measures at variance with the interests of France. She was perfectly indifferent to the sufferings of the people of the distracted country, and the king came to partake of this feeling also. Even when the influences before referred to, the demands for a restoration of their rights began to operate, and the attitude of the commons became menacing to the safety of the throne, the two continued in their ruinous course of sinful pleasures and extravagance, hoping that the storm of indignation would hold off until they had passed away. This hope and belief were expressed by Madame de Pompadour and echoed by the king, in the words, "after us the deluge. During the time of her power and influence, she cost the French people about seven millions of dollars. After the death of this woman in the year 1764, another favorite took her place, a noted strumpet named Du Barri, who was more depraved even than Madame de Pompadour, and possessed none of her redeeming qualities. At the time of which we speak, she had just been presented at the court of the doting Louis XV., who had become almost imbecile through the excesses and follies of his earlier life. A few months after the violent death of the nobleman at La Brede, detailed in the last chapter, a man approached the Versailles palace from the south-west. His appearance testified to the fact that he had walked a great distance, as his shoes were covered with the mud of the road, his hair was unkempt, and his face bristled with a week's growth of beard. He looked around him with a great deal of interest and surprise; evidently he had not been accustomed to so magnificent surroundings. He passed into the court of the palace, and applied for admittance at the main entrance. "Who are you?" inquired the servant who kept the door. "I prefer not to tell you until I see the man I am seeking," answered the visitor. "I must admit no one unknown to me," said the servant, turning away from the applicant and closing the door. The visitor seemed disappointed. He walked moodily back and forth before the entrance, occasionally giving vent to a smothered oath. As he passed one of the windows, he saw a man whom he seemed to recognize. He stopped and signaled to him. The person arose from the chair he had occupied and came closer to the window. A moment's scrutiny of the face without, and he made his way to the door. There the visitor awaited him. "My lord," said he, "I have come at last." "And your news?" inquired the other. "My news is calculated to surprise you, but I hardly think it will be disappointing," answered the first. "Let me hear it. "I am just from La Brede.' "I judged so," answered the welldressed man, glancing at the soiled clothes of the visitor. The latter seemed disappointed. He evidently anticipated a more hearty welcome. However he concealed his chagrin and said with an assumed air of independence, "I have come from La Brede with news for you, but I can await your convenience. The news is such that you will be pleased to hear it. It is not my pleasure but yours that is delayed." "Your news, and quickly," said the other, with an air of great impatience. Then as the visitor hesitated, he exclaimed, "I have no time to wait. I have audience with the king in a few minutes, and must be punctual. Lemoyne, remember that you are but a servant as yet, and must learn to do our pleasure. When by faithfulness you have earned the necessary distinction, you may be in a position to plume yourself and to maintain an air of superiority; until then, wisdom would suggest that you be obedient." Lemoyne saw his position. Conquering his pride, he said: "An act of violence has been, committed at La Brede. The Duke d'Aguille has been assassinated. The peasants who took part in his murder are exciting their neighbors to revolt against the king's authority. The village and all the surrounding country is in turmoil. Other acts of violence may have been committed before this time. All the peasantry of that locality are worked up almost to the point of insanity. The one taste of vengeance they have had seems to have whetted their appetites. There is but one course to pursue and that is to punish the actors in this tragedy. Let the most prominent suffer first." Levon listened with patience until Lemoyne had finished his narration. Then he asked without apparent sign of excitement, "How was the deed accomplished?'' "He met a dog's death on a tree in front of Claude Duruy's house," said Lemoyne. "Claude Duruy's house? was he an actor in the deed?" "He must have been. He was present at the time, and gave orders about the disposal of the body." "Have you direct proof that he was a party to the murder?" "Why do you question me so directly? Is it not enough that I saw him with the crowd and heard his orders?" "No, it is not enough! Did I not say that direct proof of a deed of violence would be necessary in the case of Duruy? Did you see him help do the deed!" "No, I did not. I was not there when it was done. When I passed the house the body was swaying in the wind, and Duruy was speaking to the