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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 14001 ***
+
+Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
+      file which includes the original illustrations.
+      See 14001-h.htm or 14001-h.zip:
+      (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/4/0/0/14001/14001-h/14001-h.htm)
+      or
+      (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/4/0/0/14001/14001-h.zip)
+
+
+
+
+
+THE MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE
+
+How the Star of Good Fortune Rose and Set and Rose Again, by a Woman's
+Grace, for One John Law of Lauriston
+
+A Novel by
+
+EMERSON HOUGH
+
+The Illustrations by Henry Hutt
+
+1902
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: (Frontispiece)]
+
+
+
+
+TO
+L.C.H.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+BOOK I
+
+CHAPTER
+
+   I THE RETURNED TRAVELER
+  II AT SADLER'S WELLS
+ III JOHN LAW OF LAURISTON
+  IV THE POINT OF HONOR
+   V DIVERS EMPLOYMENTS OF JOHN LAW
+  VI THE RESOLUTION OF MR. LAW
+ VII TWO MAIDS A-BROIDERING
+VIII CATHARINE KNOLLYS
+  IX IN SEARCH OF THE QUARREL
+   X THE RUMOR OF THE QUARREL
+  XI AS CHANCE DECREED
+ XII FOR FELONY
+XIII THE MESSAGE
+ XIV PRISONERS
+  XV IF THERE WERE NEED
+ XVI THE ESCAPE
+XVII WHITHER
+
+
+BOOK II
+
+ I THE DOOR OF THE WEST
+  II THE STORM
+ III AU LARGE
+  IV THE PATHWAY OF THE WATERS
+   V MESSASEBE
+  VI MAIZE
+ VII THE BRINK OF CHANGE
+VIII TOUS SAUVAGES
+  IX THE DREAM
+   X BY THE HILT OF THE SWORD
+  XI THE IROQUOIS
+ XII PRISONERS OF THE IROQUOIS
+XIII THE SACRIFICE
+ XIV THE EMBASSY
+  XV THE GREAT PEACE
+
+
+BOOK III
+
+   I THE GRAND MONARQUE
+  II EVER SAID SHE NAY
+ III SEARCH THOU MY HEART
+  IV THE REGENT'S PROMISE
+   V A DAY OF MIRACLES
+  VI THE GREATEST NEED
+ VII THE MIRACLE UNWROUGHT
+VIII THE LITTLE SUPPER OF THE REGENT
+  IX THE NEWS
+   X MASTER AND MAN
+  XI THE BREAKING OF THE BUBBLE
+ XII THAT WHICH REMAINED
+XIII THE QUALITY OF MERCY
+
+
+
+
+BOOK I
+
+ENGLAND
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+THE RETURNED TRAVELER
+
+
+"Gentlemen, this is America!"
+
+The speaker cast upon the cloth-covered table a singular object, whose
+like none of those present had ever seen. They gathered about and bent
+over it curiously.
+
+"This is that America," the speaker repeated. "Here you have it,
+barbaric, wonderful, abounding!"
+
+With sudden gesture he swept his hand among the gold coin that lay on
+the gaming table. He thrust into the mouth of the object before him a
+handful of louis d'or and English sovereigns. "There is your America,"
+said he. "It runs over with gold. No man may tell its richness. Its
+beauty you can not imagine."
+
+"Faith," said Sir Arthur Pembroke, bending over the table with glass in
+eye, "if the ladies of that land have feet for this sort of shoon,
+methinks we might well emigrate. Take you the money of it. For me, I
+would see the dame could wear such shoe as this."
+
+One after another this company of young Englishmen, hard players, hard
+drinkers, gathered about the table and bent over to examine the little
+shoe. It was an Indian moccasin, cut after the fashion of the Abenakis,
+from the skin of the wild buck, fashioned large and full for the spread
+of the foot, covered deep with the stained quills of the porcupine, and
+dotted here and there with the precious beads which, to the maker, had
+more worth than any gold. A little flap came up for cover to the ankle,
+and a thong fell from its upper edge. It was the ancient foot-covering
+of the red race of America, made for the slight but effectual protection
+of the foot, while giving perfect freedom to the tread of the wearer.
+Light, dainty and graceful, its size was much less than that of the
+average woman's shoe of that time and place.
+
+"Bah! Pembroke," said Castleton, pushing up the shade above his eyes
+till it rested on his forehead, "'tis a child's shoe."
+
+"Not so," said the first speaker. "I give you my word 'tis the moccasin
+of my sweetheart, a princess in her own right, who waits my coming on
+the Ottawa. And so far from the shoe being too small, I say as a
+gentleman that she not only wore it so, but in addition used somewhat
+of grass therein in place of hose."
+
+The earnestness of this speech in no wise prevented the peal of laughter
+that followed.
+
+"There you have it, Pembroke," cried Castleton. "Would you move to a
+land where princesses use hay for hosiery?"
+
+"'Tis curious done," said Pembroke, musingly, "none the less."
+
+"And done by her own hand," said the owner of the shoe, with a certain
+proprietary pride.
+
+Again the laughter broke out. "Do your princesses engage in shoemaking?"
+asked a third gamester as he pushed into the ring. "Sure it must be a
+rare land. Prithee, what doth the king in handicraft? Doth he take to
+saddlery, or, perhaps, smithing?"
+
+"Have done thy jests, Wilson," cried Pembroke. "Mayhap there is somewhat
+to be learned here of this New World and of our dear cousins, the
+French. Go on, tell us, Monsieur du Mesne--as I think you call yourself,
+sir?--tell us more of your new country of ice and snow, of princesses
+and little shoes."
+
+The original speaker went a bit sullen, what with his wine and the jests
+of his companions. "I'll tell ye naught," said he. "Go see for
+yourselves, by leave of Louis."
+
+"Come now," said Pembroke, conciliatingly. "We'll all admit our
+ignorance. 'Tis little we know of our own province of Virginia, save
+that Virginia is a land of poverty and tobacco. Wealth--faith, if ye
+have wealth in your end of the continent, 'tis time we English fought ye
+for it."
+
+"Methinks you English are having enough to do here close at home,"
+sneered Du Mesne. "I have heard somewhat of Steinkirk, and how ye ran
+from the half-dressed gentlemen of France."
+
+Dark looks followed this bold speech, which cut but too closely to the
+quick of English pride. Pembroke quelled the incipient outcry with
+calmer speech.
+
+"Peace, friends," said he. "'Tis not arms we argue here, after all. We
+are but students at the feet of Monsieur du Mesne, who hath returned
+from foreign parts. Prithee, sir, tell us more."
+
+"Tell ye more--and if I did, would ye believe it? What if I tell ye of
+great rivers far to the west of the Ottawa; of races as strange to my
+princess's people as we are to them; of streams whose sands run in gold,
+where diamonds and sapphires are to be picked up as ye like? If I told
+ye, would ye believe?"
+
+The martial hearts and adventurous souls of the circle about him began
+to show in the heightened color and closer crowding of the young men to
+the table. Silence fell upon the group.
+
+"Ye know nothing, in this old rotten world, of what there is yet to be
+found in America," cried Du Mesne. "For myself, I have been no farther
+than the great falls of the Ontoneagrea--a mere trifle of a cataract,
+gentlemen, into which ye might pitch your tallest English cathedral and
+sink it beyond its pinnacle with ease. Yet I have spoke with the holy
+fathers who have journeyed far to the westward, even to the vast
+Messasebe, which is well known to run into the China sea upon some
+far-off coast not yet well charted. I have also read the story of
+Sagean, who was far to the west of that mighty river. Did not the latter
+see and pursue and kill in fair fight the giant unicorn, fabled of
+Scripture? Is not that animal known to be a creature of the East, and
+may we not, therefore, be advised that this new country takes hold upon
+the storied lands of the East? Why, this holy friar with whom I spoke,
+fresh back from his voyaging to the cold upper ways of the Northern
+tribes, who live beyond the far-off channel at Michilimackinac--did he
+not tell of a river of the name of the Blue Earth, and did he not
+himself see turquoises and diamonds and emeralds taken in handfuls from
+this same blue earth? Ah, bah! gentlemen, Europe for you if ye like, but
+for me, back I go, so soon as I may get proper passage and a connection
+which will warrant me the voyage. Back I go to Canada, to America, to
+the woods and streams. I would see again my ancient Du L'hut, and my
+comrade Pierre Noir, and Tête Gris, the trapper from the Mistasing--free
+traders all. Life is there for the living, my comrades. This Old World,
+small and outworn, no more of it for me."
+
+"And why came you back to this little Old World of ours, an you loved
+the New World so much?" asked the cynical voice of him who had been
+called Wilson.
+
+"By the body of God!" cried Du Mesne, "think ye I came of my own free
+will? Look here, and find your reason." He stripped back the opening of
+his doublet and under waistcoat, and showed upon his broad shoulder the
+scar of a red tri-point, deep and livid upon his flesh. "Look! There is
+the fleur-de-lis of France. That is why I came. I have rowed in the
+galleys, me--me a free man, a man of the woods of New France!"
+
+Murmurs of concern passed among the little group. Castleton rose from
+his chair and leaned with his hands upon the table, gazing now at the
+face and now at the bared shoulder of this stranger, who had by chance
+become a member of their nightly party.
+
+"I have not been in London a fortnight since my escape," said the man
+with the brand. "I was none the less once a good servant of Louis in New
+France, for that I found many a new tribe and many a bale of furs that
+else had never come to the Mountain for the robbery of the lying
+officers who claim the robe of Louis. I was a soldier for the king as
+well as a traveler of the forest. Was I not with the Le Moynes and the
+band that crossed the icy North and destroyed your robbing English fur
+posts on the Bay of Hudson? I fought there and helped blow down your
+barriers. I packed my own robe on my back, and walked for the king, till
+the _raquette_ thongs cut my ankles to the bone. For what? When I came
+back to the settlements at Quebec I was seized for a _coureur de bois_,
+a free trader. I was herded like a criminal into a French ship, sent
+over seas to a French prison, branded with a French iron, and set like a
+brute to pull without reason at a bar of wood in the king's galleys--the
+king's hell!"
+
+"And yet you are a Frenchman," sneered Wilson.
+
+"Yet am I not a Frenchman," cried the other. "Nor am I an Englishman. I
+am no man of a world of galleys and brands. I am a man of America!"
+
+"'Tis true what he says," spoke Pembroke. "'Tis said the minister of
+Louis was feared to keep these men in the galleys, lest their fellows in
+New France should become too bitter, and should join the savages in
+their inroads on the starving settlements of Quebec and Montréal."
+
+"True," exclaimed Du Mesne. "The _coureurs_ care naught for the law and
+little for the king. As for a ruler, we have discovered that a man makes
+a most excellent sovereign for himself."
+
+"And excellent said," cried Castleton.
+
+"None of ye know the West," went on the _coureur_. "Your Virginia, we
+know well of it--a collection of beggars, prostitutes and thieves. Your
+New England--a lot of cod-fishing, starving snivelers, who are most
+concerned how to keep life in their bodies from year to year. New France
+herself, sitting ever on the edge of an icy death, with naught but
+bickerings at Quebec and naught but reluctant compliance from
+Paris--what hath she to hope? I tell ye, gentlemen, 'tis beyond, in the
+land of the Messasebe, where I shall for my part seek out my home; and
+no man shall set iron on my soul again."
+
+He spoke bitterly. The group about him, half amused, half cynical and
+all ignorant, as were their kind at this time of the reign of William,
+were none the less impressed and thoughtful. Yet once more the sneering
+voice of Wilson broke in.
+
+"A strange land, my friend," said he, "monstrous strange. Your unicorns
+are great, and your women are little. Methinks to give thy tale
+proportion thou shouldst have shown shoon somewhat larger."
+
+"Peace! Beau," said Castleton, quickly. "As for the size of the human
+foot--gad! I'll lay a roll of louis d'or that there's one dame here in
+London town can wear this slipper of New France."
+
+"Done!" cried Wilson. "Name the one."
+
+"None other than the pretty Lawrence whom thou hast had under thine
+ancient wing for the past two seasons."
+
+The face of Wilson gathered into a sudden frown at this speech. "What
+doth it matter"--he began.
+
+"Have done, fellows!" cried Pembroke with some asperity. "Lay wagers
+more fit at best, and let us have no more of this thumb-biting. Gad! the
+first we know, we'll be up for fighting among ourselves, and we all know
+how the new court doth look on that."
+
+"Come away," laughed Castleton, gaily. "I'm for a pint of ale and an
+apple; and then beware! 'Tis always my fortune, when I come to this
+country drink, to win like a very countryman. I need revenge upon Lady
+Betty and her lap-dog. I've lost since ever I saw them last."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+AT SADLER'S WELLS
+
+
+Sadler's Wells, on this mild and cheery spring morning, was a scene of
+fashion and of folly. Hither came the élite of London, after the custom
+of the day, to seek remedy in the reputed qualities of the springs for
+the weariness and lassitude resultant upon the long season of polite
+dissipations which society demanded of her votaries. Bewigged dandies,
+their long coats of colors well displayed as they strutted about in the
+open, paid court there, as they did within the city gates, to the
+powdered and painted beauties who sat in their couches waiting for their
+servants to bring out to them the draft of which they craved healing for
+crow's-feet and hollow eyes. Here and there traveling merchants called
+their wares, jugglers spread their carpets, bear dancers gave their
+little spectacles, and jockeys conferred as to the merits of horse or
+hound. Hawk-nosed Jews passed among the vehicles, cursed or kicked by
+the young gallants who stood about, hat in hand, at the steps of their
+idols' carriages.
+
+"Buy my silks, pretty lady, buy my silks! Fresh from the Turkey walk on
+the Exchange, and cheaper than you can buy their like in all the
+city--buy my silks, lady!" Thus the peddler with his little pack of
+finery.
+
+"My philter, lady," cried the gipsy woman, who had left her donkey cart
+outside the line. "My philter! 'Twill keep-a your eyes bright and your
+cheeks red for ay. Secret of the Pharaohs, lady; and but a shilling!"
+
+"Have ye a parrot, ma'am? Have ye never a parrot to keep ye free and
+give ye laughter every hour? Buy my parrot, lady. Just from the Gold
+Coast. He'll talk ye Spanish, Flemish or good city tongue. Buy my parrot
+at ten crowns, and so cheap, lady!" So spoke the ear-ringed sailor, who
+might never have seen a salter water than the Thames.
+
+"Powder-puffs for the face, lady," whispered a lean and weazen-faced
+hawker, slipping among the crowd with secrecy. "See my puff, made from
+the foot of English hares. Rubs out all wrinkles, lady, and keeps ye
+young as when ye were a lass. But a shilling, a shilling. See!" And with
+the pretense of secrecy the seller would sidle up to a carriage of some
+dame, slip to her the hare's foot and take the shilling with an air as
+though no one could see what none could fail to notice.
+
+Above these mingled cries of the hangers-on of this crowd of nobility
+and gentles rose the blare of crude music, and cries far off and
+confused. Above it all shone the May sun, brighter here than lower
+toward the Thames. In the edge of London town it was, all this little
+pageant, and from the residence squares below and far to the westward
+came the carriages and the riders, gathering at the spot which for the
+hour was the designated rendezvous of capricious fashion. No matter if
+the tower at the drinking curb was crowded, so that inmates of the
+coaches could not find way among the others. There was at least magic in
+the morning, even if one might not drink at the chalybeate spring.
+Cheeks did indeed grow rosy, and eyes brightened under the challenge not
+only of the dawn but of the ardent eyes that gazed impertinently bold or
+reproachfully imploring.
+
+Far-reaching was the line of the gentility, to whose flanks clung the
+rabble of trade. Back upon the white road came yet other carriages,
+saluted by those departing. Low hedges of English green reached out into
+the distance, blending ultimately at the edge of the pleasant sky. Merry
+enough it was, and gladsome, this spring day; for be sure the really ill
+did not brave the long morning ride to test the virtue of the waters of
+Sadler's Wells. It was for the most part the young, the lively, the
+full-blooded, perhaps the wearied, but none the less the vital and
+stirring natures which met in the decreed assemblage.
+
+Back of Sadler's little court the country came creeping close up to the
+town. There were fields not so far away on these long highways.
+Wandering and rambling roads ran off to the westward and to the north,
+leading toward the straight old Roman road which once upon a time ran
+down to London town. Ill-kept enough were some of the lanes, with their
+hedges and shrubs overhanging the highways, if such the paths could be
+called which came braiding down toward the south. One needed not to go
+far outward beyond Sadler's Wells of a night-time to find adventure, or
+to lose a purse.
+
+It was on one of these less crowded highways that there was this morning
+enacted a curious little drama. The sun was still young and not too
+strong for comfort, and as it rose back of the square of Sadler's it
+cast a shadow from a hedge which ran angling toward the southeast. Its
+rays, therefore, did not disturb the slumbers of two young men who were
+lying beneath the shelter of the hedge. Strange enough must have been
+the conclusions of the sun could it have looked over the barrier and
+peered into the faces of these youths. Evidently they were of good
+breeding and some station, albeit their garb was not of the latest
+fashion. The gray hose and the clumsy shoes plainly bespoke some
+northern residence. The wig of each lacked the latest turn, perhaps the
+collar of the coat was not all it should have been. There was but one
+coat visible, for the other, rolled up as a pillow, served to support
+the heads of both. The elder of the two was the one who had sacrificed
+his covering. The other was more restless in his attitude, and though
+thus the warmer for a coat, was more in need of comfort. A white bandage
+covered his wrist, and the linen was stained red. Yet the two slept on,
+well into the morn, well into the rout of Sadler's Wells. Evidently they
+were weary.
+
+The elder man was the taller of the two; as he lay on the bank beneath
+the hedge, he might even in that posture have been seen to own a figure
+of great strength and beauty. His face, bold of outline, with well
+curved, wide jaw and strong cheek bones, was shaded by the tangled mat
+of his wig, tousled in his sleep. His hands, long and graceful, lay idly
+at his side, though one rested lightly on the hilt of the sword which
+lay near him. The ruffles of his shirt were torn, and, indeed, had
+almost disappeared. By study one might have recognized them in the
+bandage about the hand of the other. Somewhat disheveled was this
+youth, yet his young, strong body, slender and shapely, seemed even in
+its rest strangely full of power and confidence.
+
+The younger man was in some fashion an epitome of the other, and it had
+needed little argument to show the two were brothers. But why should two
+brothers, well-clad and apparently well-to-do, probably brothers from a
+country far to the north, be thus lying like common vagabonds beneath an
+English hedge?
+
+Far down the roadway there rose a cloud of dust, which came steadily
+nearer, following the only vehicle in sight, probably the only one which
+had passed that morning. As this little dust-cloud came slowly nearer it
+might have been seen to rise from the wheels of a richly-built and
+well-appointed coach. Four dark horses obeyed the reins handled by a
+solemn-visaged lackey on the box, and there was a goodly footman at the
+back. Within the coach were two passengers such as might have set
+Sadler's Wells by the ears. They sat on the same seat, as equals, and
+their heads lay close together, as confidantes. The tongues of both ran
+fast and free. Long gloves covered the arms of these beauties, and their
+costumes showed them to be of station. The crinoline of the two filled
+all the body of the ample coach from seat to seat, and the folds of
+their figured muslins, flowing out over this ample outline, gave to the
+face of each a daintiness of contour and feature which was not ill
+relieved by the high head-dress of ribbons and bepowdered hair. Of the
+two ladies, one, even in despite of her crinoline, might have been seen
+to be of noble and queenly figure; the towering head-dress did not fully
+disguise the wealth of red-bronze hair. Tall and well-rounded, vigorous
+and young, not yet twenty, adored by many suitors, the Lady Catharine
+Knollys had rarely looked better than she did this morning as she drove
+out to Sadler's, for Providence alone knew what fault of a superb vital
+energy. Her eyes sparkled as she spoke, and every gesture betokened
+rather the grand young creature that she was than the valetudinarian
+going forth for healing. Her cheek, turned now and again, showed a
+clear-cut and untouched soundness that meant naught but health. It
+showed also the one blemish upon a beauty which was toasted in the court
+as faultless. Upon the left cheek there was a _mouche_, excessive in its
+size. Strangers might have commented on it. Really it covered a
+deep-stained birth-mark, the one blur upon a peerless beauty. Yet even
+this might be forgotten, as it was now.
+
+The companion of the Lady Catharine in her coach was a young woman,
+scarce so tall and more slender. The heavy hoop concealed much of the
+grace of figure which was her portion, but the poise of the upper body,
+free from the seat-back and erect with youthful strength as yet
+unspared, showed easily that here, too, was but an indifferent subject
+for Sadler's. Dark, where her companion was fair, and with the glossy
+texture of her own somber locks showing in the individual roll which ran
+back into the absurd _fontange_ of false hair and falser powder, Mary
+Connynge made good foil for her bosom friend; though honesty must admit
+that neither had yet much concern for foils, since both had their full
+meed of gallants. Much seen together, they were commonly known, as the
+Morning and Eve, sometimes as Aurora and Eve. Never did daughter of the
+original Eve have deeper feminine guile than Mary Connynge. Soft of
+speech--as her friend, the Lady Catharine, was impulsive,--slow, suave,
+amber-eyed and innocent of visage, this young English woman, with no
+dower save that of beauty and of wit, had not failed of a sensation at
+the capital whither she had come as guest of the Lady Catharine. Three
+captains and a squire, to say nothing of a gouty colonel, had already
+fallen victims, and had heard their fate in her low, soft tones, which
+could whisper a fashionable oath in the accent of a hymn, and say "no"
+so sweetly that one could only beg to hear the word again. It was
+perhaps of some such incident that these two young maids of old London
+conversed as they trundled slowly out toward the suburb of the city.
+
+"'Twould have killed you, Lady Kitty; sure 'twould have been your end to
+hear him speak! He walked the floor upon his knees, and clasped his
+hands, and followed me about like a dog in a spectacle. Lord! but I
+feared he would have thrown over the tabouret with his great feet. And
+help me, if I think not he had tears in his eyes!"
+
+"My friend," said Lady Kitty, solemnly, "you must have better care of
+your conduct. I'll not have my father's old friend abused in his own
+house." At which they both burst into laughter. Youth, the blithely
+cruel, had its own way in this old coach upon the ancient dusty road, as
+it has ever had.
+
+But now serious affairs gained the attention of these two fairs. "Tell
+me, sweetheart," said Lady Catharine, "what think you of the fancy of my
+new dresser? He insists ever that the mode in Paris favors a deep bow,
+placed high upon the left side of the 'tower.' Montespan, of the French
+court, is said to have given the fashion. She hurried at her toilet, and
+placed the bow there for fault of better care. Hence, so must we if we
+are to live in town. So says my new hair-dresser from Paris. 'Tis to
+Paris we must go for the modes."
