that a line of blood darted down his forehead. A shudder ran through the lady-visitor at the window, whose features. became shroud- ed with a mortal paleness at the sight. “Oh, brave Sir, you are wounded, and for me,” cried the poor palmist, with an expres- sion of anguish. «oTig notaing—Mademoiselle—heed it not,” returued the Norman. “ THISBE ; OR, THE QUEEN’S MUSKETEER. “Say, rather, can Inot? My father, Pierre the Wax-maker, has the very thing: a front- room on the third floor, where, on fete-days ou can see all the processions, and the fash- onable passers-by all the year round.” “ Thank you, I will go with you at once.” “Take my arm, then, and I will introduce you to the best father in all Paris. Come!” As the young men set off, the bonneted visitor at the linen-draper’s, who, with her companion, looking up the market-place, had not taken her eyes from off the Norman for = instant, turned thoughifully from the win- ow. She was about twenty years of age; of me- dium ‘height ; with a fine figure, easy in its movements and replete with dignity; a fair and dazzling complexion; dark eyes, in whose clear depths was visible a high and noble soul, impressed with a sense of respon- sibility, but yet full of woman's tenderness and high-strung feeling; and one of those fine Grecian heads which artists so love to paint in their Madonnas. She was evidently out of place in the socie- ty of the linen-draper’s daughter, who, though trying to feel herself on an equality with her, only succeeded in making more painfully manifest to herself the broad line of distinc- tion which nature, education, and position had drawn between them. Who was she, that we thus find ourselves drawing her portrait at the end of a chapter? CHAPTER II. Evening came; but Louis de Lemmonier “had heard nothing from the gipsy. “She has probably been unable to discover my retreat, or she may be ill; or, perhaps some unlooked-for circumstance has trans- pired to prevent her keeping her word,” he said to himself, willing to excuse her. “‘ Or, it may be, she has decided it is better on the whole to let the acquaintance ‘so strangely begun -end just there. And yet,” he added, drumming with his fingers on the table, “I would it were not so. She is worthy of a bigher sphere than that in which she moves. She has virtue, wit, courage, intelligence— qualities that are wasted in her wandering life; andall superior natures ought to move in circles where they may continually ‘as- cend.” There was a tap -at the door, and Jacques Fromage entered. “Here is something for you, Normandy,” he said, laying a note on the table. “Jt vame in an itregular way.” “ How?” asked Louis. . : “It was thrust under the hall-door, where I found it as I entered. “It is from the palmisf, I presume. You know she said you’d hear from ber.” ; v on® “I remember,” said Lonts, opeitti the paper, which, written in-a fine had, thus: ata “YT cannot see you as soon as I thought. 1 am not my own mistress. -A crue: destiny makes, another » arbiter of ny actlons:. When I San BFAD FOE an in- terview,1 will, gladly: ‘Till then think’ Kindly, but never lightly,of mg. Though a gipsy palnis: iam yet 4 woman, and have a woman's sense of honor, Have faith in whatI told you.; Every. part;of itewill come to’pass ; belleve it. 1 have a genius for readiag the human palm.’ Itis a gift; anid 1 could‘not err, if would. Beware, when you. see him, as you surely will, of the gray-eyed man. You will kaow him by his eye, anid his afr of silken softness, which latter ° ceals the real nature of his approaches. Yow: hear from me again. I pray for you. ‘TuisBE.” Louis bowed his head upon his hands in thought. oid™ “Do you mean that as a sign that you wish to be alone?” asked Jacques Fromage, with Heme. If 80, PIC TCTC. Ts ne oe atarRe et And he offered, with a movement, to go. . “No; stay,” said Louis, perceiving that he wished to talk, and willing enough to humor him, since he himself desired information. “You have been out?! ~~ NS peer “Yes, down. among the. market-men,. to learn the result, of this morning’s work, which is noisd about through all the city. How many heads do you suppose were brok- en in the row?” ; ; 490s | “T have no thought.” biraty “And how. many killed; that is, have since died?” : Louis shook his head, ; “Four killed and thirty mangled,” laughed the redoubtable Jacques, “of which latter, six are not expected to recover. The rest may, With nursing.” “The affair was much more serious than I expected. Does it make much noise?! * “ All Paris is ringing With it.” , rey aha “Tt could not be helped,” said Louis, after a thoughtful pause. “It is not in Norman blood to see &@ Woman insulted, struck, or.in eril, without making a manly struggle for er rescue. I ain not sorry for the capt, for they brought their fate upon themselves, ow chanced it they sought the palmisi’s ife ? : RP BRP E ito U “it were. hard to tell,” returned: Jacques Fromage. “He is a wise man. who. can.get to the bottom of a riot. But the surface-ap- pearance of the thing was this: Francis, our good King, who, between ourselves, thous a married man, is a desperate fellow after women—” ~~ $5 asva2 * What! thé King?” “aslinet giipbebie “Oh, a desperate fellow, and with no moré idea of right doctrine in that respect than, quack has of regular medicine, a. grocer honesty, or a fishwoman of modesty. He. out, when well, every night, in disguise, among the citizens’ wives and daughters; 8 THISBE; OR, THE QUEEN’S MUSKETEER. “now passing himself for a carpenter's jour- _neyman, then as a lieutenant in the guards, r as a shopkeeper, at other times_ag “@ sailor, then again as a lawyer’s or apothe- cary’s clerk ; till it has got to be a standing sgoke, whenever a stranger visits a citizen's, to egay, * Your Majesty is very welcome!” ~~“ You'amaze me!” exclaimed Louis. “ Is. auile the example the King sets to his peo- ple? '“"«Oyhe has a reply to all such reproofs. He says, ‘if-he sets em a good example during the day, that ought: to be quite enough for ’em, it would for him,if he were in their el ”» ‘The. countenance of the Norman became graye. ~ “You were saying that his Majesty—” ._.“Lies, according to the giving out, very i§{l—perhaps from the club or fist of some in- dignant citizen, with whose wife or daughter he sought to make too free! But (checking himself) that is not the point. He lies very ill, and, rumor says, with the vile sorceries of some person whom it would be beneath his War to notice.” mere % “This morning, the palmist, who is sus- pected of a deeper acquaintance with the unknown mysteries than would be for the interest of a Christian—” “Stop !” said Louis, “Is she not a Chris- tian.?” ; “Who can tell a gipsy’s faith? Coming from tue Lord knows where, and worship- ing the Lord knows what, they—” “Go on!” interrupted Louis, who did not sympathize with this sentiment. “'Phis morning, the gipsy, with her tam- bourine in her hand, came to the market- place, and commenced singing and dancing to the crowd, for the purpose of getting an audience on. whom subsequently to exercise her palmistry, when, who should chance to ance at-her but the butler of the Count De unier; who just then was haggling—for he isa mean man —with a butcher, for his morn- ing’smeat. As his eye fell upon the palmist, he ‘started, and looked grave. Suddenly, turning toward the butcher, he excitedly ex- claimed : 7 “Ag T live! there ‘is the sorceress that has bewitclied the’ King!” ““Who says that?” asked the butcher, looking first at the dancing palmist and then at the butler, in surprise. --“ Her Majesty the Queen-mother, all the court, everybody that ought. to. know,” re- plied the butler. 7 “eT he rumor flew quickly through the market.’ “From surprise, the transition was ipid-to indignation, which found vent in a eral loud burst of: ‘Down with the cock- “ atrice ; down with the sorceress—down with her, kill her!) 7” “The palnust, though nearing in astonish- ment the tempest, had at first no suspicion that it had reference to herself... Bat.ina moment, seeing the butchers, the fishermen, the hucksters, rushing toward her wit vengeful looks, with stones, with clubs, she took alarm, when, dropping her tambourine, and uttering a loud scream, she darted, pate and fleet with terror, up the market-place. Fortunately, she had not sped far, when sha beheld a man, with the broaze hue of the country on his cheek, and who had just turned a cross-street, coming toward. ber and—you know. the reat.” «There is more in this than appears. upon the surface,” said Louis, gravely, aiter a few momenis. “In whose service did you say the butler was ?”” «The Count de Bounier. Louis tcok out a pencil and. tablet, and wrote down the name, for future refereace “TI see the gipsy is likely to find a cham- pion,” slyly observed Jacques Fromage. “Who is the Count de Bounier?” asked Louis. “A man of power—the Kine’s companion in his night-a.lventures.” “Old or young ?” ; “Young; about thirty, and one of the most skillful swordsmen in all. Paris.” “ Normandy does not. blanch ‘at the latter fact,” added Jacques, to himself. “Ts he single or married ?’ “Married, ofcourse... . His establishment yies in splendor with the palace itself.” “He is rich, then ?” “J should think so, by St. Nicholas? since he owns whole streets of houses.”’ “Describe his personal appearance,” said Louis. “have an impression that I shall yet come in contact with him, perchance without knowing who he is, and I would be upon my guard?’ “That is but reasonable,” said Jacques, with an inward smile. “Fancy a man, not tall, but still above the average, and neither slout nor thin, but a solid, compact, sinewy body, whose firm yet wiry air looks as if it could go through you in a fight, like the irresistibje thrust of a knife. He is well-shaped withai, and shows well in a room, on horseback, and inthe street. Add to this, that he is the best- dressed. man in Paris, and you have him with- out mistake.” “ Not quite,” laughed Louis, “for you havé yet yet given me any clue to the most import- ant of ail his features.” s “Oh, true. Fancy aman With 4 thick shock of hair, black and. lustrous as jet, and which neo aiound him, down to his neck, in small natural curls; a complexion of pure = 2S = ae _ SF ae a ee we < a ly; dd ie al, st- th- we fj rt- elk ich ure ' THISBE; OR, THE QUEEN’S MUSKETEER. yeliow-white, like that of a young Spaniard ; gray eyes, that to be in keeping ought to have been black and that when turned upon you, seem tobe looking into, not at, you; an exquisitel y-cut nose, like the beak of a hawk ; lips that seem to have been made both for kissing: women and breathing defiance. to boldest men, and a chin coming forward to a handsomely-rounded point, and ornamented with a beard of a fine silken black, and of the same form. Could you recognize. him now.” “ Probably... Large, gray eyes, you say?” “Yes; that always seem to be looking into you, as if to read you inside-out.” Louis thought of the gray-eyed man spoken of by the gipsy. “What business do you propose: to fol- low?” asked Jacques, with a friendly smile, seeing that he had no more to ask concerning the Count de Bounier. “Thad thought of offeviag my service to the King,” repiied Louis. “In what capacity 2?” “That of a manof-arms. Though Iam not particular, providing the service is such as can be followed by a gentleman ‘who has been trained to a high regard for honor. Think you there is any prospect at court?” “| have no idea ; I never go there,” smiled Jacques. “But there could be no harm in your making a trial: though I have my doubts Whether you can see the King with- out some influence other than your owa. Did you bring any letters?” “'Two—one to my father's old commander, ~ the Chevalier Devaux, Capiain of the King’s First Regiment of Horse; the other to Mon- sieur de Charenton, Vice-General of the Finances.” ‘Lhe countenance of Jacques became sober. “ How long since your tather served?” he asked. “Twelve years.” . : *“ How long since he was lastin Paris.” “Seven years.” “He never corresponded -with the:Cheva- lier Devaux, Monsieur de Charenton, or any one else in Paris, I suppose ?” “No. But why do you ask?” inquired Louis, in surprise. “don’t wish to hurt your feelings,” re- turned Jacques ; but Normandy is along way from Paris, and if one does not hear the news, one is apt to think that things always | d remain the same, which they don’t in Paris.” “ You are preparing me for asurprise. Has anytuing happened to one or both these gen- tlemen ?” “Only what comes to all. © The Chevalier Devaux died five, and Monsieur de Ciarenton three years ago.” fortune the palmist predicted for you. “My innocent father!” inly exclaimed 9 Louis. “In that case, I must make ny own way,” he remarked aloud, with a grave on Bray ile. “ Yes,” said Jacques, sorry for him. “But, don’t be discouraged. You ‘will do it. Brave blood always finds friends and open- ings.” . “ Do you think so ?” “T never knew it to‘fail. Besides, I have an idea the affair of to-day will tell for you. I don’t know how or why. But ‘it wasa brave and manly act on your part; and my father, Pierre, the wax-maker, says a noble action never passed unobserved or unrevardeil.” “We will see,” said Louis, smiling. *“ Besides,” said Jacques, “ think what - ou smile, but it will all come outtrue. The gip- sy has been around Paris these three years, in which time I've known more than twent; ae that have transpired as she tore told.” 1 “ Tndeed |” “Yes, Sir; she is no common gipsy. Sho is.as she told you; she has a gift tor hep ‘Bci- ence. I don’t pretend to understand it ; lam not sure she does herself; but it is certain her predictions always come out true, and to the letier. Even my father, Pierre, the wax- maker, who is not wont to believe without evidence, gives in at mention of Thisbe, the palmist, and says she is a strange being, but whose statemenis, private and protessional, ere ae upon.” lied “Louis, * We will see,” replie 0 rising ; “ What is the hour ?” - “ Nine.” “1 will walk out awhile. Your intellt- gence concerning those to whom I had de- signed to introduce myself to-morrow has startled me, and I propose to walk it down I will return in an hour.” a As he went out, he observed, on the oppo- site side of the street, a man, who had appar ently been looking up at his window, sud- denly wheel round, and bend his steps in thé same direction he himself was going. “ A spy, perhaps,” he said to himself; “ but surely not on me, who have been in Paris only a fewhours. Nevertheless, I will keep an eye on him.” : Aiter proceeding some distance, he pur- posely stopped to look in at a jeweler’s win- ow; upon suddenly turning, he discovered the man, who was watching him‘ steadil from the opposite pathway, start quickly, and move on again, in confusion. ee “Well, he ejaculated; “if the fellow is after me, I have my Toledo, and heis free to advance’as soon as it is pleasure to'do'so.” _ The spy, however—if spy he was—did not evince any such intention. On the contrary, i ot = Eager ct 10 “he carefully kept a respectful distance, until Lonis entered a public park facing the Palace of Justice, which was thronged with prome- “naders, when, pausing a few moments -to ex- change a few. words with a man.dressed like himself, standing near the main gate, he hur- tied off. As he disappeared, the man to whom he had spoken, turned slowly upon hisiecl, and entered the park, also.at a slow walk; but, singularly enough, keeping his eye closely upon Louis; whom, keeping carefully, as he hoped, out of range of the latter's sight, he foliowed, with the soft stealthiness of a cat. Louis, however, was of Normandy, whose inhabitants, as all the world know, were fa- mous for.always, understanding the move- ments of their enemies; and he smiled at the man’s gratuitous. pains to avoid his observa- tion, “One would almost. think,”. he mentally observed, seating himself on. a bench, at-the ‘side of the main walk, ‘I wason the point of an adventure. Fortunately, in case of attack, Ihave, besides my father's well-tried sword, ny father’s dagger, in the, use of both of ‘which, thanks to my honored.father’s teach- ‘ing, I have a fair degree of knowledge.” ~,, And now another incident occurred. - On seeing Louis seat himself, the.spy, fix- ing the locality in his mind, turned about, and made his. way through the promenaders back to where he had. started, wuere, however, he had ‘scarcely arrived, when he was rejoined ‘by the other, who was at this time accompa- niéd by a woman, ina domino and mask. 8 :.they approached, he turned again into the park, and walked before them, without a word, to where he had mentally impressed to Louis's situation, who was still sitting as he had left him, and to whom he called tieir at- tention, Without gesture, in these words : ~“ Over there, on the bench, under the Ss + : ‘88. _ “Tis well,” said the mask ; “you have had your instructions.” ~The man bowed, with an air of deep re- spect, and fell behind the lady, who, mingling With the throng, moved round to the main path, in the direction.of the Norman, toward whom she slowly advanced. ~ As she approached the bench, the two men drew up on tue side of the path, aud aifecting to be observing only the passers-by, followed her carefully with their eyes. _ Whatever the aim or errand ofthe mask, when within a few yards of the bench, her heart temporarily failed her ; but murmuring to herseli, “ Courage, courage!” she contin- ued to advance; though not, with the same firm tread she had exhuvited hitherto. * At the last moment, however, her spirit re- turned ; for, on reaching the bench, she boldly THISBE; OR, THE QUEEN’S MUSKETBER. seated herself at the side of Louis, and, laying asmall gloved hand upon his arm, exclaim- ed, in a voice that thrilled him in every nerve: ; “Sir, pardon me; but a persecuted and unhappy. lady stands greatly in need of a brave man’s help, and 1 bave come to ask if you will grant it, with the same nobleimpulse that you did to the gipsy palmist, in the market-place, this morning ?” ‘The voice fell on the ear like gushing mel- ody, and raptured every sense. CHAPTER III. At the question of the mask, related at the close of the preceding chapter, the prediction of the -gipsy palmist uprose before the Nor- man, and began immediately to assume dig- nity aud proportion. He recalled aiso Jacques’ presentiment, and, under the influence of beth these thoughts, a singular feeling came over him, which, however, was almost instantly over- powered by the delicious magnetic tones of the lady’s voice, which electrified him with a pleasing delight, in every muscle. There are voices that tell. of frankness, truth, nobleness ; and whose every tone, when in health, is like a wave of music, because the truth and sweetness of their owner's nature dwell in the depths of their voice as in the deeps of their mind. ‘Lhe voice of the mask was of. this descrip- tion ; and Louis felt that it was that of a wom- an of education, feeling, and refinement. and who, to her other virtues, added truth, ten- derness, and devotion. But all this, which has taken us several minutes. to describe, flashed through the young man’s mind in an instant, and he said, in answer to the interrogatory of the mask : “Tama Norman, Madame, and therefors could not refuse assistance to any one in peril or in pain.” “Pnanks, Sir, thanks,” cried the unknown. ce knew, I felt, that such would be your re- Pp a ‘ You. { knew’, ‘felt’ 1t; Madame!» Have you seen me before?” “T have.” “Pardon me, Madame, but I have been in Paris only a few hoars, and am known oniy to three persons—my landlord, his son, and the palmist, to whom you have alladed.” “ Pardon me, Sir)’ returned the mask, playiully; “but there is nota firesidein Paris where you are unknown, from that of the palace, where your gallant rescue of the gip- sy girlis to-night the only theme, to that of the meanest hovel.” “You are determined, Madame, I see, to put me on good terms with myseli, Are you a native of Paris ?” Ce” ir THISBE; OR, THE QUEEN’S MUSKETEER. ‘ Of Burgundy, Sir.” “But you have lived in Parls some years?” “ Since childhood.” “ Does the unhappy lady reside in tho city, also?” “ Yes, Sir.” “Who is she ?” “That I may not tell,” said the unknown, With visible embarrassment.” “Where does she live ?” “ Neither cam l inform you of that.” “Very good,” said Louis. “ You may have & good reason, and | shall not urge it. Your own name, then?” “ Timust be silent. upon that, too.” “Tis well, Madame. Your“ residence, then ?” “T must reply to that question as to the Others, at least tor the prescut ; and Lam sure you are too much of a gentleman to think un- generously of me for it, or to reluse-my re- quest because circumstances render it neces- sary tor me to be Jess explicit than I4vould.” “ You have judged me correctly: | Ivecog- nize your claim asa lady to any service in may poor power, consisteat with honor; and wien it is performed, your woman's. right to} disiniss me without allowing ne to: see your features, or acquainting me with your name. But, pardon me, howsuall Ibe able to render any aid to the unhappy lady you refer to, un- less 1 go to where she is; and how can I learn that, if it be not told me ?” “{ have prepared for that obstacle, Sir,” said the mask. “Then I must say, Madame, you are-as in- ~ genious as ingenuous.” “ You will judge better of that, when I have unfolded to you my plans.” “Oh! indeed. What isit 2” “To lead you thither blindfolded !” “Madame,” said Louis, in surprise, who began to thank there was sucha thing as car- rying one’s politeness too far. “You refuse, Sir?” said the mask, as if pained. : Louis was irresolute, but it was only foran instant. “ No, Madame, I do not,’ he replied; touch- od by the distress manifest in her changed voice. “A Norman, and therefore without fear, and believing you to bea lady, I will submit ummurmuringly to your wish, and go with yourself, or whomsoever you may des- ignate, confidingly, and in honor.” “Had I had any doubts of your high in- tents, your right to the name of a genile- man,” she gratefully exclaimed, in a voice quivering with emoiion, “ your nobleness in this would have dispelled thio: Have equal confidence in me, and feel assured that it will not ke abused.” ’ il “TJ have confidence, Madame.” OS “Thanks, thanks, in the’ namé'of m Be happy ‘friend, who, believe me, isa ne ty ; high honor, and my own.” Oe: Sse “What is the nature of the service called for by your friend?” : fe erg “That she herselfwill tel you “= Sy + “Then I shall see her ?” Pee Apeg “No. My idea is, that when yow leave the’ park ‘you will be met by a man who will . ‘offer you ‘a silken ‘bandage, which you wilt put on without a word. ry 70 “ Perfectly, Madame.” “Po guard against all Is that satisfacto-~ danger to the lady's incognito, the man who will give you the” bandage will not be one of her friends or sery* ants, whom she does not wish to compro- mise or have known, but a ‘person’ selected from thé passing crowd.” eee “Pardon me, Madame, ' But the. lady ={s taking extraordinary precautions! “Of whose devising is the plan?” Rs 2s rose “ Mine, Sir.” 3 ee “'Phen Thave-nothing to-urge against it. Excuse my interruption. bandage: What then?” : “Pwo men. will come up, who. will place themselves on either side of you, and teat you without a word toa court, up which they will ° procéed, till’ they come to a door at which they will knock, and then retire, leaving you" alone.” i reg aca “Then ?” *- “That you must not even guess.” poten “The woman will lead- you by the hand up_ a private staircase, thence along a passage, thence up a second staircase, thence ten'steps to an apartment, the door of whicli will open at your approach, and closé-upon your en- trance.” sapiens. Siaprest cof . “Thave it all in my mind.” “ Oace in the apartment, you will continte ~*~ to advance till your conductor withdraws her’ hand, when you will instantly stand still, and wait till you are addressed.” +-O4s “Pardon. But who will address me?” “The ee lady.” s “ No one else *” ‘ . “No one.” “ Pardon, again. perfect.” - “ Tow so?” said the mask, in surprise. ~_ “From this hour, I shall be insensible to every voice but one; and after the unhappy lady has spoken, I ought to hear that one.’ ie The arrangement: is im “® You mean the palmist’s?” #* Why hers?” “You, saved her life, and therefore must feel an interestmher. Besides, there are few in Paris so lovely ; then, too, though a gip- sy,-her. reputation is pure as the untainted snow.” “TI do not mean the. gipsy’s voice, Ma- dame.” “No? Whose, then?” S “Tf you cannot guess, no matter!” said Louis, in an affected pet. “I shall not insist upon hearing it.” “You are angry,” said the unknown, ob- serving him with attention. . “Zhad only hoped to hear a second voice after the unhappy lady has spoken ; that is all. But you say I shall not, and so—” “T have not said that.” “Excuse me. I thought you did.” “No. You will then hear a second voice.” “Ah! Whose?” “Have I not already told you you must not even guess?” said the mask, playfully. “ But if Ishould recognize it?” “You must not !” said the mask, with feel- ing. Frhen I will not!” said Louis, generous- Me Thanks. You have put me out again with your impatience.” “Aht if you only knew how much you have put me out. 1, who was never put out before!” said Louis, with an unconscious sigh. a Sir, I almost fear you are taking advan- tage of my having sought your assistance !” “You do not mean that, Madame !” said the man, quickly. : we Destinys tac wee !” replied the mask, soft- ened at the sight of a great round tear which had leaped to his lids unhidden, “ Where was I?” “At the second voice, which I was not to recognize.” : “That voice will say to you, ‘This way!” “No more?” “Ts not that enough?” * Perhaps, then! For the unhappy lady will be present. But at the foot of the stairs! I mean at the door opening out into the court!” “What then?” “Who can tell! What do ladies usually say to gentlemen at the door?” “ Good-night!” “Ahem! Nothing more ?” “Jt may be, the one who leads you down will add ‘ Thanks !’ from a grateful heart.” “And shake hands with me!” “ You are exacting!” “Oh, lady, say not so!” said the young man with emotion. “I am only a poor Norman THISBE; OR, THE QUEEN’S MUSKETEER. gentleman, with no other fortune than my sword, it is true; and it'may be) theretoré, un- worthy of thé notice or the friendship of one so gentle, beautiful, and highborn. But he who gives his holiest and best sympathies without thought of power or reward, is sure- ly on a level with the objects of his service, and therefore entitled to their best feelings, were they among the highest !” The unknown was silent. It may be she was weighing his sentiment; perhaps think- ing of the man. Who knows? For whocan tell the language of a face or eye he cannot see, or the sensitivities of a breast whose workings are invisible? “ How know you the lady is either beauti- ful or highborn ?” she asked, presently, in a tone far trom firm. “low feel we the beauty of the nightingale when we hear the music of its song, or the rank in nature of her who walks a queen among the throng?” “ A queen!” said the unknown, agitated. “ Oh, lady! there are queens by nature, sur- passing in true worth and beauty all that ever wore tue diadem of empire ; and wheu they go abroad to mingle with their kind, they do not need trumpeters to shout, ‘Lo! there comes the royal!’ for all appreciating hearts see them and do homage!” “T will shake hands with you!” said the unknown, warmly, taking off her glove. “ But you need not press it quite so hard !” “Pardon. Iam a Norman; but Ill im- prove, so you will but give me time!” “QO!” said the unknown, with a low sigh, like a gush of music. “ For what!” “To improve!” returned Louis, “I am country now, but I'll be city by-and-by.” “ And forget you are a Norman!” said the unknown, archly. “ Never !” rejoined Louis, whose yoice had an honest, manly ring. “Iam proud of my old Norman hills; proud, too, of her green fields, her fair women, and brave men. She was ever to me a kind, if frugal, mother; giv- ing me wholesome nourishment from her mountain-streams, in whose depthg I in boy- hood learned to dive, and in lusty strokes contest with its startled finny coursers the honors in the race; from her high hills and craggy steeps, up which I from a boy have climbed and ran, till every muscle grew firm and hardy as the rocks themselves and as insensible to pain; and from her broad, yver- dant fields, in which I have rollicked and shouted till every sense banqueted on laugh- ing joy: Forget 1am Norman! Yes, when memory herself dies out, but not till then! But we have wandered. The lady will shake hands before dismissing me at the door!” “ Yes, as I did but now.” “I knew she would. You but jested when —_—Les —— my un- one , he hies ire- 1ce, 1g3, she nik- can not ose uti- la ale he en 1Y- erst oo 5 See a Pa 2 it THISBE ; OR, THE QUEEN'S MUSKETEER. ie intimating sho would send me off with a bare g£00d-nicht.” “Did T intimate that ?” “T wili not say you did, but that I think you did ; and not even that, if you will shake hands again.” “There. Gently ; you hurt my hand.” “Tt was your ring, not_me. See, I press it now, without hurting it, which is proof it was the ring. But at the door, what?” “The same two men will meet and lead you, blindfold, back to whence they took you.” “Tis well. me start ?” “Now, if you will.” “Nay, it shall be as you wish. Shake hands once more.” “Nay, hush !” “Weil, if you will have it so! the bandage be handed to me?” “Without the park, on the walk, facing the north gate.” “Tis well. When is it you wish to ‘have Where will Adieu !” CHAPTER IV. Louis, lifting the ungloved hand of the lady to his lips, bowed gracefully, and moved away among the throng. In ‘a few minutes he reached the gate, through which he had but ay passed, when a man stepped up to him with a black silken kerchief, which he handed to him, saying : “ Excuse me, Sir. this.” Louis thanked him, and walking under a tree, drew the kerchief over his eyes. As he. accomplished this, two men, who had been watching him from an adjoining tree, came up, and without a word, placed themselves on his either side, took each an arm in theirs, and gave a forward impulse, on feeling which, Louis at once strode for- ward. In twenty minutes or 80, he heard an echo- ing murmur, and he comprehended that he was walking in the court, when, drawing him up to the left, the men suddenly withdrew their arms from his, tapped three times at a door, and retreated. When their footsteps had ceased to re- sound, the door turned softly upon its hinges, and Louis felt a soft hand take his, and draw him forward, and heard at tle same instant, in alow but clear whisper : “Raise your foot, a single step. Come! “Good,” he mutiered to himself, in an ec- stasy of delight. “I do not recognize the voice, but I feel the ring. "Tisshe!” His conductress led him along a few steps, and _ then whispered : “We are at a staircase. But you have dropped Raise your foot.” “Tt is some nobleman’s mansion,” ssid the oung man, mentally. “'The floor, sof és eider-down, retur#is no sound.” a In amoment he was in a age on the- second floor, along which his guide led him to a second stair-flight, up which they -as-' cended to a third hall, where the Norman’s nostrils were immediately saluted with an odoriferous perfume, which after a few steps very considerably deepened, and he became satisfied that he was in’a luxurious apart-_ ment. Td When he had walked forward a few paces, hisconductress suddenly withdrew her hand, when, remembering his instructions, he’in- stantly lowered his arms at ease, and stood: stock-still, In a few moments he heard a rustling of silk, and the next instant he: inhaled a differ- ent kind of perfume from that which per- vaded the apartment, and he felt that seme high-born lady, accustomed to the luxuries of refinement, was standing a step or two-off, and attentively observing him. Presently, a plaintive voice, its’ tones eee silvery and distinct, fell mildly‘on * is ear, saying, “Do you know where you are, Sir?” “T do not, Madame,” he replied. “Or who it is that addresses you?” “Only that it is a lady, and, by ‘theplain- tiveness of her voice, an unhappy one.” - “ Should she desire it, are you at her serv- ice?” “She may command me, Madame.” « * Without reservation ?” , “Tn all things in honor.” “Who are you, Sir?” said the voice, in & tone that showed its owner was pleased with his reply. . “ Louis de Lemmonnier, of Ferat, Norman- ° dy, which I left twenty days since, with m father's blessing, and high hopes, though entered Paris with forty crowns.” behets “Who is your father ?” f oA “ Adrian de Lemmonnier, Count of Ferat, and Fourth-Lieutenant under the ‘Chevalier eae of the King’s First Regimént “of orse.”” 4 £008 % “You are the son of a gallant man, Sir? F< Count ‘of - aro familiar with the fame of the Ferat, whose heroic valor at the siege’of Mi- lan, recorded in the state archives, élicit- ed from our army general bursts of a tion.” ‘ “You are very polite, Madame!” ¢ried Louis, grateful for the tribute to the reputa- tion of his father, for whom he had an éx- alted love and reverence. “How can I serve you ?” “ Let us talk of yourself first. "What hag’ brought the son of so worthy a gentleman-as the Count of Ferat to Paris?” q ) | ! 14 8 “To push his fortunes, Madame.” t¢One.would,.have,thought..the son of.a gentleman of so.wide a fame.ag that.of the Jount of Ferat would -find his fortune all ready,at his-hand,”... .-.. : ; ene Lud therein would lic a very great mis- 9 »Dadeed. Is not'the Count.a gentleman of wealth?” a] : ; oY Quite the contrary.” “XY ou surprise me, Bir.” LT regret it Madame, for yoursake and my. father’s. While following his profession. of arms, the Count’s affairs were managed over- well,.got.into bad disorder, and—l must say it—-decay ;.so that, when, thirty. days since, f was.meditating. upon the condition. of our station, I suddenly said to the Count, Father, we, need: money; 1k to: Paris, and try to make it ;. if. 1. fail,. the estate will hold out while you live!’ ‘And you—if you—fail said tlie Count,.his cheek turning pale, for he loves me with a Jarge,heart.. ‘Jf T fail, Sir,’ said J,,‘I-shall need no estate—larger than six small feet of earth.’ The Count hoped for batter,.and;so in truth did I, and do still: for I shall make the money!” “Have you any prospect ?” “ No, Madame.” ee “Friends ?” “No friends.” “Whence, then, do youlook for fortune?” “No particular direction... It will come from where it will.” “Have you applied for service ?” “To whom siould I apply, Madame?” “The King, of course....Are you not a nobleman ?” ; “ Lhaye no.one to present me.” ; *“ The.son of the Count of Ferat needs no patron. His father’s name is influence en- ough.” : . # You flatter me, Madame.” “No, Ido not... ; The fame of the Count.of Ferat is one of the glories. of the stato. “Tn your mind, perhaps.” : “In that of France; the King, the court.” * Madame, you. are filling me, with vanity. Is ;mot supposed my fathe,’s name had ever been heard of outside of his regiment, and still less, that it should ever reach his “Your.thought deceived you, Sir. Take courage, thereiore.’’,., ‘ “But; Madame, you have not yet told mein what way I can be of service to you?” “We will.cometo.that, presently... Ihave no_wish to pry, into.your aliairs, but fromthe rennark-you made, that you had entered Paris |; without, so. much baggage as a lady could press into her glove, I infer that the--suii you, hayeon is youronly one?” * Precisely. ‘ THISBE ; OR, THE QUEEN’S MUSKETEER. “You will need a better one in which to present yourself before the King, before whom you ought to appear in a dress worthy the gon of the gallant Count of erat. Reach out your hand.” “Por what 2” “That is my affair, I think, Sir.” “ No Madame, it is. mine, if, as I suspect, you design to offer me money. Though poor, I.am yet a gentleman, and can receive no one’s charity. I am.a Norman, too; and what: I eat and wear I must earn, like an honest and an honorable man!” His interrogator was dumb a few moments, as.ifin surprise. “Yet take it,’ continued the voice, “if not as a gift, then as a loan, which, if you so desire; you. can at any time return.” “Pardon,” returned the Norman, “but I must decline. I do not know whom Iam | addressing ; may never appear before you again, and, if I did, I should not recognize you; or, if E-recognized you, I am bound in honor not to admit it; and if I were released from that, and recognized you, I might not have the means to return the money. ‘Lhere- fore, Madame, if you please, we will say no- thing more about it, but come at once to the main purpose of this interview.” “You are right, Sir,” said the voice, evi- dently pleased with this high proof of his delicate senseofhonor. “It is time we cams to\ that. You have made no application for service in any quarter, you say, and are ut- ‘terly free ?” “ Wholly, Madame.” “*Tis well, Sir. Present yourselfto-morrow to the King, who, be assured, will be found easily accessible, upon your announcing your name?” “Easily accessible,” said Louis, in. sur- priso. “I had heard the contrary, and that it is usual—” : “The son of so eminent a soldier as the Count of Ferat. does not come under the cus- tomary rules. The King will give you & flattering reception. aud perhaps invite you to enter his service, which, however, you must decline.” '« Decline, Madame! when. to enter his Majesty's service is the dearest wish of my | heart? You cannot be serious.” “Tam serious.” The Norman was plexed, “But, Madame, bis Majesty may require tO know why I decline, in which case, whab shall .Isay ?” “Phat you are already in service.” ®Which will not be ius, and theroforol cannot say it.” “Tt -will-be true.” “Madame, you are bewildering me!" mystified and per =e. wee vi 113 for ut- por re to what oro L THISBE ; OR, THE QUEEN’S MUSKETEER. gi) The voice made no reply. “Pray, Madame, if it will be true, in whose service am I?” “Mine! Haye you not offered yourself to me?” “Very good, Madame. But his Majesty will probably ask in whose.” “You will say you are in the Queen’s Mus- keteers.” “The Queen’s Musketeers!” repeated the young man, in astonishment. “TI have heard of the King’s Guards, but never of the Queen’s Musketeers. Is there such a corps? “There is not.” “Then I shall tell a lie, which—pardon me—I can not.” “ You will not tell a lie.” “But I understood you to say there is no such corps.” “ There is not, Sir. But that does not argue that there will not be.” “True. ‘That is a consideration of a very different complexion. Has his Majesty in view a corps of that description ?” “ He has not.” “The lady is making game of me,” thought Lewis. “But, Madame,’ he said aloud, “in case such a corps were established, it by no means follows 1 should be willing to take service under its Captain, who, though pos- sibly a fine commanding oilicer, aiter all might not suit me, who am very particular under whom I serve, inasmuch as promotion —a very important consideration with individ- uals whose ambition is larger than_ their purse—very often depends upon it. Were it in the King’s Guards, now—” “You will be pleased with the Captain of the Queen's Musketeers, I assure you, Sir,” said the voice. “ But, Madame, I do not think any one can assure me of that but Louis de Lemmonier himself.” “T repeat it, Sir; you will be as pleased with the Uaptain as with yourself.” “ Madame, permitme to ask a, to me, im- portant qucenon. Do the Musketeers draw any pay?” “ By all means; the privates fifty, and the Captain one hundred crowns a month.” * From his Majesty’s Treasurer ?”’ “From her Majesty's.” “The Queen has a separate. treasurer, then?” “Have I not said so?” “rue. But, having never before heard such a fact, the relation of it now takes me by surprise. His name, if I may be so bold?” “ Maclemoiselle Adrienne de Bowmonville.” “JT am in a dream, or else in a mad- house!” mentally exclaimed the Norman. “ Pardon, Madame; but I think you said her Majesty’s Treasurer was & Woman ?” “T did.” «Some old toothless virago, who, unable longer to hold her positica in socioty asa woman, has taken to one of the occupations of the other sex, and therefore is more diili- cult to get along with than any man.’’ “ An amiable young lady, not yet twenty, of spotless name, of surpassing beauty, and the bosom-friend of her Majesty.” “You said, but now that the Queen’s Mus- keteers drew, the privates fifty, and the Cap- tain a hundred crowns per month ?” “T did. Is there aught strange in that?” “Only this: That his Majesty’s Guards draw but ten, and the Captain only forty erowns a month.” “So much the better for the Musketeers.” “True, Madame, if it be true. Filty crowns amonth! itis a fortune!” “So much the better for those’ in the corps.” “True, again. But I think it is not started yet,” said the young man, half in irony. “Tt will be, however. Rest content with that.” “The duties of a Musketeer, Madame, if I may be so bold ?” “'The duties of a Guardsman ?” “To watch over, defend, and hold himself subject to the orders of the King.” “You have defined the duties ot a Mus- keteer, Sir; only, instead of the King, it is his business to watch over the fame, safety, and happiness of the Queen.” t “That is the duty of his Madame.” “His Majesty,” replied the voice, with a slight faltermg, “does not think with you in that respect.’’ : Louis thought of what Jacques Fromage nee told him concerning the King’s inil- delities. “T see, Madame,” he said. “But if his Ma. jesty, who, as 1 had already heard, is not so true or respectful to her Majesty as he might be, then it is the duty of every gentleman at court to be doubly watchful of hor salety, Majesty, jand in their respect.” * Alas, Sir,” said the voice, as if in’ pain, “ the Queen does not dispense favors, but the “1 see,” said Louis, indignantly. “And therefore—” “Therefore, since his Majesty forgets his respect for the Queen, her Majesty has no one to stand up for her at court, where the King’s last lady-tavorite has more importance and greater influence than she.” “ Does her Majesty luve the King?” “Why do you ask, Sir?” “T have often heard it said by my honored father, the Count of Ferat, that any wife with a truant husband has it in her power to { a: 4 i] tr THISBE }/OR; "THE QUEEN'S MUSKETEER. bring him back to her side, and drive out forever from his heartrall desive to wander.” “ How, Sir 2” 5 By kindness, respect, andemaking herself agreeable to-him. » Love ‘begets love; and a wife who would retain, after marriage, the confidence and :affection of her Jord, ‘must herself exhibit what:she would see in him-” “ Alas! Sir, the King gives ‘her Majesty no opportumity to show him how she loves him. For weeks and months ata time, he never visits her apartments ; and when by chance he meets*her, he turns his eyes away, or else regards her with a frown, and passes on, to give his smiles and) attentions to some un- worthy favorite, who, when: she sees the Queen, often impudently stares at her with a simile, brazen and glittering with triumph.” «“ And his Majesty permits this ?” “Ttis unknown to him, and, indeed, ‘who is to tell him? ‘The Queen herself? Alas! her Majesty rarely or never meets him! ex- cept in public; and his favorites alone have his ear.” “ Does his Majesty never visit her apart- ments ?”” “ Never! His days are given to public affairs, his nights to dissolute companions, who take advantage of his fondness for gay adventure to lead him in-evil” “ So that her Majesty is, as it were, ‘ostra- cised, and cut off from the dignity, the influ- ence, and the happiness due to her as a woman and a queen ?” “ Yes, Sire? “ Alas, poor lady !” “ You pity her?” “ From my heart, Madame, and would that I could help her. Alas! that one who is so well beloved by all ‘her subjects: that they affectionately term her ‘our good: Queen’, should be so unhappy !” “ Do they call lereMajesty that?” asked the voice, touched. “ Everywhere. Madame ?” “ No, Sir,” returned the voice, invemotion. “ And she is beloved, too?” “ $o-warmly,-that were the cause of her unhappiness. but known, there. is scarce a sword in the kingdom that would not leap from its scabbard io do her right.” of “ She has friends, then, in the people. -O joy! -O rapture! She had-feared that, with the alienated alfections of the King, she had lost also the love and confidence of France ?” “ So far from that, Madame, were it aware of her suffering, the nation would rise as one man to avenge her,’and. cheerfully die-fight- ing in her cause.” ‘the Norman heard a sound as if his inter- locutor had.burst into tears. “ This “intelligence,. Six,” said the voice, Did. you not. know « it, presently, in a tone that informed the Nor- man it was accompanied by a.sw smile, “ will be gratefully remembered, by her Majesty, in whose name [ thank you, the first to bring it to her ears... You appear to be meditating ?” “JT was thinking, Madame, how I. could serve this poor Queen, to bring back happi- ness to whom I would die.” “ Her Majesty will not forget your kind regards, Sir. Accept in her name “this ring !” ““Pardon, Madame, I can accept of nothing from so unhappy a lady, till I have first made a manly ettort in her cause.” “ But, Sir—” “ Pray, no more, me?” “ Assuredly.” “ Under wnose command will be the Mus- keteers ?” «That of their Captain, who will receive his orders from the Queen’s ‘Treasurer, who will receive them from her Majesty.” “ They will form, then, no part oi the regu- lar-army ?” “ No.” “Will be subject in, nowise to the King or any of his officers ?” “ They will be subject to the ordexs only of their Captain.” * One word more—their object ?” «The Queen, long .slighted, neglected, treated with indifference by the King, and with disrespect by the dissolute of the court. has thought it best, by the counsel of her own judgment, and that of her bosom-friend, to make an effort for tlie recovery of her dig nity and the affections of her lord.” “Good; bravo!” said the Norman, his features kindling with enthusiasm, “To this end, she needs friends whose resence, courage, and devotion, will give to er throughout the struggle a moral support, which will check those who, under the infiu- ence of enemies and rivals, may seek to over- awe and neutralize her efforts. These friends Will you be frank with 4 she looks for in her Musketeers.” “ Alas, poor lady! has she none thers on whom she can count?” “Save her bosom-friend, none,’’ faltered the voice. “Here, at least, is one who from this hour will devote himself to theservice of hisQueen. So tell her Majesty, Madame; and also that he will make her triends his friends, and her foes his foes—would she but let him know them—till she reigns once more paramount queen of her lord’s affections, court, and throne !”’ There was a sobbing sound, and the Nor- man felt that the owner of the yoice had again been overcome by her feelings. et. but sad. p72 mewOonren h ae rN ete THISBE ; OR, THE QUEEN’S MUSKETEER. 