LITMIR.BIZ

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is looking!"

      The blackamoor was appareled with the barbaric splendor in which Othello was attired at that period.

      "Sire, he has a favor to crave of your Majesty."

      "He seems to me very ambitious, after having been granted by you the greatest boon one can desire—being your slave, like myself."

      Sartines bowed, smiling, but bit his lips at the same time.

      "How delightful you are, sire," said the countess. "I adore you, France!" she whispered in the royal ear, and set him smiling.

      "Well, what do you desire for Zamore?"

      "Recompense for his long service——"

      "He is only twelve years old!"

      "You will be paying him in advance; that is a good way of not being treated with ingratitude."

      "Capital idea! What do you think, Sartines?" asked the king.

      "I support it, as all devoted subjects will gain by it."

      "Well, sire, I want Zamore to be appointed governor of my summer residence, Luciennes, which shall be created a royal place."

      "It would be a parody and make all the governors of the royal places protest, and with reason."

      "A good thing, for they are always making a noise for nothing. Zamore, kneel down and thank his majesty for the favor. Sire, you have another royal property from this time forward. Get up, Zamore. You are appointed."

      "Sartines, do you know the way to refuse this witch anything?"

      "If there is one, it is not yet out into practice, sire."

      "When found, I wager it will be by Chief of Police Sartines. I am expecting him to find me something—and I have been on thorns about it for three months. I want a magician."

      "To have him burnt alive?" asked the sovereign, while Sartines breathed again. "It is warm weather, now; wait for winter."

      "Not to burn him, but to give him a golden rod, sire."

      "Oh, did he predict some ill which has not happened?"

      "Nay, a blessing which came to pass."

      "Tell us, countess," said Louis, settling down in an easy chair, like one who is not sure he will be pleased or oppressed but will risk it.

      "I am agreeable, sire, only you must share in rewarding him."

      "I must make the present entirely."

      "That is right royal."

      "I listen."

      "It begins like a fairy tale. Once upon a time, a poor girl was walking the streets of Paris, what time she had neither pages, carriages, negro boy to hold up her train and enrage the dowagers, or parrot or monkey. Crossing the Tuileries gardens, she suddenly perceived that she was pursued."

      "Deuce take it! thereupon she stopped," said the king.

      "Fie! It is clear that your experience has been in following duchesses or marchionesses. She was the more alarmed as a thick fog came on, and the chaser emerged from it upon her. She screamed."

      "For the rogue was ugly?"

      "No, he was a bright and handsome young man; but still she sued him to spare her from harm. He smiled charmingly and called heaven as witness that he had no such intention. He only wanted her pledge to grant him a favor when—when she should be a queen. She thought she was not binding herself much with such a promise, and the man disappeared."

      "Sartines is very wrong in not finding him."

      "Sire, I do not refuse, but I cannot."

      "Cannot ought not to be in the police dictionary," said Dubarry.

      "We have a clew."

      "Ha, ha! that is the old story."

      "It is the truth. The fault is that your description is so slight."

      "Slight? she painted him so brightly that I forbid you to find the dog."

      "I only want to ask a piece of information."

      "What for, when his prophecy is accomplished?"

      "If I am almost a queen, I want to ask him when I shall be placed in the court."

      "Presented formally?"

      "It is not enough to reign in the night; I want to reign a little in the daytime."

      "That is not the magician's business, but mine," said Louis, frowning at the conversation getting upon delicate ground. "Or rather yours, for all that is wanted is an introductress."

      "Among the court prudes—all sold to Choiseul or Praslin?"

      "Pray let us have no politics here."

      "If I am not to speak, I shall act without speaking, and upset the ministers without any further notice."

      At this juncture the maid Doris entered and spoke a word to her mistress.

      "It is Chon, who comes from traveling and begs to present her respects to your majesty."

      "Let us have Chon in, for I have missed something lately, and it may be her."

      "I thank your majesty," said Chon, coming in, and hastening to whisper to her sister in kissing her:

      "I have done it."

      The countess could not repress an outcry of delight.

      "I am so glad to see her."

      "Quite so; go on and chat with her while I confer with Sartines to learn whence you come, Chon."

      "Sire," said Sartines, eager to avoid the pinch, "may I have a moment for the most important matter?—about these seers, illuminati, miracle workers——"

      "Quacks? make them take out licenses as conjurers at a high figure, and they will not be any cause of fear."

      "Sire, the situation is more serious than most believe. New masonic lodges are being opened. This society has become a sect to which is affiliated all the foes of the monarchy, the idealists, encyclopedists and philosophers. Voltaire has been received at court."

      "A dying man."

      "Only his pretense. All are agitating, writing, speaking, corresponding, plotting and threatening. From some words dropped, they are expecting a leader."

      "When he turns up, Sartines, we will turn him down, in the Bastille."

      "These philosophers whom you despise will destroy the monarchy."

      "In what space of time, my lord?"

      "How can I tell?" said the chief of police, looking astonished. "Ten, fifteen or more years."

      "My dear friend, in that time I shall be no more; tell this to my successor."

      He turned away, and this was the opportunity that the favorite was waiting for, since she heaved a sigh, and said:

      "Oh, gracious, Chon, what are you telling me? My poor brother Jean so badly wounded that his arm will have to be amputated!"

      "Oh, wounded in some street affray or in a drinking-saloon quarrel?"

      "No, sire! attacked on the king's highway and nearly murdered."

      "Murdered?" repeated the ruler, who had no feelings, but could finely feign them. "This is in your province, Sartines."

      "Can such a thing have happened?" said the chief of police, apparently less concerned than the king, but in reality more so.

      "I saw a man spring on my brother," said Chon, "force him to draw his sword and cut him grievously."

      "Was the ruffian alone?"

      "He had half a dozen bullies with him."

      "Poor viscount forced to fight," sighed the monarch, trying to regulate the amount of his

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