+
+"I am not so sure," began Mary Connynge, "as to this arrangement. Now I
+am much disposed to believe--" but what she was disposed to believe at
+that time was not said, then or ever afterward, for at that moment there
+happened matters which ended their little talk; matters which divided
+their two lives, and which, in the end, drove them as far apart as two
+continents could carry them.
+
+"O Gemini!" called out Mary Connynge, as the coachman for a moment
+slackened his pace. "Look! We shall be robbed!"
+
+The driver irresolutely pulled up his horses. From under the shade of
+the hedge there arose two men, of whom the taller now stood erect and
+came toward the carriage.
+
+"'Tis no robber," said Lady Catharine Knollys, her eyes fastened on the
+tall figure which came forward.
+
+"Save us," said Mary Connynge, "what a pretty man!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+JOHN LAW OF LAURISTON
+
+
+Unconsciously the coachman obeyed the unvoiced command of this man, who
+stepped out from the shelter of the hedge. Travel-stained, just awakened
+from sleep, disheveled, with dress disordered, there was none the less
+abundant boldness in his mien as he came forward, yet withal the grace
+and deference of the courtier. It was a good figure he made as he
+stepped down from the bank and came forward, hat in hand, the sun, now
+rising to the top of the hedge, lighting up his face and showing his
+bold profile, his open and straight blue eye.
+
+"Ladies," he said, as he reached the road, "I crave your pardon humbly.
+This, I think, is the coach of my Lord, the Earl of Banbury. Mayhap this
+is the Lady Catharine Knollys to whom I speak?"
+
+The lady addressed still gazed at him, though she drew up with dignity.
+
+"You have quite the advantage of us," said she. She glanced uneasily at
+the coachman, but the order to go forward did not quite leave her lips.
+
+"I am not aware--I do not know--," she began, afraid of her adventure
+now it had come, after the way of all dreaming maids who prate of men
+and conquests.
+
+"I should be dull of eye did I not see the Knollys arms," said the
+stranger, smiling and bowing low. "And I should be ill advised of the
+families of England did I not know that the daughter of Knollys, the
+sister of the Earl of Banbury, is the Lady Catharine, and most charming
+also. This I might say, though 'tis true I never was in London or in
+England until now."
+
+The speech, given with all respectfulness, did not fail of flattery.
+Again the order to drive on remained unspoken. This speaker, whose foot
+was now close to the carriage step, and whose head, gravely bowed as he
+saluted the occupants of the vehicle, presented so striking a type of
+manly attractiveness, even that first moment cast some spell upon the
+woman whom he sought to interest. The eyes of the Lady Catharine Knollys
+did not turn from him. As though it were another person, she heard
+herself murmur, "And you, sir?"
+
+"I am John Law of Lauriston, Scotland, Madam, and entirely at your
+service. That is my brother Will, yonder by the bank." He smiled, and
+the younger man came forward, hesitatingly, and not with the address of
+his brother, though yet with the breeding of a gentleman.
+
+The eyes of Mary Connynge took in both men with the same look, but her
+eyes, as did those of the Lady Catharine, became most concerned with the
+first speaker.
+
+"My brother and I are on our first journey to London," continued he,
+with a gay laugh which did not consort fully with the plight in which he
+showed. "We started by coach, as gentlemen; and now we come on foot,
+like laborers or thieves. 'Twas my own fault. Yesterday I must needs
+quit the Edinboro' stage. Last night our chaise was stopped, and we were
+asked to hand our money to a pair of evil fellows who had made prey of
+us. In short--you see--we fared ill enough. Lost in the dark, we made
+what shift we could along this road, where we both are strangers. At
+last, not able to pay for better quarters even had we found them, we lay
+down to sleep. I have slept far worse. And 'tis a lovely morning. Madam,
+I thank you for this happy beginning of the day."
+
+Mary Connynge pointed to the bandage on the younger man's arm, speaking
+a low word to her companion.
+
+"True," said the Lady Catharine, "you are injured, sir; you did not come
+off whole."
+
+"Oh, we would hardly suffer the fellows to rob us without making some
+argument over it," said the first speaker. "Indeed, I think we are the
+better off hereabouts for a brace of footpads gone to their account. I
+made them my duties as we came away. Will, here, was pricked a trifle,
+but you see we have done very well."
+
+The face of Will Law hardly offered complete proof of this assertion. He
+had slept ill enough, and in the morning light his face showed gaunt and
+pale. Here, then, was a situation most inopportune; the coach of two
+ladies, unattended, stopped by two strangers, who certainly could not
+claim introduction by either friend or reputation.
+
+"I did but wish to ask some advice of the roads hereabout," said the
+elder brother, turning his eyes full upon those of the Lady Catharine.
+"As you see, we are in ill plight to get forward to the city. If you
+will be so good as to tell me which way to take, I shall remember it
+most gratefully. Once in the city, we should do better, for the rascals
+have not taken certain papers, letters which I bear to gentlemen in the
+city--Sir Arthur Pembroke I may name as one--a friend of my father's,
+who hath had some dealings with him in the handling of moneys. I have
+also word for others, and make sure that, once we have got into town, we
+shall soon mend our fortune."
+
+Lady Catharine looked at Mary Connynge and the latter in turn gazed at
+her. "There could be no harm," said each to the other with her eyes.
+"Surely it is our duty to take them in with us; at least the one who is
+wounded."
+
+Will Law had said nothing, though he had come forward to the road, and,
+bowing, stood uncovered. Now he leaned against the flank of one of the
+horses, in a tremor of vertigo which seized him as he stood. It was
+perhaps the paleness of his face that gave determination to the issue.
+
+"William," called the Lady Catharine Knollys, "open the door for Mr. Law
+of Lauriston!"
+
+The footman sprang to the ground and held open the door. Therefore, into
+the coach stepped John Law and his brother, late of Edinboro', sometime
+robbed and afoot, but now to come into London in circumstances which
+surely might have been far worse.
+
+John Law entered the coach with the dignity and grace of a gentleman
+born. He bowed gravely as he took his seat beside his brother, facing
+the ladies. Will Law sank back into the corner, not averse to rest. The
+eyes of the two young women did not linger more upon the wounded man
+than upon his brother. He, in turn, looked straight into their eyes,
+courteously, respectfully, gravely, yet fearlessly and calmly, as
+though he knew what power and possibilities were his. Enigma and
+autocrat alike, Beau Law of Edinboro', one of the handsomest and
+properest men ever bred on any soil, was surely a picture of vigorous
+young manhood, as he rode toward Sadler's Wells, with two of the
+beauties of the hour, and in a coach and four which might have been his
+own.
+
+Now all the sweet spring morning came on apace, and from the fields and
+little gardens came the breath of flowers. The sky was blue. The languor
+of springtime pulsed through the veins of those young creatures, those
+engines of life, of passion and desire. Neither of the two women saw the
+torn garb of the man before them. They saw but the curve of the strong
+chest beneath. They heard, and the one heard and felt as keenly as the
+other, the voice of the young man, musical and rich, touching some
+deep-seated and vibrating heart-string. So in the merry month of May,
+with the birds singing in the trees, and the scent of the flowers wafted
+coolly to their senses, they came on apace to the throng at Sadler's
+Wells. There it was that John Law, finding in a pocket a coin that had
+been overlooked, reached out to a vender and bought a rose. He offered
+his flower with a deep inclination of the body to the Lady Catharine.
+
+It was at this moment that Mary Connynge first began to hate her friend,
+the Lady Catharine Knollys.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+THE POINT OF HONOR
+
+
+"Tell me, friend Castleton," said Pembroke, banteringly, "art still
+adhering to thy country drink of lamb's-wool? Methinks burnt ale and
+toasted apple might better be replaced in thy case by a beaker of
+stronger waters. You lose, and still you lose."
+
+"May a plague take it!" cried Castleton. "I've had no luck these four
+days. 'Tis that cursed lap-dog of the duchess. Ugh! I saw it in my
+dreams last night."
+
+"Gad! your own fortune in love must be ill enough, Sir Arthur," said
+Beau Wilson, as he pushed back his chair during this little lull in the
+play of the evening.
+
+"And tell me why, Beau?"
+
+"Because of us all who have met here at the Green Lion these last
+months, not one hath ever had so steady a run of luck. Sure some fairy
+hath befriended thee. _Sept et le va, sept et le va_--I'll hear it in my
+ears to-night, even as Castleton sees the lap-dog. Man, you play as
+though you read the pack quite through."
+
+"Ah, then, you admit that there is some such thing as a talisman. I'll
+not deny that I have had one these last three evenings, but I feared to
+tell ye all, lest I might be waylaid and robbed of my good-luck charm."
+
+"Tell us, tell us, man, what it is!" cried Castleton. "_Sept et le va_
+has not been made in this room before for many a month, yet here thou
+comest with the run of _sept et le va_ thrice in as many hours."
+
+"Well, then," continued Pembroke, still smiling, "I'll make a small
+confession. Here is my charm. Salute it!"
+
+He cast on the table the Indian moccasin which had been shown the same
+party at the Green Lion a few evenings before. Eager hands reached for
+it.
+
+"Treachery!" cried Castleton. "I bid Du Mesne four pounds for the shoe
+myself."
+
+"Oh ho!" said Pembroke, "so you too were after it. Well, the long purse
+won, as it doth ever. I secretly gave our wandering wood ranger,
+ex-galley slave of France, the neat sum of twenty-five pounds for this
+little shoe. Poor fellow, he liked ill enough to part with it; but he
+said, very sensibly, that the twenty-five pounds would take him back to
+Canada, and once there, he could not only get many such shoes, but see
+the maid who made this one for him, or, rather, made it for herself. As
+for me, the price was cheap. You could not replace it in all the
+Exchange for any money. Moreover, to show my canniness, I've won back
+its cost a score of times this very night."
+
+He laughingly extended his hand for the moccasin, which Wilson was
+examining closely.
+
+"'Tis clever made," said the latter. "And what a tale the owner of it
+carried. If half he says be true, we do ill to bide here in old England.
+Let us take ship and follow Monsieur du Mesne."
+
+"'Twould be a long chase, mayhap," said Pembroke, reflectively. Yet each
+of the men at that little table in the gaming room of the Green Lion
+coffee-house ceased in his fingering the cards, and gazed upon this
+product of another world.
+
+Pembroke was first to break the silence, and as he heard a footfall at
+the door, he called out:
+
+"Ho, fellow! Go fetch me another bottle of Spanish, and do not forget
+this time the brandy and water which I told thee to bring half an hour
+ago."
+
+The step came nearer, and as it did not retreat, but entered the room,
+Pembroke called out again: "Make haste, man, and go on!"
+
+The footsteps paused, and Pembroke looked up, as one does when a strange
+presence comes into the room. He saw, standing near the door, a tall and
+comely young man, whose carriage betokened him not ill-born. The
+stranger advanced and bowed gravely. "Pardon me, sir," he said, "but I
+fear I am awkward in thus intruding. The man showed me up the stair and
+bade me enter. He said that I should find here Sir Arthur Pembroke, upon
+whom I bear letters from friends of his in the North."
+
+"Sir," said Pembroke, rising and advancing, "you are very welcome, and I
+ask pardon for my unwitting speech."
+
+"I come at this hour and at this place," said the newcomer, "for reasons
+which may seem good a little later. My name is John Law, of Edinboro',
+sir."
+
+All those present arose.
+
+"Sir," responded Pembroke, "I am delighted to have your name. I know of
+the acquaintance between your father and my own. These are friends of
+mine, and I am delighted to name ye to each other. Mr. Charles
+Castleton; Mr. Edward Wilson. We are all here to kill the ancient enemy,
+Time. 'Tis an hour of night when one gains an appetite for one thing or
+another, cards or cold joint. I know not why we should not have a bit of
+both?"
+
+"With your permission, I shall be glad to join ye at either," said John
+Law. "I have still the appetite of a traveler--in faith, rather a better
+appetite than most travelers may claim, for I swear I've had no more to
+eat the last day and night than could be purchased for a pair of
+shillings."
+
+Pembroke raised his eyebrows, scarce knowing whether to be amused at
+this speech or nettled by its cool assurance.
+
+"Some ill fortune?"--he began politely.
+
+"There is no such thing as ill fortune," quoth John Law. "We fail always
+of our own fault. Forsooth I must explore Roman roads by night. England
+hath builded better, and the footpads have the Roman ways. My brother
+Will--he waiteth below, if ye please, good friends, and is quite as
+hungry as myself, besides having a pricked finger to boot--and I lost
+what little we had about us, and we came through with scarce a good
+shirt between the two."
+
+A peal of laughter greeted him as he pulled apart the lapels of his coat
+and showed ruffles torn and disfigured. The speaker smiled gravely.
+
+"To-morrow," said he, "I must seek me out a goldsmith and a haberdasher,
+if you will be so good as to name such to me."
+
+"Sir," said Sir Arthur Pembroke, "in this plight you must allow me." He
+extended a purse which he drew from his pocket. "I beg you, help
+yourself."
+
+"Thank you, no," replied John Law. "I shall ask you only to show me the
+goldsmith in the morning, him upon whom I hold certain credits. I make
+no doubt that then I shall be quite fit again. I have never in my life
+borrowed a coin. Besides, I should feel that I had offended my good
+angel did I ask it to help me out of mine own folly. If we have but a
+bit of this cold joint, and a place for my brother Will to sit in
+comfort as we play, I shall beg to hope, my friends, that I shall be
+allowed to stake this trifle against a little of the money that I see
+here; which, I take it, is subject to the fortunes of war."
+
+He tossed on the board a ring, which carried in its setting a diamond of
+size and brilliance.
+
+"This fellow hath a cool assurance enough," muttered Beau Wilson to his
+neighbor as he leaned toward him at the table.
+
+Pembroke, always good-natured, laughed at the effrontery of the
+newcomer.
+
+"You say very well; it is there for the fortune of war," said he. "It is
+all yours, if you can win it; but I warn you, beware, for I shall have
+your jewel and your letters of credit too, if ye keep not sharp watch."
+
+"Yes," said Castleton, "Pembroke hath warrant for such speech. The man
+who can make _sept et le va_ thrice in one evening is hard company for
+his friends."
+
+John Law leaned back comfortably in his chair.
+
+"I make no doubt," said he, "that I shall make _trente et le va_, here
+at this table, this very evening."
+
+Smiles and good-natured sneerings met this calm speech.
+
+"_Trente et le va_--it hath not come out in the history of London play
+for the past four seasons!" cried Wilson. "I'll lay you any odds that
+you're not within eye-sight of _trente et le va_ these next five
+evenings, if you favor us with your company."
+
+"Be easy with me, good friends," said John. Law, calmly. "I am not yet
+in condition for individual wagers, as my jewel is my fortune, till
+to-morrow at least. But if ye choose to make the play at Lands-knecht, I
+will plunge at the bank to the best of my capital. Then, if I win, I
+shall be blithe to lay ye what ye like."
+
+The young Englishmen sat looking at their guest with some curiosity. His
+strange assurance daunted them.
+
+"Surely this is a week of wonders," said Beau Wilson, with scarce
+covered sarcasm in his tone. "First we have a wild man from Canada, with
+his fairy stories of gold and gems, and now we have another gentleman
+who apparently hath fathomed as well how to gain sudden wealth at will,
+and yet keep closer home."
+
+Law took snuff calmly. "I am not romancing, gentlemen," said he. "With
+me play is not a hazard, but a science. I ought really not to lay on
+even terms with you. As I have said, there is no such thing as chance.
+There are such things as recurrences, such things as laws that govern
+all happenings."
+
+Laughter arose again at this, though it did not disturb the newcomer,
+nor did the cries of derision which followed his announcement of his
+system.
+
+"Many a man hath come to London town with a system of play," cried
+Pembroke. "Tell us, Mr. Law, what and where shall we send thee when we
+have won thy last sixpence?"
+
+"Good sir," said Law, "let us first of all have the joint."
+
+"I humbly crave a pardon, sir," said Pembroke. "In this new sort of
+discourse I had forgot thine appetite. We shall mend that at once. Here,
+Simon! Go fetch up Mr. Law's brother, who waits below, and fetch two
+covers and a bit to eat. Some of thy new Java berry, too, and make
+haste! We have much yet to do."
+
+"That have ye, if ye are to see the bottom of my purse more than once,"
+said Law gaily. "See! 'tis quite empty now. I make ye all my solemn
+promise that 'twill not be empty again for twenty years. After
+that--well, the old Highland soothsayer, who dreamed for me, always told
+me to forswear play after I was forty, and never to go too near running
+water. Of the latter I was born with a horror. For play, I was born with
+a gift. Thus I foresee that this little feat which you mention is sure
+to be mine this very night. You all say that _trente_ has not come up
+for many months. Well, 'tis due, and due to-night. The cards never fail
+me when I need."
+
+"By my faith," cried Wilson, "ye have a pretty way about you up in
+Scotland!"
+
+John Law saw the veiled ill feeling, and replied at once:
+
+"True, we have a pretty way. We had it at Killiecrankie not so long ago;
+and when the clans fight among themselves, we need still prettier ways."
+
+"Now, gentlemen," said Pembroke, "none of this talk, by your leave. The
+odds are fairer here than they were at Killiecrankie's battle, and 'tis
+all of us against the Scotch again. We English stand together, but we
+stand to-night only against this threat of the ultimate fortune of the
+cards. Moreover, here comes the supper, and if I mistake not, also the
+brother of our friend."
+
+Will bowed to one and the other gentlemen, unconsciously drifting toward
+his brother's chair.
+
+"Now we must to business," cried Castleton, as the dishes were at last
+cleared away. "Show him thy talisman, Pem, and let him kiss his jewel
+good by."
+
+Pembroke threw upon the table once more the moccasin of the Indian girl.
+John Law picked it up and examined it long and curiously, asking again
+and again searching questions regarding its origin.
+
+"I have read of this new land of America," said he. "Some day it will be
+more prominent in all plans."
+
+He laid down the slipper and mused for a moment, apparently forgetful of
+the scene about him.
+
+"Perhaps," cried Castleton, the zeal of the gambler now showing in his
+eye. "But let us make play here to-night. Let Pembroke bank. His luck is
+best to win this vaunter's stake."
+
+Pembroke dealt the cards about for the first round. The queen fell. John
+Law won. "_Deux_," he said calmly, and turned away as though it were a
+matter of course. The cards went round again. "_Trois_," he said, as he
+glanced at his stakes, now doubled again.
+
+Wilson murmured. "Luck's with him for a start," said he, "but 'tis a
+long road." He himself had lost at the second turn. "_Quint_!" "_Seix_!"
+"_Sept et le va_!" in turn called Law, still coolly, still regarding with
+little interest the growing heap of coin upon the board opposite the
+glittering ring which he had left lying on the table.
+
+"_Vingt-un, et le va_!"
+
+"Good God!" cried Castleton, the sweat breaking out upon his forehead.
+"See the fellow's luck!--Pembroke, sure he hath stole thy slipper. Such
+a run of cards was never seen in this room since Rigby, of the Tenth,
+made his great game four years ago."
+
+"_Vingt-cinq; et le va_!" said John Law, calmly.
+
+Will touched his sleeve. The stake had now grown till the money on the
+hoard meant a matter of hundreds of pounds, which might he removed at
+any turn the winner chose. It was there but for the stretching out of
+the hand. Yet this strange genius sat there, scarce deigning to smile at
+the excited faces of those about him.
+
+"I'll lay thee fifty to one that the next turn sees thee lose!" cried
+Castleton.
+
+"Done," said John Law.
+
+The iciness in the air seemed now an actual thing. There was, in the
+nature of this play, something which no man at that board, hardened
+gamesters as they all were, had ever met before. It was indeed as though
+Fate were there, with her hand upon the shoulder of a favored son.
+
+"You lose, Mr. Castleton," said Law, calmly, as the cards came again his
+way. He swept his winnings from the coin pushed out to him.
+
+"Now we have thee, Mr. Law!" cried Pembroke. "One more turn, and I hope
+your very good nerve will leave the stake on the board, for so we'll see
+it all come back to the bank, even as the sheep come home at eventide.
+Here your lane turns. And 'tis at the last stage, for the next is the
+limit of the rules of the game. But you'll not win it."
+
+"Anything you like for a little personal wager," said the other, with no
+excitement in his voice.
+
+"Why, then, anything you like yourself, sir," said Pembroke.
+
+"Your little slipper against fifty pounds?" asked John Law.
+
+"Why--yes--," hesitated Pembroke, for the moment feeling a doubt of the
+luck that had favored him so long that evening. "I'd rather make it
+sovereigns, but since you name the slipper, I even make it so, for I
+know there is but one chance in hundreds that you win."
+
+The players leaned over the table as the deal went on. Once, twice,
+thrice, the cards went round. A sigh, a groan, a long breath broke from
+those who looked at the deal. Neither groan nor sigh came from John Law.
+He gazed indifferently at the heap of coin and paper that lay on the
+table, and which, by the law of play, was now his own.
+
+"_Trente et le va_," he said. "I knew that it would come. Sir Arthur, I
+half regret to rob thee thus, but I shall ask my slipper in hand paid.
+Pardon me, too, if I chide thee for risking it in play. Gentlemen, there
+is much in this little shoe, empty as it is."
+
+He dandled it upon his finger, hardly looking at the winnings that lay
+before him. "'Tis monstrous pretty, this little shoe," he said, rousing
+himself from his half reverie.
+
+"Confound thee, man!" cried Castleton, "that is the only thing we
+grudge. Of sovereigns there are plenty at the coinage--but of a shoe
+like this, there is not the equal this day in England!"
+
+"So?" laughed Law. "Well, consider, 'tis none too easy to make the run
+of _trente_. Risk hath its gains, you know, by all the original laws of
+earth and nature."
+
+"But heard you not the wager which was proposed over the little shoe?"
+broke in Castleton. "Wilson, here, was angered when I laid him odds that
+there was but one woman in London could wear this shoe. I offered him
+odds that his good friend, Kittie Lawrence--"
+
+"Nor had ye the right to offer such bet!" cried Wilson, ruffled by the
+doings of the evening.
+
+"I'll lay you myself there's no woman in England whom you know with foot
+small enough to wear it," cried Castleton.
+
+"Meaning to me?" asked Law, politely.
+
+"To any one," cried Castleton, quickly, "but most to thee, I fancy,
+since 'tis now thy shoe!"
+
+"I'll lay you forty crowns, then, that I know a smaller foot than that
+of Madam Lawrence," said Law, suavely. "I'll lay you another forty
+crowns that I'll try it on for the test, though I first saw the lady
+this very morning. I'll lay you another forty crowns that Madam Lawrence
+can not wear this shoe, though her I have never seen."
+
+These words rankled, though they were said offhand and with the license
+of coffee-house talk at so late an hour. Beau Wilson rose, in a somewhat
+unsteady attitude, and, turning towards Law, addressed him with a tone
+which left small option as to its meaning.
+
+"Sirrah!" cried he, "I know not who you are, but I would have a word or
+two of good advice for you!"
+
+"Sir, I thank you," said John Law, "but perhaps I do not need advice."