17° “ When does her Majesty désign’ to make her efort, Madame?” he-asked, presently. “ To-morrow.” “Then she doubtless wishes to be sup‘ Ported by the presence of her friends ?” “ By her Musketeers—yes, who will assem- ble at three o’clock in the royal antechamber, to pay honor as she passes to the throne- room.” “ Pardon, Madame. But the uniform ? “ To-morrow, as they will. After that, as her‘ Majesty’s Treasurer shall direct “ They are to appear armed—yes ?” “ With a musketoon, sword, and dirk; and will follow her Majesty into the throné- room, to nerve her with their presence, and to check with their eyes the hitherto’ un- bridled gestural insolence of the parasites ot the King.” “ "is well, Madame. I give you my word that one at least will do his duty in those particulars. Where are'to be the quarters of the Musketeers ?” * Where they themselves shall determine, providing they are at the palace from two to four in the afternoon and from’ dusk to nine in the evening.” “ At the palace, Madame? What! all the Company ?” “The Captain and privates, Sir.” “They would fill it, to the exclusion of everybody else,” muttered the Norman. “ But it is none of my business. If the Mus- eteers were ordered to take possession ‘of the throne-room itself, it would be their duty to‘obey.” ‘Then, addressing the voice, he in- Quired: “In what part of the palace are they to take their station, Madame ?” ‘In the royal antechamber, till the Queen appears, when they are immediately to follow, and watch over her till she retires.” : “Do you speak this, Madame, by authori- ye? “Tn the name of her Majesty.” “ Enough, Madame. To-morrow, at two clock precisely, at least one Musketeer will @ at his post in the royal ante-chamber. Have you anything further to say to me ?” “Only to tender you the thanks of a grate- ul woman for your generous kindness in Coming up thus promptly to the help of your ueen. Good night, Sir.” “Good night, Madame.” The next instant, the Norman felt a small, Soft hand, whose touch thrilled him like an ecstasy, take his to lead him from the apart- Ment. He recognized it, as before, by @ rin “n the forefinger, but-was too honorable to bermit the discovery to appear. .On reaching the door, his conductress, §lving him both her hands, said, in a whisper, Whose tone was gushing, genial, and whole- hearted ; “Thanks, Sir, for your loyalty to the Queen.. Be brave, and- prosper.” She pressed his hands, hastily and langh- ingly withdrew hers from his‘as, ina thrill of delirium, he was raising them to his lips, and quickly opening the door, gently pushed him out, with a low, silvery “ Goodnight.” His feet had scarcely touched the‘ flat stone pavement of the court, when he felt himself between two men, who took him by the arm, without a word, marched him off for a consid- erable distance, when they suddenly released him. He waited honorably till their retreating footsteps were no longer audible, and then took off the bandage. He was under the same tree; outside the park, near the north gate, from whence he had been taken. It was all like a dream! CHAPTER V. The next day was an important one to our hero. On rising, he felt that it was in a measure to be the turning-point in his life. “T’shall go.up or down, forward or be- hind,” he observed to himseif; “ therefore let me show myselfa true Norman, and worthy the blood of the Count of Ferat.* Let me act with intelligence and courage !” He rose early; for'he had many thmgs to do, and but little to do it with ; that is to say, he had forty crowns, which, with his sword and dirk, the hat upon his head, the suit of brown upon his back, and the boots upon his feet, comprised his worldly all. The great question with him, then, was how to lay out these forty crowns to the greatest advantage, For it will be readily understood that the suit of brown, though respectable enough “for Normandy, where the same clothes did ‘very well for a series of years, was not exactly the thing for Paris, and still less for court. For, in the first place, it was five years be- hind the fashion; next, it was threadbare, with long and careful brushing—and last of all, it showed here and there the genius of his father’s housekeeper for darning; three facts which, while they bore testimony to the three excellent qualities of modesty, carefulness, and economy, yet were not calculated.to add to one’s dignity at court. “ Besides,” argued Louis ; “the poor Queen must not be ashamed of her Musketeers, who, she must feel, are the peers of the best dress- of the King’s Guards. She ought to feel proud of them, and to gather strength for her struggle from the elegance and moral ‘stateli- ness of their appearance.’ Besidés, my cos- tume. ought to do honor to the Count of Ferat, whose cheek must not be made to blush at the first appearance at court of his son!” ay ny a it ij i ————S— This was the argument of good blood, spiced up with proper pride. “But,” continued the Norman, “ whether to lay out the whole forty crowns or not, is a question. Let me see ; for fifteen I can get a suit worthy of a lord, but for twenty-five one fit for a prince. THISBE; OR, THE QUEEN'S MUSKETERR. v7 “Tut, tnt,” said the monarch, “ what are bulls but double thoughts hastily compressed intoone? Go and give your hand to her Majesty.” “T am saved the trouble, Sire,” said De Bounier. “Look !” Francis turned, and beheld a sight that for an instant.caused his cheek to redden with a reproachful blush. The poor Queen, pale as death, walking with difficulty, and evidently upheld only by ® noble pride, was passing to a divan near the throne, leaning on the arm of a Musketeer, who wa: whispering, in a low voice, intended only for her ear, but which, owing to the gen- eral stillness, the clear tones of the Musket- eer himself, and the favorableness of the apartment for conveying sound, was yet aud- ible to the King. “Courage, your Majesty, courage |” In fact, upon the stopping of the Queen at the door, the gallant Norman, suspecting the ‘real cause, and perceiving ata glance that the - Monarch had no intention of coming to her assistance, had, quick as thought, stepped for- ward, and said, in a low tone: “Deign, Madame, to take the arm of a gen- tleman who is devoted to your Majesty.” And it was time. For the unhappy lady, suffering from acold, convulsive shiver, was hearly sinking. She gratefully placed her arm in his, and tmurmuring : ‘ Hold me up, and walk gently, Monsieur, for I fear I am about to die!” slow- ly moved on, her favorite attendant following close behind, to watch her if she fell. _ “The Norman again!” exclaimed Francis, In surprise. * Look out that he does not run away with her Majesty!” laughed De Bounier, with envy. «Would he but do that service, I’d thank him, Count!” said the monarch, sitting down, and without paying further attention to the Queen, making a sign with his hand to the Chamberlain to introduce the parties in the ante-room. ; After leading his royal mistress te the divan, Louis resigned her to her maids, and _ retired a short distance to the right, toward an oriel window, when, folding his arms, he took up his position, and looked around, to See if any had the temerity to mock or other- Wise-exhibit toward her the first faint vestige _ of disrespect. Fortunately, no such spirit was evinced, and he next threw a glance around the apart- ent, till it at length fell upon the Count de Bounier, who, standing behind the King’s chair, had for some time been stealthily mea- Suring him, internally as well as exteriorly, as if he comprehended by intuition that he Should one day have to grapple with that oreeee in a combat which had few paral- els. The eyes of both met. in full gaze 5 and: it was plain from the mettle of the men respact- ively, that neither wouldedraw otf while o particle of nervous force remained. : The King’s favorite, too proud to retract, and yet blushing in spite ofhimself at his detection, attempted to carry the day, first by an indignant frown ; then, a3 that had no elfect, by a detiant stare; finally, perdsiving that that, also, was ouseless, with a long, steady, malignant gaze: in the midst of which, greatly to his’ mortification, he was unexpectedly interrupted by the King calling upon himin reference to an affair of state, leaving the Musketeer still surveying him with the same calm; firm, imperturbable eyo he had employed throughout. The incident was slight, but far from unim- portant; for, having been observed by nearly all the court, it had. the effect, with the pro- vious incidents of the day, of establishing the fact that the poor Queen had, in her single Musketeer, a champion able to maintain her cause against all the forces, moral and phy- — that could be arrayed against her by the ing. Mademoiselle Adrienne de Bowmanville, who had one of those minds that read and un- derstand: ata glance, and see ito everything without appearing especially to notice any- thing, aval been a quict-spectator ofthe moral struggle, and at its .conclusion ‘turned to relate it to her royal mistress, to whom it gave courage for the long conflict which she a yet in the future between herself and the ing. “Gall him,” whispered her Majesty to her favorite. “ We must thank him.” “Had we better, your Majesty 2 aid Mademoiselle de Bowmanville. “Is: ita good policy. Will it notmake him vain ?” “Tt will show-to all the court that we-rely upon and appreciate him ;” returned, with smiling significance, the Queen, who had just been informed that the Kine and the Count with the gray eyes were whisperingly glancing toward the divan. : Adrienne, comprehending her, smiled,and made a sign to Louis to approach. But the Queen did not yet understand the Count de Bounier,. who, having percsived the sign, explained its: probable meaning to the King, and suggested that'an interruption of intercourse between her Majesty and the Musketeer, for the nonce, might possibly de- feat the transparent intention of calling the latter forward. : Francis, who was in one of those) il-hu. mors When even kings are capable of very small things, caught at the suggestion, and called a page. aoe a8 THISBE ; OR, THE QUEEN’S MUSKETEER. “To whom am I to address myself Made- moiselle?” asked the Musketeer, on coming up. “'To her Majesty, Sir,” replied the favorite. A thrill of exquisite delight darted through every nerve of tae Norman. In the voice that had spoken, he had heard again that of the fair unknown! Fortunately, as we have seen, he was a man of self-command; and the keenest eye would have failed to observe that he was con- scious of the discovery. “Sit down, Sir,” said the Queen, moiion- ing him playfully to a seat beside herselt on the divan; “and tell us the thoughts of a gentleman from the fields of Normandy who nas visited the court for the first time !’’ “Your Majesty cannot be serious!” said Louis, recognizing, also, the voice of the unhappy lady. “ ‘Lhe high honor of a seat beside the first lady of France—” “ His Majesty desires 10 see Monsicur de Lemmonier!” pertly interrupted a page, touching him on the arm. The Queen bit-her lip. She comprehend- ed, with the intuition of persecuted minds, the object and the source of the interruption. “My compliments to his Majesty,” said Louis, observing the Queen's mortitication, and determining at all hazards to avenge it; “and say to him, that while I am on duty, there is no such person as Monsieur de: Lem- monier, whose identity is sunk in his official character of her Majesty's Musketeer !” “Ts it your wish, Sir, that 1 take this reply to his Majesty ?” said the page, in asionish- meni. “ Have I not said so?” returned the Nor- man. The page left him, but presently returned, saying pertly : “Phe compliments of his Majesty the King to her Majesty the Queen, and he desires to know whether she will kindly permit her Musketeer to spend a few momenis with his Majesty !” “ My young friend,” said Louis, to punish the puppy’s impudence, in addressing the Queen, without first saluting her, “open your mouth |” “Sir!” said the page, haughtily, “why should I open my mouth ?” “J simply wish to see where you have left your manners, and whether, during the delivery of that speech, you sputtered out any of your teeth !” ‘The maids of honor tittered, and the excit- ed page, blushing scarlet, exclaimed, threat- eningly, “\n the meanwhile, Sir, you are keeping his Majesty waiting, and so { shall report.” “See there now, my texder lamb! It is eT; Birt” “You, my innocent! My royal mistress 4s the first lady in the kingdom—the Queen of Frauce, Sir; a fact-whici her Majesty's self cannot forget, if you do. Theretore (you see the ldgic, don’t you?) when her Majesty is addressed, it:should be‘as to thechighest lady in the nation; do you remember -what, Sir? But you, bir, owing, as I think, to’a singular dullness of perception, a ‘remarkable vacuity of mind; and an astonishingly bad breeding— spoke'to her Majesty, just now, as if to soine very ordinary lady; and thereiore, Sir, there- fore; as you ‘perceive, her Majesty has not yet “answered ‘you! ‘Try again Sir—try again, very respectiully ; by taxing off your hat to begin with, for instance ; placizs your- self before her Majesty very respectfully, for instance: and “then, before. speaking to hor Majesty, making a very low bow, for in- stance. Now, Suycome—begin !” “Sir!” said the page, his eye flashing, and his veins swelling out’ from his skin hke so many cords. “You haye notyet delivered your message to her Majesty, Sir!’ said the Norman, im- perturbably, but with severity, fur his eye was beginning to kindic. ‘the page thought of the great feat in the market-place, the. eye-whipping of © the otlicers of the King’s QGuarus, in the ante- room, and (for he hau observed that, also) the still later moral conflict between De Bounier and the persistent Musketeer, and he deemed it prudent to capitulate, and to repeat his mussage, Which die did, with all due respsct, and precisely in the manner prescribed. ‘Say to his Majesty,” replied tie Queen, “that I shall take great pleasure in acceding to his request.” : “Twill, your Majesty,” replied the page. Then turning to the Norman, he continued: “Are you ready; Sir? His Majesty is wait- ing !” * For what are you waiting 2” said Louls, as though he had not heard him. “Yor you, Sir.” “Forme! Do you want me?” “No, Sir. But the King does!" “What has that to do with you? Yourbus- iness is to deliver ‘your message. Go, Bir, her Majesty wishes to give me my instruc- tions. Come, retire!” During this little scene, the silence of death reigned throughout the rest of the apartment, so that every eye-had seen and every éar heard it, to iis minutest detail. “ Decidedly, I must have that man!” mut- tered: Francis. “te is worth his weight in gold! Well, Sir,” to the page, ‘what said her Majesty ?” “'~hat your Majes!y’s wish should -be ac- you who are keeping his Majesty waiting.” ceded to. But, if your Majesty pleases, I ee la THISBE; OR, THE QUEEN’S MUSKETEER. 20 would rather not deliver any more messages to her Majesty in the presence of the Musket- eet,” said the pages presuming upon his po- sition. “It is as much’ as:any one’s’ life -is worth!” “ Ah, indeed!” said the King, who had a talent for dealing wiih all persons who pre- sumed too much. “ Ag I have had the honor to tell-your Maj- esty, the Musketeer is» a terrible tellow ; he wiil be browbeating your Majesty next!” “Think you so?’ said Mrancis, dryly. “ Well, Six; it is very hard to ask you to ‘per- form duties not accordant with your feelings —very hard. And sinceIshall probably de- sire to communicate with our consort, and you had rather. not be. our messenger; and, imoreover, since it is our wish not to have in our household any who may consider it hard to perform their duty in tais respect, there- fore, Sir, we release you from all further serv- ice, and shall insiruct our ‘reasurer to‘pay you what may -be due, and to cross your name om our books.” “On, but your Majesty!” cried.the page, pale with alarm, “1 did not mean that!” “ Ah, indeed |” said the King ; ‘“ butave do. Therefore, Sir, we will talk no further upon the subject!” c The page bowed and'-retired, quivering with fecling, greatly:to the astonisument of his fellows, Wio, having, in:common with all the court, heard, every word, lookediat one another stupefied. “ Permit ae¢,-Sivey.said) De. Bormier, who saw in this incident only another triumpli of the Norman, who,as he foresaw, was.destin- ed eventually to become a formidable rival to himseli, “io saya word to’ your Majesty in favor of the poor fellow, who—”’ « Not a.word,” interrupted the Kingo “ We know. our own ailuirs best!” The Count was dumb, but not in mind. He comprehended the subtlety of the King, who, in the discharge, had only throwa out anoth- er flattering bait with which.to cateh the Nor- man. “Your Majesty sent for:me,’’ said: Louis himself; now coming up. “ We did,” said Francis: Then, turning to De Bounier, he adiled, ** Count, pardon us!” Then, to the Chamberlain, Music!" he said, forthe purpose of drowning from: others’ ears What was,about to pass beuween the Norman and himself. The. court took the hint, and retired ;-as did also the Count, who immediately tumed to another in conversation... . The Chamberlain gave the order to the roy- al musician, and, the next instant, the vsoft notes ofa seraphim fell géntly onthe ear, and divided with tae geneval Lum the. waves’of the scented air. “Haye you yet learned your rank in the Musketeers?” began the King. “No, Sire,” replied Louis, who easily divin- ed the monarch’s motive in sending for him. “No! Where, then, is your captain ? where your lieutenant, your comrades ?” ee “I do not know, Sire.” “ Sir !” said Francis, in reproof. “Your Majesty did me the honor to ask where the ofticers and pe of Her Majes- ty’s Musketeers are, and I answered I didnot know,” said Louis, imperturbably. “Put, tut,” said the King, with impatience. “ Spealk rationally ; we are not a boy. Who is your captain?” “T do not know, Sire.” “Your lieutenant?” “T am ignorant of that, also, your Majesty.” “From whence do you receive your pay 2?” “J have received none, Sire,” said Louis. “Prom whom are you to receive it ?” “T cannot tell, your Majesty.” ““ Are you pledged not to reveal it ?” “No, Sire. But the party that engaged me may have thought it was so understood.” “T must have this lump of Norman gold ?” mentally exclaimed the monarch. ‘ What is a stale of your pocket—you can tell. us that ? “Sire, it contains not so much as would buy a mutton-pie, marked ‘ fresh, only one sow {7 . Francis touched, on the side of the writing- table, a private drawer opening with a spring, from which he took out a well-filled purse. “ Tere, Sir,” he said, “take this. from your King. Itis our wish that every gentleman who has business at our palace should be ina position to gratify all his wants.” ‘he Norman started back, a single step. ° “ Pardon, Sire, I must decline,” he said, his cheek crimsoning with a blush. “Though poor, Fam nota beggar, and accept no alnis.” “A gift irom his King may be received by any Frenchman without dishonor |” *T am the son of a ‘poor but high-minded Norman gentleman, who early inculcated into my young mind that it is betier to be poor than to owe fortune to the bounty of an- other ; as he alone enjoys who has personally earned by brave and honorable effort. I have done nothing for your Majesty to entitle me to reward, and I may not accept a gratuity” “May not, Sir. Why ?” “@Qills, Sire, fetter the recipient with a sense of obligation to the giver, and I have a Norman's love of freedom. Particularly could {accept of nothing from your Majesty, since { am in the empioy of her Majesty, the Queen, from whom alone could I receive re- wards, and then only for services rendered.” “Very well, Sir,” said the King, dropping the purse back into the drawer, and regarding the young man with earnest surprise. “It is not for. us to altel any course you have marked outfor yourself -But. is there nothing you will accept from us?’ “At present, only your good wishes, Sire, and your Majesty’s permission to return to my royal mistress, who has; I: believe, some- thing important *9 say to her Musketeer.” “Go, Bit,” saia Trancis,; cordially extend- ing his hand, and then politely bowed him- self from the presence. “ Brave, chivalric, the soul of honor !” said the King, looking after him; “ I must, I will have hiin?’”’ “ Will his Majesty interrupt us again, think ou, Sir Musketeer?” said. the Queen to.the Norman, when he returned. “Tthink not, your Majesty,” replied Louis. “Tndeed, I {eel confident he will not.” “Sit down, Sir,” said the Queen, motioning him to @ seat on the divan. “ No hesitation, no excuses ; sit down.” . Then, as Louis com- plied, she said; “Now, Sir, tell us, how do you like tlic Musketeers ?” j “JY do not like them at all, your Majesty.” “Why not, M: De Lemmonier?” “Does your Majesty wish me to speak out?” “Most certainly.” , “T like for comrades men.who respect and love their duty and their corps, and who are to be found at their post wlien wanted ; which, I am sorry to say, is not the case with your Majesty’s Musketeers, who ought, if ever, to have been promptly on theit ground this af- ternoon !”” “Were they not, M. De Lemmonier ?” said the Queen, smiling. “Be careful; the Cap- tain is inthe room, and he may not like your unflattering estimate of his men!” «Phe captain is in the room, your Majes- ty! Why then did he not show himself at the proper time, to do honor to his royal mistress, On her passage through the ante- chamber ?” “ He did show himself, and with effect, too, as wehave heard. Did he not, Mademoi- selle de Bowmanville?” “ $0 [have been told, your Majesty,” mod- estly replied the favorite, dropping her eyes beforo those of the Musketeer, who. himself blushed: * This is very singular,” said the Norman. “TJooked around very carefully, but 1 could discover no one I could suppose to be in the corps. Will your Majesty be good enough to. give me the nameé of my captain ?” ‘bhe Queen smiling, glanced at her favor- ite, who replied, with a charming pout : “MM. de Leminonier. forgets that. he ought to ask no questions concerning her Majesty’s Musketeers.” “ What ! not who my captain is, my lieu- tenant, my comrades?’ THISBE; OR, THE QUEEN’S MUSKETEER. ‘ “No, Sir.” “IfI do not know my ofilcers, how ¢eluli I be able to salute them?” “Tf M. Lemmonier dees not kubdw them, he will not need to salute them.” “True, Mademoiselle. But if any ons asks who my captain is, or who my com- rades.are, 1 shall be under. the mortifying necessity of replying ‘1 do not know,’ whieh will have the effect of leading the questioner seriously to doubt my words.” “ No,one in Paris asks impertinent ques- tions, Six.” “ Pardon, Mademoiselle, I have been asked such within the last half-hour ?” “ By his Majesty, you mean. did his Majesty ask ?” “ The names of my captain, my lieutenant, my comrades.” “ And you replied—.” “ That I did not know.” “ You can make the same answer to all others.” e “True, Mademoiselle... But, his Majesty stared at the reply, as certainly would ail others. “ Perhaps, so, M. de Lemmonier. have one Satisfaction.” “ What is that ?” “ That after one such reply the party rée- receiving it will never repeat the question." “Tt may be,” said Louis, with an air of par- plexity. ‘‘But—” “ But, what, M. de Lemmonier ?” “ They will not believe me.” “ They will be too polite to tell you that.” “ Possibly, Mademoiselle. But then ons does not love to have his word doubted. It is equivalent to doubting his honor ?” “You have come to Paris well recom- mended, M. de Lemmonier,” said the young lady, with a smile that made the Norman’s heart beat like that of a fluttering bird; “and be assured no one will doubt your word!” “{, Mademoiselle!” said the young man, “T brought only two letters of introduction; and no recommendation at all !” “ You recommended yourself, Sir, by your feat in the market-place !” The Musketeer blushed. He now com- prehended the young lady's meaning. “In Paris, Siz,” pursued the favorite, with another smile, thatall but filled the Norman with delirium, “‘ men are too polite to doubt the word of gentlemen who come well ro- commended, and therefore, when in regard to your captain or comrades, you say ‘you do not know,’ you will be unhesitatingly be- lieved.” “ You flatter, Mademoiselle!” a No,” replied the favorite, turning to the een. “ What is the opinion of your Majesty 2” And what Dut you orm= we =O Om, 0680 42 wre -,.2 SE PO PE OTE THISBE ; OR, THE QUEEN’S MUSKETEER. “We think,” said the latter, playfully, pat- ting the Norman on tho shoulder, “no one Will doubt the word of our Musketeer !” “ Do you see, Sire,” interposed De Bounier, who, sitting behind the royal writing-table, had, with the King, been an attentive ob- Server of this scene. “That her Majesty appreciates the Nor- man’s value? Yes.” “Nothing more, Sire,” continued the Couut, hoping to inspire bim with jealousy. «That her Majesty looks to make capital for herself by lending importance to him ; certainty.” “ Nothing more, Sire,” repeated the Count, With a satiric smile. “ Nothing, Count,” returned Francis, “I understand your meaning, but you are out, Sir. Her Majesty is as pure in mind as holi- est devotee at matings ; the Norman, one of those rare knightly hearts with whom honor is a substance, not a shadow, and whose proudest aim is to think no evil and do no wrong.” “We'llsee,” meanly shrugged de Bounier, fairly green with envy. «Tut, tut, Count,” laughed Francis. “ Let _ hot your bile run away with your judgment. The Norman has an honest soul—an attri- bute, De Bounier,” patting him on the arm, With a playful, but significant smile, “ that Cannot be claimed by every man at our court of France |” The baiiled Count took the hint, and red- dened, but did not venture areply. He saw that the monarch was in what he termed one of his humors, and that topreserve his own influence, his most prudent course for the Present was silence. A movement now took place. The Queen, had borne herself bravely thus far, rose to re- tire, but with visible agitation. “My Musketeer,” she said, with a forced smile, “will you give me your hand to the door of my apartments.” “Such an honor, your Majesty,” said the Norman, “is not for au obscure personage like me. My royal mistress ought to be led by the first gentleman in France; and”—his éyes suddenly kindling with satisfaction, “lo here comes his Majesty !” ; The Queen turned pale, and nearly fainted. “An important moment, your Majesty !” hurriedly whispered Adrienne, pressing her hand, “ Courage !” ; It was a gencrous impulse of the King. A flow of good emotions, for which students in moral physiology could easily account, had been started by his admiration of the brave, high-minded N orman, and he mentally re- Solved for an instant to be magnanimous. “Ts it your Majesty's pleasure to retire ?” he said, hastily advancing. 