crowd." "What did he say?" Lemoyne did not answer for a moment. Levon impatiently turned. from him and stepped toward the door. "Hold" called Lemoyne. Levon turned back. "I did not hear all his words, but I did hear him say he feared the vengeance of the aristocracy. He professed love and sympathy for the murderers, and cautioned them to be more careful in the future." "What did he mean by the last remark?" "He meant that in their future acts of violence they should be more secret." "Very well. That testimony is important. We may be able to make use of it." He was thoughtful for a few moments. "It is my audience time with the king," he said at length. "I am to consult with him on this matter and others of its kind. You will attend with me." Lemoyne glanced at his soiled clothes. "You are as presentable as peasants are expected to be," said Levon with a tinge of sarcasm. "Come." Lemoyne passed with his companion into the most unstable strongholds of Europe. Passing through broad and elegantly appointed corridors, hung with rich curtains and laces, and carpeted with most costly fabrics, the two found themselves in the royal audience chamber. Everything was new and strange to Lemoyne. He had heard in at general way of the richness of the palace, but was not prepared for the scene of grandeur presented to him. His attention was soon drawn from the furnishings of the room to its occupants. Seated on a rich throne in an alcove on one side of the room, was the king. He was mean-looking in the extreme. His stature was the medium, and his face bore marks of his dissipation in middle and advanced life. It was mottled and covered with unsightly pimples, giving evidence of filthy and deep-seated disease. His eyes were restless and weak, be tokening the broken state of his mind. His lips twitched nervously, and occasionally took upon themselves an imbecile smile, indicative of the doting and childish condition of his mind. His richly embroidered and bejeweled robe hung in a loose, careless, almost almost slovenly fashion about his form, and his position on the velvet, gold-embroidered cushions was as far removed from kingly dignity as possible. Seated at his side was a woman about twenty-three years of age. It was the notorious Comtess Du Barri, to whom this position was frequently assigned by the infatuated monarch. She was handsome of face and form, but her beauty was of the bold, forward type, and formed a perfect index to her real character. She seemed conscious of the power she exercised over the dotard at her side, and regarded him with a degree of contempt commensurate with his weakness. Nor did she rule him alone and in her own interests. Standing before the throne were a number of courtiers, officers in the royal council, men who had been called thither by the influence of the woman, not because of administrative wisdom on their part, but rather on account of their willingness to become her obedient tools. Even those officers who possessed ability in affairs of state, had debased themselves before her, and were as willing to betray to her whim the interests of the French people as she was to prostitute herself for the advancement of her own power. As Levon and Lemoyne entered the apartment, the momentous question of the court ballet was being discussed with all due gravity. Nor was the discussion interrupted by the arrival of the two and the announcement of their names by the attendant, but their presence was for the time entirely ignored. At length one of the courtiers directed the royal attention to them. Advancing to the foot of the throne, Levon said, "Your majesty was pleased to send for me." With a vacant stare the king ejaculated, "Oh, Ah-did we send for you? Ah, yes!"' A few minutes of embarrassing silence ensued, during which the king's mind seemed wandering to the subject of former discussion. Then turning to the comtess, he said, "Ma amie, is the royal theater open yet? Is it the ballet or the opera? Do we see-—————” "Your majesty," she interrupted, "the messieurs await the royal pleasure." Endeavoring to assume an appearance of dignity, he turned to them. "On what subject did we wish to speak to the messieurs? Is it a new maiden for the ballet, whose beauty shall outshine the rest? Shall I have the pleasure of seeing her? What do the messieurs ask for her?" "Your majesty," said Du Barri again, "it is of the dogs of peasants that the messieurs would speak." "Ha! the dogs of peasants. The dogs of peasants! Ha, ha, very good, ma amie, very good indeed!'' "So," thought Lemoyne, "this is the scare-crow by means of whom Levon has endeavored to threaten me into his service. This is the majesty whose frown sends all France into darkness and gloom. This is the thing whose orders are to be given for the extermination of the peasantry! Bah! He is a fool, a lunatic! I blush to think that I, ignorant peasant though I am, should be forced to swear allegiance to such a dotard!” Levon did not know the thoughts of his companion, but he saw the contemptuous expression on his face, and with a warning frown