+He did not rise from his seat.
+
+"Have it then at any rate, and be civil!" cried the older man. "You seem
+a swaggering sort, with your talk of love and luck, and such are sure to
+get their combs cut early enough here among Englishmen. I'll not
+tolerate your allusion to a lady you have never met, and one I honor
+deeply, sir, deeply!"
+
+"I am but a young man started out to seek his fortune," said John Law,
+his eye kindling now for the first time, "and I should do very ill if I
+evaded that fortune, whatsoever it may be."
+
+"Then you'll take back that talk of Mrs. Lawrence!"
+
+"I have made no talk of Mrs. Lawrence, sir," said Law, "and even had I,
+I should take back nothing for a demand like yours. 'Tis not meet, sir,
+where no offense was meant, to crowd in an offensive remark."
+
+Pembroke said nothing. The situation was ominous enough at this point. A
+sudden gravity and dignity fell upon the young men who sat there,
+schooled in an etiquette whose first lesson was that of personal
+courage.
+
+"Sirrah!" cried Beau Wilson, "I perceive your purpose. If you prove good
+enough to name lodgings where you may he found by my friends, I shall
+ask leave to bid you a very good night."
+
+So speaking, Wilson flung out of the room. A silence fell upon those
+left within.
+
+"Sirs," said Law, a moment later, "I beg you to bear witness that this
+is no matter of my seeking or accepting. This gentleman is a stranger to
+me. I hardly got his name fair."
+
+"Wilson is his name, sir," said Pembroke, "a very good friend of us all.
+He is of good family, and doth keep his coach-and-four like any
+gentleman. For him we may vouch very well."
+
+"Wilson!" cried Law, springing now to his feet. "'Tis not him known as
+Beau Wilson? Why, my dear sirs, his father was friend to many of my kin
+long ago. Why, sir, this is one of those to whom my mother bade me look
+to get my first ways of London well laid out."
+
+"These are some of the ways of London," said Pembroke, grimly.
+
+"But is there no fashion in which this matter can be accommodated?"
+
+Pembroke and Castleton looked at each other, rose and passed him, each
+raising his hat and bowing courteously.
+
+"Your servant, sir," said the one; and, "Your servant, sir," said the
+other.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+DIVERS EMPLOYMENTS OF JOHN LAW
+
+
+"And when shall I send these garments to your Lordship?" asked the
+haberdasher, with whom Law was having speech on the morning following
+the first night in London.
+
+"Two weeks from to-day," said Law, "in the afternoon, and not later than
+four o'clock. I shall have need for them."
+
+"Impossible!" said the tradesman, hitherto obsequious, but now smitten
+with the conviction regarding the limits of human possibilities.
+
+"At that hour, or not at all," said John Law, calmly. "At that time I
+shall perhaps be at my lodgings, 59 Bradwell Street, West. As I have
+said to you, I am not clad as I could wish. It is not a matter of your
+convenience, but of mine own."
+
+"But, sir," expostulated the other, "you order of the best. Nothing, I
+am sure, save the utmost of good workmanship would please you. I should
+like a month of time upon these garments, in order to make them worthy
+of yourself. Moreover, there are orders of the nobility already in our
+hands will occupy us more than past the time you name. Make it three
+weeks, sir, and I promise--"
+
+His customer only shook his head and reiterated, "You heard me well."
+
+The tailor, sore puzzled, not wishing to lose a customer who came so
+well recommended, and yet hesitating at the exactions of that customer,
+sat with perplexity written upon his brow.
+
+"So!" exclaimed Law. "Sir Arthur Pembroke told me that you were a clever
+fellow and could execute exact any order I might give you. Now it
+appears to me you are like everybody else. You prate only of hardships
+and of impossibilities."
+
+The perspiration fairly stood out on the forehead of the man of trade.
+
+"Sir," said he, "I should be glad to please not only a friend of Sir
+Arthur Pembroke, but also a gentleman of such parts as yourself. I
+hesitate to promise--"
+
+"But you must promise," said John Law.
+
+"Well, then, I do promise! I will have this apparel at your place on the
+day which you name. 'Tis most extraordinary, but the order shall be
+executed."
+
+"As I thought," said John Law.
+
+"But I must thank you besides," resumed the tradesman. "In good truth I
+must say that of all the young gentlemen who come hither--and I may show
+the names of the best nobility of London and of some ports beyond
+seas--there hath never stepped within these doors a better figure than
+yourself--nay, not so good. And I am a judge of men."
+
+Law looked at him carelessly.
+
+"You shall make me none the easier, nor yourself the easier, by soft
+speech," said he, "if you have not these garments ready by the time
+appointed. Send them, and you shall have back the fifty sovereigns by
+the messenger, with perhaps a coin or so in addition if all be well."
+
+"The air of this nobility!" said the tailor, but smiling with pleasure
+none the less. "This is, perhaps, some affair with a lady?" he added.
+
+"'Tis an affair with a lady, and also with certain gentlemen."
+
+"Oh, so," said the tailor. "If it he, forsooth, an enterprise with a
+lady, methinks I know the outcome now." He gazed with professional pride
+upon the symmetrical figure before him. "You shall be all the better
+armed when well fitted in my garments. Not all London shall furnish a
+properer figure of a man, nor one better clad, when I shall have done
+with you, sir."
+
+Law but half heard him, for he was already turning toward the door,
+where he beckoned again for his waiting chair.
+
+"To the offices of the Bank of England," he directed. And forthwith he
+was again jogging through the crowded streets of London.
+
+The offices of the Bank of England, to which this young adventurer now
+so nonchalantly directed his course, were then not housed in any such
+stately edifice as that which now covers the heart of the financial
+world, nor did the location of the young and struggling institution, in
+a by-street of the great city, tend to give dignity to a concern which
+still lacked importance and assuredness. Thither, then, might have gone
+almost any young traveler who needed a letter of credit cashed, or a
+bill changed after the fashion of the passing goldsmiths.
+
+Yet it was not as mere transient customer of a money-changer that young
+Law now sought the Bank of England, nor was it as a commercial house
+that the bank then commanded attention. That bank, young as it was, had
+already become a pillar of the throne of England. William, distracted by
+wars abroad and factions at home, found his demands for funds ever in
+excess of the supply. More than that, the people of England discovered
+themselves in possession of a currency fluctuating, mutilated, and
+unstable, so that no man knew what was his actual fortune. The shrewd
+young financier, Montague, chancellor of the exchequer, who either by
+wisdom or good fortune had sanctioned the founding of the Bank of
+England, was at this very time addressing himself to the question of a
+recoinage of the specie of the realm of England. He needed help, he
+demanded ideas; nor was he too particular whence he obtained either the
+one or the other.
+
+John Law was in London on no such blind quest as he had himself
+declared. He was here by the invitation, secret yet none the less
+obligatory, of Montague, controller of the financial policy of England.
+And he was to meet, here upon this fair morning, none less than my Lord
+Somers, keeper of the seals; none less than Sir Isaac Newton, the
+greatest mathematician of his time; none less than John Locke, the most
+learned philosopher of the day. Strong company this, for a young and
+unknown man, yet in the belief of Montague, himself a young man and a
+gambler by instinct, not too strong for this young Scotchman who had
+startled the Parliament of his own land by some of the most remarkable
+theories of finance which had ever been proposed in any country or to
+any government. As Law had himself arrogantly announced, he was indeed a
+philosopher and a mathematician, young as he was; and these things
+Montague was himself keen enough to know.
+
+It promised, then, to be a strange and interesting council, this which
+was to meet to-day at the Bank of England, to adjust the value of
+England's coinage; two philosophers, one pompous trimmer, and two
+gamblers; the younger and more daring of whom was now calmly threading
+the streets of London on his way to a meeting which might mean much to
+him.
+
+To John Law, adventurer, mathematician, philosopher, gambler, it seemed
+a natural enough thing that he should be asked to sit at the council
+table with the ablest minds of the day and pass upon questions the most
+important. This was not what gave him trouble. This matter of the
+coinage, these questions of finance--they were easy. But how to win the
+interest of the tall and gracious English girl whom he had met by chance
+that other morn, who had left no way open for a further meeting; how to
+gain access to the presence of that fair one--these were the questions
+which to John Law seemed of greater importance, and of greater
+difficulty in the answering.
+
+The chair drew up at the somber quarters where the meeting had been set.
+Law knew the place by instinct, even without seeing the double row of
+heavy-visaged London constabulary which guarded the entrance. Here and
+there along the street were carriages and chairs, and multiplied
+conveyances of persons of consequence. Upon the narrow pavement, and
+within the little entrance-way that led to the inner room, there bustled
+about important-looking men, some with hooked noses, most with florid
+faces and well-fed bodies, but all with a certain dignity and sobriety
+of expression.
+
+Montague himself, young, smooth-faced, dark-eyed, of active frame, of
+mobile and pleasing features, sat at the head of a long table. The
+high-strung quality of his nervous system was evidenced in his restless
+hands, his attitude frequently changed.
+
+At the left of Montague sat Somers, lord keeper; older, of more steady
+demeanor, of fuller figure, of bold face and full light eye, a
+politician, not a ponderer. At the right of Montague, grave, silent,
+impassive, now and again turning a contemplative eye about him, sat that
+great man. Sir Isaac Newton, known then to every nobleman, and now to
+every schoolboy, of the world. A gem-like mind, keen, clear, hard and
+brilliant, exact in every facet, and forsooth held in the setting of an
+iron body. Gentle, unmoved, self-assured, Sir Issac Newton was calm as
+morn itself as he sat in readiness to give England the benefit of his
+wisdom.
+
+Beyond sat John Locke, abstruse philosopher, a man thinner and darker
+than his _confrère_, with large full orb, with the brow of the student
+and the man of thought. In dignity he shared with the learned gentleman
+sitting near him.
+
+All those at the board looked with some intentness at the figure of the
+young man from the North, who came as the guest of Montague. With small
+formality, the latter rose and advanced to meet Law with an eager grasp
+of the hand. He made him known to the others present promptly, but with
+a half apology.
+
+"Gentlemen," said he, "I have made bold to ask the presence with us of a
+young man who has much concerned himself with problems such as those
+which we have now in hand. Sir Isaac Newton, this is Mr. Law of
+Edinboro'. Mr. Law, the fame of John Locke I need not lay before you,
+and of my Lord Somers you need no advice. Mr. Law, I shall pray you to
+be seated.
+
+"I shall but serve as your mouthpiece to the Court, gentlemen," resumed
+Montague, seating himself and turning at once to the business of the
+day. "We are all agreed as to the urgency of the case. The king needs
+behind him in these times a contented people. You have already seen the
+imminence of a popular discontent which may shake the throne of England,
+none too safe in these days of change. That we must reorganize the
+coinage is understood and agreed. The question is, how best to do this
+without further unsettling the times. My Lord Keeper, I must beg you for
+your suggestions."
+
+"Sir," said Somers, shifting and coughing, "it is as you say. The
+question is of great moment. I should suggest a decree that the old coin
+shall pass by weight alone and not by its face value. Call in all the
+coin and have it weighed, the government to make future payment to the
+owner of the coin of the difference between its nominal and its real
+value. The coin itself should be restored forthwith to its owner. Hence
+the trade and the credit of the realm would not suffer. The money of the
+country would be withdrawn from the use of the country only that short
+time wherein it was in process of counting. This, it occurs to me, would
+surely be a practical method, and could work harm to none." My Lord
+Somers sat back, puffing out his chest complacently.
+
+"Sir Isaac," said Montague, "and Mr. Locke, we must beg you to find such
+fault as you may with this plan which my Lord Keeper hath suggested."
+
+Sir Isaac made no immediate reply. John Locke stirred gently in his
+chair. "There seemeth much to commend in this plan of my Lord Keeper,"
+said he, leaning slightly forward, "but in pondering my Lord Keeper's
+suggestion for the bringing in of this older coin, I must ask you if
+this plan can escape that selfish impulse of the human mind which
+seeketh for personal gain? For, look you, short as would be the time
+proposed, it taketh but still shorter time to mutilate a coin; and it
+doth seem to me that, under the plan of my Lord Keeper, we should see
+the old currency of England mutilated in a night. Sir, I should opine in
+the contrary of this plan, and would base my decision upon certain
+principles which I believe to be ever present in the human soul."
+
+Montague cast down his eye for a moment. "Sir Isaac," at length he
+began, "we are relying very much upon you. Is there no suggestion which
+you can offer on this ticklish theme?"
+
+The large, full face of the great man was turned calmly and slowly upon
+the speaker. His deep and serene eye apparently saw not so much the man
+before him as the problem which lay on that man's mind.
+
+"Sir," said Sir Isaac, "as John Locke hath said, this is after all much
+a matter of clear reasoning. There come into this problem two chief
+questions: First, who shall pay the expense of the recoinage? Shall the
+Government pay the expense, or shall the owner of the coin, who is to
+obtain good coin for evil?
+
+"Again, this matter applieth not to one man but to many men. Now if one
+half the tradesmen of England rush to us with their coin for reminting,
+surely the trade of the country will have left not sufficient medium
+with which to prosper. This I take to be the second part of this
+problem.
+
+"There be certain persons of the realm who claim that we may keep our
+present money as it is, but mark from its face a certain amount of
+value. Look you, now, this were a small thing; yet, in my mind, it
+clearly seemeth dishonesty. For, if I owe my neighbor a debt, let us say
+for an hundred sovereigns, shall I not be committing injustice upon my
+neighbor if I pay him an hundred sovereigns less that deduction which
+the realm may see fit thus to impose upon the face of my sovereign?
+This, in justice, sirs, I hold it to be not the part of science, nor the
+part of honesty, neither of statesmanship, to endorse."
+
+"Sir Isaac," cried Montague, striking his nervous hands upon the table,
+"recoin we must. But how, and, as you say, at whose expense? We are as
+far now from a plan as when we started. We but multiply difficulties.
+What we need now is not so much negative measures as positive ones. We
+must do this thing, and we must do it promptly. The question is still
+of how it may best be done. Mr. Law, by your leave and by the leave of
+these gentlemen here present, I shall take the liberty of asking you if
+there doth occur to your mind any plan by which we may be relieved of
+certain of these difficulties. I am aware, sir, that you are much a
+student in these matters."
+
+A grave silence fell upon all. John Law, young, confident and arrogant
+in many ways as he was, none the less possessed sobriety and depth of
+thought, just as he possessed the external dignity to give it fitting
+vehicle. He gazed now at the men before him, not with timorousness or
+trepidation. His face was grave, and he returned their glances calmly as
+he rose and made the speech which, unknown to himself, was presently to
+prove so important in his life.
+
+"My Lords," said he, "and gentlemen of this council, I am ill-fitted to
+be present here, and ill-fitted to add my advice to that which has been
+given. It is not for me to go beyond the purpose of this meeting, or to
+lay before you certain plans of my own regarding the credit of nations.
+I may start, as does our learned friend, simply from established
+principles of human nature.
+
+"It is true that the coinage is a creature of the government. Yet I
+believe it to be true that the government lives purely upon credit;
+which is to say, the confidence of the people in that government.
+
+"Now, we may reason in this matter perhaps from the lesser relations of
+our daily life. What manner of man do we most trust among those whom we
+meet? Surely, the honest man, the plain man, the one whose directness
+and integrity we do not doubt. Truly you may witness the nature of such
+a man in the manner of his speech, in his mien, in his conduct.
+Therefore, my Lords and gentlemen, it seems to me plain that we shall
+best gain confidence for ourselves if we act in the most simple fashion.
+
+"Let us take up this matter directly with Parliament, not seeking to
+evade the knowledge of Parliament in any fashion; for, as we know, the
+Parliament and the king are not the best bed-fellows these days, and the
+one is ready enough to suspect the other. Let us have a bill framed for
+Parliament--such bill made upon the decisions of these learned gentlemen
+present. Above all things, let us act with perfect openness.
+
+"As to the plan itself, it seems that a few things may be held safe and
+sure. Since we can not use the old coin, then surely we must have new
+coin, milled coin, which Charles, the earlier king of England, has
+decreed. Surely, too, as our learned friend has wisely stated, the loss
+in any recoinage ought, in full justice and honesty, to fall not upon
+the people of England, but upon the government of England. It seems
+equally plain to me there must be a day set after which the old coin may
+no longer be used. Set it some months ahead, not, as my Lord Keeper
+suggests, but a few days; so that full notice may be given to all. Make
+your campaign free and plain, and place it so that it may be known, not
+only of Parliament, but of all the world. Thus you establish yourselves
+in the confidence of Parliament and in the good graces of this people,
+from whom the taxes must ultimately come."
+
+Montague's hands smote again upon the table with a gesture of
+conviction. John Locke shifted again in his chair. Sir Isaac and the
+lord keeper gazed steadfastly at this young man who stood before them,
+calmly, assuredly, and yet with no assumption in his mien.
+
+"Moreover," went on John Law, calmly, "there is this further benefit to
+be gained, as I am sure my countryman, Mr. Paterson, has long ago made
+plain. It is not a question of the wealth of England, but a question of
+the confidence of the people in the throne. There is money in abundance
+in England. It is the province of my Lord Chancellor to wheedle it out
+of those coffers where it is concealed and place it before the uses of
+the king. Gentlemen, it is confidence that we need. There will be no
+trouble to secure loans of money in this rich land, but the taxes must
+be the pledge to your bankers. This new Bank of England will furnish you
+what moneys you may need. Secure them only by the pledge of such taxes
+as you feel the people may not resent; give the people, free of cost, a
+coinage which they can trust; and then, it seems to me, my Lords and
+gentlemen, the problem of the revenue may be thought solved simply and
+easily--solved, too, without irritating either the people or the
+Parliament, or endangering the relations of Parliament and the throne."
+
+The conviction which fell upon all found its best expression in the face
+of Montague. The youth and nervousness of the man passed away upon the
+instant. He sat there sober and thoughtful, quiet and resolved.
+
+"Gentlemen," said he at last, slowly, "my course is plain from this
+instant. I shall draw the bill and it shall go to Parliament. The
+expense of this recoinage I am sure we can find maintained by the
+stockholders of the Bank of England, and for their pay we shall propose
+a new tax upon the people of England. We shall tax the windows of the
+houses of England, and hence tax not only the poor but the rich of
+England, and that proportionately with their wealth. As for the coin of
+England, it shall be honest coin, made honest and kept honest, at no
+cost to the people of old England. Sirs, my heart is lighter than it has
+been for many days."
+
+The last trace of formality in the meeting having at length vanished,
+Montague made his way rapidly to the foot of the table. He caught Law by
+both his hands.
+
+"Sir," said he, "you helped us at the last stage of our ascent. A
+mistake here had been ruinous, not only to myself and friends, but to
+the safety of the whole Government. You spoke wisely and practically.
+Sir, if I can ever in all my life serve you, command me, and at whatever
+price you name. I am not yet done with you, sir," resumed Montague,
+casting his arm boyishly about the other's shoulder as they walked out.
+"We must meet again to discuss certain problems of the currency which, I
+bethink me, you have studied deeply. Keep you here in London, for I
+shall have need of you. Within the month, perhaps within the week, I
+shall require you. England needs men who can do more than dawdle. Pray
+you, keep me advised where you may be found."
+
+There was ill omen in the light reply. "Why, as to that, my Lord," said
+Law, "if you should think my poor service useful, your servants might
+get trace of me at the Green Lion--unless I should be in prison! No man
+knoweth what may come."
+
+Montague laughed lightly. "At the Green Lion, or in Newgate itself,"
+said he. "Be ready, for I have not yet done with you."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+THE RESOLUTION OF MR. LAW
+
+
+The problems of England's troubled finances, the questions of the
+coinage, the gossip of the king's embroilments with the
+Parliament--these things, it may again be said, occupied Law's mind far
+less than the question of gaining audience with his fair rescuer of the
+morn at Sadler's Wells. This was the puzzle which, revolve it as he
+might, not even his audacious wit was able to provide with plausible
+solution. He pondered the matter in a hundred different pleasing phases
+as he passed from the Bank of England through the crowded streets of
+London, and so at length found himself at the shabby little lodgings in
+Bradwell Street, where he and his brother had, for the time, taken up
+their quarters.
+
+"It starteth well, my boy," cried he, gaily, to his brother, when at
+length he had found his way up the narrow stair into the little room,
+and discovered Will patiently awaiting his return. "Already two of my
+errands are well acquit."
+
+"You have, then, sent the letters to our goldsmith here?" said Will.
+
+"Now, to say truth, I had not thought of that. But letters of
+credit--why need we trouble over such matters? These English are but
+babes. Give me a night or so in the week at the Green Lion, and we'll
+need no letters of credit, Will. Look at your purse, boy--since you are
+the thrifty cashier of our firm!"
+
+"I like not this sort of gold," said Will Law, setting his lips
+judicially.
+
+"Yet it seems to purchase well as any," said the other, indifferently.
+"At least, such is my hope, for I have made debt against our purse of
+some fifty sovereigns--some little apparel which I have ordered. For,
+look you, Will, I must be clothed proper. In these days, as I may tell
+you, I am to meet such men as Montague, chancellor of the exchequer--my
+Lord Keeper Somers--Sir Isaac Newton--Mr. John Locke--gentry of that
+sort. It is fitting I should have better garb than this which we have
+brought with us."
+
+"You are ever free with some mad jest or other, Jack; but what is this
+new madness of which you speak?"
+
+"No madness at all, my dear boy; for in fact I have but come from the
+council chamber, where I have met these very gentlemen whom I have
+named to you. But pray you note, my dear brother, there are those who
+hold John Law, and his studies, not so light as doth his own brother.
+For myself, the matter furnishes no surprise at all. As for you, you had
+never confidence in me, nor in yourself. Gad! Will, hadst but the
+courage of a flea, what days we two might have together here in this old
+town!"
+
+"I want none of such days, Jack," said Will Law, soberly. "I care most
+to see you settled in some decent way of living. What will your mother
+say, if we but go on gaming and roistering, with dangers of some sudden
+quarrel--as this which has already sprung up--with no given aim in life,
+with nothing certain for an ambition--"
+
+"Now, Will," began his brother, yet with no petulance in his tone, "pray
+go not too hard with me at the start. I thought I had done fairly well,
+to sit at the table of the council of coinage on my first day in London.
+'Tis not every young man gets so far as that. Come, now, Will!"
+
+"But after all, there must be serious purpose."
+
+"Know then," cried the elder man, suddenly, "that I have found such
+serious purpose!"
+
+The speaker stood looking out of the window, his eye fixed out across
+the roofs of London. There had now fallen from his face all trace of
+levity, and into his eye and mouth there came reflex of the decision of
+his speech. Will stirred in his chair, and at length the two faced each
+other.
+
+"And pray, what is this sudden resolution, Jack?" said Will Law.
+
+"If I must tell you, it is simply this: I am resolved to marry the girl
+we met at Sadler's Wells."
+
+"How--what--?"