81 “Tt is, Sire,” said the. poor, Queen, who could scarcely command herself. “Take my hand, then,” said the King, with affectod cordiality. The Queen did so, but hers was cold ae marble. ifer limbs, too, were rigid, and every step was With an effort. Adrienne followed close behind, to support her it she gave way ; the maids of honor afler the favorite, and the Musketeer, witha proud, brave air, last of all. The court looked on. in astonishment. “Your Majesty is not well,” said the King, ag they drew near to the door to the Queens apartinent. “ Oh, Sire—lI’rancis—my loved lord!” stam- mered the Qacen, whose emotions at this first respectful and apparently kind work in lcng months, were on the point of overflowing. “Weare in public, Madame; no scene,” coldly interrupted the King, raising her hand to his lips, for they were now at the door. As the monarch stepped aside, Adrienne, perceiving that her mistress could. hardly proceed, hastily but gracefully advanced, and taking her arm in her own, whispered : “Lean on me, your Majesty. Courage for yet a few momenis.” “Well, Musketeer,” said Francis, as tho ladies disappeared, “did we please you in this ?” _‘‘ Youhave done better, Sire,” returned the Norman. ‘“ You pleased yourself, and acted a gentleman’s part toward ler Majesty.” “You ure complimentary, Sir, said the monarch, not displeased with the answer. “Shall we see you this evening?” “J do not know, Sire. Ihave not yet re- ceived my instructions.” “rom whom are you to receive them ?” “T cannot tell, your Majesty.” “ Still close as ever.” “T must be true to my position, Sirs.” “Right, Sir,” said the King. “ Were all men that, how happy were kings! Welcoms to our court, where we shall be always glad to see you.” With these words the monarch gave him his hand, and then, accompanied by several courtiers who followed to escort him, return- ed to the throne-room. “For one who has had no breakfast nor dinner, muttered the Norman, “I may be said to-day to have done pretty well. But, after all,” he added, with a grim smile, “ what isitssum? High friends at court; but here it is nearly supper-time, and not a sou in my pocket. Is that doing very well. Iam, too, left here kicking up my heels for instructions that may not come, and chewing the cud of mortification at not knowing who my captain is, my lieutenant, or my comrades, who per- haps, for all his Majesiy can tell to the con- pogrom = Borchers z Ne 82 trary, are secretly in the King’s. own Guards, or itthay be among his courtiers, in which case, what became of the fifteen crowns I paid for my uniform! Ah! well,” be contin- ued, drawing a long breath, and striving to appear cheerful, “?i will not do to give way, I can easily put up with hunger fora few days, when, if her Majesty’s Treasurer should not volunteer to give me a small advance on my pay, 1 can pawn or seil my prince-suit, and suck to my uniform, if there comes no order to the contrary, without anybody be- ing the wiser. Therefore, courage, heart— courage! Three days will tell the story. In the meanwhile, we will not think of food, but of Adrienne’s voice, A: riennes face, and the mine of worth and sweetness and rich love that lie in her pure soul!” “Sir Musketeer,” interrupted a page, at bis elbow. “Well, Sir,” said Louis, pausing in. his walk. “I come from Mademoiselle Adrienne de Bowmanville.” “My royal mistress’s Treasurer—I shall have a supper after all,” thought the Nor- man. “ Well, Sir?” he said, aloud. “T have some things for you.” “My advance-pay!” inly ejaculated the Musketeer. “See what it isto have faith in fortune.” Then addressing the page : « What is it?” . “First, a compliment—her Majesty and Mademoiselle de. Bowmanville are both pleased with your deporiment to-day. Sec- ondly, you are excused from further attend- ance ou her Majesty till to-morrow-afternoon at two o’clock. ‘Thirdly, Sir, the costume in which you appeared to-day is so tasteful and elegant that it has been adopted as the uni- form of her Majesty’s Musketeers.” “Is that all, Sir?” said Louis, his heart sinking. : “That is all. What answer shall I take to Mademoiselle de Bowmanville ?” “That I feel honored, Sir—honored,” said Louis, turning away. “All is not well with the brave fellow,” mused the page, looking after him. “His voice fell, and his step is reeling. ‘The an- awer is not what he expected !” On his way to his lodgings, Louis woke froma revery, only to find ihat he had invol- untarily stopped and was looking in, with a dreamy eye, at a shop-window. It was‘ the pie-baker’s ! “ Heart, heart ! he murmured, starting and blushingly moving on, “where is thy cour- age |” Alas! the heart was haingry! CHAPTER X. In the evening, that is to say, shortly after THISBE; OR, THE QUEEN'S MUSKETERR. dusk, Louis exchanged his. Musketeer’s uri- form for his suit of. brown, and buckling on his Toledo and dirk, went out, to keep hia word with the gipsy. On walking up the strect to the first corner, he perceived a swarthy, low-sized, but thick- set and evidently a powerful. man, in rough guise of a. peddier, with astrapruni from bis neck to either end.of an ob} wooden tray, with at one end a lighted tern, whose rays revealed, to. the. passers a tempting assortment of small toys, from one sou upward. «iow is business, friend?” said. Louis, approaching and glancing. over his wares. “Yam waiting jor it to come, your. honor,” saidthe man, eyeing him carefully. “ When do you look for it?” “Tt may not come, and it. may,” said-the toy-vender,. significantly... “I have a friend, a little way off, waiting for if.” “And he doubtless , has. yet..another?” smiled Louis, satisfied that he was talking with one of the chain of messengers the gipsy chief had spoken. of. ‘Who could deny it ?” returned the man. “Phere are oceasions when friends are use- ful. Does your honor wish to buy ??” “Perhaps, perhaps not...Who,can tell? If I do, you will see. me again.” “T shall be here till twelve,” said the toy- merchant. “ You may see me before that,” said Louis, moving on. “ T shall look for your honor.” “No one will know me. in. this-dress?” mused Louis, glancing at the suit,of brown, “and whatever adventure I fall intoy no dis- credit will be brought upon her Majesty's Musketeers. But let. us survey our, plan. First, if, as I suspect, the Count with the gray eyes has thus far played the,part of panderer in this, then he will. not: set; out alone, and I must look for two, not oné.. Sec- ondly, these two will not set out till atier the evening-levee, which will not: be for. these two hours. Lastly, they will not. leaveihe palace by the main entrance, but by the back- way, a8 guilt always prefers alleys to the strect. be O Francis, Francis ! Paris then as now had its shop-windows, and the two hours speedily went, by to the Norman, who then quietly bent his, steps-to — the street in the rear of the palace, which was taken up on one side with the tastefully laid- out gardep-grounds. of the royal . edifice, which were seen through a high jiencge- of round longitudinal bars; with a large; bread gate in the centre, and several smaller ones at equal distances along, on the right and left ; and on the other with a uniform, series of costly residences, shaded in. front by-a row-ot noble oaks, behind the trunk ofone of which, na a 7. St hee ew eee en, THISBE ; OR, THE QUEEN’S MUSKETEER. about midway of the block, he took up his position. He had not arrived any too soon; for, in a few minutes; he perceived two men, in the disguise’ of civilians, the noble bearing of one of whom was not to be mistaken, pass through asmall gate on the left of the carriage-en- trance, look’ cautiously up'‘and down. the street, and then set otf at a quick pace to the left, talking in a low tone. The Norman waited till they had proceeded some thirty or forty yards, and was about to follow, when ‘he saw a man, ina rough cos- tume, glide, with the stealthiness of a cat, from behind the second next oak, and, keep- ing in the shadow of the trees, hasten after them with swift but noiseless strides. “ Some outraged father, husband, or lover, who has recognized - and marked them!” thought the Norman, following after. “ No,” he added, a few minutes later, as the light of a shop-window fell full upon the unknown, “T was mistaken, ’tis one of the forces of my gipsy friend, whose wits, I see, have not been idle.” Paris, though of considerable size, was not then near so large as now, and half an hour brought the King and his companion toa story-and-a-half cottage, embosomed in a clump of stately elms, in the midst of a gar- den, surrounded on all sides by a high stone wall, in the suburbs. “Ts this the cage of the turtle-dove ?” asked the King, with a gay laugh. “A cood one, is it not, Sire?” “T should say so, indeed Count. But the gate is locked |” “ To which, however, Sire, I have the key,” said De Bounier, taking it from his pocket, and the next moment disappearing with the ing. On beholding the pair enter the gate, the gipsy, greatly to the Norman’s surprise, m- stead of making any effort to foHow them, looked at the cottage and then around him, as if to fix the locality in his mind, when, turning on his heel, he darted off like the wind. ’ “Perhaps to inform the chief,” thought Louis, “ with whom and others he will short- ly return. Therefore, let me hasten to finish the adventure alone ; and thereby prevent, if possible, the first gentleman in France from the commission of an unmanly act, and irom | the knives of midnight but just avengers.” With, these honorable reflections, the Nor- man approached the gate, but it was fast lock- ed: and barred inside. : He then looked at the wall, which, how- ever, was ivom three to four feet higher than himself. But, thanks to his handy training from childhood up in the woods, the fields, and 83 mountain-steep of his native Normandy this was no obstacle. Stepping back six paces, running. forward again, and giving a bold, 1 the spring, he,the next moment, was hanging from the ledge, when drawing himself slowly up by the elastic force in his muscles, he was about to lift himself to the top, when, glancing toward the cottage, he unexpectedly saw the Count De Bounier softly come out by the front-door and sif down on the steps, asif to guard against interruption. Louis dropped softly to the earth again, and murmuring : “Fortunately, he cannot mount guard in both front and rear at the same time!’ He stepped lightly to the grounds of an adjoining house on the left, and scaling the fence, work- ed his way around to the rear of the high wall, when giving a second bold spring, he was the next instant on the top, and behind:a moderate-sized tree, whose foliage protected him from discovery. Gliding along on his hands and knees to where he could command an unobstructed view, and perceiving no one on the watch, he softly let himself down into the garden, and careiully advanced toward the side of the cot- tage, from whence a stream of light flowed out through the white chintz curtains of a projecting window. Approaching lightly, so as not to alarm the watchful Count in front, Louis glanced in, and beheld, through the curtains, like shadows, in the centre of the apartment, the King, with his hat in his left hand, and his right clasping he waist of the picturesque paimist, on whom he was looking down with a loving yet con- straining eye, and over whom he appeared to exercise a species of fascination, which the maiden, her. eyes enlarged, and her checks pale with terror, was making a con- fused struggle to resist. CHAPTER Xl. “O Sire!” exclaimed the. palmist, strug- gling to free herself, “ release me!” “Say you love me!” said Francis. “J will not say what is not true. Take away your hand.” “Jtis true,” said the King, with an arch smile, and looking at her steadily. “Come, Thisbe, be complaisant.” “O Sire, is it manly thus to insult a poor, friendless girl! Release me, I.pray you!” “Tut, tut,” laughed the monarch. “You donot mean it!” “Ido, Sire ;Ido! I beseech you to let'me go. My people are pining for me, andin dis- tress. As you are a gentleman, set me free from this odious place!” “Your people! Gipsies! who only ‘use your peerless beauty and palmist-genius for itt bh tt ij by B4 their own ends! Be mine, who loves you; mine, and not a duchess in the realm but you shall outvie in wealth and splendor, as you already doin loveliness. Come, say you love me!” “Please do not talk to me in that way— don’t, Sire. I donot, cannot love you.” “You can and will!” laughed the King. “Love for love is the motto all the world round; and the proudest beauty, though cold asx unsunned ice at first, must yield to it in time. Say you love me, Thisbe!” “T do not, Sire!” “You do. I see it in-your eye, whose am- ber depths, true mirrors of the heart, betray you. Come, contess it!” “Q-Sire—your Majesty, have you no heart !” “A loving one, my Thisbe. Dry those tours. or 1 shall take the privilege of an ‘ad- mitted lover, and kiss them one by one away |” And he attempted to “suit the action to the word”. “ Sire —your Majesty !” shrieked the palm- ist, breaking from him, with a desperate ef- fort, and retreating to the furthest corner of the apartment, where, putting out her hands, with a deprecating gesture, she cried out, in an imploring voice : “On, do not come near me, Sire—do not! I am but a poor gipsy girl, it is true; and, therefore, in your eyes only a thing to be in- sulted and abused. But, O Sire, taough you Inay not think it, I, too, love virtue. 1, too, dream of heaven !” “hisbe! L love you!” ; “You do not, Sire; or, if you do, you ought not, for you have a wife !” “A wife! an incumbrance, rather—a thing of state!” “Kut you wooed her, Sire; all the nation knows it? You wooed her, and after, on your wedding-morn, in sight of angels and of men, promised her all your love; and therefore lave not a grain for me.” « A canting churchman’s notion, my dear girl! ‘The Queen has only my hand—you, my heart !” “Sire, I want no heart where I can not also have the hand, and please do not say again you love me.” “T do, Thisbe !” “ You do not, Sire; I feel that you do not. And if you did, it were unjust to her Majes- ty, who, poor lady! is now, I doubt not, pining gad and lonely in her chamber, and sighing that you do not come!” “Sho hit him, then!” muttered the Mus- ketoer. “ Thisbe, will you hear me? Will you not ive me a word?” “On anything but love. Iam of the low- THISBE; OR, THE QUEEN'S MUSKETEER. ly, Sire, with whom love.is a sacred word, than which a holier never came from wom- an’s self nor was breathed into her ear. Piease, do not talk of love, Sire!” “JT must, Thisbe. It is in my heart, and must out, or I—die!” “ Go, breathe it to the Queen, Sire.” “It is for you, Thisbe ; not the Queen.” “T covet not what is another's. Be hon- est, Sire |” “JT will, Thisbe, to you!” “'fo the Queen first, Sire!” “These are not words for us!’ “Stand off, Sire—stand off! Though only a gipsy, I yet have honor pure as any high- born lady’s; and as you are a gentleman, ™ respect it!” “Tf he do not,” muttered the excited Nor- man, with one hand upon his Toledo, and the other ready to dash. in the window, “I know one will help him!” “You will hear me, Thisbe — me, who wildly love you!” exclaimed the King, fall- ing back. “Prove your love, Sire!” said the gipsy. “J am a prisoner her, where Iwas brought against my will, Set me free!” “T would, but—” “But what, Sire ?" “1 love you, and I would have you where IT can come and bask in the light of your dark eyes.” “Sire, I am answered!” said the gipsy, her eyes swimming. “Ihad hoped that you were @ gentleman, till now. 0O, Sire— Sire! “Tam a gentleman, Thisbe, and such you » shall yet confess me. _ You shall be freed ; but noé till I have fitted up for you a palace which shall be all yourown. Adieu. { will see you again on the evening of to-morrow. Your hand at parting ?” “No, Sire!” “You are unkind !” “7 am a prisoner against my will!” “ Well, good night!” The gipsy did not reply. “Wil you not say good night ?” “No, Sire!” : f You will think and be kinder, by-and- y! “ Never, to you!” “ We will see! Good night, again !” The King bowed, and went out. “Thank Heaven he did not act to make me cut him down!” muttered Louis, draw- ing a long breath. A few moments later, he heard the King and Count de Bounier passing through the front-gate, which they fastened after them, and then all was still. “Now, then, for my turn!” muttered the Musketeer. ‘When His Majesty calls, to- er ly h- n, 79 yr'- nd ie I ho li- Sy: cht > ere our SV you eas you > ed ; lace will ‘OW. and- nake raw- King 1 the hem, d the Is, to- ' with a piercing shriek. THISBE ; OR, THE QUEEN’S MUSKETEER. 85 morrow-night, Ido not. intend. he shall find in the palmist a mark for a second outrage. It may not be very considerate or loyal thus to interfere with his amusement; but I am a Norman,and the innocent, however low- ly, must be protected!” “ With these thoughts, he was about to tap at. the window, when . he perceived a hideous, tawny old crone, short, skinny, bony, and with a red handkerchief drawn up in the form of a triangular cap about her hair, and her faded striped skirt tucked up on oneside, and instened with a rogette, and partially showing a red petticoat, of which color she appeared to be proud, “So, minx!” she growled, with a. threat- ening frown, “You sent the gentlemen oif in a bad humor—eh |” “] did not send him off at all, Madam. He went of his own accord.” “ Ah! indeeed, simpleton!” sneered the crone. “He went oif of his.own accord— did he? How witty and bold we have. be- come all at once !” “j endured your brutal insolence all day without a murmur, Madam,” returned the gipsy, with flashing eyes, “in hope that when the gentleman you speak of came, I might find liber:y and the privilege of re- turning to my own people, at his hands. Bui that hope has proved vain. And now, Madam—now I give you notice that. Ishall expect the treatment of a human being, and if you refuse it, I shall give it to myselt!”’ “You will, hey? Mow brave. we are! You will?” will!” “Dear me! That isso good. in us, minx —so very good! iiow clever we are!’ Drawing a whip from under ber dress: « Do you know, siily iovl! that betore lock- ing you up jor the nigh’, 1 ain going to give you asmall taste of this, lor your rudeness to the gentleman ik “ You would not dare—” gasped the gipsy, starting. “On! indeed, minx! What airs we put on, to be sure! J would not dare, forsooth ! The good Virgin have mercy onus! Iy that have worked the very rheumatism out of my shoulders in persuading rebellious young creatures not to be unkind! I would not dare, eh?’ Advancing with a frightful, glittering frown, flourisuing the whip, and suddenly bringing down the lash with a loud snap on the maiden’s shoulder, and drawing on the tender ttesh a line of blood. * Does that look like it, my dear?” again applying the lash, “or that—or that!” “ Mercy—help, mercy!” cried the gipsy, “Do not smite me again,” crouching ina corner, and implor- ingly throwing up her hands, “do not. Ah!” as. the blows rain down, “lely)—mur+ der—help! help!” The window was dashed in with a crash- ing noise—a man leaped into. the apartment —an uplifted sword descended, and the up- raised hand of the furious crone was separated from the wrist, and fell to the floor with a dead sound ! “My -preserver, again!” shrieked the maiden, leaping to her feet with a bound, and throwing herself on his breast. “I am saved, saved, saved! Ha! ha! ha! The-old crone stood like one stupefied. “Courage, fair one—courage!” said Louis, to the still quivering palmist. “ You should not have had a biow, but that I could not stir the fastened sash. Courage, gurl, cour age; you are avenged !” There was a sound, as of many running; the next instant, the main door was burst in, arush of footsteps followed, and a moment Jater, athrong of wild, picturesque gipsies, each armed with a long, curved knile, filled the apartment, crying: “ Who has harmed Thisbe? Who has in jured the star? Who hurt the flower ?” “Behold her!” cried the palmist, pointing to the crone. “Look! there is the whip with which she—” A confused movement of the gipsies in- terrupted her; a dozen knives glittered in the light; an appalling scream icjl on the ear; a rush, a@ crash, a groan, and the old hag: sunk, a hacked and bleeding mass, to the floor. : “Paris is a great city,” murmured the Norman, on returning to his lodgings, after having relinquished the gipsy paimist to her friends; great in villainy (thinking of De Bounier and the crone); great in wildness and prompt, instinctive justice (thinking of the gipsies); great in wrong (thinking of the injured palmist); great in domestic un- happiness (thinking of the Queen); but afier all (thinking of Adrienne), great in beauty virtue, grace, devotion, and all that gives to life hope, bright thoughts, and happy dreams (thinking of hinsels); great in fel- lows with high thoughts, princely suits, and lofty airs, as it they owned allthe world, but nevertheless, for want of asouin their pock- et, often go to bed supperless. Ah, well (referring to himself), it is poor blood that repines. One ought to hold up his head to fortune as to men, and keep up a cheerful heart, let come what may. Besides, we have not done so very ill to-day; we have made some triends, had a uniform adopted, - and helped a virtuous maiden in extremity. Therefore, courage, heart—courage 1” CHAPTER XII The next day was a blue one at the palace. $6 The King was pale, absent-minded and mel- ancholy; and was heard every now and then to give vent to a deep sigh. He was kind to al] whospoke to him ; acceded withont a word and without thought to every sugges- tion of his ministers: granted without hesita- tion every petition; and was so generous in word and deed to everybody, that a heartfelt wish went up from nearly all at court that the uneasiness, Whatever its cause, might be removed. 