corrected the apparent disgust. "Well, what about the dogs of peasants?" said the king. "Have they been complaining again! Are they not contented that we have permitted them to live? What have they been asking for now? "Your majesty," said Levon, "this man has just come from the village of LaBrede in Guienne. He says deeds of violence are being enacted there daily. Only a few days ago a nobleman was hanged like a dog by the villagers." The king started in unfeigned alarm. Have they killed one of the nobility," he stammered. "Did they know who he was?" "Not only did they know who he was, but they killed him because he was of the nobility, and then gloried in the deed." - "One of the nobility slain!" exclaimed the king. "Our royal person is in danger," he whimpered. "Our life will be taken! O, ma amie we are doomed to death!" and he laid his head on the breast of the comtess and sobbed aloud. ear. She whispered a few words in his He raised his head and was laughing. "Ah, yes, ma amie, you are a genius. Let the dancers be brought in." At the word one of the attendants left the room and presently returned with four girls of beautiful form, who danced before the monarch with singular grace. The voluptuous exercise ended, they retired, and the king went into raptures over their beauty. His fears had been forgotten. "How are we to deal with these Savages?" he said. "Do they not quail when the royal name is uttered? Is that not enough to destroy rebellion in our fair dominions? What else is needed?" "When men and their wives and children are starving," said one of the courtiers, "they lose all respect for the royal name. In dealing with his rebellious subjects, the late king of Spain" "The late king of Spain!" exclaimed the king, horror struck at the thought that a monarch might die. "It is a title kings sometimes take," said the courtier ingeniously, and Louis was reassured. "Philip of Spain," continued the speaker, "in dealing with such subjects drove the most rebellious from his dominions, and by imprisonment stopped the mouths of those who remained opposed to his power." He Then Louis displayed some traces of his almost forgotten majesty. arose from his throne, and stood on the raised dais, his form erect and dignified. "These peasants," he cried in a clear, ringing voice, "who presume to utter treason against the vice-regent of God, who by right of birth is their master and their sire, must be made to feel the power and majesty of our name. Dire vengeance must come upon them for thoughts of rebellion. Where this and similar outrages have been perpetrated, the actors in them must be apprehended and punished according to the magnitude of their crimes. And they of noble birth, who have deserted the party of loyalty to us and incited rebellion among the ignorant, deserve the severest penalties. Let their houses be desolated, their fields ravished, their wives and children given to the spoiler. I swear that none shall be safe who think of opposing me." The fire of his eye died out, and before the courtiers had recovered from their surprise at the astonishing scene they had witnessed, he was driveling again. The Comtess Du Barri then arose. "You have heard what his royal highness has said," she cried. offer a thousand louis d'or to him who brings the first high-born rebel before us to receive his doom." The audience was ended. The royal party retired to engage in its daily debaucheries, such as would be allowed only to the scions of royalty. Levon and Lemoyne departed from the palace and walked slowly toward one of the squalid lodging houses, where the latter was to remain that night, before returning to his home. "You have heard the command of the king and the offer of the Comtess," said Levon as they proceeded. "That reward is mine, and for Duruy. See that you do not touch him. An act must be proven against him which will leave no room for doubt as to his punishment. Leave it to me. Within a month he will be placed in a position where the cause of royalty in France shall never suffer from him again, and my fortune and position shall be assured.” A look of rebellion from Lemoyne followed this remark, unobserved, however, by Levon, and the pair parted. Laertes. (To be continued.) THE GREAT VICARIOUS WORK. Trust in Him, the great Eternal, Ruler of the universe! More than mortals can rehearse! 'Mid the Heavens of untold splendor, In their councils Gods could tender, See, how but through degradation, Few will exaltation capture; Past the angels, see them go; To Celestial life and rapture, Such as Gods may only know! Some Terrestrial honors wear; There are kingdoms not of glory Mercy holds the scales for ever, Yet will "justice claim its own;" Brings two worlds in close commune In "God's Temples" proxies stand; THE OLD YEAR'S FLIGHT. Triumphant day! Thy guerdon lasting fame, He came the earth's dark, moody shores to grace, Till sounds seraphic swell the vocal sky. Loud vesper shouts and strains of vernal cheer While valleys ring and rearing mountains cry- And festive splendors rare garland his earthly bier. |