+
+"Yes, how--what--?" repeated his brother, mockingly.
+
+"But I would ask, which?"
+
+"There was but one," said John Law. "The tall one, with the
+brassy-brown, copper-red hair, the bright blue eye, and the figure of a
+queen. Her like is not in all the world!"
+
+"Methought 'twas more like to be the other," replied Will. "Yet you--how
+dare you think thus of that lady? Why, Jack, 'twas the Lady Catharine
+Knollys, sister to the Earl of Banbury!"
+
+Law did not at once make any answer. He turned to the dressing-table and
+began making such shift as he could to better his appearance.
+
+"Will," said he, at length, "you are, as ever, a babe and a suckling. I
+quite despair of you. 'Twould serve no purpose to explain anything to so
+faint a heart as yours. But you may come with me."
+
+"And whither?"
+
+"Whither? Where else, than to the residence of this same lady! Look
+you, I have learned this. She is, as you say, the sister of the Earl of
+Banbury, and is for the time at the town house in Knightwell Terrace.
+Moreover, if that news be worth while to so white-feathered a swain as
+yourself, the other, damsel, the dark one--the one with the mighty
+pretty little foot--lives there for the time as the guest of Lady
+Catharine. They are rated thick as peas in a pod. True, we are
+strangers, yet I venture we have made a beginning, and if we venture
+more we may better that beginning. Should I falter, when luck gave me
+the run of _trente et le va_ but yesterday? Nay, ever follow fortune
+hard, and she waits for you."
+
+"Yes," said Will, scornfully. "You would get the name of gambler, and
+add to it the name of fortune-hunting, heiress-seeking adventurer."
+
+"Not so," replied John Law, taking snuff calmly and still keeping the
+evenness of his temper. "My own fortune, as I admit, I keep safe at the
+Green Lion. For the rest, I seek at the start only respectful footing
+with this maid herself. When first I saw her, I knew well enough how the
+end would be. We were made for each other. This whole world was made for
+us both. Will, boy, I could not live without the Lady Catharine
+Knollys!"
+
+"Oh, cease such talk, Jack! 'Tis ill-mannered, such presumption
+regarding a lady, even had you known her long. Besides, 'tis but another
+of your fancies, Jack," said Will. "Wilt never make an end of such
+follies?"
+
+"Yes, my boy," said his brother, gravely. "I have made an end. Indeed, I
+made it the other morning at Sadler's Wells."
+
+"Methinks," said Will, dryly, "that it might be well first to be sure
+that you can win past the front door of the house of Knollys."
+
+John Law still kept both his temper and his confidence.
+
+"Come with me," said he, blithely, "and I will show you how that thing
+may be done."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+TWO MAIDS A-BROIDERING
+
+
+"Now a plague take all created things, Lady Kitty!" cried Mary Connynge,
+petulantly flinging down a silken pattern over which she had pretended
+to be engaged. "There are devils in the skeins to-day. I'll try no more
+with't."
+
+"Fie! For shame, Mary Connynge," replied Lady Catharine Knollys,
+reprovingly. "So far from better temperance of speech, didst ever hear
+of the virtue of perseverance? Now, for my own part--"
+
+"And what, for your own part? Have I no eyes to see that thou'rt
+puttering over the same corner this last half hour? What is it thou art
+making to-day?"
+
+The Lady Catharine paused for a moment and held her embroidery frame
+away from her at arm's length, looking at it with brow puckering into a
+perplexed frown.
+
+"I was working a knight," said she. "A tall one--"
+
+"Yes, a tall one, with yellow hair, I warrant."
+
+"Why, so it was. I was but seeking floss of the right hue, and found it
+difficult."
+
+"And with blue eyes?"
+
+"True; or perhaps gray. I could not state which. I had naught in my box
+would serve to suit me for the eyes. But how know you this, Mary
+Connynge?" asked the Lady Catharine.
+
+"Because I was making some such knight for myself," replied the other.
+"See! He was to have been tall, of good figure, wearing a wide hat and
+plume withal. But lest I spoil him, my knight--now a plague take me
+indeed if I do not ruin him complete!" So saying, she drew with vengeful
+fingers at the intricately woven silks until she had indeed undone all
+that had gone before.
+
+"Nay, nay! Mary Connynge! Do not so!" replied Lady Catharine in
+expostulation. "The poor knight, how could he help himself? Why, as for
+mine, though I find him not all I could wish, I'll e'en be patient as I
+may, and seek if I may not mend him. These knights, you know, are most
+difficult. 'Tis hard to make them perfect."
+
+Mary Connynge sat with her hands in her lap, looking idly out of the
+window and scarce heeding the despoiled fabric which lay on her lap.
+"Come, confess, Lady Kitty," said she at length, turning toward her
+friend. "Wert not trying to copy a knight of a hedge-row after all? Did
+not a certain tall young knight, with eyes of blue, or gray, or the
+like, give pattern for your sampler while you were broidering to-day?"
+
+"Fie! For shame!" again replied Lady Catharine, flushing none the less.
+"Rather ask, does not such a thought come over thine own broidering? But
+as to the hedge-row, surely the gentleman explained it all proper
+enough; and I am sure--yes, I am very sure--that my brother Charles had
+quite approved of my giving the injured young man the lift in the
+coach--"
+
+"Provided that your Brother Charles had ever heard of such a thing!"
+
+"Well, of that, to be sure, why trouble my brother over such a trifle,
+when 'twas so obviously proper?" argued Lady Catharine, bravely. "And
+certainly, if we come to knights and the like, good chivalry has ever
+demanded succor for those in distress; and if, forsooth, it was two
+damsels in a comfortable coach, who rescued two knights from underneath
+a hedge-row, why, such is but the way of these modern days, when knights
+go seeking no more for adventures and ladies fair; as you very well
+know."
+
+"As I do not know, Lady Catharine," replied Mary Connynge. "To the
+contrary, 'twould not surprise me to learn that he would not shrink
+from any adventure which might offer."
+
+"You mean--that is--you mean the tall one, him who said he was Mr. Law
+of Lauriston?"
+
+"Well, perhaps. Though I must say," replied Mary Connynge, with
+indirection, "that I fancy the other far more, he being not so forward,
+nor so full of pure conceit. I like not a man so confident." This with
+an eye cast down, as much as though there were present in the room some
+man subject to her coquetry.
+
+"Why, I had not found him offering such an air," replied Lady Catharine,
+judicially. "I had but thought him frank enough, and truly most
+courteous."
+
+"Why, truly," replied Mary Connynge. "But saw you naught in his eye?"
+
+"Why, but that it was blue, or gray," replied Lady Catharine.
+
+"Oh, ho! then my lady did look a bit, after all! And so this is why the
+knight flourisheth so bravely in silks to-day--Fie! but a mere
+adventurer, Lady Kitty. He says he is Law of Lauriston; but what proof
+doth he offer? And did he find such proof, it is proof of what? For my
+part, I did never hear of Lauriston nor its owner."
+
+"Ah, but that I have, to the contrary," said Lady Catharine. "John
+Law's father was a goldsmith, and it was he who bought the properties of
+Lauriston and Randleston. And so far from John Law being ill-born, why,
+his mother was Jean Campbell, kinswoman of the Campbell, Duke of Argyll;
+and a mighty important man is the Duke of Argyll these days, I may tell
+you, as the king's army hath discovered before this. You see, I have not
+talked with my brother about these things for naught."
+
+"So you make excuse for this Mr. Law of Lauriston," said Mary Connynge.
+"Well, I like better a knight who comes on his own horse, or in his own
+chariot, and who rescues me when I am in trouble, rather than asks me to
+give him aid. But, as to that, what matter? We set those highway
+travelers down, and there was an end of it. We shall never see either of
+them again."
+
+"Of course not," said Lady Catharine.
+
+"It were impossible."
+
+"Oh, quite impossible!"
+
+Both the young women sighed, and both looked out of the window.
+
+"Because," said Mary Connynge, "they are but strangers. That talk of
+having letters may be but deceit. They themselves may be coiners. I have
+heard it said that coiners are monstrous bold."
+
+"To be sure, he mentioned Sir Arthur Pembroke," ventured Lady
+Catharine.
+
+"Oh! And be sure Sir Arthur Pembroke will take pains enough that no tall
+young man, who offers roses to ladies on first acquaintance, shall ever
+have opportunity to present himself to Lady Catharine Knollys. Nay, nay!
+There will be no introduction from that source, of that be sure. Sir
+Arthur is jealous as a wolf of thee already, Lady Kitty. See! He hath
+followed thee about like a dog for three years. And after all, why not
+reward him, Lady Kitty? Indeed, but the other day thou wert upon the
+very point of giving him his answer, for thou saidst to me that he sure
+had the prettiest eyes of any man in London. Pray, are Sir Arthur's eyes
+blue, or gray--or what? And can you match his eyes among the color of
+your flosses?"
+
+"It might be," said Lady Catharine, musingly, "that he would some day
+find means to send us word."
+
+"Who? Sir Arthur?"
+
+"No. The young man, Mr. Law of Lauriston."
+
+"Yes; or he might come himself," replied Mary Connynge.
+
+"Fie! He dare not!"
+
+"Oh, but be not too sure. Now suppose he did come--'twill do no harm for
+us to suppose so much as that. Suppose he stood there at your very
+door, Lady Kitty. Then what would you do?"
+
+"Do! Why, tell James that we were not in, and never should be, and
+request the young man to leave at once."
+
+"And never let him pass the door again."
+
+"Certainly not! 'Twould be presumption. But then"--this with a gentle
+sigh--"we need not trouble ourselves with this. I doubt not he hath
+forgot us long ago, just as indeed we have forgotten him--though I would
+say--. But I half believe he hit thee, girl, with his boldness and his
+bow, and his fearlessness withal."
+
+"Who, I? Why, heavens! Lady Kitty! The idea never came to my mind.
+Indeed no, not for an instant. Of course, as you say, 'twas but a
+passing occurrence, and 'twas all forgot. But, by the way, Lady Kitty,
+go we to Sadler's Wells to-morrow morn?"
+
+"I see no reason for not going," replied Lady Catharine. "And we may
+drive about, the same way we took the other morn. I will show you the
+same spot where he stood and bowed so handsomely, and made so little of
+the fight with the robbers the night before, as though 'twere trifling
+enough; and made so little of his poverty, as though he were owner of
+the king's coin."
+
+"But we shall never see him more," said Mary Connynge.
+
+"To be sure not. But just to show you--see! He stood thus, his hat off,
+his eye laughing, I pledge you, as though for some good jest he had. And
+'twas 'your pardon, ladies!' he said, as though he were indeed nobleman
+himself. See! 'Twas thus."
+
+What pantomime might have followed did not appear, for at that moment
+the butler appeared at the door with an admonitory cough. "If you
+please, your Ladyship," said he, "there are two persons waiting.
+They--that is to say, he--one of them, asks for admission to your
+Ladyship."
+
+"What name does he offer, James?"
+
+"Mr. John Law of Lauriston, your Ladyship, is the name he sends. He
+says, if your Ladyship please, that he has brought with him something
+which your Ladyship left behind, if your Ladyship please."
+
+Lady Catharine and Mary Connynge had both arisen and drawn together, and
+they now turned each a swift half glance upon the other.
+
+"Are these gentlemen waiting without the street door?" asked Lady
+Catharine.
+
+"No, your Ladyship. That is to say, before I thought, I allowed the tall
+one to come within."
+
+"Oh, well then, you see, Mary Connynge," replied Lady Catharine, with
+the pink flush rising in her cheek, "it were rude to turn them now from
+our door, since they have already been admitted."
+
+"Yes, we will send to the library for your brother," said Mary Connynge,
+dimpling at the corners of her mouth.
+
+"No, I think it not needful to do that," replied Lady Catharine, "but we
+should perhaps learn what this young man brings, and then we'll see to
+it that we chide him so that he'll no more presume upon our kindness. My
+brother need not know, and we ourselves will end this forwardness at
+once, Mary Connynge, you and I. James, you may bring the gentlemen in."
+
+Enter, therefore, John Law and his brother Will, the former seeming thus
+with ease to have made good his promise to win past the door of the Earl
+of Banbury.
+
+John Law, as on the morning of the roadside meeting, approached in
+advance of his more timid brother, though both bowed deeply as they
+entered. He bowed again respectfully, his eyes not wandering hither and
+yon upon the splendors of this great room in an ancestral home of
+England. His gaze was fixed rather upon the beauty of the tall girl
+before him, whose eyes, now round and startled, were not quite able to
+be cold nor yet to be quite cast down; whose white throat throbbed a bit
+under its golden chain; whose bosom rose and fell perceptibly beneath
+its falls of snowy laces.
+
+"Lady Catharine Knollys," said John Law, his voice deep and even, and
+showing no false note of embarrassment, "we come, as you may see, to
+make our respects to yourself and your friend, and to thank you for your
+kindness to two strangers."
+
+"To two strangers, Mr. Law," said Lady Catharine, pointedly.
+
+"Yes"--and the answering smile was hard to be denied--"to two strangers
+who are still strangers. I did but bethink me it was sweet to have such
+kindness. We were advised that London was cruel cold, and that all folk
+of this city hated their fellow-men. So, since 'twas welcome to be thus
+kindly entreated, I believed it but the act of courtesy to express our
+thanks more seeming than we might as that we were two beggars by the
+wayside. Therefore, I pay the first flower of my perpetual tribute." He
+bowed and extended, as he spoke, a deep red rose. His eye, though still
+direct, was as much imploring as it was bold.
+
+Instinctively Mary Connynge and Lady Catharine had drawn together,
+retreating somewhat from this intrusion. They were now standing, like
+any school girls, looking timidly over their shoulders, as he advanced.
+Lady Catharine hesitated, and yet she moved forward a half pace, as
+though bidden by some unheard voice. "'Twas nothing, what we did for you
+and your brother," said she. She extended her hand as she spoke. "As for
+the flower, I think--I think a rose is a sweet-pretty thing."
+
+She bent her cheek above the blossom, and whether the cheek or the petal
+were the redder, who should say? If there were any ill at ease in that
+room, it was not Law of Lauriston. He stood calm as though there by
+right. It was an escapade, an adventure, without doubt, as both these
+young women saw plainly enough. And now, what to do with this adventure
+since it had arrived?
+
+"Sir," said Lady Catharine at length, "I am sure you must be wearied
+with the heavy heats of the town. Your brother must still be weak from
+his hurt. Pray you, be seated." She placed the rose upon the tabouret as
+she passed, and presently pulled at the bell cord.
+
+"James," said she, standing very erect and full of dignity, "go to the
+library and see if Sir Charles be within."
+
+When the butler's solemn cough again gave warning, it was to bring
+information which may or may not have been news to Lady Catharine. "Your
+Ladyship," said he, "Sir Charles is said to have taken carriage an hour
+ago, and left no word."
+
+"Send me Cecile, James," said Lady Catharine, and again the butler
+vanished.
+
+"Cecile," said she, as the maid at length appeared, "you may serve us
+with tea."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+CATHARINE KNOLLYS
+
+
+"You mistake, sir! I am no light o' love, John Law!"
+
+Thus spoke Catharine Knollys. She stood near the door of the great
+drawing-room of the Knollys mansion, her figure beseeming well its
+framing of deep hangings and rich tapestries. Her eyes were wide and
+flashing, her cheeks deeply pink, the sweet bow of her lips half
+a-quiver in her vehemence. Her surpassing personal beauty, rich, ripe,
+enticing, gave more than sufficient challenge for the fiery blood of the
+young man before her.
+
+It was less than two weeks since these two had met. Surely the flood of
+time had run swiftly in those few days. Not a day had passed that Law
+had not met Catharine Knollys, nor had yet one meeting been such as the
+girl in her own conscience dared call better than clandestine, even
+though they met, as now, under her own roof. Yet, reason as she liked,
+struggle as she could, Catharine Knollys had not yet been quite able to
+end this swift voyaging on the flood of fate. It was so strange, so new,
+so sweet withal, this coming of her suitor, as from the darkness of some
+unknown star, so bold, so strong, so confident, and yet so humble! All
+the old song of the ages thrilled within her soul, and each day its
+compelling melody had accession. That this delirious softening of all
+her senses meant danger, the Lady Catharine could not deny. Yet could
+aught of earth be wrong when it spelled such happiness, such
+sweetness--when the sound of a footfall sent her blood going the faster,
+when the sight of a tall form, the ring of a vibrant tone, caused her
+limbs to weaken, her throat to choke?
+
+But ah! whence and why this spell, this sorcery--why this sweetness
+filling all her being, when, after all, duty and seemliness bade it all
+to end, as end it must, to-day? Thus had the Lady Catharine reflected
+but the hour before John Law came; her knight of dreams--tall,
+yellow-haired, blue-eyed, bold and tender, and surely speaking truth if
+truth dwelt beneath the stars. Now he would come--now he had come again.
+Here was his red, red rose once more. Here, burning in her ears, singing
+in her heart, were his avowing, pleading words. And this must end!
+
+John Law looked at her calmly, but said nothing. One hand, in a gesture
+customary with him, flicked lightly at the deep cuff of the other
+wrist, and this nervous movement was the sole betrayal of his
+uneasiness.
+
+"You come to this house time and again," resumed Catharine Knollys, "as
+though it were an ancient right on your part, as though you had always
+been a friend of this family. And yet--"
+
+"And so I have been," broke in her suitor. "My people were friends of
+yours before we two were born. Why, then, should you advise your
+servant, as you have, fairly to deny me admission at the door?"
+
+"I have done ill enough to admit you. Had I dreamed of this last
+presumption on your part I should never have seen your face again."
+
+"'Tis not presumption," said the young man, his voice low and even,
+though ringing with the feeling to which even he dared not give full
+expression. "I myself might call this presumption in another, but with
+myself 'tis otherwise."
+
+"Sir," said Lady Catharine Knollys, "you speak as one not of good mind."
+
+"Not of good mind!" broke out John Law. "Say rather of mind too good to
+doubt, or dally, or temporize. Why, 'tis plain as the plan of fate! It
+was in the stars that I should come to you. This face, this form, this
+heart, this soul--I shall see nothing else so long as I live! Oh, I
+feel myself unworthy; you have right to think me of no station. Yet some
+day I shall bring to you all that wealth can buy, all that station can
+mean. Catharine--dear Lady Kitty--dear Kate--"
+
+"I like not so fast a soothsaying in any suitor of mine," replied Lady
+Catharine, hotly, "and this shall go no further." Her hand restrained
+him.
+
+"Then you find me distasteful? You would banish me? I could not learn to
+endure it!"
+
+Lady Catharine looked at him curiously. "Actually, sir," said she, "you
+cause me to chill. I could half fear you. What is in your heart? Surely,
+this is a strange love-making."
+
+"And by that," cried John Law, "know, then the better of the truth.
+Listen! I know! And this is what I know--that I shall succeed, and that
+I shall love you always!"
+
+"'Tis what one hears often from men, in one form or another," said the
+girl, coolly, seating herself as she spoke.
+
+"Talk not to me of other men--I'll not brook it!" cried he, advancing
+toward her a few rapid paces. "Think you I have no heart?" His eye
+gleamed, and he came on yet a step in his strange wooing. "Your face is
+here, here," he cried, "deep in my heart! I must always look upon it, or
+I am a lost man!"
+
+"'Tis a face not so fair as that," said the Lady Catharine, demurely.
+
+"'Tis the fairest face in England, or in the world!" cried her lover;
+and now he was close at her side. Her hand, she knew not how, rested in
+his own. Something of the honesty and freedom from coquetry of the young
+woman's nature showed in her next speech, inconsequent, illogical,
+almost unmaidenly in its swift sincerity and candor.
+
+"'Tis a face but blemished," said she, slowly, the color rising to her
+cheek. "See! Here is the birth-mark of the house of Knollys. They tell
+me--my very good friends tell me, that this is the mark of shame, the
+bar sinister of the hand of justice. You know the story of our house."
+
+"Somewhat of it," said Law.
+
+"My brother is not served of the writ when Parliament is called. This
+you know. Tell me why?"
+
+"I know the so-called reason," replied John Law. "'Twas brought out in
+his late case at the King's Bench."
+
+"True. 'Twas said that my grandfather, past eighty, was not the father
+of those children of his second wife. There is talk that--"
+
+"'Twas three generations ago, this talk of the Knollys shortcoming. I am
+not eighty. I am twenty-four, and I love you, Catharine Knollys."
+
+"It was three generations ago," said the Lady Catharine, slowly and
+musingly, as though she had not heard the speech of her suitor. "Three
+generations ago. Yet never since then hath there been clean name for the
+Banbury estate. Never yet hath its peer sat in his rightful place in
+Parliament. And never yet hath eldest daughter of this house failed to
+show this mark of shame, this unpurged contempt for that which is
+ordained. Surely it would seem fate holds us in its hands."
+
+"You tell me these things," said John Law, "because you feel it is right
+to tell them. And I tell you of my future, as you tell me of your past.
+Why? Because, Lady Catharine Knollys, it has already come to matter of
+faith between us."
+
+The girl leaned back against the wall near which she had seated herself.
+The young man bent forward, taking both her hands quietly in his own
+now, and gazing steadily into her eyes. There was no triumph in his
+gaze. Perhaps John Law had prescience of the future.
+
+"Oh, sir, I had far liefer I had never seen you," cried Catharine
+Knollys, bending a head from whose eyes there dropped sudden tears.
+
+"Ah, dear heart, say anything but that!"
+
+"'Tis a hard way a woman must travel at best in this world," murmured
+the Lady Catharine, with wisdom all unsuited to her youth. "But I can
+not understand. I had thought that the coming of a lover was a joyous
+thing, a time of happiness alone."
+
+"Ah, now, in the hour of mist can you not foresee the time of sunshine?
+All life is before us, my sweet, all life. There is much for us to do,
+there are so many, many days of love and happiness."
+
+But now the Lady Catharine Knollys veered again, with some sudden change
+of the inner currents of the feminine soul.
+
+"I have gone far with you, Mr. Law," said she, suddenly disengaging her
+hand. "Yet I did but give you insight of things which any man coming as
+you have come should have well within his knowledge. Think not, sir,
+that I am easy to be won. I must know you equally honest with myself.
+And if you come to my regard, it must be step by step and stair by
+stair. This is to be remembered."
+
+"I shall remember."
+
+"Go, then, and leave me for this time," she besought him. But still he
+could not go, and still the Lady Catharine could not bid him more
+sternly to depart. Youth--youth, and love, and fate were in that room;
+and these would have their way.
+
+The beseeching gaze of an eye singular in its power rested on the girl,
+a gaze filled with all the strange, half mandatory pleading of youth and
+yearning. Once more there came a shift in the tidal currents of the
+woman's heart. The Lady Catharine slowly became conscious of a delicious
+helplessness, of a sinking and yielding which she could not resist. Her
+head lost power to be erect. It slipped forward on a shoulder waiting as
+by right. Her breath came in soft measure, and unconsciously a hand was
+raised to touch the cheek pressed down to hers. John Law kissed her once
+upon the lips. Suddenly, without plan--in spite of all plan--the seal of
+a strange fate was set forever on her life!