1n fact, his Majesty was the embodiment ot sadness. The Queen, to whom he had shown the re- spect and honor of former days, and who, sur- rounded by her maids and several others, whom her apparent return to favor had drawn toward her, had begun again to hope, was also pale and sad from sympathy, and turned every now and then from her favorite seat in the divan, to watch for a change in his countenance, which, however still remained the same. e The Count de Bounier, too, was pale ; be- cause, as many thought, his master was. Adrienne de Bowmanville also was pale— pewhaps from sympathy for her mistress, though it must be coniessed her paleness did not begin to manifest itself till after she had evidently observed that the Queen’s Mus- keteer—py all odds, in his wuiform, the hand somesi man at court—was, singularly enough, even paler than the King; while none could make the faintest guess at the reason of the monarch’s paleness, most naturally attributed it to bad news of some mysterious kind from abroad. As for the Count with the gray eyes, whom everybody knew to be in his Majesty’s confi- dence, it was presumed that the cause must be of a tearful nature indeed, to make his cheek blanch, as he was not wont to yield to trifles. As for the Queen, whose unhappy position had much secret sympathy, her paleness was easily accounted for, ag was that also of) her favorite Adrienne, who was supposed always to teel as her mistress felt. But no one could understand the paleness of the Musketeer, which puzzled the King, puzzled the court, puzzled the Queen, puz- zied everybody. ‘That the paieness of all these personages Was owing to the same cause, was at first gen- eraliy believed. | But this impression disap- peared before the reasoning that. they did not move together, had only. a public communi- gation, and dwelt, so to speak, in difierent spheres. What, then, was the cause ? Let us, who have some glimpse of preced- ing facts, endeavor to. penetrate the mystery. ‘She evening before, his Majesty and the THISBE; OR, THE QUEEN’S MUSKETEER. Count De Bounier proceeded in high spirits to the cottage in the suburbs; the former a 3econd time to tell the gipsy of his love; the latter to keep watch without. But in knocking at the door the Count re- ceived no answer. A second summons proy- ing alike fruitless, he stepped around to the nearest window, from which, however, to his surprise, streamed no light, and which, on closer inspection, was found to be dashed in “Strange work has been going on here !” he observed to the King. “Imust under- stand it. “ Your pardon awhile, Sire.” Creeping in through the broken window, and groping his way to the housekeeper’s room, and.siriking a light, he returned to the main apartment, where he discovered the old harridan lying in a heap and in the midst of a pool of blood which had welied out from a dozen wounds, any one of which was suill- cient to have sent: her to her account. “Behold, Sire!” he exclaimed, turning to the King, who was gravely looking in through the gap in the window. “T see,” said Francis, “we must have been followed last night. The dove has escaped. We have had our journey for our pains. Lt us return.” Beauty commands the eye; virtue, the mind ; disappointment, the feelings; and these united, the heart. Therefore, the King slept but little ; therefore he thought much otf the gipsy ; whom he now wished he had set at liberty, in accordance with her expresso desire ; and therefore, deeming her nence- forth fost to him forever, when moraing came, he woke pale and melancholy. Perhaps his love was real —perhaps not ; We shall know in good time. But ii it sincere, Where was the hopes of Lis unh: lady ? he Count De Bounier’s paleness bad 1, manifold cause. The cottage that had been forcibly entered, was his; the harvidaa that had met her fate so justly, his trustiest myr- midon: aud it galled his proud neture to tic quick that any one should dare, for any cause, to intrude in his affairs. Moreover, the mystery of the slaying and ot the gipsy’s escape neitled him; wiie he also saw in the latter incident a weakeni f his hold upon the King, who had been az tomed hitherto to regard him as infatlivie. Worse than all, his keen eyes discovered in the monarch’s gloom a genuine attachmen: for the gipsy, who, if she should come to pow- er, would be sure not to forget the author of her perilous adventure in the market-place, her abduction from her friends, and her treat- ment at the cottage in the suburbs. As for the Musketeer, whose modesty would not let him ask for an advance upoa his pay, the present was the third day since he had a @ THISBE; OR, THE QUEEN’S MUSKETEER. 37 tasted food; a fast very simple in itself, but which has always been successful in depriv- ing the cheek of its bloom. Wevertheless, as this was unknown, every- body was surprised at his paleness, which was mentally attributed, by most, to excite- inent from some daybreak-duel in which he had killed his man. None guessed at the real cause’ while, as for the proud Norman himself, he would have died sooner than reveal it, even to hum- ble Jacques Fromage, for whom he had the tri iest feelings in the world. Shorily before the court broke up, the Queen called him to her, and said to him, with a smile that showed the sincerity of her interest in his welfare : “You are not well, my Musketeer ?” “Oh, indeed, your Majesty,” said Lonis, quite grandly. “ Who says that?” “lis plain to everybody.” “Bverybouy is very often mistaken, your Majesty,” blushingly returned Louis, quite ignorant of his appearance, and trying to look very well, indeed. ‘Imyself am not con- scious of any iliness, which,” he added inly, “is no lie, for 1am only hungry.” * Perhaps you have heard sad news, Sir?” “T, your Majesty? Not at all.” “You are a strange man, Sir,” smiled the Queen, mentatly proud of his high spirit. “Have you anything on your mind?” * Certainly, Madame. Who has not?” “J mean anything serious?” “To me, your Majesty—yes.” “Why do you not tell it to some friend, and thereby roll off the burden? ‘That is the natural course.” “ Ah! Madame,” said the Norman, glancing at Adrienne, who blushingly dropped her eyes, “ Lam forbidden that relief.” “You ought to see the party, Sir Musketeer, and, explaining the effect upon your mind, obtain his permission.” “The party is not a gentleman, your Maj- esty, but a lady.” “ Young ?” “In the very blush of womanhood, Ma- dame.” “Then the more likely will she be to grant your suit. See her, Sir.” “ Alas! Madame,” said the Musketeer, again glancing at the favorite, who once more dropped her eyes, “my relations with the la- dy are such that { may not call upon her, ex- cept at her own request.” “Tam gure the lady would be both proud and grateful for your. visit,’ pursued the Queen. “ What think you, Adrienne ?” “ A call by so distinguished a gentleman as Monsieur De Lemmonier Wolke be regarded as a high honor by any lady,” replied the fa- vorite, with a roseate blush. “ See there now, Sir Musketver !” “Your Majesty and Mademoiselle De Bowmanville give me courage. I will make the venture.” “ Do so,” said the Queen, really alarmed at his paleness. “And that you may make it with greater confidence, we excuse you from duty for this evening, when we design to keep our own apartments.” “Thanks, your Majesty !” The Queen and her women now made a movement as if about to retire, upon perceiv- ing which, Francis instantly came forward, attended by several gentlemen, and, graceful- ly tendering his consort his hand, said, with the aifable smile of. depression : “Permit me, Madame, the honor of escort- ing your Majesty !” “Thanks, Sir,” said the Queen, her hand trembling in his, “my best thanks. your Majesty is ill!” “We are not indeed so happy as we contd wish, Madame,” answered Francis, carefully preserving the King from the man. “Would you, Sire, but let poor me be nurse to your Majesty, it would be, on my part, such joy as —” “We thank you, Madame,” inte: King, with freezing politeness. “ Your Majesty is very kind. We thank you!” he Queen’s hand, as it lay in his, : instantly turned cold, and her Maj walked forward with difficulty. Francis immediately repented. But it was too late. The mischief had been done. He resigned her to her women at the door to her private apartments, and then proceed- ed to his own, followed by his gentlemen, one of whom'presently returned to the ante- room, and said to the Norman, who was in the act of turning from the palace: “His Majesty desires a word with the Queen’s Musketeer.” “Pardon, Sir,” returned Louis, surveyins the messenger with a satiric eye. “Have you not forgotten something ?” “T, Sir,” said’ the latter, coloring, and far from pleased with the Norman's threatening tone. 6a You—” “What have I forgotten?” demanded tue Lord, sternly. « Think.” “Tt is for you to think, Sir.” “Indeed!” Can you obtain leave of ab- sence for twenty minutes ?” “To what end, Sir?” “JT will tell you that behind the coppice at the extremity of tle Carmelite convent.” “{ will meet you there twenty minutes af ter your interview with his Majesty,” said fear ade ‘ripted the Most y's self the Lord, promptly. “Tho name of your friend ?” 38 ‘ You will learn that on the ground.” “‘ Mino is the Count De Bounier,’”’ said the Lord, expecting to intimidate the Norman. “JT did not ask his name,” said Louis, dryly. “You are welcome to it, nevertheless. Are you ready, Sir, to follow to his Majesty ?” “lam always ready. Lead on.” “ Tey Majesty, the Queen, has an order for her Musketeer,” said a page, “and requests his presence immediately.” “Lead on, my itriend,” said Louis to the page. “ How is this, Sir?” said the Lord, in as- tonishment. “I thought you were going with me!” “Your thought was wrong,” coolly return- ed Louis. “You see | am going with this gentleman.” “What! would you insult his Majesty?” “JT, Sir! How could you think it! Tnsutt the King? "Lis as much as one’s head is worth !” « But, Sir,” said the Lord, pale with min- gled indignation and perplexity, “ what. an- swer shall [ take to his Majesty ?” “Sir,” said Louis, hanghtily. “I have re- ceived no message from his Majesty, and therefore have no answer to send. But should his Majesty demand an explanation, you are at liberty to say that in delivering what he was charged with, the messenger so entirely neglected propriety in one part as to render the other unreceivable.” “Sir,” said the Lord, the hot blood rushing up to the very tips of his hair. “You may add,” pursued Louis, calmly, “that her Majesty, the Queen, takes prece- dence of all the world with Wer Musketeer, who, when on duty, is subject to the orders of his royal mistress alone; but. who, when olf duty, will, if so desired, very cheerfully wait upon liis Majesty.” . “Sir,” said the Lord, “is it possible you will send this answer to the King!” “T, Sir?” returned Louis, motioning the page to move on. “Isend no answer at all. sumply suggest what you may say, partially to excuse yourself for the insutlicient delivery of his Majesty’s command.” With these words, he disappeared with the page, leaving the Lord, who could scarcely credit his senses, in a stupor. In a few moments, Louis stood before the Queen, who was reclining on a lounge, with her favorite standing beside her, in a gorgeous oblong apartment, whose perfumed air he immediately recognized as that of the cham- ber in which he had conversed, bandaged, with the unhappy lady. “Sir Musketeer,” said the Queen, observ- ing him attentively, “do you know where you are?” THISBE; OR, THE QUEEN’S MUSKETEER. “In the presence of my. royal mistress, your Majesty,” replied Louis, remembering the order of the mask. “Tis well, Sir,” said the Queen, pleased with his discretion. ‘“ We have sent for you to say it is our wish our Musketeer should ride to and from the palace on richly-capari- soned horses of the simplest and purest breed.” “Very well, Madame,” said Louis, as though he had millions with which to perform witb credit his individual share in this costly equipment. “You will therefore, Sir, in the week to come. purchase for yourself a steed combin- ing elegance of appearance with great power of endurance.” ; “ You shall be obeyed, Madame,” said Lou- is. “A horse that will cost a hundred crowns—the saddle, housing, bridle, and stirrups as much more—and 1, with not a sou in my pocket, and a stomach that has not had so much as a mutton-pie in three days !” he continued to himself. “I am getting on!” Then speaking aloud, he said, “Of what color must this horse be, your Majesty ?” “ Black,” said the Queen, at a whisper from her favorite. “You shall be obeyed, Madame. When musi this horse be had, at furthest ?” “Tn one week from to-day.’”’ “Something is afoot,” muttered the Nor- man. “Should your Majesty chance to be at the window at half-past one o'clock on the seventh day from this,” he said, aloud, “ you will see, approaching the palace, a Musketeer mounted on a horse equal to the finest and royalest in France.” ‘then, adding to him- self, “ And 1, who am to make this tremen- | dous purchase, haye not in my pocket the first sou, and my prince-suit, having been ouce worn, would not bring me_ twenty | crowns at most. er me!” “We shall be at the window, Sir Muskel eer,” said the Queen. “ Thanks, Madame. further commands ?” * None, Sir.” “ No suggestions as to the saddle, saddle- cloth, bridle, or stirrups?” pursued. the Nor man, as though his purse were lined with gold. “ Your Majesty would not wish them to be. excelled by those of any other gentle men in Paris, of course?” “We have such confidence in your taste Sir, that we leave everything of that nature to you.” “Thank you, Madame. Has your Majesty anything more to say to me?” ‘ “ Only that you have our best wishes, Six’ “You overwhelm me, Madame,” said thé Norman, bowing himself from the apart Fortuue is trying to smoth- Has your Majesty any BSBEZzZ 2 822 2 g Ie) ee r Ge 12 | na I- r THISBE ; OR, THE QUEEN'S MUSKETEER. 89 ment. “A splendid horse within a weelx, to _ Say nothing of the expense of keeping him, hor of the trappings, and 1 without a sou, and _ 20 prospect of any for 2 month!” he added, in raillery to himself. “Fortune is in love _ With me to-day!” As he was proceeding along the passage to the ante-room, he heard at the same moment § light running step behind, and his own _ haime called in a delicious, thrilling whisper, - that set his heart leaping wildly. “ Monsi¢ur De Lemmonier,” said the owner Of the voice, with a smile of such sweetness, lt was no wonder the Norman scarcely knew whether he was in paradise or on. Sarth, “ her Majesty wishes you not to draw Upon your private fortune for this, and there- lore sends you an order on the Treasurer of tate for five hundred pistoles, which you can aw immediately, and which will enable You to purchase and support your horse with ignity.” “Five hundred pistoles—fifteen hundred Crowns!” murmured the young man, half be- Wildered. “Is it a dream!” “What ails you, Musketecr?” said the favorite, catching him by the arm, and look- g him anxiously in the eye. “Me, Mademoiselle ?” said Louis: “ What 8 ail me ?” “You are staggering, Sir!” “The air is very close, | feel its pressure Upon my chest,” said Louis, ‘“ And no won- er,” he muttered, in an undertone, “for the Chest is empty! Did { understand you to Say 1 could draw the tive hundred pistoles to- day, Mademoiselle ?” “Tmmediately, Sir, this hour. @ your service ?” “Who is it asks, Mademoiselle—Mademoi- Selle de Bowmanville, or her Majesty ?” “Mademoiselle de Bowmanville, Sir,” said the favorite, “that she may be able properly reply when questioned upon the subject by her Majesty, who is desirous of the happi- ess and content of her Musketeers.” “Will Mademoisello permit me to speak out 2” “Freely, Sir.” “Then’ I would say, Mademoisel!e—par- On, Mademoiselle, but you have a small, aeulsite hand. Will you permit me to look it?” ~ “Ts that what you would say, Sir Musket- Ser ?” said the favorite, archly. “Mademoiselle, [ have not before seen a Pretty hand since I left Normandy. Pray let eee it in mine and look at it for a mo- mn * “There, Sir. But, hold—you need not it to yourlips!”~ - “Ah, Mademoiselle, do not be offended. That was only my homage to nature for a ' Do you glimpse of her masterpiece. Pray, let.me hold it awhile in mine.” “ Why should I, Sir Musketeer?” c “When we see a.rare and beautiful flower, do we not Jove to smell its perfume. ‘Erue, it is not ours, and its Owner may grant us the privilege, or not, as she pleases.” “ts that a good reason?” archly asked the favorite, in the meanwhile suffering her hand, which was small and beautiful, to linger un- withdrawn in his. “Do you wish a better?” “ Answer me, first.” “Say it fulfills: part of the purpose of a hand ?” + hier part.” . f “The conferring of happiness upon 8 poor Norman gentleman, ss Mademoiselle, would die with joy could he but call it is. You have taken it away!” 2 i “You have not answered my question, Musketeer. Are you satisfied with your sery- ice?” ; “Pray give me your hand again!” “ Are v4 satisfied with your service?” - “ Did I know my Captain, my Lieutenant, my comrades !” 2 “Wie, Sir. You must not seek to know them !” “But, Mademoiselle, I ought to know somebody.” ; “It is your privilege, Sir.” ; “T mean some one interested in the corps, some ono whom I may once in a while ad- dress as a comrade; say,” diffidently and with a blush, as if in contidence, * her Majes- ty’s Treasurer, for example !’’ ’ “Hush, Sir!” “a “One ought to have a comrade, Made- moiselle.” “Had you not better go and draw, your money, Musketeer.” 9 “To a comrade, if a friend, one could tell in private, all his hopes and fears, all his thougits and feelings.” “The Treasurer will be gone if you do not make haste, Sir.” : “We can shake hands with a comrade, at meeting and parting, and when sad, as. all will be now and then, each can cheer the other up, I pray you, Mademoiselle, to give me a comrade. comrade can advise me, and in sundry -ways help him. Iam young, new to Paris and the Court, and need frien ly counsel and suggestions. Pray give me 4 comrade, Mademoiselle.” Et hp “1 am not the Queen, who is the head. of the Musketeers, as the King is the head of his own Guards.” : << “True. But you are. her Majesty's Treas- urer, who, if so disposed, could give me-for a comrade, a friend, a counseler, moiselle De Bowmanville, who would make, ~ fears, how fortune deals with me. 40 I mow, the most charming corarade in the Ceworld.” “What do you want of Mademoisclic De Bowmanville?” | ai To have the privilege of calling to see rr.” * For what, Monsieur De Lemmonier ?” “'To tell her my views about the corps.” “ What else ?” “To tell her my feelings, my hopes, my To ask} her counsel in my difficulties, To give hey, | in return, when she asks it, my counsel.” “ Aught more?” “Tshould want the privilege of shaking hands with her, both on meeting and separa ing, which, after nll, Mademoiselle, would be only comrase-like, you know.” “ That is true, M. De Lemmonier, anything ‘further?’ “T should want her to call me Louis, not Monsieur De Lemmouicr, because ‘How do “you do, Louis’, ‘Good-bye, Louis”, would be more comrade-like, and just like the Guards, who never call each other Monsicur So-and- So, but Louis, Francois, Jean, or as the case may be.” “T will think of your proposition, Sir, and det you-know.” “Do, Mademoiselle.” ‘In the meanwhile, Musketeer, the Treas- urer of State is waiting to pay you five hun- dred pistoles, and her Majesty is expecting ame.” “True, Mademoiselle,” gaid Louis. e# Then why do you not take ddvantage—” “ Of the hint, Mademoiselle ?” “Mo, Si:, the suggestion.” _ Before doing so, Mademoiselle, I would ask a.questiorand a favor: Is her Majesty pleased with her Norman Musketeers ?” (Very: well pleased, Sir.” “ A circumstance has occurred, and I may lappéar on duty to-morrow and I may not; in ewhich laiter event, it would be well tor her Majesty to have ready to doer honor some ‘other niember of the corps.” “Ts this the favor ?” 1s No, Mademoiselie, it is to ask whe'her you would have pity on a poor Norman gen. tlemen, who would rather have your iuvor ‘than ‘that of all the world, and crown this day's good fortune by shaking h-nds with him?” ~ Oertainly, Monsieur De Lemmonier—” # “Please say Louis, Mademoiselle.” “Why, Louis?” © “Tous is a so much shorter name !” Bo it is, indeed, Monsieur De Lem —? “ Louis.” ~- Musketeer, I am not your comrade yet!” “oIsit necessary to be my comrade before THISLE; OR, THE QUEEN'S MUSKETEER. “ Not necessary, but-—” “Say Louis.” “ Louis.” “hanks, Mademoiselle—thanks. Now, then, again: Will you shake hands with me?” “Certainly, Louis, . There!” “T mean with both hands.” “You are woconscionable |” “With both. hands is so comrade-like, so whole-hearted, Mademoiselle—may I say Adrienne ?” ; “Why Adrienne ?” “Tt ig so sweet_a. name, and then it isso much shorter than Bowmanville! May Isay Adrienne?” “ What will you ask next, Musketoer ?” “ Say Louis.” “ What will you ask next, Louis?” “lf you will shake hands with mo with both hands ?” m nero “ Thank you, Adrienne!” “ ‘The Queen is singing for me, Louis.” “ God bless you, Adrienne !” And the young man, trembling with wild joy, reeled irom the passage into the threne- room, where, wlicn he appeared, a page said to him: ; “The King requests the presence. of her Majesty’s Musketeer.’ * Lead me, Sir,” said Louis. “I shall have a supper to-night, after alli” he ejaculated, inly. ‘“ See wuat it is to keep one’s head up, anc have confidence in fortune 1” CHAPTER XII. The Norman followed the page to a mag- nificent private apariment, whose walis, be- sides being hung with -tapestry, were sump- tuously ornamented with choice paintings from tuc world 8 most renowned masters, ant the sides with busts, statues, and statuettes, in bronze, by the immortal Benuvento. Cellini. On one side, before a writing-desk of pol- ished rosewood, over which hung_a-tull- length portrait of the Queen, sat Francis, with his elbows on the desk, his chin in his upraised hand, and lis face» tumed with thoughtiul impatience toward the door. “So, Sir,” he said to the Musketeer, “ you have come at last!” “ As you sve, Sire,” returned Louis, respect- fully, and. by no means. intimidated or over- awed. “ Are we not of as much.importance as the Queen?” continued the monarch, sharply. ““Of' as great importance—yes, Sire. But as the head of the Musketeers, my royal mis- irees, in my eyes, when Iam on duty, takes precedence even of your Majesty.” you will say Louis?” Both the King and the page looked in as tonishmeat at the utterer of this bold reply. 3 SS & os ot oe = “meemransc pe D+ THISBE,; OR, THE QUEEN'S MUSKETEER. Al “ Retire,” said the monarch to the page: The latter bowed himself out, muttering: “Tf that speech does not-settle the busi- no33 of her Majesty's Musketeers, the King is not the man I take him.” And the youth hastened to tell it to his companions. ; ; “ Do you know, Sir,” said Trancis, state- lily, “ you have uttered treason ?” “Ts it treason, Sire, to be true to my posi- fon ?” “ Did her Majesty teach you that?” “ No, Sire. 1 drew it in-with my mother's milk and my father’s instructions, that a sol- dier on duty should know no orders but those of his legitimate commander.” “Perhaps you are right,” said the mon- arch, more xesolved than ever to win to bim- self the trusty and brave-spoken Norman. “Tam certain of it; Sire.” “Are you,” smiled the King, with an air of melaucholy. ““ Well, be it so. I have sent for you to—(suddenly checking himself )— but are you now on duty ?” “ No, dire.” “Very well.: I wish to confor with you, and to ask your assistance.” : “ Any aid I can render to you, Sire, con- sistently with my position as. her Majesty's Musketeer, will be esteemed by mea privi- lege.” % Ts that a court formalism, or from your heart, Sir?” “I moan it in sincer’ty, Sire.” “J will do you the justice, Monsieur de Lemmanier, to say I believe you.” “ Thanks, Sire. He is speaking as Francis, not as the Kins,” mentaliy observed Louis. “Jt is of some private aliair—porhaps the gipsy.. I must be upon my guar.” “some time since,” began the monarch, “T saw, for the first time, the celebrated palmist and dancer, Thisbe, the gipsy, the same whom you recently saved from: death in the market-place.” «I remember, Sirc,” said Louis, coloring at the flattery, which, however, did not agree with his sense of delicacy ; and presuming to be only a prelude to some improper proposi- tion, he comprehended. the neet more than ever. of standing s2atinel to his honor. “ You saw the palmist for tho first time, Sire,” he added, suggestively. “She was beauvifal as a houri; had lips on which we could sigh life away, and fancy earth elysium ; and eyes that ravished every sense, till earth seemed no longer earih, but the delicious. heaven of whica Mohammed speaks. Were you ever iniatuated with love, «J, Sire ?” said Louis, in confusion. “You color, Norman! Peruaps i am ad- dressing a rival!” “Sire, [have but one heart, and thats wot the gipsy’s.” : . ¥oe The monarch’s brow became calm: and friendly again. 