In Kings' Byways

t the piers of the Pont Neuf far below, the wet roofs that twinkled under our garret window, were not more brilliant than my lord the Bishops fortunes and as is the squirrel so is the tail. Of a certainty, I was happy that morning. I thought of the little hut under the pinewood at Gabas in BBarn, where I was born, and of my father cobbling by the unglazed window, his night-cap on his bald head, and his face plaistered where the sherd had slipped and I puffed out my cheeks to think that I had climbed so high. High How high might not a man climb, who had married the daughter of the Queens under-porter, and had sometimes the ear of my lord, the Queens minister - my lord of Beauvais in whom all men saw the coming master of France my lord whose stately presence beamed on a world still chilled by the dead hand of Richelieu But that morning, that very morning, I was to learn that who climbs may fall. I went below at the usual hour at the usual hour Monseigneur left, attended, for the Council presently all the house was in an uproar. My lord had returned, and called for Prosper. I fancied even then that I caught something ominous in the sound of my name as it passed from lip to lip and nervously I made all haste to the chamber. But fast as I went I did not go fast enough one thrust me on this side, another on that. The steward cursed me as he handed me on to the head-clerk, who stormed at me while the secretary waited for me at the door, and, seizing me by the neck, ran me into the room. In, rascal, in C he growled in my ear, and I hope your skin may pay for it Naturally by this time I was quaking and Monseigneurs looks finished me. He stood in the middle of the FLORE... --This text refers to an alternate Paperback edition.