+
+For a long moment they stood thus, until at length she raised a face
+pale and sharp, and pushed back against his breast a hand that trembled.
+
+"'Tis wondrous strange," she whispered.
+
+"Ask nothing," said John Law, "fear nothing. Only believe, as I
+believe."
+
+Neither John Law nor the Lady Catharine Knollys saw what was passing
+just without the room. They did not see the set face which looked down
+from the stairway. Through the open door Mary Connynge could see the
+young man as he stepped out of the door, could see the conduct of the
+girl now left alone in the drawing-room. She saw the Lady Catharine sink
+down upon the seat, her head drooped in thought, her hand lying
+languidly out before her. Pale now and distraught, the Lady Catharine
+Knollys wist little of what went on before her. She had full concern
+with the tumult which waged riot in her soul.
+
+Mary Connynge turned, and started back up the stair unseen. She paused,
+her yellow eyes gone narrow, her little hand clutched tight upon the
+rail.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+IN SEARCH OF THE QUARREL
+
+
+As Law turned away from the door of the Knollys mansion, he walked with
+head bent forward, not looking upon the one hand or the other. He raised
+his eyes only when a passing horseman had called thrice to him.
+
+"What!" cried Sir Arthur Pembroke. "I little looked to see you here, Mr.
+Law. I thought it more likely you were engaged in other business--"
+
+"Meaning by that--?"
+
+"What should I mean, except that I supposed you preparing for your
+little affair with Wilson?"
+
+"My little affair?"
+
+"Certainly, with Wilson, as I said. I saw our friend Castleton but now,
+and he advised me of your promptness. He had searched for you for days,
+he being chosen by Wilson for his friend--and said he had at last found
+you in your lodgings. Egad! I have mistook your kidney completely. Never
+in London was a duel brought on so swift. 'Fight? This afternoon!' said
+you. Jove! but the young bloods laughed when they heard of it. 'Bloody
+Scotland' is what they have christened you at the Green Lion. 'He said
+to me,' said Charlie, 'that he was slow to find a quarrel, but since
+this quarrel was brought home to him, 'twere meet 'twere soon finished.
+He thought, forsooth, that four o'clock of the afternoon were late
+enough.' Gad! But you might have given Wilson time at least for one more
+dinner."
+
+"What do you mean?" exclaimed Law, mystified still.
+
+"Mean! Why, I mean that I've been scouring London to find you. My faith,
+man, but thou'rt a sudden actor! Where caught you this unseemly haste?"
+
+"Sir Arthur," said the other, slowly, "you do me too much justice. I
+have made no arrangement to meet Mr. Wilson, nor have I any wish to do
+so."
+
+"Pish, man! You must not jest with me in such a case as this. 'Tis no
+masquerading. Let me tell you, Wilson has a vicious sword, and a temper
+no less vicious. You have touched him on his very sorest spot. He has
+gone to meet you this very hour. His coach will be at Bloomsbury Square
+this afternoon, and there he will await you. I promise you he is eager
+as yourself. 'Tis too late now to accommodate this matter, even had you
+not sent back so prompt and bold an answer."
+
+"I have sent him no answer at all!" cried Law. "I have not seen
+Castleton at all."
+
+"Oh, come!" expostulated Sir Arthur, his face showing a flush of
+annoyance.
+
+"Sir Arthur," continued Law, as he raised his head, "I am of the
+misfortune to be but young in London, and I am in need of your
+friendship. I find myself pressed for rapid transportation. Pray you,
+give me your mount, for I must have speed. I shall not need the service
+of your seconding. Indulge me now by asking no more, and wait until we
+meet again. Give me the horse, and quickly."
+
+"But you must be seconded!" cried the other. "This is too unusual.
+Consider!" Yet all the time he was giving a hand at the stirrup of Law,
+who sprang up and was off before he had time to formulate his own
+wonder.
+
+"Who and what is he?" muttered the young nobleman to himself as he gazed
+after the retreating form. "He rides well, at least, as he does
+everything else well. 'Till I return,' forsooth, 'till I return!' Gad! I
+half wish you had never come in the first place, my Bloody Scotland!"
+
+As for Law, he rode swiftly, asking at times his way, losing time here,
+gaining it again there, creating much hatred among foot folk by his
+tempestuous speed, but giving little heed to aught save his own purpose.
+In time he reached Bradwell Street and flung himself from his panting
+horse in front of the dingy door of the lodging house. He rushed up the
+stairs at speed and threw open the door of the little room. It was
+empty.
+
+There was no word to show what his brother had done, whither he had
+gone, when he would return. Around the lodgings in Bradwell Street lay a
+great and unknown London, with its own secrets, its own hatreds, its own
+crimes. A strange feeling of oncoming ill seized upon the heart of Law,
+as he stood in the center of the dull little room, now suddenly grown
+hateful to him. He dashed his hand upon the table, and stood so, scarce
+knowing which way to turn. A foot sounded in the hallway, and he went to
+the door. The ancient landlady confronted him. "Where has my brother
+gone?" he demanded, fiercely, as she came into view along the
+ill-lighted passage-way.
+
+"Gone, good sir?" said she, quaveringly. "Why, how should I know where
+he has gone? More quality has been here this morning than ever I saw in
+Bradwell Street in all my life. First comes a coach this morning, with
+four horses as fine as the king's, and a man atop would turn your
+blood, he was that solemn-like, sir. Then your brother was up here
+alone, sir, and very still. I will swear he was never out of this room.
+Then, but an hour ago, here comes another coach, as big as the first,
+and yellower. And out of it steps another fine lord, and he bows to your
+brother, and in they get, and off goes the coach. But, God help me, sir!
+How should I know which way they went, or what should be their errand?
+Methinks it must be some servant come from the royal palace. Sir, be you
+two of the nobility? And if you be, why come you here to Bradwell
+Street? Sir, I am but a poor woman. If you be not of the nobility, then
+you must be either coiners or smugglers. Sir, I am bethought that you
+are dangerous guests in my house. I am a poor woman, as you know."
+
+Law flung a coin at her as he sped through the hall and down the stair.
+"'Twas to Bloomsbury Square," he said, as he sprang into saddle and set
+heel to the flank of the good horse. "To Bloomsbury Square, then, and
+fast!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+THE RUMOR OF THE QUARREL
+
+
+Meantime, at the Knollys mansion, there were forthcoming other parts of
+the drama of the day. The butler announced to Lady Catharine, still
+sitting dreaming by the window, Sir Arthur Pembroke, now late arrived on
+foot. Lady Catharine hesitated. "Show the gentleman to this room," she
+said at length.
+
+Pembroke came forward eagerly as he entered. "Such a day of it, Lady
+Kitty!" he exclaimed, impulsively. "You will pardon me for coming thus,
+when I say I have just been robbed of my horse. 'Twas at your very door,
+and methinks you must know the highwayman. I have come to tell you of
+the news."
+
+"You don't mean--"
+
+"Yes, but I do! 'Twas no less than Mr. Law, of Scotland. He hath taken
+my horse and gone off like a whirlwind, leaving me afoot and friendless,
+save for your good self. I am begging a taste of tea and a little
+biscuit, for I vow I am half famished."
+
+The Lady Catharine Knollys, in sheer reaction from the strain, broke out
+into a peal of laughter.
+
+"Sure, he has strange ways about him, this same Mr. Law," said she.
+"That young man would have come here direct, and would have made himself
+quite at home, methinks, had he had but the first encouragement."
+
+"Gad! Lady Catharine, but he has a conceit of himself. Think you of what
+he has done in his short stay here in town! First, as you know, he sat
+at cards with two or three of us the other evening--Charlie Castleton,
+Beau Wilson, myself and one or two besides. And what doth he do but
+stake a bauble against good gold that he would make _sept et le va_."
+
+"And did it?"
+
+"And did it. Yes, faith, as though he saw it coming. Yet 'twas I who cut
+and dealt the cards. Nor was that the half of it," he went on. "He let
+the play run on till 'twas _seize et le va_, then _vingt-un et le va_,
+then twenty-five. And, strike me! Lady Catharine, if he sat not there
+cool as my Lord Speaker in the Parliament, and saw the cards run to
+_trente et le va_, as though 'twere no more to him than the eating of an
+orange!"
+
+"And showed no anxiety at all?"
+
+"None, as I tell you, and he proved to us plain that he had not
+two-pence to his name, for that he had been robbed the night before
+while on his way to town. He staked a diamond, a stone of worth. I must
+say, his like was never seen at cards."
+
+"He hath strange quality."
+
+"That you may say. Now read me some farther riddles of this same young
+man. He managed to win from me a little shoe of an American savage,
+which I had bought at a good price but the day before. It came to idle
+talk of ladies' shoes, and wagers--well, no matter; and so Mr. Law
+brought on a sudden quarrel with Beau Wilson. Then, though he seemed not
+wanting courage, he half declined to face Wilson on the field. Sudden
+to change as ever, this very morning he sent word to Wilson by Mr.
+Castleton that he was ready to meet him at four this afternoon. God save
+us! what a haste was there! And now, to cap it all, he hath taken my
+horse from me and ridden off to keep an appointment which he says he
+never made! Gad! These he odd ways enough, and almost too keen for me to
+credit. Why, 'twould not surprise me to hear that he had been here to
+make love to the Lady Catharine Knollys, and to offer her the proceeds
+of his luck at faro. And, strike me! if that same luck holds, he'll
+have all the money in London in another fortnight! I wish him joy of
+Wilson."
+
+"He may be hurt!" exclaimed the Lady Catharine, starting up.
+
+"Who? Beau Wilson?" exclaimed Sir Arthur. "Take no fear. He carries a
+good blade."
+
+"Sir Arthur," said the girl, "is there no way to stop this foolish
+matter? Is there not yet time?"
+
+"Why, as to that," said Sir Arthur, "it all depends upon the speed of my
+own horse. I should think myself e'en let off cheaply if he took the
+horse and rode on out of London, and never turned up again. Yet, I
+bethink me, he has a way of turning up. If so, then we are too late. Let
+him go. For me, I'd liefer sit me here with Lady Catharine, who, I
+perceive, is about now to save my death of hunger, since now I see the
+tea tray coming. Thank thee prettily."
+
+Lady Catharine poured for him with a hand none too steady. "Sir Arthur,"
+said she, "you know why I have this concern over such a quarrel. You
+know well enough what the duello has cost the house of Knollys. Of my
+uncles, four were killed upon this so-called field of honor. My
+grandfather met his death in that same way. Another relative, before my
+time, is reputed to have slain a friend in this same manner. As you
+know, but three years ago, my brother, the living representative of our
+family, had the misfortune to slay his kinsman in a duel which sprang
+out of some little jest. I say to you, Sir Arthur, that this quarrel
+must be stopped, and we must do thus much for our friends forthwith. It
+must not go on."
+
+"For our friends! Our friends!" cried Sir Arthur. "Ah, ha! so you mean
+that the old beau hath hit thee, too, with his ardent eye. Or--hang!
+What--you mean not that this stranger, this Scotchman, is a friend of
+yours?"
+
+"I speak but confusedly," said the Lady Catharine. "'Tis my prejudice
+against such fighting, as you know. Can we not make haste, and so
+prevent this meeting?"
+
+"Oh, I doubt if there be much need of haste," said Sir Arthur, balancing
+his cup in his hand judicially. "This matter will fall through at most
+for the day. They assuredly can not meet until to-morrow. This will be
+the talk of London, if it goes on in this pell-mell, hurly-burly
+fashion. As to the stopping of it--well now, the law under William and
+Mary saith that one who slays another in a duel of premeditation is
+nothing but a murderer, and may be hanged like any felon; hanged by the
+neck, till he be dead. Alas, what a fate for this pretty Scotchman!"
+
+Sir Arthur paused. A look of wonder swept across his face. "Open the
+window, Annie!" he cried suddenly to the servant. "Your mistress is
+ill."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+AS CHANCE DECREED
+
+
+Mischance delayed the carriage of Beau Wilson in its journeying to
+Bloomsbury Square. It had not appeared at that moment, far toward
+evening, when John Law, riding a trembling and dripping steed, came upon
+one side of this little open common and gazed anxiously across the
+space. He saw standing across from him a carriage, toward which he
+dashed. He flung open the carriage door, crying out, even before he saw
+the face within.
+
+"Will! Will Law, I say, come out!" called he. "What mad trick is this?
+What--"
+
+He saw indeed the face of Will Law inside the carriage, a face pale,
+melancholy, and yet firm.
+
+"Get you back into the city!" cried Will Law. "This is no place for you,
+Jack."
+
+"Boy! Are you mad, entirely mad?" cried Law, pushing his way directly
+into the carriage and reaching out with an arm of authority for the
+sword which he saw resting beside his brother against the seat. "No
+place for me! 'Tis no place for you, for either of us. Turn back. This
+foolishness must go no further!"
+
+"It must go on now to the end," said Will Law, wearily. "Mr. Wilson's
+carriage is long past due."
+
+"But you--what do you mean? You've had no hand in this. Even had
+you--why, boy, you would be spitted in an instant by this fellow."
+
+"And would not that teach you to cease your mad pranks, and use to
+better purpose the talents God hath given you? Yours is the better
+chance, Jack."
+
+"Peace!" cried John Law, tears starting to his eyes. "I'll not argue
+that. Driver, turn back for home!"
+
+The coachman at the box touched his hat with a puzzled air. "I beg
+pardon, sir," said he, "but I was under orders of the gentleman inside."
+
+"You were sent for Mr. John Law."
+
+"For Mr. Law--"
+
+"But I am John Law, sirrah!"
+
+"You are both Mr. Law? Well, sir, I scarce know which of you is the
+proper Mr. Law. But I must say that here comes a coach drove fast
+enough, and perhaps this is the gentleman I was to wait for, according
+to the first Mr. Law, sir."
+
+"He is coming, then," cried John Law, angrily. "I'll see into this
+pretty meeting. If this devil's own fool is to have a crossing of steel,
+I'll fair accommodate him, and we'll look into the reasons for it later.
+Sit ye down! Be quiet, Will, boy, I say!"
+
+Law was a powerful man, over six feet in height. The sports of the
+Highlands, combined with much fencing and continuous play in the tennis
+court, indeed his ardent love for every hardy exercise, had given his
+form alike solid strength and great activity. "Jessamy Law," they called
+him at home, in compliment of his slender though full and manly form.
+Cool and skilful in all the games of his youth, as John Law himself had
+often calmly stated, in fence he had a knowledge amounting to science, a
+knowledge based upon the study of first principles. The intricacies of
+the Italian school were to him an old story. With the single blade he
+had never yet met his master. Indeed, the thought of successful
+opposition seemed never to occur to him at all. Certainly at this
+moment, angered at the impatient insolence of his adversary, the thought
+of danger was farthest from his mind. Stronger than his brother, he
+pushed the latter back with one hand, grasping as he did so the
+small-sword with which the latter was provided. With one leap he sprang
+from the carriage, leaving Will half dazed and limp within.
+
+Even as he left the carriage step, he found himself confronted with an
+adversary eager as himself; for at that instant Beau Wilson was
+hastening from his coach. Vain, weak and pompous in a way, yet lacking
+not in a certain personal valor, Beau Wilson stopped not for his
+seconds, tarried not to catch the other's speech, but himself strode
+madly onward, his point raised slightly, as though he had lost all care
+and dignity and desired nothing so much as to stab his enemy as swiftly
+as might be.
+
+It would have mattered nothing now to this Highlander, this fighting
+Argyll, what had been the reason animating his opponent. It was enough
+that he saw a weapon bared. Too late, then, to reason with John Law,
+"Beau" Law of Edinboro', "Jessamy" Law, the best blade and the coolest
+head in all the schools of arms that taught him fence.
+
+For a moment Law paused and raised his point, whether in query or in
+salute the onlookers scarce could tell. Sure it was that Wilson was the
+first to fall into the assault. Scarce pausing in his stride, he came on
+blindly, and, raising his own point, lunged straight for his opponent's
+breast. Sad enough was the fate which impelled him to do this thing.
+
+It was over in an instant. It could not be said that there was an
+actual encounter. The side step of the young Highlander was soft as that
+of a panther, as quick, and yet as full of savagery. The whipping over
+of his wrist, the gliding, twining, clinging of his blade against that
+of his enemy was so swift that eye could scarce have followed it. The
+eye of Beau Wilson was too slow to catch it or to guard. He never
+stopped the _riposte_, and indeed was too late to attempt any guard.
+Pierced through the body, Wilson staggered back, clapping his hands
+against his chest. Over his face there swept a swift series of changes.
+Anger faded to chagrin, that to surprise, surprise to fright, and that
+to gentleness.
+
+"Sir," said he, "you've hit me fair, and very hard. I pray you, some
+friend, give me an arm."
+
+And so they led him to his carriage, and took him home a corpse. Once
+more the code of the time had found its victim.
+
+Law turned away from the coach of his smitten opponent, turned away with
+a face stern and full of trouble. Many things revolved themselves in his
+mind as he stepped slowly towards the carriage, in which his brother
+still sat wringing his hands in an agony of perturbation.
+
+"Jack, Jack!" cried Will Law, "Oh, heavens! You have killed him! You
+have killed a man! What shall we do?"
+
+Law raised his head and looked his brother in the face, but seemed
+scarce to hear him. Half mechanically he was fumbling in the side pocket
+of his coat. He drew forth from it now a peculiar object, at which he
+gazed intently and half in curiosity, It was the little beaded shoe of
+the Indian woman, the very object over which this ill-fated quarrel had
+arisen, and which now seemed so curiously to intermingle itself with his
+affairs.
+
+"'Twas a slight shield enough," he said slowly to himself, "yet it
+served. But for this little piece of hide, methinks there might be two
+of us going home to-day to take somewhat of rest."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+FOR FELONY
+
+
+Late in the afternoon of the day following the encounter in Bloomsbury
+Square, a little group of excited loiterers filled the entrance and
+passage way at 59 Bradwell Street, the former lodgings of the two young
+gentlemen from Scotland. The motley assemblage seemed for the most part
+to make merry at the expense of a certain messenger boy, who bore a long
+wicker box, which presently he shifted from his shoulder to a more
+convenient resting place on the curb.
+
+"Do 'ee but look at un," said one ancient dame. "He! he! Hath a parcel
+of fine clothes for the tall gentleman was up in third floor! He! he!
+Clothes for Mr. Law, indeed!"
+
+"Fine clothes, eh?" cried another, a portly dame of certain years. "Much
+fine clothes he'll need where he'm gone."
+
+"Yes, indeed, that he will na. Bad luck 'twas to Mary Cullen as took un
+into her house. Now she's no lodging money for her rooms, and her
+lodgers be both in Newgate; least ways, one of un."
+
+"Ah now, 'tis a pity for Mary Cullen, she do need the money so much--"
+
+"Shut ye all your mouths, the lot o' you," cried Mary Cullen herself,
+appearing at the door. "'Tis not she is needing the little money, for
+she has it right here in the corner of her apron. Every stiver Mary
+Cullen's young men said they'd pay they paid, like the gentlemen they
+were. I'll warrant the raggle of ye would do well to make out fine as
+Mary Cullen hath."
+
+"Oh now, is that true, Mary Cullen?" said a voice. "'Twas said that
+these two were noble folk come here for the sport of it."
+
+"What else but true? Do you never know the look of gentry? My fakes,
+I'll warrant the young gentleman is back within a fortnight. His
+brother, the younger one, said to me hisself but this very morn, his
+brother was hinnocent as a child; that he was obliged to strike the
+other man for fear of his own life. Now, what can judge do but turn un
+loose? Four sovereigns he gave me this very morn. What else can judge do
+but turn un free? Tell me that, now!"
+
+"Let's see the fine clothes," said the first old lady to the apprentice
+boy, reaching out a hand and pulling at the corner of the box-lid. The
+youth was nothing loath to show, with professional pride, the quality of
+his burden, and so raised the lid.
+
+"Land save us! 'Tis gentry sure enough they are," cried the inquisitive
+one. "Do-a look in there! Such clothes and laces, such a brand new wig,
+such silken hose! Law o' land! Must have cost all of forty crowns. Mary
+Cullen, right ye are; 'twas quality ye had with ye, even if 'twas but
+for little while."
+
+"And them gone to prison, him on trial for his life! I saw un ride out
+this very yesterday, fast as though the devil was behind un, and a finer
+body of a man never did I look at in my life. What pity 'tis, what pity
+'tis!"
+
+"Well," said the apprentice, with a certain superiority in his air. "I
+dare wait no longer. My master said the gentleman was to have the
+clothes this very afternoon. So if to prison he be gone, to prison must
+I go too." Upon which he set off doggedly, and so removed one of the
+main causes for the assemblage at the curb.
+
+The apprentice was hungry and weary enough before he reached the somber
+portals, yet his insistence won past gate-keeper and turnkey, one after
+another, till at length he reached the jailer who adjudged himself fit
+to pass upon the stolid demand that the messenger be admitted with the
+parcel for John Law, Esquire, late of Bradwell Street, marked urgent,
+and collect fifty sovereigns. The humor of all this appealed to the
+jailer mightily.
+
+"Send him along," he said. And the boy came in, much dismayed but still
+faithful to his trust.
+
+"Please, sir," said the youth, "I would know if ye have John Law,
+Esquire, in this place; and if so, I would see him. Master said I was
+not to bring back this parcel till that I had seen John Law, Esquire,
+and got from him fifty sovereigns. 'Tis for his wedding, sir, and the
+clothes are of the finest."
+
+The jailer smiled grimly. "Mr. Law gets presents passing soon," said he.
+"Set down your box. It might be weapons or the like."
+
+"Some clothes," said the apprentice. "Some very fine clothes. They are
+of our best."
+
+"Ha! ha!" roared the jailer. "Here indeed be a pretty jest. Much need
+he'll have of fine clothes here. He'll soon take his coat off the rack
+like the rest, and happen it fits him, very well. Take back your box,
+boy--or stay, let's have a look in't."
+
+The jailer was a man not devoid of wisdom. Fine clothes sometimes went
+with a long purse, and a long purse might do wonders to help the comfort
+of any prisoner in London, as well as the comfort of his keeper. Truly
+his eyes opened wide as he saw the contents of the box. He felt the
+lapel of the coat, passing it approvingly between his thumb and finger.
+"Well, e'en set ye down the box, lad," said he, "and wait till I see
+where Mr. Law has gone. Hum, hum! What saith the record? Charged that
+said prisoner did kill--hum, hum! Taken of said John Law six sovereigns,
+three shillings and sixpence. Item, one snuff-box, gilt. Hour of
+admission, five o'clock of the afternoon. We shall see, we shall see."