4 “ You love, then ?” “Yes, Sire.” “ Long 2?” “Some natures learn to love deeply in a brief sezson, Sire. Mine is one such.” , “Then you can feel for me.” “Sire?” : “ My whole soul went out to the palmist’at a glance. _ 1 was not only mad, but incurably ingane. Thenceforth of woman there was on earth but, one—the gipsy. I could see no other beYore me during the day; in my dreams, she was the one bright star before whose enrapturing ‘beauty that of all others was as the light of a sickly lamp to that of night s queeniiest star. For days, for weeks, I tried to see her; but in vain: she either suspecteil or had been informed of my pas- sion, and retired from the wealthy localities, | which she till then was wont exclusively to trequent, to the market-place and precincts of lesser note, and so eluded me.” eat The King paused ; but his auditor making no comment, he went on. a9 “At length I learned her address, and, a tendel by a companion, arrayed like myself: in a disguise, waited on her with the * an to have my fortune told, but in reality to behold,’ converse with, and, if possi le, woo and win,’ the arcly enchantress whos: peerless beauty’ had enslaved me.” CUT abs “What followed, Sire?” asked Louis; re- membering the story of the gipsy chief. “She looked at my hand, which was trem- bling with wild joy at contact with hers, and then, the rich blood in her brunette veins. mounted like a gush of bright crimson to her pearly cheeks, up into my eyes, with 9 flash” of virluous. reproach, when, ee drop-’ ping my hand, she indignantly retired.” 3 “She had recognized you, Sire? 9 “Yo3s—despite my disguise, and pretendéd humbleness of fortune. She had scarcely gone, when a body of wild gipsies thronzed- through the same door, with vengeance in their eyes and weapons in their hands. "De' Bounier (my eet and 1 had a'strag- gle for lie, but we finally got off, not, how-" ever, without carrying with us, in this hour of contusions, evidences of the fight.” “ You did not go again?” i” “No, not there. But still to soe and tell! the gipsy I loved her, was a necessity. Lore was devouring and pushing me on to mad- ness. De Bounier came to my aid. | He*hasj* among others, & cottage in: the suburbs, to which, abducting, he conveys my idol.” = “nen you really love the gipsy, Sire #114 “Norman!” retuned Francis, in a-hollow 42 voico, ““have I not said so? Love her? Look you, Sir. On the faith of a man, un the faith of Francis, King.of France, in the gipsy I have loved for the tirst time !” “And your professed attachment for her Majesty, Sire—” “Was honest, but only a boyish passion ; for I was then a green youth, and taken by every pretty face, but by hers the deepest, and so woced and wedded her; but only to find, love’s festive season once o'er, that 1 had been too precipitate, and taken for a life-mate one whom my heart. could scarce endure after a single year; and so both our days have since been as those who are tied togeth- er by a chain they would, but cannot sun- der.” “And yet. the Queen, whom he mistakes, loves him!” mused the Musketeer. “ But shall I tell bim. so? No; his mind is now filled with another, and it would be useless. nother time will come. Vi wait!” Then addressing the King, hesuggested the thread : “The Count De Bounier had a house in the suburbs, to which, abducting, he bore the oe } is ~ Yes ;and the following evening, attend- éd by the Count, I saw the maiden, to whom I. told the story of my love. But, fur from receiving it, she repulsed both my love and me; bade, me remember my vows to the Queen; talked like the high, virtuous woman sne-is; demanded her freedom, which I, like a dolt, refused; repelled my love and offers alike, with indignation ; and would not say ‘ Good night’ to meat parting!” The King paused, shaken. _M& Well, Sire ?” “J was again to see her the ensuing even- ing... But. judge of my feelings on proceed- ing with the Count to the cottage, to find the window stove in, the housekeeper’s hand cut off, and herself mangled and dead, wnd the gipsy nowhere to be seen.” “She had fled ?” r#She had. We had been followed the night. before (the Musketeer felt his heart beat) but by whom we cannot guess (i is breathed .again).. She had fled; and yet, though she reiused, upbraided, defied, iled from me,” pursued the King, “yet, despite all this, and though she may herself not think it, yet; Norman; the gipsy is in love with mel” “T do not think it, Sire,” said Louis, shak- ing his head. » “LT saw it in her eye.” _“ Granting that it be so, Sire, which I do not for a moment believe, what then?” “She must be mine.” - - She will not. be yours without marriage, re: “Then by marriage it shall be! THISBE; OR, THE QUEEN’S MUSKETEER. 7 “Impossible, Sire. You forget yoursolf— the Queen |” : “Vhe Queen? A divorcee. I have infin- ence with his Holiness of Rome, who will un- tie the ungrateful knot, and set me free. The dispatch is even now being drawn, and will be ready in eight or nine days, when it will at once go upon its mission.” “How long las this been in your mind, Sire ?” “Since mid-hour of last night. Why do you ask?” “Merely for the satisfaction of a thought. Has your Majesty communicated your inten- tion to-any one?” ; " “Only to De Bounicr, and my Minister of tate.” : “How many mistresses has the Count, ire?” “ A hundred, for aught I know.” : “How many your Majeaty’s Minister of State ?” “A dozen, possibly. Why do you in- quire ?” “T only asked, that, when you hear, Sire, your intention is known to all Paris, your Majesty need not be astonished.” “Known, indeed! Who should tell it? De Bounier, in whose bosom secrets are as safe as in the grave; my Minister of Strate, proverbial for the closeness of his lips? ourself—the soul of honor, and, therefore, will not betray it to the Queen ?” “You may trust, Sire, that the Queen or any one else shall not hear it from me. For her Majesty knows it already,” muttered Louis, inly, who now began to understand, or at least to suspect, the Queen’s design in ordering her Musketeers to supply them- selves with horses. While her lord mines, she means to countermine. Good! ~ I know one Musketeer, who will work hard to aid her!” Then raising his eyes to those of the King, he asked, “ Your Majesty’s object in communicating what you have tome?” “J wish you to be the bearer of the dis- patch.” ; : “ Tmpossible, Sire ?” “ Why so, Sir?” “Tam in her Majesty’s own service.” “But will not be long. The Queen is o falling woman!” “Pardon, Sire. In that case, her Majesty has at least one friend, one Musketeer, wha will stand by herto the last, and, if needs be, faithfully shed in her cause every drop of blood coursing in his veins.” “Indeed!” said the King, his brow con- tracting. “A traitor, then! His name!” The Norman rose, and calmly drawin, himself up to his fullest height, answered, with an air at once dignified, thrilling, and imposing: “ Louis de Lemmonier, Sire (” SO Ep rum, Deataiaesnit sry Bk gis oY a a a re! THISBE; OR, THE QUEEN'S MUSKETEER: 43 CHAPTER Xiv. Francis stared at the Musketeer. “You will fight against me, your King!” he observed wilh a threatening frown. “J did not say that, Sire.” “But you mean it!” “No, dire ; I simply say that, as one of the Queen’s Musketeers, I will die, if necessary, in- defence of her Majesty, iet her foes be whom they may.” “You are insolent, Musketeer. that door?” “TI do, Sire.” “Go out, Sir—go out!” Louis, bowed, and carefully keeping face to the King, proceeded to comply. . # Stay ;,come back |” Louis replied not; but, still facing King, continued to recede. * Do you hear, Norman? - Come back!” But the order-might as well have been ad- dressed to empty air. ‘The Musketeer, whose face was aglow. with feeling, did not pause till he had passed the threshold. “ Monsieur De Lemmonier, do you hear?” “What is it your Majesty does me the honor to say to me?” said Louis, gravely. “ Come back, Sir.” “Pardon, Sire. But you just bade meto goout. Ihave done so; and from where 1 stand, am ready to hear whatever your Maj- esty has to gay.” “Come back, Sir.” “J will not, Sire. Never again, under any pretext, will I enter your apaxtment!” “Sir!” The King’s eyes fairly shot fire. “I have said, Sire.” answered Louis, proudly folding his arms. “ Waat ho, my Guards!” shouted the angry monarch, impatiently stamping his foot. His Majesty was well atiended ; for he had scarce ulicred the word, when the guard ap- peared. . “ Seize yon bold thunderer,” he exclaimed, imperiously, “and away with him. I'll tame his _proud Norman blood, or J am not King of France |” “Your sword, Monsieur de Lemmonicr!” said the Captain of the Guard. But if his Majesty's blood was up, the Nor- man’s was also. “ My sword |” he answered, unsheathing it with a sweep. “Never. My lite, first! Stand back, Sir! I owe you no malice, but whoever takes from me my Toledo must have in his veins better blood than channels in your veins or those of any of your troop!” * Surround him, Guards!” said the Cap- Do you see his the n. {The order was no sooner given than obay- ed, and-all- was in a moment confusion ; an the midst of which the Musketeer's sword waa seen Sashing around him in the crowd ing, and wriggling in every ims, rection in the air. ud | sosreits “ Off, Guarda !” cried the excited King, car- ried. away by the young man’s gallantry. “ Fall back, and retire!” “20a The confused knot unwound itself; the Guards stepped back, to form into line; .but.as they withdrew from around the Norman, four of those nearest him fell to the floor, without word or siga. : y Yel The monarch was aghast ; the Quards. stu- pefied ; the Norman himself still in an atti- tude of self-defence. fn It was all only the work of an instant, but of what an instant! "2S cogs “ Are they dead, Chabannes?”.-.said the Ans. 2 Dead, Sire!” said the Captain. =... co ‘Take them away,” said; the monarch; gravely. ‘Follow ue Musketeer”) ow ores And he led the way to another apartment: _ “Now, Sir,” he said, sternly, “ what-apol- ogy haye you to offer for drawing your sword in the presence of the King?” sd “ None, Sire.” Phearidia “ What apology do youoffer 2”. ° 0 we. “None, Sire. My life is forfeit. Take it” “J will pardon you on one conditions". “ Name it.” “ Enter my service.” Law “Jam in the Queen's, Sire.’ oe “The Queen’s?. Her Majesty's time is, short. Six months at furthest, and men will say of her, ‘the former Queen!’ Where will) you be then ?” Sied & “ Perchance a seedy follower of the .poor lady; perhaps her Musketeer still; it may, be in heaven ‘Who’ caw telk? Tam no prophet, Sire. “Be wise, Monsieur De Lemmonier, « A: lieutenancy in my Quards, now—in six months, the captaincy!” gioco lh 3 “ Oh, Sire! is it well thus to tempta gentle- man from his honor ?” BIDE “ Monsieur De Lemmonier!” said Franeis,: sternly. “iteilect, Sir! your life is in my hands !” & “Take it; Sire, or cease reminding me that~ I am only in the service of her ae j “TI pardon you, Sir,” said: Francis, design- ing to overawe him. “But I shall look:tor. you to take my dispatch to Rome. Inthe meanwhile, Sir, as you doubtless. have influ- ence with the gipsy, see her, tell her how I. love her, and ask her, in my name, whenand where she will honor me with aa interview, Do these. and fortune awaits you.. No words, Sir, IL will not be refused!” 7 2 With this observation, the monarch, way-. ing his hand to the Musketeer, retired: |» “The King half disposed: to. fancy. the strange Guardsman an onemy, aud a duel og like ‘a fabulous-angry serpent, hissing, leap- ta aa mee | | | _ friend Jacques Fromage, sit down toa royal ? point after I have paid my respects to your 44 THISBE; OR, THE QUEEN'S MUSKETEER. my hands—I. em getting onl!” mused the Musketeer, turning trom the palace. “ But, tience! have I not an order on tie royal Beasurer for fifteen hundred crowns? is not her Majesty pleased with me thus far? am I not at length about to get a supper? and, more than all, may I not hope that Adrienne, the bright star of my hopes and dreams, looks upon me with a generous eye? No, heart! we are not so badly off. ‘Mherefore, let us take courage; let us draw our fifteen hundred crowns; let us go and pay that Lord off tor his disrespect to our honored mistress: and after, let us, with oar ‘tall ahs ‘he royal ‘treasurer had gone home ;- but his asaistant had not, and Louis was shortly oa his way home, with three small buckskin pouches filled to the neck with gold, which, arrived at bis lodgings, after taking out three picees for his immediate necessities, he stow- ed away in a closet, which he carefully lock- ed, when, calling Jacques Fromage, in whose courage and coolness he had confidence, he informed him that he had a quarrel on hand in which he wished his assistance as second, and «then set out for the place of meeting, where he found his opponent, the Count de BGounier, and two other courtiers already awaiting him. “ You are late, Sir,” said De Bounier, with a sinile. ‘lt is now near twilight.” “Your friend will find me cariy enough for his business,” retumed Louis, throwing his hat and shoulder-cloak to Jacques Fro- a “And it he docs not coimp.ain, you not.” “ Wao is your friend, Sir,” said the Lord, “that my friend the Count may arrange with him the ‘terms of combat? Is he a gentle- man ?” “Both my friend and I are gentlemen enough for ail bere, if necessary,” answered Louis. “As to the terms of combat, that is armatter to be arranged wholly and exclu- sively by ourselves. ‘hey are simply these: We have come to fight; thereiore, Sir, draw —— sword as quickiy as you know how, for have business somewhere that needs must be attended to, and the sooner this little atiuir is brought to a head, the better.” “But, Sir Musketeer,” interrupted De Boa- nier, “this is very irregular. ‘I'he ground is to be chosen, and the preliminaries agreed upon; but before these can be done, it is necessary for us to know with whom we are toengage.. If, as I suspect, your friend is not a gentleman, the fight cannot go on, or till he tas lett the ela.” “If you have any doubts of the gentility of my friend, Count, 1 will sa‘ist'y you upon that principal. As to the sround, place your man anywuere, and I shall be satisfied” “Excuse me, Musketeer,” said De Bounter, with a satiric smile, and haughtily drawing himself up. “We are gentlemen, ant par ticular with whom we associate. Tue tight either shall not go on, or yon feliow musi leave the ground.” “Fellow!” exclaimed Jacques Fromage, his eye flashing lighiningy. “ Insolent Lord, you lie!” “ Jacques, my friend,” interposed Louis, pat- ting him on the breast, “ you are quite right ; the Count does lie. Dut —” “ Musketeer,” cried the King’s favorite, whipping out his sword. “No bravado, Count. Itis thrown awa one. My friend shall notleave the groun anil the fight shall goon. Therefore, Sir (to the principal), to your guard ; for 1 cama here to give you a lesson, and I am in no humor to be balked, I assure you.” “One word first,” said the courtier. “Why did you force this quarrel on me?” “You mistake, dir,” returned Louis. “It was your disrespectful language in reference to my royal miswess that toreel the quarrel upon me.” “As how, Sir?” “Sir, you are sadly wanting in good man- ners. in delivering your message, you had the very bad taste to say: ‘ His Majeaty de- sires a word with the Queen’s Musketeer,’ ” “What should he have said?” fawningly demanded the owner of the gray eyes. “Sir,” said Louis, satiricaily saluting him with his sword, “your principal and yourself are both wanting in good breeding, or you would not have bal nead to put that ques. tion.’ “Did you come from Normandy to teach manners to gentlemen of the court or France.” “No, Count, not gentlemen. They are al- ready taught. But at the Court of Franca, a3 elsewhere, are to be met persons claiming the title, but wanting in the breeding of gentle- mea. And when I coms ia contact with such, I have a Norman habit of giving them a few sugzestions. You should have remem- bered the rank of my royal mistress, Sir (to his opponent), and thus have said : * iis Maj- esty desires a word with the Musketeer of her Majesty the Queen.’ Because, sir,” he added, throwing himself into position, “I am par-’ ticular about the honor, the position, and the dignity of her Majesty, aa will not suifer any person, whether gentleman of the court of Prance or not, to weat them with disre- spect.’ “Very well, Sir,” said the Lord, putting himself into position. ‘Come on.” ~ - Like every member of the court, he was an i- d 3 if u Je 2 Per TGae = ’ THISBE; OR, THE QUEEN'S MUSKETESER. 45 expert fencer. But then, in the Musketeer ho had_to do with the son of a Norman. gentle- luan- whose lite had mainly been spent in the harness of battle, in which he had acquired Very high distinction, and who had communi- or his OWn genius, With the sword, to his OV. ‘Thorofore, as, in combat, next to courage, skill is everything, in five passes, the Musket- eer sent the sword of the courtier flying through the air. “ Suilie!”’ said the latter. “ No, Sir,” returned Louis. “I did not come here to take your life, but simply to remind you that a gentleman of the couri of France (Csay it not in satire), ought always carelully lo respect the bonor and dignity of his Queen.” Then picking up and gracefully tendering the weapon, he added: “'fake your sword, Sir; and tor the honor of human na- ture, hencelorth bear in mind that he alone is noble who as careiully renders honor to whom honor is due as he is jealous of the re- spect which is duc to himself.” “1 accept the suggestion and thank you tor it, Sir,” returned the Lod, “And I will frank- ly say now, what I before would not, that in speaking cf her Majesty a3 I did, I justly laid luyseli open to the censure of all high-minded gentlemen, among whom, Monsieur De Lem- nionier, I take pjeasure in saying, I accord you a distinguished place.” “J thank you, Sir,” said Louis. men, are you all satisfied.” “ Perfectly,” was the résponse from all but De Bounier. “"pis well, Sir. Good night, and pleasant dreams to you.” ‘lurning to tali Jacques: “ Gentle- ‘“ Come, friend.” Half an hour thereafter, in a private box in & restaurant, two peisons migat have been seen doing ample justice to a repast fit for a prince. “ Are you satisfied ?” asked one, when both had finished. “Ah!” said, with a sigh, the second, who was somewhat taller than his companion, and evidently of humble station. “'l'nat is a ques- tion which touches‘me.. 1 am not satisfied.” “No? ‘hen make yourself so. ‘rhe dishes are not half cleared, and there is wine enough still lett to—” “} dont mean that,” Interrupted the other. “But you asked me if I was satisfied.” “So I did. Was that not right.” “No. You ought to have said: * Are you filled’ ‘Are you satisfied?’ has another mZan- ing altogether.”- ; “Jacques, my friend, the wine has made you very critical. Well, then, aie you lilled?’ “ Up to the very lips.” *Do you wish any more. “Nota morsel. But 1 am not satisfied.” “No? Why not?” “Tam only a butcher's assistant, and I am ambitious.” “Proper ambition is a virtue. To what does yours aspire ?” “T wish to be a Musketeer.” “A Musketeer? What for?” “ ‘Vo serve under you.” “Under me! Jacques, the mellow Bur- gundy has mounted to your head! With me, you mean. Iam only a private.” “With you, then ; though I think you must be a lieutenant, at least.” “Impossible, Jacques, my friend. The corps i8 already full. Besides, to whom would you apply ?” “Lo you, who have only to ask her Maj- esty, and it will be so.” “ Jacques, Jacques! Burgundy don’t agree with you! You ought to have chosen a jess fiery wine. Where did you get this wild no- tion of my iniluence wita the Queen?” “Dis in everybody's mouth.” “ Everybody is mistaken, Jacques.” “Phat is not all that is said,” “No? Well, I am not astonished. For whoever talks loose in that manner, is capa-- ble of adding anything. Whateise las every- body to say of me?” ; “'Phat tae corps of Musketeers is viewed at court as a great joke; for that you com- prise in your own person, ‘captain, lieuten- ant, privates, and all.” . ogra “ What is that you say, Jacques, my. friend ?” “Liat you yourself are the whole com- any.” ; Ks “the people say that ?” “And the cour’ “ tlow do you know what the court says ?? iy ‘he Count De Bounier’s butler trades at our stall.” “And therefore, Jacques 7” “‘Lhereiore, Louis, you have only to ask her Majesty to extend the corps to iwo per. sous, instead of one, and’ the .eyuest would prompil y be granted, and 1 should nave my wish. ahr’ “I will think of it,” said Louls, who had on this subject enough to occupy his thoughts for the remainder otf the night, ia? “ Jacques a Musketeer !” he soliloquized, at a late hour, as he lay thoughttully upoa his couch, “ when only the sons of noblemen are adnittel into the royal Guards. Humph! I doubt if there is Muu prospect for my hum- ble irienl. And yet, it it be true tiat the Musketecrs, as a corps, is only a myth, and L comprise the whole company in ny own ; son; and if, as I suspect, the order for the. horse has a deeper meaning than appears up- 46 on the surface, why should not the corps be extended to the enormous number of two per- sons, instead of one; suppose, for instance, sharp work should be cut out for me—work, we will say, taking me from the city—in which (as who may tell the chances of war ?) I should be cut down, what then would become of the Musketeers in whose mora} strength her Majesty reposes so much hope? No, the poor lady must run no such risk. There ought, there st, be at least twoin the corps. If my royal mistress re- fuses, why then, I will have a sub-company of my own; that is to say, I shall privately hire-my tall friend, Jacques, myself, and hold him as & sort of reserve-corps, in case of need. But I have hope that, at our interview, her Majesty will see. the wisdom. of adding him to the corps, whether the same be composed only of one or of many. It is true he is not of noble blood ; but if he can do the work of noble blood—that is to say, defend her Majes- ty—that ought to be enough. I'll watch my es when she is in a good humor, and speak to her about it. In unusual re- quests of this nature, the seizing of the proper moment is eyery thing. Perhaps it were better to lay the matter before Adrienne, first. Adrienne! sweet name.” And the Norman fell asleep. CHAPTER XV. The Musketeer’s share in the incidents de- scribed in the preceding chapter made a great stir, that is to say, at court, where, next to the ing, he was now the most prominent figure, and envied by his own sex as much as he was admired by the other. In the Queen’s apartment, where the maids of honor, the ta- dies in waiting, the pages, the servants were fairly infatuated with him, seeing, as they did, the great moral power he was bringing to bear in their mistress’s behalf. Among the Guards, who were furious at the loss of their four companions, and burned toayenge them, but who yet hesitated individually to call the sturdy Musketeer to account. And, finally, the populace, who, in the promenades, the eases the restaurants, all the public places, could find no topic so agrecabie and inspir- as that of the gallant Norman. “All of which, though pent as any other great fact to everybody else, yet was compar- atively unknown to Louis himself, who only sai that the Count De Bounier looked out at him from under his gray eyes asit were, with an expression that boded him no good. That the Guards loved him as little as the King's tavorite. ‘That the King rather seemed ‘to lénd him the light of the royal countenance. ‘Phat the Queen seemed to take courage and to feel‘stronger than before. That Adrienne appeared no longer to regard him only as a THISBE; OR, THE QUEEN’S MUSKETEER. servant of the royal mistress, but as a friend, in whose fortunes she felt an interest. And the latter had the most effect upon hun. For —we must confess it—the Norman thought more of one smile from the Queen’s favorite than of the countenance of the King, the con- sideration of the ministers, and the favor ot the duchesses, marquesses, countesses, and the mademoiselles, all put together. Not that Adrienne was the fairest demoi- selle at court, for many were as beautiful as she. But that she had a noble, pure,-and loving nature; was as modest and gently dignified as lovely ; and had, besides, a yoice whose every tone was like a gush of liquid