+
+"Sir," said the jailer, approaching the prisoner and his brother, who
+both remained in the detention room, "a lad hath arrived bearing a
+parcel for John Law, Esquire. 'Tis not within possibility that you have
+these goods, but we would know what disposition we shall make of them."
+
+"By my faith!" cried Law, "I had entirely forgot my haberdasher."
+
+The jailer stood on one foot and gave a cough, unnecessarily loud but
+sufficiently significant. It was enough for the quick wit of Law.
+
+"There was fifty sovereigns on the charge list," said the jailer.
+
+"Sixty sovereigns, I heard you say distinctly," replied Law. "Will, give
+me thy purse, man!"
+
+Will Law obeyed automatically.
+
+"There," said John Law to the jailer. "I am sure the garments will be
+very proper. Is it not all very proper?"
+
+The turnkey looked calmly into the face of his prisoner and as calmly
+replied: "It is, sir, as you say, very proper."
+
+"It would be much relief," said John Law, as the turnkey again appeared,
+bearing the box in his own hands, "if I might don my new garments. I
+would liefer make a good showing for thy house, friend, and can not, in
+this garb."
+
+"Sirrah," said the jailer, "there be rules of this place, as you very
+well know. Your little chamber was to have been in corridor number four,
+number twelve of the left aisle. But, sir, as perhaps you know, there be
+rules which are rules, and rules which are not so much--that is to
+say--rules, as you might put it, sir. The main thing is that I produce
+your body on the day of the hearing, which cometh soon. Meantime, since
+you seem a gentleman, and are in for no common felony, but charged, as I
+might say, with a light offense, why, sir, in such a case, I might say
+that a gentleman like yourself, if he cared to wear a bit of good
+clothes and wear it here in the parlor like, why, sir, I can see no harm
+in it. And that's competent to prove, as the judge says."
+
+"Very well, then," said Law, "I'll e'en deck out with the gear I should
+have had to-night had I been free; though I fear my employment this
+evening will scarce be pleasing as that which I had planned. Will, had I
+had but one more night at the Green Lion, we'd e'en have needed a
+special chair to carry home my winnings of their English gold."
+
+Enter then, a few moments later, "Beau" Law, "Jessamy" Law, late of
+Edinboro', gentleman, and a right gallant figure of a man. Tall he was
+indeed, and, so clad, making a picture of superb manhood. Ease and grace
+he showed in every movement. His long fingers closed lightly at top of a
+lacquered cane which he had found within the box. Deep ruffles of white
+hung down from his wrists, and a fall of wide lace drooped from the
+bosom of his ruffled shirt. His wig, deep curled and well whitened, gave
+a certain austerity to his mien. At his instep sparkled new buckles of
+brilliants, rising above which sprang a graceful ankle, a straight and
+well-rounded leg. The long lapels of his rich coat hung deep, and the
+rich waistcoat of plum-colored satin added slimness to a torso not too
+bulky in itself. Neat, dainty, fastidious, "Jessamy" Law, late of
+Edinboro', for some weeks of London, and now of a London prison, scarce
+seemed a man about to be put on trial for his life.
+
+He advanced from the door of the side room with ease and dignity.
+Reaching out a snuff-box which he had found in the silken pocket of his
+new garment, he extended it to the turnkey with an indifferent gesture.
+
+"Kindly have it filled with maccaboy," he said. "See, 'tis quite empty,
+and as such, 'tis useless."
+
+"Certainly, Captain Law," said the turnkey. "I am a man as knows what a
+gentleman likes, and many a one I've had here in my day, sir. As it
+chances, I've a bit of the best in my own quarters, and I'll see that
+you have what you like."
+
+"Will," said Law to his brother, who had scarce moved during all this,
+"come, cheer up! One would think 'twas thyself was to be inmate here,
+and not another."
+
+Will Law burst into tears.
+
+"God knows, 'twere better myself, and not thee, Jack," he said.
+
+"Pish! boy, no more of that! 'Twas as chance would have it. I'm never
+meant for staying here. Come, take this letter, as I said, and make
+haste to carry it. 'Twill serve nothing to have you moping here. Fare
+you well, and see that you sleep sound."
+
+Will Law turned, obedient as ever to the commands of the superior mind.
+He passed out through the heavily-guarded door as the turnkey swung it
+for him; passed out, turned and looked back. He saw his brother standing
+there, easy, calm, indifferent, a splendid figure of a man.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+THE MESSAGE
+
+
+To Will Law, as he turned away from the prison gate upon the errand
+assigned to him, the vast and shapeless shadows of the night-covered
+city took the form of appalling monsters, relentless, remorseless,
+savage of purpose. He passed, as one in some hideous dream, along
+streets that wound and wound until his brain lost distance and
+direction. It might have been an hour, two hours, and the clock might
+have registered after midnight, when at last he discovered himself in
+front of the dark gray mass of stone which the chairmen assured him was
+his destination. It was with trepidation that he stepped to the
+half-lighted door and fumbled for the knocker. The door slowly swung
+open, and he was confronted by the portly presence of a lackey who stood
+in silence waiting for his word.
+
+"A message for Lady Catharine Knollys," said Will, with what courage he
+could summon. "'Tis of importance, I make no doubt." For it was to the
+Lady Catharine that John Law had first turned. His heart craved one
+more sight of the face so beloved, one more word from the voice which so
+late had thrilled his soul. Away from these--ah! that was the prison for
+him, these were the bars which to him seemed imperatively needful to be
+broken. Aid he did not think of asking. Only, across London, in the
+night, he had sent the cry of his heart: "Come to me!"
+
+"The Lady Catharine is not in at this hour," said the butler, with, some
+asperity, closing the door again in part.
+
+"But 'tis important. I doubt if 'twill bear the delay of a night."
+Indeed, Will Law had hitherto hardly paused to reflect how unusual was
+this message, from such a person, to such address, and at such an hour.
+
+The butler hesitated, and so did the unbidden guest at the door. Neither
+heard at first the light rustle of garments at the head of the stair,
+nor saw the face bent over the balustrade in the shadows of the hall.
+
+"What is it, James?" asked a voice from above.
+
+"A message for the Lady Catharine," replied the servant. "Said to be
+important. What should I do?"
+
+"Lady Catharine Knollys is away," said the soft voice of Mary Connynge,
+speaking from the stair. Her voice came nearer as she now descended and
+appeared at the first landing.
+
+"We may crave your pardon, sir," said she, "that we receive you so ill,
+but the hour is very late. Lady Catharine is away, and Sir Charles is
+forth also, as usual, at this time. I am left proxy for my entertainers,
+and perhaps I may serve you in this case. Therefore pray step within."
+
+Reluctantly the butler swung open the door and admitted the visitor.
+Will Law stood face to face with Mary Connynge, just from her boudoir,
+and with time for but half care as to the details of her toilet; yet
+none the less Mary Connynge, Eve-like, bewitching, endowed with all the
+ancient wiles of womankind. Will Law gazed, since this was his fate.
+Unconsciously the sorcery of the sight enfolded the youth as he stood
+there uncertainly. He saw the round throat, the heavy masses of the dark
+hair, the full round form. He noted, though he could not define; felt,
+though he could not classify. He was young. Utterly helpless might have
+been even an older man in the hands of Mary Connynge at a time like
+this, Mary Connynge deliberately seeking to ensnare.
+
+"Pardon this robe, but half concealing," said her drooping eye and her
+half uplifted hands which caught the defining folds yet closer to her
+bosom. "'Tis in your chivalry I trust. I would not so with others." This
+to the beholder meant that he was the one man on earth to whom so much
+could be conceded.
+
+Therefore, following to his own undoing, as though led by some actual
+command, while but bidden gently by the softest voice in all the
+kingdom, the young man entered the great drawing-room and waited as the
+butler lessened the shadows by the aid of candles. He saw the smallest
+foot in London just peep in and out, suddenly withdrawn as Mary Connynge
+sat her down.
+
+She held the message now in her hand. In her soul sat burning
+impatience, in her heart contempt for the callow youth before her. Yet
+to that youth her attitude seemed to speak naught but deference for
+himself and doubt for this unusual situation.
+
+"Sir, I am in some hesitation," said Mary Connynge. "There is indeed
+none in the house except the servants. You say your message is of
+importance--"
+
+"It has indeed importance," responded Will. "It comes from my brother."
+
+"Your brother, Mr. Law?"
+
+"From my brother, John Law. He is in trouble. I make no doubt the
+message will set all plain."
+
+"'Tis most grievous that Lady Catharine return not till to-morrow."
+
+Mary Connynge shifted herself upon her seat, caught once more with swift
+modesty at the robe which fell from her throat. She raised her eyes and
+turned them full upon the visitor. Never had the spell of curve and
+color, never had the language of sex addressed this youth as it did now.
+Intoxicating enough was this vague, mysterious speech even at this
+inappropriate time. The girl knew that the mesh had fallen well. She but
+caught again at her robe, and cast down again her eyes, and voiced again
+her assumed anxiety. "I scarce know what to do," she murmured.
+
+"My brother did not explain--" said Will.
+
+"In that case," said Mary Connynge, her voice cool, though her soul was
+hot with impatience, "it might perhaps be well if I took the liberty of
+reading the message in Lady Catharine's absence. You say your brother is
+in trouble?"
+
+"Of the worst. Madam, to make plain with you, he is in prison, charged
+with the crime of murder."
+
+Mary Connynge sank back into her chair. The blood fled from her cheek.
+Her hands caught each other in a genuine gesture of distress.
+
+"In prison! John Law! Oh heaven! tell me how?" Her voice was trembling
+now.
+
+"My brother slew Mr. Wilson in a duel not of his own seeking. It
+happened yesterday, and so swift I scarce can tell you. He took up a
+quarrel which I had fixed to settle with Mr. Wilson myself. We all met
+at Bloomsbury Square, my brother coming in great haste. Of a sudden,
+after his fashion, he became enraged. He sprang from the carriage and
+met Mr. Wilson. And so--they passed a time or so, and 'twas done. Mr.
+Wilson died a few moments later. My brother was taken and lodged in
+jail. There is said to be bitter feeling at the court over this custom
+of dueling, and it has long been thought that an example would be made."
+
+"And this letter without doubt bears upon all this? Perhaps it might be
+well if I made both of us owners of its contents."
+
+"Assuredly, I should say," replied Will, too distracted to take full
+heed.
+
+The girl tore open the inclosure. She saw but three words, written
+boldly, firmly, addressed to no one, and signed by no one.
+
+"Come to me!" Thus spoke the message. This was the summons that had
+crossed black London town that night.
+
+Mary Connynge rose quickly to her feet, forgetting for the time the man
+who stood before her. The instant demanded all the resources of her
+soul. She fought to remain mistress of herself. A moment, and she
+passed Will Law with swift foot, and gained again the stairway in the
+hall, the letter still fast within her hand. Will Law had not time to
+ask its contents.
+
+"There is need of haste," said she. "James, have up the calash at once.
+Mr. Law, I crave your excuse for a time. In a moment I shall be ready to
+go with you."
+
+In two minutes she was sobbing alone, her face down upon the bed. In
+five, she was at the door, dressed, cloaked, smiling sweetly and ready
+for the journey. And thus it was that, of two women who loved John Law,
+that one fared on to see him for whom he had not sent.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+PRISONERS
+
+
+The turnkey at the inner door was slothful, sleepy and ill disposed to
+listen when he heard that certain callers would be admitted to the
+prisoner John Law.
+
+"Tis late," said he, "and besides, 'tis contrary to the rules. Must not
+a prison have rules? Tell me that!"
+
+"We have come to arrange for certain matters regarding Mr. Law's
+defense," said Mary Connynge, as she threw back her cloak and bent upon
+the turnkey the full glance of her dark eye. "Surely you would not deny
+us."
+
+The turnkey looked at Will Law with a hesitation in his attitude. "Why,
+this gentleman I know," he began.
+
+"Yes; let us in," cried Will Law, with sudden energy. "'Tis time that we
+took steps to set my brother free."
+
+"True, so say they all, young master," replied the turnkey, grinning.
+"'Tis easy to get ye in, but passing hard to get ye out again. Yet,
+since the young man ye wish to see is a very decent gentleman, and
+knoweth well the needs of a poor working body like myself, we will take
+the matter under advisement, as the court saith, forsooth."
+
+They passed through the heavy gates, down a narrow and heavy-aired
+passage, and finally into a naked room. It was here, in such somber
+surroundings, that Mary Connynge saw again the man whose image had been
+graven on her heart ever since that morn at Sadler's Wells. How her
+heart coveted him, how her blood leaped for him--these things the Mary
+Connynges of the world can tell, they who own the primeval heart of
+womankind.
+
+When John Law himself at length entered the room, he stepped forward at
+first confidently, eagerly, though with surprise upon his face. Then,
+with a sudden hesitation, he looked sharply at the figure which he saw
+awaiting him in the dingy room. His breath came sharp, and ended in a
+sigh. For a half moment his face flushed, his brow showed question and
+annoyance. Yet rapidly, after his fashion, he mastered himself.
+
+"Will," said he, calmly, to his brother, "kindly ask the coachman to
+wait for this lady."
+
+He stood for a moment gazing after the form of his brother as it
+disappeared in the outer shadows. For this half-moment he took swift
+counsel of himself. It was a face calm and noncommittal that he turned
+toward the girl who sat now in the darkest corner of the room, her head
+cast down, her foot beating a signal of perturbation upon the floor.
+From the corner of her eye Mary Connynge saw him, a tall and manly man,
+superbly clad, faultless in physique and raiment from top to toe. He
+stood as though ready to step into his carriage for some voyage to rout
+or ball. Youth, vigor, self-reliance, confidence, this was the whole
+message of the splendid figure. The blood of Mary Connynge, this
+survival, this half-savage woman, unregulated, unsubdued, leaped high
+within her bosom, fled to her face, gave color to her cheek and
+brightness to her eye. Her breath shortened after feline fashion. Deep
+was calling unto deep, ancient unto ancient, primitive unto primitive.
+Without the gate of London prison there was one abject prisoner. Within
+its gates there were two prisoners, and one of them was slave for life!
+
+"Madam," said John Law, in deep and vibrant tone, "you will pardon me if
+I say that it gives me surprise to see you here."
+
+"Yes; I have come," said the girl, not logically.
+
+"You bring, perhaps, some message?"
+
+"I--I brought a message."
+
+"It is from the Lady Catharine?"
+
+Mary Connynge was silent for a moment. It was necessary that, at least
+for a moment, the poison of some æons should distil. There was need of
+savagery to say what she proposed to say. The voice of training, of
+civilization, of unselfishness, of friendship raised a protest. Wait
+then for a moment. Wait until the bitterness of an ambitious and
+unrounded life could formulate this evil impulse. Wait, till Mary
+Connynge could summon treachery enough to slay her friend. And yet, wait
+only until the primitive soul of Mary Connynge should become altogether
+imperative in its demands! For after all, was not this friend a woman,
+and is not the earth builded as it is? And hath not God made male and
+female its inhabitants; and as there is war of male and male, is there
+not war of female and female, until the end of time?
+
+"I came from the Lady Catharine," said Mary Connynge, slowly, "but I
+bring no message from her of the sort which perhaps you wished." It was
+a desperate, reckless lie, a lie almost certain of detection yet it was
+the only resource of the moment, and a moment later it was too late to
+recall. One lie must now follow another, and all must make a deadly
+coil.
+
+"Madam, I am sorry," said John Law, quietly, yet his face twitched
+sharply at the impact of these cutting words. "Did you know of my letter
+to her?"
+
+"Am I not here?" said Mary Connynge.
+
+"True, and I thank you deeply. But how, why-pray you, understand that I
+would be set right. I would not undergo more than is necessary. Will you
+not explain?"
+
+"There is but little to explain--little, though it may mean much. It
+must be private. Your brother--he must never know. Promise me not to
+speak to him of this."
+
+"This means much to me, I doubt not, my dear lady," said John Law. "I
+trust I may keep my counsel in a matter which comes so close to me."
+
+"Yes, truly," replied Mary Connynge, "if you had set your heart upon a
+kindly answer."
+
+"What! You mean, then, that she--"
+
+"Do you promise?"
+
+The brows of Law settled deeper and deeper into the frown which marked
+him when he was perturbed. The blood, settled back, now slowly mounted
+again into his face, the resentful, fighting blood of the Highlander.
+
+"I promise," he cried. "And now, tell me what answer had the Lady
+Catharine Knollys."
+
+"She declined to answer," said Mary Connynge, slowly and evenly.
+"Declined to come. She said that she was ill enough pleased to hear of
+your brawling. Said that she doubted not the law would punish you, nor
+doubted that the law was just."
+
+John Law half whirled upon his heel, smote his hands together and
+laughed loud and bitterly.
+
+"Madam," said he, "I had never thought to say it to a woman, but in very
+justice I must tell you that I see quite through this shallow
+falsehood."
+
+"Sir," said Mary Connynge, her hands clutching at the arms of her chair,
+"this is unusual speech to a lady!"
+
+"But your story, Madam, is most unusual."
+
+"Tell me, then, why should I be here?" burst out the girl. "What is it
+to me? Why should I care what the Lady Catharine says or does? Why
+should I risk my own name to come of this errand in the night? Now let
+me pass, for I shall leave you."
+
+Tho swift jealous rage of Mary Connynge was unpremeditated, yet nothing
+had better served her real purpose. The stubborn nature of Law was ever
+ready for a challenge. He caught her arm, and placed her not unkindly
+upon the chair.
+
+"By heaven, I half believe what you say is true!" said he, as though to
+himself.
+
+"Yet you just said 'twas false," said the girl, her eyes flashing.
+
+"I meant that what you add is true, and hence the first also must be
+believed. Then you saw my message?"
+
+"I did, since it so fell out."
+
+"But you did not read the real message. I asked no aid of any one for my
+escape. I but asked her to come. In sheer truth, I wished but to see
+her."
+
+"And by what right could you expect that?"
+
+"I asked her as my affianced wife," replied John Law.
+
+Mary Connynge stood an inch taller, as she sprang to her feet in sudden
+scorn and bitterness.
+
+"Your affianced wife!" cried she. "What! So soon! Oh, rare indeed must
+be my opinion of this Lady Catharine!"
+
+"It was never my way to waste time on a journey," said John Law, coolly.
+
+"Your wife, your affianced wife?"
+
+"As I said."
+
+"Yes," cried Mary Connynge, bitterly, and again, unconsciously and in
+sheer anger, falling upon that course which best served her purpose.
+"And what manner of affianced wife is it would forsake her lover at the
+first breath of trouble? My God! 'tis then, it seems to me, a woman
+would most swiftly fly to the man she loved."
+
+John Law turned slowly toward her, his eyes scanning her closely from
+top to toe, noting the heaving of her bosom, the sparkling of her
+gold-colored eye, now darkened and half ready to dissolve in tears. He
+stood as though he were a judge, weighing the evidence before him,
+calmly, dispassionately.
+
+"Would you do so much as that, Mary Connynge?" asked John Law.
+
+"I, sir?" she replied. "Then why am I here to-night myself? But, God pity
+me, what have I said? There is nothing but misfortune in all my life!"
+
+It was one rebellious, unsubdued nature speaking to another, and of the
+two each was now having its own sharp suffering. The instant of doubt is
+the time of danger. Then comes revulsion, bitterness, despair, folly.
+John Law trod a step nearer.
+
+"By God! Madam," cried he, "I would I might believe you. I would I might
+believe that you, that any woman, would come to me at such a time! But
+tell me--and I bethink me my message was not addressed, was even
+unsigned--whom then may I trust? If this woman scorns my call at such a
+time, tell me, whom shall I hold faithful? Who would come to me at any
+time, in any case, in my trouble? Suppose my message were to you?"
+
+Mary Connynge stirred softly under her deep cloak. Her head was lifted
+slightly, the curve of cheek and chin showing in the light that fell
+from the little lamp. The masses of her dark hair lay piled about her
+face, tumbled by the sweeping of her hood. Her eyes showed tremulously
+soft and deep now as he looked into them. Her little hands half twitched
+a trifle from her lap and reached forward and upward. Primitive she
+might have been, wicked she was, sinfully sweet; and yet she was woman.
+It was with the voice of tears that she spoke, if one might claim
+vocalization for her speech.
+
+"Have I not come?" whispered she.
+
+"By God! Mary Connynge, yes, you have come!" cried Law. And though there
+was heartbreak in his voice, it sounded sweet to the ear of her who
+heard it, and who now reached up her arms about his neck.
+
+"Ah, John Law," said Mary Connynge, "when a woman loves--when a woman
+loves, she stops at nothing!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+IF THERE WERE NEED
+
+
+Time wore on in the ancient capital of England. The tramp of troops
+echoed in the streets, and the fleets of Britain made ready to carry her
+sons over seas for wars and for adventures. The intrigues of party
+against party, of church against church, of Parliament against king; the
+loves, the hates, the ambitions, the desires of all the city's hurrying
+thousands went on as ever. Who, then, should remember a single prisoner,
+waiting within the walls of England's jail? The hours wore on slowly
+enough for that prisoner. He had faced a jury of his peers and was
+condemned to face the gallows. Meantime he had said farewell to love and
+hope and faithfulness, even as he bade farewell to life. "Since she has
+forsaken me whom I thought faithful," said he to himself, "why, let it
+end, for life is a mockery I would not live out." And thenceforth,
+haggard but laughing, pale but with unbroken courage, he trod on his way
+through his few remaining days, the wonder of those who saw him.
+
+As for Mary Connynge, surely she had matters enough which were best kept
+secret in her own soul. While Lady Catharine was hoping, and praying,
+and dreaming and believing, even as the roses left her cheek and the
+hollows fell beneath her eyes, she saw about her in the daily walks of
+life Mary Connynge, sleek and rounded as ever. They sat at table
+together, and neither did the one make sign to the other of her own
+anxiety, nor did that other give sign of her own treachery. Mary
+Connynge, false guest, false friend, false woman, deceived so perfectly
+that she left no indication of deceit. She herself knew, and blindly
+satisfied herself with the knowledge, that she alone now came close into
+the life of "Beau" Law, the convict; "Jessamy" Law, the student, the
+financier, the thinker; John Law, her lord and master. Herein she found
+the sole compensation possible in her savage nature. She had found the
+master whom she sought!
+
+Cynically mirthful or irreverently indifferent, yet never did her
+master's strength forsake him, never did his heart lose its
+undauntedness. And when he bade Mary Connynge do this or that she obeyed
+him; when he bade her arise she arose; at his word she came or departed.
+A dozen nights in the month she was absent from the house of Knollys. A
+dozen nights Will Law was cozened into frenzy, alternating between a
+heaven of delight and a hell of despair, and ignorant of her twofold
+duplicity. A dozen nights John Law knew well enough where Mary Connynge
+was, though no one else might know. There was feminine triumph now in
+full in the heart of this Mary Connynge, who had gone white with rage at
+the sight of a rose offered across her face to another woman. Had she
+not her master? Was he not hers, all hers, belonging in no wise to any
+other?
+
+For the future, Mary Connynge did not ponder it. An ephemera, once
+buried generations deep in the mire and slime of lower conditions, and
+now craving blindly but the sunlight of the day, she would have sought
+the deadly caress of life even though at that moment it had sealed her
+doom. Foolish or wise, she was as she was; since, under our frail
+society, life is as it is.
+
+Only at night, on those nights when she was sleepless on her own couch
+beneath the roof of Catharine Knollys, did Mary Connynge allow herself
+to think. Tell, then, ye who may, whether or not she was a mere survival
+of some forgotten day of the forest and the glade, as she lay with her
+hands clasped in brief moments of emotion. Surely she hoped, as all
+women hope who love, that this might endure for her forever. Yet the
+next moment there came the thought that inevitably it all must end, and
+soon. Then her hand clenched, her eyes grew dry and brilliant. She said
+to herself: "There is no hope. He can not be saved! For this short
+period of his life he shall be mine, all mine! He shall not be set free!
+He shall not go away, to belong, at any time, in any part, to any other
+woman! Though he die, yet shall he love me to the end; me, Mary
+Connynge, and no other woman!"
+
+Now, under this same roof of Knollys, separated by but a few yards of
+space, there lay another woman, thinking also of this convict behind the
+prison bars. But this was a woman of another and a nobler mold. Into the
+heart of Catharine Knollys there came no mere mad selfishness of desire,
+yearn though she did in every fiber of her being since that first time
+she felt the mastering kiss of love. There was born in her soul emotion
+of a higher sort. The Lady Catharine Knollys prayed, and her prayer was
+not that her lover should die, but that he might live; that he might be
+free.
+
+Nor was this hope left to wither unnourished in the mind of the
+high-bred and courageous English girl. Alone, without confidant to
+counsel her, with no woman friend to aid her, the Lady Catharine
+Knollys backed her own hopes and wishes with resource and energy. There
+came a time, perilously late, when a faint rose showed once more in her
+cheek, long so worn, a faintly brighter light glowed in her deep eye.
+
+When Sir Arthur Pembroke received a message from the Lady Catharine
+Knollys advising him that the latter would receive him at her home, it
+was left for the impulses, the hopes, the imaginings of that modest
+young nobleman to establish a reason for the message. Puzzling all along
+his rapid way in answer to the summons, Sir Arthur found the answer
+which best suited his hopes in the faint flush, the brightened eye of
+the young woman who received him.
+
+"Lady Catharine," he began, impetuously, "I have come, and let me hope
+that 'tis at last to have my answer. I have waited--each moment has been
+a year that I have spent away from you."
+
+"Now, that is very pretty said."
+
+"But I am serious."
+
+"And that is why I do not like you."
+
+"But, Lady Catharine!"
+
+"I should like it better did you but continue as in the past. We have
+met on the Row, at the routs and drums, in the country; and always I
+have felt free to ask any favor of Sir Arthur Pembroke. Why could it not
+be always thus?"
+
+"You might ask my very life, Lady Catharine."
+
+"Ah, there it is! When a man offers his life, 'tis time for a woman to
+ask nothing."
+
+She turned from the open window, her attitude showing an unwonted
+weakness and dejection. Sir Arthur still stood near by, his own face
+frowning and uncertain.
+
+"Lady Catharine," he broke out at length, "for years, as you know, I
+have sought your favor. I have dared think that sometime the day would
+come when--my faith! Lady Catharine, the day has come now when I feel it
+my right to demand the cause of anything which troubles you. And that
+you are troubled is plain enough. Ever since this man Law----"
+
+"There," cried Lady Catharine, raising her hand. "I beg you to say no
+more."
+
+"But I will say more! There must be a reason for this."
+
+The face of the young woman flushed in spite of herself, as Pembroke
+strode closer and gazed at her with sternness.
+
+"Lady Catharine," said he, slowly, "I am a friend of your family.
+Perhaps now I may be of aid to you. Prove me, and at the last, ask who
+was indeed your friend."
+
+"We have had misfortunes, we of the family of the Knollys," said Lady
+Catharine. "This is, perhaps, but the fate of the house of Knollys. It
+is my fate."
+
+"Your fate!" said Sir Arthur, slowly. "Your fate! Lady Catharine, I
+thank you. It is at least as well to know the truth."
+
+"Pick out the truth, then, Sir Arthur, as you like it. I am not on the
+witness stand before you, and you are not my judge. There has been
+forsworn testimony enough already in this town. Were it not for that,
+Mr. Law would at this moment be free as you or I."
+
+Sir Arthur struck his hands together in despair, and turning away,
+strode down the room.
+
+"Oh, I see it all well enough," cried he. "You are mad as any who have
+hitherto had dealings with this madman from the North."
+
+The girl rose to her full height and stood before him.
+
+"It may be I am mad," said she. "It may be the old Knollys madness. If
+so, why should I struggle against it? It may be that I am mad. But I
+venture to say to you that Mr. Law is not born to die in Newgate yards.
+My life! sir, if I love him, who should say me nay? Now, say to
+yourself, and to your friends--to all London, if you like, since you
+have touched me to this point--that Catharine Knollys is friend to Mr.
+Law, and believes in him, and declares that he shall be freed from his
+prison, and that within short space! Say that, Sir Arthur; tell them
+that! And if they argue somewhat from it, why, let them reason it as
+best they may."
+
+The young man stood, his lips close together, his head still turned
+away. The girl continued with growing energy.
+
+"I have sent for you to tell you that Mr. Law's life has a value in my
+eyes. And now, I say to you, Sir Arthur, that you must aid me in his
+escape."
+
+A beautiful picture she made, tearful, pleading, a lock of her soft
+red-brown hair falling unnoticed across her tear-wet cheek. It had been
+ill task, indeed, to make refusal of any sort to a woman so gloriously
+feminine, so noble, now so beseeching.
+
+"Lady Catharine," said the young man, turning toward her, "this illness,
+this anxiety--"
+
+"No, I know perfectly well whereof I speak! Listen, and I'll tell you
+somewhat of news. Montague, chancellor of the exchequer, is my warrant
+for what I say to you when I tell you that Mr. Law is to be free.
+Montague himself has said to me, in this very room, that Mr. Law was
+like to be half the salvation of England in these uncertain times. I
+could tell you more, but may not. Only look you, Sir Arthur, John Law
+does not rest in Newgate more than one week from this time!"
+
+Sir Arthur took snuff, his voice at length regaining that composure for
+which he had sought.
+
+"'Tis very excellent," he said. "For myself, two centuries have been
+spent in my family to teach me to love like a gentleman, and to deserve
+you like a man. What does this young man need? A few days of bluster, of
+assertion! A few weeks of gaming and of roistering, of self-asserted
+claims! Gad! Lady Catharine, this is passing bitter! And now you ask me
+to help him."
+
+"I wish you to help him," said Lady Catharine, slowly, "only in that I
+ask you to help me."
+
+"And if I did?"
+
+"And if you did, you should dwell in a part of my heart forever! Let it
+be as you like."
+
+"Then," cried the young man, flushing suddenly and hotly as he strode
+toward her, "do with me as you like! Let me be fool unspeakable!"
+
+"And do you promise?" said Lady Catharine, rising and advancing toward
+him. Her face was sad and appealing. Her eyes swam in tears, her lips
+were trembling.
+
+Sir Arthur held out his hand. The Lady Catharine extended both her own,
+and he bent and kissed them, tears springing in his eyes. For a time the
+room was silent. Then the girl turned, her own lashes wet. She stepped
+at length to a cabinet and took from an inner drawer a paper.
+
+"Sir Arthur, look at this," she Said.
+
+He took it from her and scrutinized it carefully.
+
+"Why, this seems to be a street bill, a placard for posting upon the
+walls," said he.
+
+"Read it."
+
+"Yes, well--so, so. 'Five hundred pounds reward for information
+regarding the escaped felon, Captain John Law, convicted of murder and
+under sentence of death of the King's Bench. The same Law escaped from
+Newgate prison on the night of'--hum--well--well--'May be known by this
+description: Is tall, of dark complexion, spare of build, raw-boned,
+face hath deep pock-marks. Eyes dark; hair dark and scanty. Speaketh
+broad and loud.' How--how, why my dear Lady Catharine, this is the last
+proof that thou'rt stark, staring mad! This no more tallies with the
+true John Law than it does with my hunting horse!"
+
+"And but few would know him by this description?"
+
+"None, absolutely none."
+
+"None could tell 'twas he, even did they meet him full face to face--no
+one would know it was Mr. Law?"
+
+"Why, assuredly not. 'Tis as unlike him as it could be."
+
+"Then it is well!" said Lady Catharine.
+
+"Well? Very badly done, I should say."
+
+"Oh, my poor Sir Arthur, where are your wits? 'Tis very well because
+'tis very ill, this same description."
+
+"Ah, ha!" said he, a sudden light dawning upon him. "Then you mean to
+tell me that this description was misconceived deliberately?"
+
+"What would you think?"
+
+"Did you do this work yourself?"
+
+"Guess for yourself. Montague, as you know, was once of a pretty
+imagination, ere he took to finance. If he and the poet Prior could
+write such conceits as they have created, could not perhaps Montague--or
+Prior--or some one else--have conceived this description of Mr. Law?"
+
+The young man threw himself into a seat, his head between his hands.
+"'Tis like a play," said he. "And surely the play of fortune ever runs
+well enough for Mr. Law."
+
+"Sir Arthur," said Lady Catharine, rising uneasily and standing before
+him, "I must confess to you that I bear a certain active part in private
+plans looking to the escape of Mr. Law. I have come to you for aid. Sir
+Arthur, I pray God that we may be successful."
+
+The young man also rose and began to pace the floor.
+
+"Even did Law escape," he began, "it would mean only his flight from
+England."
+
+"True," said the Lady Catharine, "that is all planned. The ship even now
+awaits him in the Pool. He is to take ship at once upon leaving prison,
+and he sails at once from England. He goes to France."
+
+"But, my dear Lady Catharine, this means that he must part from you."
+
+"Of course, it means our parting."
+
+"Oh, but you said--but I thought--"
+
+"But I said--but you thought--Sir Arthur, do not stand there prating
+like a little boy!"
+
+"You do not, then, keep your prisoner bound by other fetters after he
+escapes from Newgate?"
+
+"I do nothing unwomanly, and I do nothing, I trust, ignoble. I go to
+meet the Knollys fate, whatever it may be."
+
+"Lady Catharine," cried Pembroke, passionately, "I have said I loved
+you. Never in my life did I love you as I do now!"
+
+"I like to hear your words," said the girl, frankly. "There shall always
+be your corner in my heart--"
+
+"Yet you will do this thing?"
+
+"I will do this thing. I shall not whimper nor repine. I am sending him
+away forever, but 'tis needful for his sake. I shall be ready for
+whatever fate hath for me."
+
+"Tell me, then," said Pembroke, his face haggard and unhappy, "how am I
+to serve you in this matter."
+
+"In this way: To-morrow night call here with your coach. My household,
+if they note it, may take your coach for my own, and may perhaps
+understand that I go to the rout of my Lady Swearingsham. We shall go,
+instead, to Newgate. For the night, Sir Arthur Pembroke shall serve as
+coachman. You must drive the carriage to Newgate jail."
+
+"And 'tis there," said Pembroke, slowly, "that the Lady Catharine
+Knollys, the dearest woman of all England, would take the man who
+honorably loves her--to Newgate, to feloniously set free a felon? Is it
+there, then, Lady Catharine, you would go to meet your lover?"
+
+The tall figure of the girl straightened up to its full height. A shade
+of color came to her cheeks, but her voice was firm, though tears came
+to her eyes as she answered:
+
+"Aye, sir, I would go to Newgate if there were need!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+THE ESCAPE
+
+
+On a certain morning a messenger rode in hot haste up to the prison
+gate. He bore the livery of Montague. Turnkey after turnkey admitted
+him, until finally he stood before the cell of John Law and delivered
+into his hand, as he had been commanded, the message that he bore. That
+afternoon this same messenger paused at the gate of the house of
+Knollys. Here, too, he was admitted promptly. He delivered into the
+hands of the Lady Catharine Knollys a certain message. This was of a
+Wednesday. On the following Friday it was decreed that the gallows
+should do its work. Two more days and there would be an end of "Jessamy"
+Law.
+
+That Wednesday night a covered carriage came to the door of the house of
+Knollys. Its driver was muffled in such fashion that he could hardly
+have been known. There stepped from the house the cloaked figure of a
+woman, who entered the carriage and herself pulled shut the door. The
+vehicle was soon lost among the darkling streets.
+
+Catharine Knollys had heard the summons of her fate. She now sat
+trembling in the carriage.
+
+When finally the vehicle stopped at the curb of the walk which led to
+the prison gate, a second carriage, as mysterious as the first, came
+down the street and stopped at a little distance, but close to the curb
+on the side nearest to the gate. The driver of the first carriage,
+evidently not liking the close neighborhood at the time, edged a trifle
+farther down the way. The second carriage thereupon drew up into the
+spot just vacated, and the two, not easily distinguishable at the hour
+and in the dark and unlighted street, stood so, each apparently watchful
+of the other, each seemingly without an occupant.
+
+Lady Catharine had left her carriage before this interchange, and had
+passed the prison gate alone. Her steps faltered. It was hardly
+consciously that she finally found her way into the court, through the
+gate, down the evil-smelling corridors, past the sodden and leering
+constables, up to the last gate which separated her from him whom she
+had come to see.
+
+She had been admitted without demur as far as this point, and even now
+her coming seemed not altogether a matter of surprise. The burly turnkey
+at the last door stood ready to meet her. With loud commands, he drove
+out of the corridor the crowd of prison attendants. He approached Lady
+Catharine, hat in hand and bowing deeply.
+
+"I presume you are the man whom I would see," said she, faintly, almost
+unequal to the task imposed upon her.
+
+"Aye, Madam, I doubt not, with my best worship for you."
+
+"I was to come"--said Lady Catharine. "I was to speak to you--"
+
+"Aye," replied the turnkey. "You were to come, and you were to speak.
+And now, what were you to say to me? Was there no given word?"
+
+"There was such a word," she said. "You will understand. It is in the
+matter of Mr. Law."
+
+"True," said the turnkey. "But I must have the countersign. There are
+heads to lose in this, yours and mine, if there be mistake."
+
+Lady Catharine raised her head proudly. "It was for Faith," said she,
+"for Love, and for Hope! These were the words."
+
+Saying which, as though she had called to her aid the last atom of her
+strength, she staggered back and half fell against the wall near the
+inner gate. The rude jailer sprang forward to steady her.
+
+"Yes, yes," he whispered, eagerly. "'Tis all proper. Those be the
+words. Pray you, have courage, lady."
+
+There came into the corridor a murmur of voices, and there was audible
+also the sound of a man's footfalls approaching along the flags.
+Catharine Knollys looked through the bars of the gate which the turnkey
+was already beginning to throw open for her. She looked, and there
+appeared upon her vision, a sight which caused her heart to stop, which
+confounded all her reason. From a side door there advanced John Law,
+magnificently clad, walking now as though he trod the floor of some
+great hall or banquet room.
+
+The woman waiting without the gate reached out her arms. She would have
+cried aloud. Then she fell back against the wall, whereat had she not
+grasped she must have sunk down to the floor.
+
+Upon the arm of John Law, and looking up to him as she walked, there
+hung the clinging figure of a woman, half-hidden by the flickering
+shadows of the torches. A deep cloak fell back from her shoulders. It
+might have been the light fabric of the aborigine. Upon the foot of Mary
+Connynge, twinkling in and out as she walked, showed the crudely
+garnished little shoe of the Indian princess over seas, dainty, bizarre,
+singular, covering the smallest foot in all London town.
+
+"By all the saints!" Law was saying, "you might be the very maker of
+this little slipper yourself. I have won the forty crowns, I swear!
+Perforce, I'll leave them to you in my will."
+
+The shock of the light speech made even Mary Connynge wince. For the
+moment she averted her eyes from the handsome face above her. She
+looked, and saw what gave her greater shock. Law, too, stared, as her
+own startled gaze grew fixed. He advanced close to the gate, only to
+start back in a horror of surprise which racked even his steeled
+composure.
+
+"Madam!" he cried; and then, "Catharine!"
+
+Catharine Knollys made no answer to him, though she looked straight and
+calmly into his face, seeming not in the least to see the woman near
+him. Her eyes were wide and shining. "Sir," said she, "keep fast to
+Hope! This was for Faith, and for Love!"
+
+The jailer with one quick gesture swung wide the gate. "Haste, haste!"
+he cried. "Quick and begone! This night may mean my ruin! Get ye gone,
+all of ye, and give me time to think. Out with ye all, for I must lock
+the gate!"
+
+John Law passed as one stupefied, the slender form of Mary Connynge
+still upon his arm. Hands of men hurried them. "Quick! Into the
+carriage!" one cried.
+
+And now the sounds of feet and voices approaching along the corridor
+were heard. The jailer swiftly swung the heavy gate to and locked it.
+Catharine Knollys caught his last gesture, which bade her begone as fast
+as might be. Her feet were strangely heavy, in spite of her. She reached
+the curb in time to hear only the whir of wheels as a carriage sped away
+over the stones of the street. She stood alone, irresolute for half an
+instant as the crunch of wheels spun up to the curb again. A hand
+reached out and beckoned; involuntarily she obeyed the summons. Her
+wrist was seized, and she was half pulled through the door of the
+carriage.
+
+"What!" cried a voice. "You, Lady Catharine! Why, how is this?"
+
+It was the voice of Will Law, whom she knew, but who certainly was not
+the one who had brought her hither. The Lady Catharine accepted this
+last situation as one no longer able to reason. She sank down in the
+carriage seat, shivering.
+
+"Is all well?" asked Will Law, eagerly.
+
+"He is safe," said Lady Catharine Knollys. "It is done. It is finished."
+
+"What does this mean?" exclaimed Will.
+
+"His carriage--there it is. It goes to the ship--to the Pool. He and
+Mary Connynge are only just ahead of us. You may hear the wheels. Do you
+not hear them?" She spoke with leaden voice, and her head sank heavily.
+
+"What! My brother--Mary Connynge--in that carriage--what can you mean?
+My God! Lady Catharine, tell me, what do you mean?"
+
+"I do not know," said Catharine Knollys. All things now seemed very far
+away from her. Her head sank gently forward, and she heard not the words
+of the man who frantically sought to awaken her to speech.
+
+From the prison to London Pool was a journey of some distance across the
+streets of London. Will Law called out to the driver with savagery in
+his voice. He shouted, cursed, implored, promised, and betimes held one
+hand under the soft, heavy tresses of the head now sunk so humbly
+forward.
+
+The mad ride ended at the quay on Thames side, where the shadows of the
+tall buildings lay rank and thick upon the earth, where tarry smells and
+evil odors filled the heavy air, penetrated none the less by the savor
+of the keen salt air. More than one giant form was outlined in the broad
+stream, vessels tall and ghost-like in the gloom, shadowy, suggestive,
+bearing imprint and promise of far lands across the sea.
+
+Here was the initial point of England's greatness. Here on this heavy
+stream had her captains taken ship. Thence had sailed her admirals to
+encompass all the world. In these dark massed shadows, how much might
+there not be of fate and mystery! Whither might not these vessels carry
+one! To France, to the far-off Indies, to the new-owned islands, to
+America with its little half-grown ports. Whence and whither? What might
+not one do, here at this gateway of the world?
+
+"To the brigantine beyond!" cried Will Law to the wherryman who came up.
+"We want Captain McMasters, of the Polly Perkins. For God's sake, quick!
+There's that afoot must be caught up within the moment, do you hear!"
+
+The wherryman touched his cap and quickly made ready his boat. Will Law,
+understanding naught of this swift coil of events, and not daring to
+leave Lady Catharine behind him at the carriage, made down the stairway,
+half carrying the drooping figure which now leaned weakly upon his
+shoulder.
+
+"Pull now, man! Pull as you never did before!" cried he, and the
+wherryman bent hard to his oars.
+
+Yet great as was the haste of those who put forth into the foggy
+Thames, it was more than equalled by that of one who appeared upon the
+dock, even as the creak of the oars grew fainter in the gloom. There
+came the rattle of wheels upon the quay, and the sound of a driver
+lashing his horses. A carriage rolled up, and there sprang from the box
+a muffled figure which resolved itself into the very embodiment of
+haste.
+
+"Hold the horses, man!" he cried to the nearest by-stander, and sprang
+swiftly to the head of the stairs, where a loiterer or two stood idly
+gazing out into the mist which overhung the water.
+
+"Saw you aught of a man," he demanded hastily, "a man and a woman, a
+tall young woman--you could not mistake her? 'Twas the Polly Greenway
+they should have found. Tell me, for God's sake, has any boat put out
+from this stair?"
+
+"Why, sir," replied one of the wherrymen who stood near by, pipe in
+mouth and hand in pocket, "since you mention it, there was a boat
+started but this instant for midstream. They sought McMaster's
+brigantine, the Polly Perkins, that lies waiting for the tide. 'Twas, as
+you say, a young gentleman, and with him was a young woman. I misdoubt
+the lady was ill."
+
+"Get me a boat!" cried the new-comer. "A sovereign, five sovereigns, ten
+sovereigns, a hundred--but that ship must not weigh anchor until I
+board her, do you hear!"
+
+The ring of the imperative voice, and moreover the ring of good English
+coin, set all the dock astir. Straightway there came up another wherry
+with two lusty fellows, who laid her at the stair where stood the
+impatient stranger.
+
+"Hurry, men!" he cried. "'Tis life and death--'tis more than life and
+death!"
+
+And such fortune attended Sir Arthur Pembroke that forsooth he went over
+the side of the Polly Perkins, even as the gray dawn began to break over
+the narrow Thames, and even as the anchor-song of the crew struck up.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+WHITHER
+
+
+A few hours later a coppery sun slowly dispersed the morning mists above
+the Thames. The same sun warmed the court-yards of the London jail,
+which lately had confined John Law, convicted of the murder of Beau
+Wilson, gentleman. It was discovered that the said John Law had, in some
+superhuman fashion, climbed the spiked walls of the inner yard. The
+jailer pointed out the very spot where this act had been done. It was
+not so plain how he had passed the outer gates of the prison, yet those
+were not wanting who said that he had overpowered the turnkey at the
+gate, taken from him his keys, and so forced his way out into London
+city.
+
+Far and wide went forth the proclamation of reward for the apprehension
+of this escaped convict. The streets of London were placarded broadcast
+with bills bearing this description of the escaped prisoner:
+
+"Five hundred pounds reward for information regarding the escaped
+felon, John Law, convicted in the King's Bench of murder and under
+sentence of death. The same Law escaped from prison on the night of 20
+July. May be known by the following description: Is tall, of dark
+complexion, spare of build, raw-boned, face hath deep pock-marks. Eyes
+dark, hair dark and scanty. Speaks broad and loud. Carries his shoulders
+stooped, and is of mean appearance.