ae! "And tho Norman could appreciate these. He was of that ago when the eye dwells fondly on the bvautiiul and good; when on the ear the voice of her we love falls grate- fuller than any music; when on the heart love’s image is deeply and unconsciously im- pressed; when love lends to life a mellow roseate hue; and existence, borne along on the wings of constant joy, passes on like a bright giad dream. Perhaps, too, Adrienne herself, viewed the Musketeer, in turn, with similar feelings. It may be—who could say? Woman's love is not so easily read as man’s... Her instinet- ive delicacy forbids her from permitting her love toappeartoo prematurely. Still it was most certain she was often observed by the Count De Bounier, whom nothing escaped, to cast her eyes in the direction of the Nor- man, when that worthy was gazing another way, as woman only looks wien her heart is in her glance. Precisely on the sixth day after the order for the horse, the Musketeer was seen dash- ing toward the palace on a magnificent young Arabian, black as night, proud as Lu- cifer, of rare symmetry, with a bright-green saddle, edged with gold, and a saddle-cloth of the same brilliant color, covered with gold-. en lilies, and bordered with a.long sumptu- ous fringe, also edged with gold. As he approached the palace, he looked up at the windows of the Queen’s apartments, au beheld not only the Queen herself, but Adri- enneé and all the maids of honor, observing him, with proud smiles. At the same time, he was particularly delighted to sea that Adrienne also courteously smiled, and her ap- proving glance touched him nearer, thrilled him with keener satisfaction than did even that of the Queen. Giving his horse in care of a groom, he made his way into the palace, where he tound himself the observed of all observers, for the Queen’s windows had not been the only ones | from which his arrival had been discerned. As he entered the ante-room, a page in- 1 : ] 1 i LD OF het et hey rer FS = ee UL aoa N eS tl talk to him thus. THISBE ; OR, THE QUEEN’S MUSKETERR. formed him that his presence was required by the King, whom he found alone, and with- ree girdle a paper in an envelope of white silk. Louis shuddered ; for his foreboding heart told him the probable character of the paper, and the monarch’s design in sending for him. * Good afternoon, Monsieur De Lemmonier,” “what news have you for me ?” “Concerning whom, Sire ?” returned Louis, calling up all his presence of mind, for the conflict he seen Deiore him. “'Lne gipsy.” * None, dire.” “Sir!” said the King, with a slight frown, “You have forgotten that L bade you seek the gipsy out, tell her how I love her, and learn from her when and where she would grant me an interview.” “ Pardon me, Sire, I had not forgotten it.” “ You have seen her, then ?” * No, Sire.” “ But you have tried ?” “ No, Sire.” “No, De Lemmonier !” said the monarch, sternly. “T cannot help you, Sire, in any attempt to dishonor your Majesty's royal consort.” “Sir!” said Francis, turning pale, and Stepping back a single step. * i am a gentleman, Sire, and the thing your Majesty proposed is not for me!” “ Proposed !” said the monarch, his voice, like his features, changed with passicn. “ It Was an order, Sir.” “ And, therefore, not forme. Iam in her Majesty’s service, Sire.” “ This—this to me!” said the King. “ Be- ware, Sir!” “T dealt honestly with you, Sire, as be- came a gentleman of France, but your Maj- esty would hearken to no refusal.” “Tt wasmy will, Monsieur De Lemmonier.” “So be it, Sire. Your Majesty is King of rance.” “ But it would seem not your King, Sir.” “Yes, Sire, my King, but only as Francis the monarch, not always as Francis the Man.” The King fell back another step, and look- €d in astonishment at the man who dared “ Look you, Monsieur De Lemmonier,” he Said, presently, determined yet to conquer im. “Your fortune depends upon your friendship or enmity to your King. Choose, ir 1? “ Sire, I already am your friend—your true friend, though your Majesty may believe it Rot ; and my friendship is best shown in my refusal to aid or countenance you in any- thing unworthy the dignity of Francis, King 47 “No impertinence, Monsieur De Lemmo- nier. I am myself the best judge of what wee with my own dignity.” “ You are right, Sire. But will your Maj- esty permit me to suggest that I have two Kings—the one your Majesty, whom I am bound as a true subject in all state matters loyally to obey ; the other, Monsieur De Lem- monier, Sire, whose honor I am equally bound, in all things, to guard.” “As I live, I believe you place your soc- ond before your lawful King.” “ Bid me rush on to death for you, Sire, and I will, without hesitation, and without questioning. But ask me not to perform aught conilicting with the nice sense of honor of a Norman gentleman; for that I will not do, even for your Majesty.” ‘The monarch’s cheek flushed, and his eyes shot forth threatenings. “T think, Monsieur De Lemmonier, you are presuming to read me a dishonoring lec- ture ; in short, to impute to me dishonorable conduct to my face !” “ You misapprehend me, Sire.” “Your meaning, then, Sir, and that very quickly.” “ This, Sire. That as the friend of your Majesty, I will not do anything that shall cause you to think less of me, now or at any future time; that as the friend of the lovely gipsy—I am her friend, Sire—I will not, knowingly, be instrumental in bringing her to shame and sorrow ; that as the friend of her Majesty, the Queen, I will not take a sin- gle step to add to her unhappiness; and, finally, Sire, that_as the friend of Monsieur De Lemmonier, I will not give his enemies an opportunity to oy that he ever wooed the smiles of fortune by the sacrifice of his honor.” “ Enough,” said Francis. _“ We nced not discuss the matter further. Presuming that you, too, were’a lover, | had hoped in this for ed sympathy as a man; tor if we may not ook for aid from those circumstanced in heart as ourselves, to whom may we? I knew, also, you had influence with the gipsy, and—but let it pass. I will be my own hiend. Do you see this paper ?” “do, Sire.” “Tt must at once to Rome, the road to which ‘is dangerous, and may be pursued only by men of heart, Will you take it ?—a State matter.” “Tam not free, Sire.” “But you may be, if yeu will.” “TJ am in her Majesty's service, Sire.” “ You can get her Majesty’s leave; with a word,” said the King, determined to follow him up. “ Pardon me, Sire, but I may not say that of France.” word.” ll | li 48 “ Sir! said the monarch, bent upon over- aweing him. “T may not say that word, Sire,” reiter- ates Louis, perceiving the monarch’s aim. * You forget, Monsieur De Lemmonier— with me, fortune; against me, ruin! Your election.” “J am in her Majesty’s service, Sire.” “ Be cautious, Monsieur De Lemmonier. Reflect. Six months hence, there will be no her Majesty. Reflect, Sir.” “T have reflected, Sire.” “ And your answer is—”’ “ ] am in her Majesty's service, Sire!’ * Mark, Sir,” said the King, hastily going to atable and taking up a pen, “ I have but to write an order tomy Chamberlain, and you are from this hour excluded from the palace.” “can serve her Majesty as well without the palace as within, Sire.” “ { have but to write a secund order to the Governor, and you are excluded from Paris.” “Tcan serve her Majesty as well without the walls of Paris as within. A courier can bring me my orders.” “ A third order, and you are banished from the soil of France.” “ T still can serve her Majesty, Sire. There are other countries, other courts, other kings.” “A fourth order, Norman, and your head is on the block.” “ At death, Sire, all service is at an end.” Francis dropped the pen. “ Look you, Monsieur De Lemmonier,” he said, admonishingly , “ fortune is worth the cherishing. ‘Three months hence, her Maj- esty’s draits upon our royal treasurer wil be paid no longer. What. will follow, then?” “ Who may say, Sire ?” “Twill tell you. Her Majesty's maids-of- honor, servants, all, will desert her for a service where they well get paid. Her Maj- esty divorced, homeless, moneyless, frien less—Musketeer, whut will follow then ?”’ “To her Majesty's Musketeer, Sire, she will still be his Queen, he still her Musket- eer; and he wiil follow her, attend her, guard her, up and down the world, till in some sister queen or monarch, more gener: ous than her own lord, she shall have found a friend, who, in pity for her unhappy lot, will kindly take her in.” Francis, nettled, eyed the young man awhile, as if to read him to the soul, and then paced the chamber in silence, and with rapid strides. ; “Why so obstinate, Norman?” he de- manded, at length. “‘ Why should you rashly pit yourself against your King ?” “ I do not, Sire.” “Have done with this. At once to her Maj- THISBE; OR, THE QUEEN’S MUSKETEER. esty for.a few weeks’ leave, and off with this packet, without delay, to Rome. No words! I will have it so! Why are you not gone, Sir 2? “ Honor will not let me, Sir. “ Monsicur De Lemmonier, will you force me to remember that Jam your King :” “Honor will not let. me, Sire,” iterated Louis. “I must stay and protect her Majesty, who, poor, unhappy lady, while I am absent, will not have a single friend in all France,” “Protect her. Monsieur De Lemmonier! From whom ?” “From you, Sire!” The King, his eyes glittering, his counte- nance flushing, and his frame twembling, im- petuously stamped his foot. “Monsieur De Lemmonier, are you mad ?” he demanded, fiercely. “No, Sire.” “Protect her Majesty, my wile, from me, her husband ?” “From you, Sire, should you attempt to harm her,” said Louis, with a calin and un- daunted, but. respectful. firmness; “from every witling at court, who, on secing the humor of the King, to flatter him, may be dis- posed to treat her august Majesty, my royal mistress, with one faint vestige of disrespect!’ “ And you dare to talk thus to me, Sir-—to me, your King?” “If I have said aught amiss, Sire, pardon me, I meant it not. am only a poor Nor- man gentleman, with no other fortune than my sword, and no higher ambition than by standing loyally by my position to watch over the interests and the happiness of my honore.t employer and Queen.” “Tn one word, Norman, will you or will you not woo fortune in my service? No pre- varication—a blunt answer !” “Sire, you have told me that danger and persecution await my royal mistress. I slant by her Majesty.” “Enough !” said Francis, biting his lip. “ There are other men in France. . Go, Sir!” Louis bowed and went out. The King blew an ivory whisile. A page appeared. : “Qall the Count De Bounier:. Count, it is ~ decided. You must with the packet to Rome.”” , “Vory well, your Majesty. Wien musi-I set out?” “ On the third day from this.” “Tis well, Sire.” On passing into the ante-room, Louis was summoned by a page to the Queen's apari- ments, Her Majesty was in her boudoir, and at- tended only by her favorite, whose eye lit up with a quiet sparkle of proud joy as tae Nor- man entered. Louis perceived by their features that they 2 had been weeping, though at what, he could not conjecture. “Welcome, my Musketeer,” said the Queen, with an assumed cheerfulness, it was quite plain to the observant Norman she did not jeel. ‘“ You ride a gallant horse.” “An Austrian, your Majesty, that, as I am assured, and I myself believe, has not his peer in France for intelligence, obedience to the bit and spur, endurance, and speed,” returned Louis, hoping to inspire her with courage, in case, as he suspected, the order for the steed had in it a deeper meaning. The features of the Queen instantly became radiant with satisfaction. “Thanks, Sir, for your good taste,” she said, with a charming blending of genialness and dignity. “ You may yet have occasion in our behalf, to put to the test the powers of the animal.” “Twas right in my guess—the order for the horse had a higher object than the mere eclipsing of the King’s Guards!” thought Louis. “I shall be most happy to try those in the service of your Majesty,” he replied, aloud. * Are you familiar with the saddle, Sir ?” “From boyhood upward, Madame, it has been with me a passion and a joy.” “Indeed! Have you ever undertaken any long journeys ?” “Not many, indeed ; but Ihave been in the saddie long hours at a time. With an occa- sional rest, I could, if necessary, ride day and night for forty days. The hardy air of Nor- mandy, and the vigorous training from a daily acquaintance, since boyhood, with her rugged hills and picturesque streams, have Prepared me for whatever task may be before Ine, in your Majesty’s service, or my own.” “You could, then, my Musketeer; if need be, undertake a long and arduous journey, and at short notice.” “ Ata moment’s, your Majesty.” The Queen smiled upon him, and then iar with an inquiring eye, to her favor- te : “* Madame, the Queen may not say more to her Musketeer upon this subject, at. present. But I, her friend, nay at that certain events, highly atiecting her Majesty’s happiness, may Make it advisable for her to prepare fora _ Critical emergency, which may come at any Moment. In view of which, her Majesty's Musketeer will please to held himself in read- ess for along journey ata moment’s notice.” “T shall obey, Mademoiselle,” saia Louis, With alow bow. ‘then, turning to the Queen, he added: “Has your Majesty anything fur- ther for your humble servant ?” “Nothing, my Musketeer.” “Then, if you will permit me, Madame, I have a suggestion to make, 1 have a friend, THISBE ; OR, THE QUEEN'S MUSKETEER. 49 Madame, of humble birth and fortune, but brave and true, and devoted to your Majesty, whom, in case your corps be not filled, I could recommend as one Who would make @ worthy Musketeer.” “TLe corps is already filled, Monsieur De Lemmonier. Is it not so, Mademoiselle De Bowmanville.” “Tt is, your Majesty.” “ You hear, Sir ?” “Tdo, Madame. But should the events to which Mademoiselle De Bowmanyille Las al- luded, take the turn anticipated, I could not set out with heart, if I felt that your Majesty had not near you some devoted servant who would watch over my royal mistress, and— and—it may be, yet another, as over a pearl of great price.” Yhe Queen was touched, and she glanced at Adrienne, who, too, was penetrated; for she readily comprehended who was the other to whom the young man referred. “There is no telling what is in the future, Madame,” pursued Louis, seeing that neither spoke, “ nor how soon your Majesty may need a brave heart or a true sword, and my hum- ble friend has both of these.” “Are you aware of anything threatening her Majesty’s happiness?” asked Adrienne, in agitation. “1t would not be right to betray my inter- view with the King,” thought Louis. * Noth- ing, Mademoiselle.” 30th the Queen and Adrienne saw, in an instant, that he knew something that i.e was bound by a nice sense of honor not to reveal. Moreover, they had previously learned from a page that he bad been closeted with the RE. “ But you suggest—you recommend, Mon- sieur De Lemmonier,” said Adrienne, hesitat- ingly, “to make a still further addition to her Musketeers 2” “Yes, Mademoiselle.” ie friend is trusty and devoted, you say ae Trusty as good steel, devoted as high loy- drienne looked at her mistress, who re- turned her glance with one that said, “ Lleave all to you.” “T presume room might be made in the corps for your friend, Monsieur De Lem- monier,” presently. “ But it would just be necessary for her Majesty to know some- thing more of him. Is his appearance such as would reflect credit upon the Musketeers ?” “A manlier figure, walk or face, Way not be found at court, Mademoiselle... His name is Jacques Fromage. Ie is scaredly more than twenty-five years of age. Js of humble birth, but has a noble soul.” : 3 _* Her Majesty will give you an answer in a moment, Monsieur De Lemmonier. Mad- ame, the Queen, will your Majesty grant me a@ moment?” 5 The Norman retired toward the door. In a few moments, Adrienne approached him with a purse of gold. “ What is this for, Mademoiselle ?” “Yor a horse and Musketeer’s uniform for your friend, Jacques Fromage, Sir,” said Ad- rienne, with a smile so sweet it was no won- der it sent a thrill through the young man’s frame. “Yfas her Majesty any further word for me ?” “ None, Sir, except to wish your friend ev- ery joy, and you good day.” “}ler Majesty 13 very kiad, Mademoiselle, and you~” He paused, overcome by emotion, and was about to spring forward to bend in grateful homage to the Queen, when he discovered that tne latter had disappeared. “Will you shake hands with me, Made- moiselle?” he said, blushing. * Why not, Musketeer ?” said the favorite, with alow, gushing laugh. “ With both hands ?” “Tf you will have it so, Sir.” “You are an angel, Mademoiselle.” “Hush, Sir!” laughed the favorite again, releasing her hands irom his lips. Her Maj- esty is waiting for me. Bring your friend in his uniform to-morrow, and be here yourself at this hour in three days.” Vall Jacques was taken all aback by the favor, which he could hardly realize. “And yet why should I be surprised ?” he muttered to himself. “Did not Louis ask for it? and lives there any one, who, knowing him, could refuse him any request? How can I thank you?” he said, with emotion, to the Musketeer. “ By always remembering,” answered Lou- is, “ that her Majesty, though a Queen, is yet a poor, unhappy lady, making a brave effort for her position, and, surrounded by open and secret enemies, stands in need of all the help, the courage, and the vigilance of her Musketeers, on whom, and her-own woman’s heart, she must alone rely.” {shall remember, Louis.” “Thanks, Jacques. Good-night. God bless ou.” “A second Musketeer, Sire !” said De Bou- nier, in a whisper, to the King, in the throne- room, the following day. “It will be a whole regiment next!” “TI see,” said Francis, observing Jacques, who, with his musket and uniform, and standing near the Norman and a little off from the Queen, was repaying with interest the-stares of the courtiers. “Some scheme ta afoot.” THISBE ; OR, THE QUEEN’S MUSKETEER. “ Yes, Sire, thanks to the cunning head of the private councillor, Mademoiselle De Bowmanville! Were it mot weil to separate her from her Majesty ?” “How, Count?” “By dismissing her from court, as danger- ous.” “Why should I?” ‘ “ For your own sake, Sire. So long as her Majesty has Mademoiselle to plot and scheme for her, even so long all your Majesty’s efforts for freedom from your nuptial tie will be abortive.” “ Believe you so?” said Francis. “ Umph! Tl think of it !” CHAPTER XVI. On the evening of the following day, Lou- is, disguising himself in his suit of brown, and buckling on his sword, strolled to the gipsy. quarter to see the palmist, whom. he found without ditliculty. She blushed, and her dark eyes sparkled with satisfaction, as he entered her small apartment, which was tastefully, and in a manner luxuriantly, furnished with what- eyer could conduce to her comfort ; each ar- ticle being a friendly gift from some member of the tribe, all of whom regarded her with mingled affection and awe—and asthe pos- sessor of a divining power which with many was a pretence, but in her a reality. “Welcome, my preserver!” she exclaim- ed, warmly giving Louis her hand. “How goes fortune with you?” “Well,” said Louis, perceiving that she was struggling with melancholy, and that the sweet tones of her voice were plaintive with sadness. “ And with you?” “With me?” returned the palmist, with a constrained smile, which yet told of a sor- rowing heart. “Well—very, very well!” “Pardon,” said Louis, shaking his head, and observing her. with feeling; “ you are not!” “No ?” said Thisbe, a tear springing to her lids, but still with an effort to appear gay. ‘“ You jest!” “You are unhappy.” The gipsy burst into tears. “Youu love?” said Louis, taking her hand and leading her to a seat. ‘The palmist replied only by a sob. “Be frank,” said Louis, kindly. “I am your friend. Trust.me. No father, brother, mother, even, could sympathize with you more kindly than wili I. ‘rust me. You love?” - The gipsy’s face was bowed upon her hands ; but through the quivering fingers es- caped a word ina low, heart-rending voice, and that word was. “Yes!” sf a tt th 2 Gn? toe =z ww ea2ar | ® respectful bow. “gd 7 ” s Now gipsy ? “The King ?” Thisbe was silent. The countenance of the Musketeer became grave. “Do you remember his coming here in disguise ?” “Too well.” “Your abduction hence to the cottage in the suburbs ?” See “What passed between you and the King there?” “ Yes.” “ And yet you love him?” “T love him.” “Woman, woman! who may read thee !” Mumured Louis. “Farewell!” he said, aloud, rising. ; The palmist, pale, trembling, and in tears, Sprang to her feet. “On, do not go, do not condemn me!” she Cried. “You said but now you would sym- pathize with me like a brother.” “Have you seen the King, since the scene at the suburbs ?” “Yes,” blushed the gipsy. “ Otten >” “Once.” “When?” “Last night, in answer to this,” taking a hote from her breast and handing it to the Lusketeer, who, opening it, read ag follows : “ Thisbe, I must, I will see you. I love you as man Never yet loved woman. For your sake, L am about to take a step that shall make you Queen of France. tant me an interview, or I shalldie. Meet me two hours after dark under the great oak in the main av- Shue of tue park opposite the town-house. I shall be the guise of a student. You will know me by a White feather in my cap. Come, if you love me, if 9u would not to-morrow see france without a King, Ours, and yours only, FRANCIS,” “You went?” “ Yes.” . “To let him know you loved him?” _ “No, on my honor. But to tell him I Never could be his !” “Did you mean it.” “Asa virtuous maiden!” ee oh “I believe you, palmist!” said Louis, with “ Did the King discover at you loved him ?” f ‘ The gipsy blushed, but did not answer. “ He asked you for a second interview ?” “He did.” “You promised it ?” “ T refused !” b “But with a wavering heart, anda trem- ling lip. Even now you wish he were here. Mm fright?” Lhisbe burst into tears. ; “TI seo,” said Louis. “ Farewell ? THISBE; OR, THE QUEEN’S MUSKETEER. 51 The gipsy held out her-hands.implor- ingly. a * What would you?” “My. heart.is breaking! throbs !” It was as if it would burst. “What can I do for you?” said Louis, touched. “Save me from the King, from my love, from myseif!” The Musketeer looked at her. She was pale, but her dark eye, bright with a sad, Feel how. tt . . °o beseeching light, was honest. “How save you?” said Louis. “Take me from this—from Paris—to where. I can not see the King—to where he shall never find me !” “From this?” said Louis. free,.surrounded by friends 2” ““ An expression of anguish swept oyer the face of the gipsy. , “Do you noi remember my letter?” she asked, blushing. The Musketeer reflected. “You said you were not your own mis- tress; thut your movements were not gov- erned by yourself?” he replied, presently. Thisbe nodded. “ You are not free, then ?” The gipsy shook her head, and then plac- ing her finger on her lip, in token of silence, opened the door, to see if any one was listen- ing. But no one appeared. “ Who restrains you?” asked Louis, quiet- ly, determined that she should have fair play. “The Chiei,” said the palmist, in a whis- er. For what purpose ?” “J know not.” “ But you go out?” “Tam sent!” “Then, the life you lead is distasteful to you?” “ Distasteful! Could I leave it, and gain virtuous bread, in some obscure reireat, how- ever humble, I were happy !” A < I see. But when you go out, why not iy? “Tam watched !” “By whom?” “A hundred gipsies, who mingle with the crowds I draw around me, take their stations on the corners, look on from afar oii!” Louis’ brow darkened. “Peste!” he exclaimed. tried fo escape?” “Three times.” “ And failed ?” “Tam still the sipsy palmist !” was the sig- nificant reply, delivered in a voice of an guish. daughter?” asked “ Are you not “ Have you ever “Are you the Chief’s Louis, whose blood was beginning to boil. a 52 “He says so?” “ But your own heart?” “No!” replied the maiden. “Hark!” said Louis, opening the door. “I fancy I heard a footstep!” he added, in a few moments. Thisbe changed color, and went out, but presently returned, without having seen any one. “lave you always been a gipsy ?” asked OULS. “From childhood; but I think I was not born one.” “ Have you any early recollections ?” “TI remomber a fine lady, tall, and with dark eyes, who sometimes took me on her knee, and looked at me sadly and in silence.” “ Anything more ?” “A large house, with tesselated floors, in the midst of a garden, luxuriant with trees, and vines, and shrubbery, and looking out upon a mountain in the distances.” “ Aught else ?” “Nothing; and even these appear like a ream.” “Isee. Have you been always in Paris?” “No: we are wanderers, staying now kere, now there, 2 month, a year, or years, as for- tung prospers us. Since childhood, I have been in almost every city m Burope.” “ Without ever discovering any place that reminded you of the house with the tesseiated floors?” ‘Che gipsy bowed. “ How long have you been in Paris?” “Viree years.” * Poor girl! Would I could help you!” “ Bat you will!” said the gipsy, imploring- ly. “You will not leave m2 nere, to the Chief, to Francis, to myself!” The Musketeer looked at her. “ Where do you wish to go?”-he asked. “To where I shall be sale. Know you not such a place ?” Louis looked down in thought. The gipsy observel him, ag if her very soul were in her eyes. “Wien do you wish to go?” he asked, presently. “Francis may seek to see me to-morrow- night,” said the maiden, dropping her eyes, while her pearly cheeks were suifuset with a blush, deep as crimson. “ But you need not be at home.” “When I yesterday received his letter, felt as if not to see him would kill both him an. me!’ was the plaintive reply, yeein a tone whose significance could not be mis- taken. “Bo a triend—a brother; save me from myself |” “{ willl’ said Louis, touched to the heart by that pleading voice. where shail I tase you to? friead 2?” “ Bat,” puzzled, flave you no THISBE; OR, THE QUEEN’S MUSKETEER. “ None but you in all the world.” The Musketeer rubbed his mustache, “T could take you to my lodgings,” he said. presently, with a deep blush ; butit would not be decorous; and besides, the Chief would call there the first thing.” After a pause. “Do you wish to go to-night ?” “This hour—this minute !” “See what it is not to have acquaintance !” muttered the Norman, in perplexity. “To take the poor soul to an inn would be equiv- alent, in publicity, to the market-place. To convey her to my lodgings would only be to peril both her good name and my own, with- out doing her any good, for the Chief would be certain to discover her; and where else to go with Ler surpasses my comprehension. Peste! if, when making me, Nature had only with my clay mixed a small modicum of wit! Do you think you dare trust yourself with me?” he asked, to gain time, for an idea. * You are a brave man, Monsieur de Lem- monier; and only cowards take advantage of the helpless !” : “ But, | may Lave to take you to my lodg: ings?” “You are a gentleman. I shall bo safe there !” “The idea don't come,” muttered the Mus- keteer. “If jortane would but have pity on me! Can we get away unseen, think you?” he asked. The gipsy’s eyes sparkled. She compre- hended that he had at length concluded to tuke her under his protection. “Thanks, thanks, Sir!’ she cried. “I will sce to that. “Wait at the corner till you feel an armin yours. It will be mine!” “Tm in for it!” exclaimed the Musketeer. “Tt would never do to take her to my lodg- ings ; and therefore, Fortune, I trust to thee ! I will wait for you,” he said, in a whisper. Then adding, “ Good night!” ina loud voice, for other ears, ifany Were listening, be wilu- drew. ‘he gipsy dropped upon her knees. “Betriend me, ‘Thou!’ she resumed, ia anguish. “Suave me from him who trailics in the divining gift hou hast given me; from him who would take advantage of my youth; from myself, who dare not trust mine own heart!” as In fifteen minutes, the Musketeer felt a light arm in his. “ Now, when Fortune directs!” he mutter- ed, still in perplexity. He looked around, to see if they were watched, and perceiving no one, whispered to the gipsy, who Lad on a mask and domi- no, & Come Me walked on awhile, scarcely speaking a word, and at the end of a quarter of an hour found himself in a street shaded on both sides THISBE; OR, THE QUEEN'S MUSKETEER. with trees and at a gate, with « high rounded top, opening into a hard pebbled path, through:a magnificent garden, behind’a large, stately structure with numerous windows, through whose carnation-colored curtains, tastefully ornamented with blue oblongs edged with gold, streamed a rich flood of brilliant light. It was the gate to the Queen’s household in the rear of her palace ! Louis, still retaining the gipsy’s arm in his, passed in and along the graveled walk to five stone steps, which he ascended, and tapped at the door. “Whom do you wish to see, Monsieur?” said a stout man in livery, on replying to the summons. “ Mademoiselle De Bowmanville,” Louis, astonished at his own boldness. “ Walk in,” said the man. The Norman’s heart beat high. Twenty minutes later, he turned from the palace, to his lodgings, alone. He hadyin a private interview, related everything to the Queen's favorite, who, on hearing it, had, in the kindest manner, agreed to take the gip- sy under her protection. He staggered to his lodgings as if drunken What had Jed him to the gate? Was it Louis’ instinct? CHAPTER XVI. The King was pale and gloomy again. The court could not understand why ; they could only discover and feel the fact. Nor did they sympathize with him, as before. For where- as, on the former occasion, his change arose from love's melancholy, in which state he granted without question every petition; on ‘he present, it came from love's disappoint- ment, which begot moroseness, and he would grant-nothing. He would receive no ‘petitions, hear no suggestions, sign no papers, and converse With no one save the Count De Bounier, and With him only in snatches. 23 He was paie, nervous, morose; and as no- body could get his signature to any bill or petition, everybody was pale; nervous, and morose, too. fet) é That is, everybody but tlie Queen, Adri- enue, and the two Musketcers, who, though algo pale and gsexvdts, were not ut all mo- rose; and at ieast three of whom, that is her Majesty, Adrienne. and Louis, could perhaps give a very accuraie guess at the cause of the Kings gloom. -As to tall Jacques, to whom Louis bad not Ceemed it necessary to communicate what had become of the gipsy, that worthy had no Clue to the monarchs dismais at all. Nevertheless, as. we have said, all four Were pale and nervous as well. ‘The Queen, said 38 because that day was, a3 she knew, to bo an important one in her history. Adrienne, from sympathy for her mistress, and it may bo for the Musketeer, also. Louis, in sympathy for his royal mistress, for Adrienne, and for the gipsy, but principally for Adrienne. And Jacques, in sympathy for Louis, whom he loved better than any friend, truer than any brother. ‘ The morning-levee broke up precisely at twelve o'clock, a few minutes before which it was observed that De Bounier kissed his master’s royal hand with unusual fervor, and took his-leave as though he designed not to return again for some days. “Monsieur De Lemmonier,” whispered Adrienne, a3 the King was rising to give his hand to the Queen. * Yes, Mademoiselle.” : “Follow to her Majesty’s apartments. Hush. Important!” ; Louis bowed, comprehending from what had been said to him before, that the time had at length come for a bold movement, in which, if the King mined, the Queen, for her own safety, was resolved to countermine. “Do we wait for instructions” asked Jacques. ; “1, yes ; you, no,” said Louis. you on my return home.” “Very good,” said Jacques, who looked upon the Norman as his real commanding oiticer. : On reaching her own apartments, the Queen dismissed all her attendants, save Adrienne, who, at her command, instantly summoned the Musketeer. “IT am at your Majesty's orders,” said Louis, advancing to the Queen, whe appeared to be under deep feeling. “ Monsieur De Lemmonier,” said the latter, “your devotion to my cause up to this moment commands my warmest gratitude; and this the more, because lama poor lone woman, and among all the court of France, [have but one manly heart on which alone I can rely.” “You overrate your poor servant, Ma- damo,” said Louis, blushing. “And [must add that you have at least two iriends— Jacques Fromage and myself—who areready, if need be, to die for your Majesty.” - . “‘lhanks, my Musketeer, for such assur ance. In my future thoughts and hopes, I shall not forget Monsieur Fromage. “Ohl” thought Louis, “if Jacques were only here to hear himself called by her Maj- esty, ‘ Monsieur Fromage!’ ” “fam about to give you my confidence, Monsieur De Lemmonier.” “You. are very gracious, Madame, But, unless it will bea relief to your royal mind, I pray you not to. Iam ready to do what- ever youmay simply order, satisfied that in “TJ will see ae es gee earn } } | : | | 54 THISBE ; OR, THE QUEEN'S MUSKETEER. serving your Majesty I am only standing up for the right.” “No, Sir; it is due to so true a friend as yourself that. you should know at least so much of my position as will enable you to think and act intelligently in the fresh serv- ice I am about to ask at your hands.” “ As your Majesty pleases.” “T learned, a few days since, that his Maj- esty had-it in. contemplation to apply to Rome for a divorce, on grounds unworthy of him and me; and.as my fame is dear to. me, and moreover believing his Majesty to be act- ing under improper influences, I instantly resolved, under the encouraging counsel of my. friend, Mademoiselle De Bowmanville, to make a true woman's struggle for the purity of my name.” “Jt was a brave thought, Madame,” said Louis, his eyes sparkling, “and worthy of your Majesty.” “Thanks, my Musketeer. You give me sourage. In accordance with the suggestion of my friend, Mademoiselle De Bowmanville here; I have drawn up an autograph-letter of facts tohis Holiness, which I have held ready to, send off. to its destination the instant I learned that his Majesty had dispatched. his messenger with the application for a di- vorce.” 7 “ Bravo, again, Madame !” “ His Majesty’s messenger sets out for Rome to-day. Indeed, he is now in the saddle, and doubtless smiling at the prospective ruin of his Queen, whose jappiness, by leading her lord jnto evil, he has. already .well-nigh wrecked.” “T understand you, Madame. Your Maj- esty alludes to the Count De Bounier ?” “To lim, Monsieur De Lemmonier.” “ May Lask your Majesty’s object in keep- ing back your autograph-letter till now 2?” * That his. Holiness, by having his Maj- esty’s letter and mine before him, might be able to form.an intelligent opinion of the facts, and not strike a poor unhappy lady down without giving her a hearing ; at-least, that she herself should not tall without first making a struggle in her own defence.” “ Brave again, Madame. Whoever gets the judge's ear the first, always wins the cause.”. “What am I to infer from that, Monsieur De Lemmonier 2” “ This, my honored mistress: that if you would check his Majesty, your ietier must to tome the first !’’ The Queen. looked at Adrienne, who, her eyes sparkling, observed : “ Monsieur De Lemmonier is right, your Majesty.” “Very well,” said the Queen, taking from a side-pocket a letter, in a blue silken enyel- | ope, and handing it to the Norman. “Here it is, my Musketeer. Need I say any more?” “Only to send a good word by me to your Majesty’s equally devoted friend and servant, Monsieur Fromage.” “ell Monsieur Fromage,’ smiled the Queen, “that, during your absence, I shall look upon him as my only gentleman-friend at court.” “That message will lift him up to the sev- enth heaven, your Majesty.” “Good fortune to him and to you, Mon- sicur De Lemmonier,” said the Queen, giving him her hand to kiss. “I shall count the days till you return 1”? “The hoofs of my Arabian, Madame, are like the wings of the wind.” “Thanks, my Musketeer. I shall take courage. Adieu!” And the Queen turned from the apart- ment. “Why don’t you go, Musketeer ?” said Adri- enne, with an arch smile. “When your Queen’s interest is at stake, too. Fie, Sir.” “J was thinking of a friend, Mademoiselle.” “A dear one?” “Very dear. A lady, so fair and true, she — all my thoughts by day, all my dreams y nigat.” ; “ Do I know her, Musketeer ?” “You may ; but of her sweetness, rood- ness, beauty, which single her from all her sex, not haif so well as I.” “You hold her high.” | She is high. Will you take a message to her, 2” “Gladly. Her name ?” “Tell her, Ishall be gone, I know not how long; for Rome is far, and the journey to and back unlike a walk through a sunlit street of Paris. But say to her, her-image will be be- fore me along the route to nerve me on, and make the weeks days, the days hours, and the hours moments, to beguile the tedium of time.” “ Her name ®” “Tell herf shall have the memoried music of her voice in my ear, in my heart, all the way ; and tell her to look well that { still find the rose upon her check on my return; for that if ‘she were ill, if, in my absence, suffer- ing or danger came to her, it would shake me like achill. Teil her think of me as of ono who every moment thinks of her; as of one who never felt the pangs of love till they came with her image, and in his heart made their home together ; and (with feeling) could he but hope sie would, now and then remem- ber him on his way, he would deem it holy a3 an angel's prayer, and feel himself secure.” “ Her name, Musketeer?” asked the favor- ite, pale, and her bosom heaving. “Will you shake hands ?” 2 rw THISBE; OR, THE QUEEN’S MUSK ETEER. 5 “Surely. There.” “You will care for Thisbe, too—poor This- re not let the King discover or destroy er.” “Twill. Your lady-friend’s name ?” “Will you bear to her, word for word, my message?” “ Trust me.” “Will you care for her, in my absence ; watch over her health, her happiness, her feelings ; see that not the smallest particle of pain shall come to her gentle heart, torob her cheek 0% its bloom, her bosom of its joy ?” “T will. Her name ?” “ Adrienne!” “De Bowmanville?” quickly and trem- bling. “Yese “Shake hands again.” “With both hands ?” “ Both !” “ God bless you, Adrienne!” CHAPTER XVIII. In two hours, Louis had made his arrange ments, shaken hands, with Jacques, pur- chased a new suit, which really became his handsome, manly form, stored the Queen’s dispatch in an inside pocket under his belt, looked carefully to his Toledo and dirk, mounted his Arabian, and left the city of Paris behind him. “Phe Count De Bounier has the start of me,” he ejaculated; “but mine is a gallant steed, and [ must see to it, when night comes, that the King’s favorite is, at least, some miles behind.’ To this end, on fairly ener ming. into the country, he gave a free rein to his horse, which, under the impulse, also, of a slight touch of the spur, sprang forward at a gait which speedily made short work with the milestones. At dusk, he drew up at an inn, but without having come up_with De Bounier, who, he theretore concluded, must be nearly, if not. equally, as well mounted as himself. He was up at carliest dawn, and once more on his way. ‘ Avout eight o'clock, he descried before him, in the distance, the dim outlines of three horsemen, whom, in about an hour, he _suili- ciently neared to satisfy himself that they were taose of the King’s favorite and two armed attendants. “To let him see me,” he muttered, “ would only be to give him a possible clue to the ob- ject of my journey, which might prove fatal to her Majesty's interest ; therefore, 11 take . circuitous route, and come out ahead of im.” With the Musketeer, to think was to act, and he, the next moment, turned into a cross: ! | path to a lower road, along which he sped a few hours, when he again turned into the main highway ; when, looking back, he: be- held the three horsemen afar oif, like so many: snail specks. “ Good!” he exclaimed; “the Count loves his ease. As for me, I am driving for the Queen’s.” In twenty days, he dismounted, covered with dust, at the palace of the Pontiff, to whose presence he was almost immediately conducted, and whom. he found conversing with his Secretary in a small cabinet before a wiiting-table, on which were a pile of pa- pers, wriling-materials, a breviary, and, in the centre, a silver crucifix. “ From her Majesty, the Queen of France, holy Father,” he said, fallisg on one knee, according to etiquette, and presenting the let- ter, which the Pontiff, a venerable oid man, opened and read. The letter simply recited such facts as are already known to the reader. The Pontiff, after reading it a second time, bent his head awhile in thought, and, then, turning to the Musketeer, who was standing, cap in hand, a few paces olf, said: : “ You have ridden hard, Monsieur De Lem- monier, to have reached our city in so short a time.” “J was on the business of a persecuted and unhappy lady, your Holiness,” answered Louis, modestly. “Well said, Sir,” observed the Pontiff, pleased with the reply. “Did you pass his Majesty's messenger on the route ?”’ ; “On the second day, your Holiness?” “And left him behiad you, I presume ?” smiled the Pontilf, regarding, with pleasure, the splendid specimen before him of youth and vigor. “For my royal and unhappy mistress’ sake, your Holinesss. ” «Tis well,” said the Pontiff, taking from his finger a heavy, richly-chased ring,-in which was set an oval-formed precious stone, which revolved, at a touch, in two delicately- worked sockets. “Give this to her Majesty, with whose vir.ues we have been long iamil- iar, and'tell her to turn this amethyst, when she will perceive two words, which are our reply. Adieu!” On the evening of the twentieth day there- after, Louis again entered Paris, when, throw- ing himself from his horse, he strode hastily to the courtyard of the palace, knocked at of his first.interview with Adriemne, and two minutes later was kneeling before the Queen, who had disniissed all. of her women but her favorite, and delivering the message of the Pontiff. with mild, benignant countenance, tranquilly the door he had entered on the eventful night 56 Tho Queen turned the revolving amethyst, and read, in letters engraved in the sivne, these words: « Fear not |” Her Majesty, who, till now, had been on tenterhooks with anxiety, was too full to speak. She silently gave her hand to the Musketeer to kiss, and then retired, with Adrienne, to give vent to her feelings in joy- ful tears. “IT have brought good news,” mused the Musketeer, who had been too honorable to turn the amethyst; “and, if so,” he adJed, with a dry smile, “ how De Bounier wil! love me when he discovers it was I who rendered his journey to Rome iruitless !” “ Monsieur De Lemmonier,” said a gushing voice, as he was passing from the aparinent. Louis turned, and beheld Adrienne ap- proaching him with extended hands. “ Her Majesty thanks you!’ “ And you, Adrienne?” “J—I thank you, with all my heart!” said the favorite, throwing herself upon his breast. Louis went home reeling. For in that em- brace, he had pressed for the first time woman's ruby lips, and imbibed a delicious draught of her fragrant breath. On the afternoon of the ensuing day, while in. attendance with Jacques upon the Queen, he was informed by a page that the King de- sired to speak to him. “So, Musketeer, said Francis, as he ap- proached, “ you have been playing truant trom duty ?” “[ was called away, Sire,” said Louis, comprehending that the monarch was en- deavoring adroitly to get at the cause of his absence. “ By business affecting her Majesty?” “By private affairs, Sire. ‘Che affairs of the Queen are strictly private,” he added to himself.” “Your own?” said the King, determined to corner. him. “ Partly, and partly not, Sire,” said Louis, perceiving his object, and equally resolved to thwart it. “ Your Majesty is aware that no = ever does anything thut alfects only him- self.’ “No casuistry, Norman. We had thought better of you, Sir! In one word, in wiose service diu you absent yourself ?” “Phat of friends, Sire.” “'W hat friends ?” “Friends I love, and who therefore have a claim upon me, Sire.” “ Very well, Sir,” said the monarch, sternly, waving iis hand. “We shall have some- thing else to say to you presently,” “1 suspect upon what,” muttered Louis, re- turning to his post. “But we have done THISBE; OR, THE QUEEN'S MUSKETEER. nothing unbecoming a gontloman, and there- fore, heart, let us nos be overaw @L.” When tho levee broke up, a page sum- moned him to the King’s cabinet. Tha monarch who, for the last forty-two days, had been in a state of constant moodiness and spleen, was pacing the apartment with a flushe.l cheek and frowning brow. He turn- ed quickly as the Musketeer entered, and said, sharply : “Norman! what haye you done with the gipsy ?” “J, Sire?” said ‘Louis, instantly putting ~ himself mentally on his guard. “I think my. question was a plain one, Sir! What have you done with the palmist +” “ Will your Majesty be pleased to explain ?” “°S death, Norman!” said the monarch, stamping his foot, “will you give moa straight answer?” “If you will question me, Sire, in a special manner, I shall not fail to answer specially. hat which you have propounded is so gen- eral, So vague, so indefinite, that I am unable to reply.” * Look you, Sir,” said the King, furiously, “Tam Francis, King of France,” and I wara you that I shall remember it.” “Jt is your privilege, Sire.” “ Where is the gipsy ?” “ How should TI know, Sire ?” “ Norman, you will make me forget my- self! Ones more, where is Thisbe ? “Will your Majesty permit me to inquire why this question is put to me?” “You were last seen'in her company.” “Sire, | haye not been in Paris these one- and-forty days.” “Thisbe has been missing for two-and- forty days! Where is she? Speak? No prevarication. ‘ihe truth, or—the hezds- man!” Louis drew back a single step, and folded his arms. : “Sir, I am a Norman gentleman, and I think your Majesty has endeavorel to dis- honor me by a threa’.” : “What then; Sirralr?” »** oe “‘Lhis, Six,” said Louis, with dignity, “that T cannot reply to your Majesty till you have. withdrawn it.” “ Monsieur Do Lemmonier!” “Sir. a threat dishonors both hin who makes it and him on whom it is heaped, but most especially when he who uttersit is an all- powertul King, and he to whom it is made is, by virtue of tae humbl nes3 of his position, without the means of avenging himseli. ‘ake back the threat, Sire!” “(Oan IT believe my ears! You dare talls thus to me!” “Sir, between gentlemen only gentleman- ly words can be used. “ Strike her down. What? Thisbe! Nor- man, are you mad ?” “Strike a woman’s honor, Sire, and you strike herself; yea, and with a deadlier blow than had you feiled her to the ground, never more to rise. Woman is as a child which has no hope save in those to whom as parents it looks up in artless confidence and trust ; if they are false, cruel, unkind, it has no other help, and must suffer and go down. If, Sire, you have, as you say, the lowly gipsy’s heart, you have in your keeping a holy thing ; for in her love woman is pure and hopetul and trusting; looking up to her heart's possessor with the confidence of a child reposing her honor in his more than in her own will, ior she knows that that inclines to him. If he betrays her, she has no other help, and, like the child, must suffer and de- scend. For the sake of that high honor, Sire, which alone distinguishes the brave man trom the coward; for the sake of woman's angel- confidence in man ; for the sake of our whom every true nature joys to advance, SE =a eee 58; take not advantage of the gipsy’s love—striixe not down the woman !” Francis looked at him like. a young colt restive under the curb. j “ You are taking liberties, Sir. Be care- al!” “J did not seek this interview, Sire; but ‘being here, I will bear me like a gentleman, who respects the Right.” “Do you impute dishonor to me, Sir!” de- manded the monarch, fiercely. “Timpute nothing, Sire. I only ask your Majesty not to take advantage of a helpless maiden’s love.” “You impertinent Norman! My love for the gipsy is honest.. I mean to elevate her to the throne !” . “You will never do th..t, Sire.”