+
+                         "WESTON, High Sheriff.
+                         Done at Newgate prison, this 21 July."
+
+Yet though the authorities of the law made full search in London, and
+indeed in other of the principal cities of England, they got no word of
+the escaped prisoner.
+
+The clouded dawn which broke over the Thames below the Pool might have
+told its own story. There sat upon the deck of the good ship Polly
+Greenway, outbound from Thames' mouth, this same John Law. He regarded
+idly the busy scenes of the shipping about him. His gaze, dull and
+listless, looked without joy upon the dawn, without inquiry upon the far
+horizon. For the first time in all his life John Law dropped his head
+between his hands.
+
+Not so Mary Connynge. "Good sir," cried she, merrily, "'tis morning.
+Let's break our fast, and so set forth proper on our voyage."
+
+"So now we are free," said Law, dully. "I could swear there were
+shackles on me."
+
+"Yes, we are free," said Mary Connynge, "and all the world is before us.
+But saw you ever in all your life a man so dumfounded as was Sir Arthur
+when he discovered 'twas I, and not the Lady Catharine, had stepped into
+the carriage? That confusion of the carriages was like to have cost us
+everything. I know not how your brother made such mistake. He said he
+would fetch me home the night. Gemini! It sure seems a long way about!
+And where may be your brother now, or Sir Arthur, or the Lady
+Catharine--why, 'tis as much confused as though 'twere all in a play!"
+
+"But Sir Arthur cried that my ship was for France. Yet here they tell me
+that this brigantine is bound for the mouth of the St. Lawrence, in
+America! What then of this other, and what of my brother--what of
+us--what of--?"
+
+"Why, I think this," said Mary Connynge, calmly. "That you do very well
+to be rid of London jail; and for my own part, 'tis a rare appetite the
+salt air ever gives me!"
+
+Upon the same morning tide there was at this very moment just setting
+aloft her sails for the first high airs of dawn the ship of McMasters,
+the Polly Perkins, bound for the port of Brest.
+
+She came down scarce a half-dozen cable lengths behind the craft which
+bore the fugitives now beginning their journey toward another land. Upon
+the deck of this ship, even as upon the other, there were those who
+waited eagerly for the dawn. There were two men here, Will Law and Sir
+Arthur Pembroke, and whether their conversation had been more eager or
+more angry, were hard to tell. Will Law, broken and dejected, his heart
+torn by a thousand doubts and a thousand pains, sat listening, though
+but half comprehending.
+
+"Every plan gone wrong!" cried Sir Arthur. "Every plan gone wrong, and
+out of it all we can only say that he has escaped from prison for whom
+no prison could be enough of hell! Though he be your brother, I tell it
+to your face, the gallows had been too good for John Law! Look you
+below. See that girl, pure as an angel, as noble and generous a soul us
+ever breathed--what hath she done to deserve this fate? You have brought
+her from her home, and to that home she can not now return unsmirched.
+And all this for a man who is at this moment fleeing with the woman whom
+she deemed her friend! What is there left in life for her?"
+
+Will Law groaned and buried his own head deeper in his hands. "What is
+there left for any of us?" said he. "What is there left for me?"
+
+"For you?" said Sir Arthur, questioningly. "Why, the next ship back from
+Brest, or from any other port of France. 'Tis somewhat different with a
+woman."
+
+"You do not understand," said Will Law. "The separation means somewhat
+for me."
+
+"Surely you do not mean--you have no reference to Mary Connynge?" cried
+Sir Arthur.
+
+Will bowed his head abjectly and left the other to guess that which sat
+upon his mind. Sir Arthur drew a long breath and stopped his angry
+pacing up and down.
+
+"It ran on for weeks," said Will Law. "We were to have been married. I
+had no thought of this. 'Twas I who took her to and from the prison
+regularly, and 'twas thus that we met. She told me she was but the
+messenger of the Lady Catharine."
+
+Sir Arthur drew a long, slow breath. "Then I may say to you," said he,
+"that your brother, John Law, is a hundred times more traitor and felon
+than even now I thought him. Yonder he goes"--and he shook his fist into
+the enveloping mist which hung above the waters. "Yonder he goes,
+somewhere, I give you warning, where he deems no trail shall be left
+behind him. But I promise you, whatever be your own wish, I shall follow
+him into the last corner of the earth, but he shall see me and give
+account for this! There is none of us he has not deceived, utterly, and
+like a black-hearted villain. He shall account for it, though it be
+years from now."
+
+So now, inch by inch, fathom after fathom, cable length after cable
+length, soon knot after knot, there sped two English ships out into the
+open seaway. Before long they began to toss restlessly and to pull
+eagerly at the helm as the scent of the salt seas came in. Yet neither
+knew fully the destination of the other, and neither knew that upon the
+deck of that other there was full solution of those questions which now
+sat so heavily upon these human hearts. Thus, silently, slowly,
+steadily, the two drew outward and apart, and before that morn was done,
+both were tossing widely upon the swell of that sea beyond which there
+lay so much of fate and mystery.
+
+
+
+
+BOOK II
+
+AMERICA
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+THE DOOR OF THE WEST
+
+
+"Nearly a league farther, Du Mesne, and the sun but an hour high. Come,
+let us hasten!"
+
+"You are right, Monsieur L'as," replied the one addressed, as the first
+speaker seated himself on the thwart of the boat in whose bow he had
+been standing. "Bend to it, _mes amis_!"
+
+John Law turned about on the seat, gazing back over the length of the
+little ship which had brought him and his comrades thus far on the
+wildest journey he had ever undertaken. Six paddlers there were for this
+great _canot du Nord_, and steadily enough they sent the thin-shelled
+craft along over the curling blue waves of the great inland sea. And now
+their voices in one accord fell into the cadences of an ancient
+boat-song of New France:
+
+
+    "_En roulant ma boule, roulant,
+     Roulant, rouler, ma boule roulant_."
+
+
+The ictus of the measure marked time for the sweeping paddles, and
+under the added impetus the paper shell, reinforced as it was by
+close-laid splints of cedar, and braced by the fiber-fastened thwarts,
+fairly yielded to the rush of the waves as the stalwart paddlers sent it
+flying forward. A tiny blur of white showed about the bows, and now and
+again a splash of spray came inboard, as some little curling white cap
+was divided by the rush of the swiftly moving prow.
+
+"We shall not arrive too soon, my friend," rejoined the captain of the
+_voyageurs_, casting an eye back across the great lake, which lay black
+and ominous under a threatening sky, the sweep and swirl of its white
+caps ever racing hard after the frail craft, as though eager to break
+through its paper sides and tear away the human beings who thus fled on
+so lightly.
+
+This boat, mysteriously appearing as though it were some spirit craft
+railed from the ancient deeps, was far from the beginning of its wild
+journey. Wide as the eye might reach, there arose no fleck of snowy
+canvas, nor showed the dark line of any similar craft propelled by oar
+or paddle. They were alone, these travelers. Before them, at the
+entrance of the wide arm of the great lake Michiganon, lay the point
+even at that early day known as the Door of the West, the beginning of
+the winding water-way which led on into the interior of that West, then
+so alluring and unknown. The eyes of all were fixed on the low,
+white-fronted bluffs, crowned by dark forest growth, which guarded the
+bay at either hand. This spot, so wild, so remote, so significant--it
+was home for these _voyageurs_ as much as any; as much, too, for Law and
+the woman who lay back, pale-faced and wide-eyed, among the bales in the
+great canoe.
+
+In time the graceful craft approached the beach, on which the long waves
+rolled and curled, now gently, now with imposing force. With the water
+yet half-leg deep, Du Mesne and two of the paddlers sprang bodily
+overboard and held the boat back from the pebbles, so that its tender
+shell might not be damaged. Law himself was as soon as they in the
+water, and he waded back along the gunwale until he reached the stern,
+the water nearly up to his hips. Reaching out his arms, he picked up
+Mary Connynge from her seat and carried her dry-shod ashore, bending
+down to catch some whispered word. Not so gallant was Du Mesne, the
+leader of the _voyageurs_. He uttered a few short words of semi-command
+to the Indian woman, who had been seated on the floor of the canoe, and
+she, without protest, crawled forward over the thwarts and the heaped
+bundles until she reached the bow, and then went ankle deep into the
+creaming flood. The great canoe, left empty and anchored safe from the
+pebbles of the beach, tossed light as a cork on the incoming waves.
+
+A little open space was quickly found at the edge of the cove in which
+the disembarkation was made, and here Du Mesne and his followers soon
+kicked away the twigs and leveled out a smooth place upon the grass.
+Each man produced from his belt a broad-bladed knife, and for the moment
+disappeared in the deep fringe of evergreens which lined the shore.
+Fairly in the twinkling of an eye a rude frame of bent poles was made,
+above which were spread strips of unrolled birch bark from the cargo of
+the canoe. Over the spaces left uncovered by the supply of bark sheets
+there were laid down long mats made by Indian hands from dried reeds and
+bulrushes, affording no inconsiderable protection against the weather.
+Inside the lodge, bales of goods and packages of provisions were quickly
+arranged in comfortable fashion. Gaudy blankets were spread upon layers
+of soft skins of the buffalo. The Indian woman had meantime struck a
+fire, whose faint blue smoke curled lakeward in the soft evening air.
+Quickly, and with the system of experienced campaigners, the evening
+bivouac had been prepared; and wildly picturesque it must have seemed
+to a bystander, had there been indeed any possible spectator within many
+leagues.
+
+Far enough was this from the turmoil of London, which Law and his
+companion had left nearly a year before; far enough still from the wild
+capital of New France, where they had spent the winter, after landing,
+as much by chance as through any plan, at the port of the St. Lawrence.
+Ever a demon of unrest drove Law forward; ever there beckoned to him
+that irresistible West, of which he was one of the earliest to feel the
+charm. Farther and farther westward, swift and swifter than ever the
+boats of the fur traders had made the journey before, he and his party,
+led by Du Mesne, the ex-galley-slave and wanderer whom Law had by chance
+met again, and gladly, at Montréal, had made the long and dangerous run
+up the lakes, past Michilimackinac, down the lake of Michiganon, headed
+toward the interior of a new continent which was then, as for
+generations after then, the land of wondrous distances, of grand
+enterprises, of magnificent promises and immense fulfilments. The bales
+and bundles of this bivouac belonged to John Law, bought by gold from
+the gaming tables of Montréal and Quebec, and ventured in the one great
+hazard which appealed to him most irresistibly, the hazard of life and
+fortune in a far land, where he might live unneighbored, and where he
+might forget. Gambler in England, gambler again in New France, now
+trading fur-merchant and _voyageur_, he was, as always, an adventurer.
+Du Mesne and his hardy crew hailed him already as a new captain of the
+trails, a new _coureur_, won from the Old World by the savage witchery
+of the New. He was their brother; and had he indeed owned longer years
+of training, his keenness of eye, his strength of arm, his tirelessness
+of limb could hardly have been greater than they seemed in his first
+voyage to the West.
+
+
+    "_Tous les printemps,
+     Tant des nouvelles_"
+
+hummed Du Mesne, as he busied himself about the camp, casting the while
+a cautious eye to note the progress of the threatening storm.
+
+
+    "_Tous les amants
+     Changent des maîtresses.
+     Jamais le bon vin n'endort--
+     L'amour me réveille_!"
+
+"The best is before us now, Monsieur L'as," said Du Mesne, joining Law,
+at length. "Assuredly the best is always that which is ahead and which
+is unknown; but in point of fact the hardest of our journey is over,
+for henceforth we may stretch our legs ashore, and hunt and fish, and
+make good camps for madame, who, as we both perceive, is much in need of
+ease and care. We shall make all safe and comfortable for this night,
+doubt not.
+
+"Meantime," continued he, "let us see that all is well with our men and
+arms, for henceforth we must put out guards. Attention, comrades!
+Present your pieces and answer the roll-call! Pierre Berthier!"
+
+"_Ici_! Monsieur," replied the one better known as Pierre Noir, a tall
+and dark-visaged Canadian, clad in the common costume, half-Indian and
+half-civilized, which marked his class. A shirt of soft dressed buckskin
+fell about his thighs; his legs were encased in moose-skin leggings,
+deeply fringed at the seams. About his middle was a broad sash, once
+red, and upon his head a scanty cap of similar color was pushed back. At
+his belt hung the great hunting knife of the _voyageur_, balanced by a
+keen steel tomahawk such as was in common use among the Indians. In his
+hand he supported a long-barreled musket, which he now examined
+carefully in the presence of the captain of the _voyageurs_.
+
+"Robert Challon!" next commanded Du Mesne, and in turn the one addressed
+looked over his piece, the captain also scrutinizing the flint and
+priming with careful eye.
+
+"Naturally, _mes enfants_," said he, "your weapons are perfect, as ever.
+Kataikini, and you, Kabayan, my brothers, let me see," said he to the
+two Indians, the former a Huron and the latter an Ojibway, both from the
+shores of Superior. The Indians arose silently, and without protest
+submitted to the scrutiny which ever seemed to them unnecessary.
+
+"Jean Breboeuf!" called Du Mesne; and in response there arose from the
+shadows a wiry little Frenchman, who might have been of any age from
+twenty to forty-five, so sun-burnt and wrinkled, yet so active and
+vigorous did he seem.
+
+"_Mon ami_," said Du Mesne to him, chidingly, "see now, here is your
+flint all but out of its engagement. Pray you, have better care of your
+piece. For this you shall stand the long watch of the night. And now let
+us all to bed."
+
+One by one the little party was lost to view within the dark interior of
+the hut which they had arranged for themselves. Du Mesne retired a
+distance from the fire and seated himself upon a fallen log, his pipe
+glowing like a coal in the enveloping darkness.
+
+Law himself did not so soon leave the outer air. He remained gazing out
+at the wild scene about him, at the rolling waves dashing on the shore,
+their crests whitening in the glare of the lightning, now approaching
+more closely. He harkened to the roll of the far-off thunder reënforced
+by the thunder of the waves upon the shore, and noted the sweep of the
+black forest about, of the black sky overhead, unlit save for one
+far-off, faint and feeble star.
+
+It was a new world, this that lay around him, a new and savage world. If
+there were a world behind him, a world which once held sunlight and
+flowers, and love and hope--why then, it was a world lost and gone
+forever, and it was very well that this new world should be so different
+and so stern.
+
+In the darkness John Law heard a voice, the voice of a woman in terror.
+Swiftly he stepped to the door of the rude lodge.
+
+"Don't let them sing it again--never any more--that song."
+
+"And what, Madam?"
+
+"That one--'_us les amants changent des maîtresses_!'"
+
+A moment later she whispered, "I am afraid."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+THE STORM
+
+
+Marshaling to the imperious orders of the tempest, and crowding close
+upon the flaming standards of the lightning, the armies of the clouds
+came on. The sea-wide surface of the lake went dull, and above it bent a
+sky appalling in its blackness. The wind at first was light, then fitful
+and gusty, like the rising choler of a man affronted and nursing his own
+anger. It gained in volume and swept on across the tops of the forest
+trees, as though with a hand contemptuous in its strength, forbearing
+only by reason of its own whimsy. Now and again the cohorts of the
+clouds just hinted at parting, letting through a pale radiance from the
+western sky, where lingered the departing day. This light, as did the
+illuminating glare of the forked flames above, disclosed the white
+helmets of the trooping waters, rushing on with thunderous unison of
+tread; and the rattling thunder-shocks, intermittent, though coming
+steadily nearer, served but to emphasize these foot strokes of the
+waves. The heavens above and the waters under the earth--these
+conspired, these marched together, to assail, to overwhelm, to utterly
+destroy.
+
+To destroy what? Why this wild protest of the wilderness? Was it this
+wide-blown, scattered fire, whose sparks and ashes were sown broadcast,
+till but stubborn remnants clung under the sheltering back-log of the
+bivouac hearth? Was it this frail lodge, built upon pliant, yielding
+poles, covered cunningly with mats and bark, carpeted with robe of elk
+and buffalo? Yet why should the elements rage at a tiny fire, and why
+should they tear at a little house of nomad man, since these things were
+old upon the earth? Was it somewhat else that incited this elemental
+rage? This might have been; for surely, builder of this hearth-fire
+which would not quench, master of this house which would not yield,
+there was now come up to the door of the wilderness the white man, risen
+from the sea, heralding the day which the tribes had for generations
+blindly prophesied! The white man, stern, stubborn, fruitful, had come
+to despoil the West of its secrets!
+
+Let all the elements therefore join in riotous revolt! Let earth and sea
+and sky make common cause! Rage, waves, and blaze, ye fiery tongues,
+and threaten, forests, with all your ominous voices! Smite, destroy, or
+terrify into swift retreat this little band! Crush out their tenement!
+Loosen and brush off this feeble finger-grasp at the ancient threshold!
+With banners of flame, with armies of darkness, with shoutings of the
+captains of the storms, assail, denude, destroy, if even by the agony of
+their terrors, these feeble folk now come hither! And by this more
+especially, since they would set the seal of fruitfulness upon the land,
+and bring upon the earth a generation yet to follow. Hover about this
+bed in the frail and swaying lodge of bark and boughs, all ye most
+terrifying spirits! Let not this thing be!
+
+"Mother of God!" cried Jean Breboeuf, bending low and pulling his tunic
+tighter by the belt, as he came gasping into the faint circle of light
+which still remained at the fire log. "'Tis murderous, this storm! Ah,
+Monsieur du Mesne, we are dead men! But what matter? 'Tis as well now as
+later. Said I not so to you all the way down Michiganon from the
+Straits? A rabbit crossed my path at the last camp before
+Michilimackinac, and when we took boat to leave the mission at the
+Straits, three crows flew directly across our way. Did I not beseech you
+to turn back? Did I not tell you, most of all, that we had no right,
+honest _voyageurs_ that we are, to leave for the woods without
+confessing to the good father? 'Tis two years now since I have been
+proper shriven, and two years is too long for a _voyageur_ to remain
+unabsolved. Mother of God! When I see the lightnings and listen to that
+wind, I bethink me of my sins--my sins! I vow a bale of beaver--"
+
+"Pish! Jean," responded Du Mesne, who had come in from the cover of the
+wood and was casting about in the darkness as best he might to see that
+all was made secure. "Thou'lt feel better when the sun shines again.
+Call Pierre Noir, and hurry, or our canoe will pound to bits upon the
+beach. Come!"
+
+All three went now knee-deep in the surf, and Du Mesne, clinging to the
+gunwale as he passed out, was soon waist deep, and time and again lost
+his footing in the flood.
+
+"Pull!" he cried at last. "Now, _en avant_!" He had flung himself over
+the stern, and with his knife cut the hide rope of the anchor-stone.
+Overboard again in an instant, he joined the others in their rush up the
+beach, and the three bore their ship upon their shoulders above the
+reach of the waves.
+
+"Myself," said Pierre Noir, "shall sleep beneath the boat to-night, for
+since she sheds water from below, she may do as well from above."
+
+"Even so, Pierre Noir," said Du Mesne, "but get you the boat farther
+toward your own camp to-night. Do you not see that Monsieur L'as is not
+with us?"
+
+"_Eh bien_?"
+
+"And were he not surely with us at such time, unless--?"
+
+"Oh, _assurément_!" replied Pierre Noir. "Jean Breboeuf, aid me in
+taking the boat back to our camp in the woods."
+
+Now came the rain. Not in steady and even downpour, not with
+intermittent showers, but in a sidelong, terrifying torrent, drenching,
+biting, cutting in its violence. The swift weight of the rain gave to
+the trees more burden than they could bear. As before the storm, when
+all was still, there had come time and again the warning boom of a
+falling tree, stricken with mysterious mortal dread of that which was to
+come, so now, in the riot of that arrived danger, first one and then
+another wide-armed monarch of the wood crashed down, adding with its
+downfall to the testimony of the assailing tempest's strength and fury.
+The lightning now came not only in ragged blazes and long ripping lines
+of light, but in bursts and shocks, and in bomb-like balls, exploding
+with elemental detonations. Balls of this tense surcharged essence
+rolled out over the comb of the bluff, fell upon the shadows of the
+water, and seemed to bound from crest to white-capped crest, till at
+last they split and burst asunder like some ominous missiles from
+engines of wrath and destruction.
+
+And now, suddenly, all grew still again. The sky took on a lighter,
+livid tone, one of pure venom. There came a whisper, a murmur, a rush as
+of mighty waters, a sighing as of an army of the condemned, a shrieking
+as of legions of the lost, a roaring as of all the soul-felt tortures of
+a world. From the forest rose a continuous rending crash. The whiplash
+of the tempest cracked the tree trunks as a child beheads a row of
+daisies. Piled up, falling, riven asunder, torn out by the wind, the
+giant trees joined the toys which the cynic storm gathered in its hands
+and bore along until such time as it should please to crush and drop
+them.
+
+There passed out over the black sea of Michiganon a vast black wraith; a
+thing horrible, tremendous, titanic in organic power. It howled,
+execrated, menaced; missed its aim, and passed. The little swaying house
+still stood! Under the sheltered log some tiny sparks of fire still
+burned, omen of the unquenchable hearthstones which the land was yet to
+know!
+
+"Holy God! what was it? What was that which passed?" cried Jean
+Breboeuf, crawling out from beneath his shelter. "Saint Mary defend us
+all this night! 'Twas the great Canoe of the Damned, running _au large_
+across the sky! Mary, Mother of God, hear my vow! From this time Jean
+Breboeuf shall lead a better life!"
+
+The storm, baffled, passed on. The rain, unsatisfied, sullenly ceased in
+its attack. The waves, hopeless but still vindictive, began to call back
+their legions from the narrow shore. The lightnings, unsated in their
+wrath, flared and flickered on and out across the eastward sea. With
+wild laughter and shrieks and imprecations, the spirit of the tempest
+wailed on its furious way. The red West had raised its hand to smite,
+but it had not smitten sure.
+
+In the silence of the night, in the hush following the uproar of the
+storm, there came a little wailing cry; so faint, so feeble, yet so
+mighty, so conquering, this sign of the coming generation, the voice of
+the new-born babe. At this little human voice, born of sorrow and sin,
+born to suffering and to knowledge, born to life in all its wonders and
+to death in all its mystery--the elements perchance relented and averted
+their fury. Not yet was there to be punished sin, or wrong, or doubt, or
+weakness. Not at once would justice punish the parents of this babe and
+blot out at once the record of their fault. Storm and lightning,
+darkness and the night yielded to the voice of the infant and allowed
+the old story of humanity and sin, and hope and mercy to run on.
+
+The babe wailed faintly in the silence of the night. Under the
+hearth-log there still endured the fire. And then the red West, seeing
+itself conquered, smiled and flung wide its arms, and greeted them with
+the burgeoning dawn, and the voices of birds, with a sky blue and
+repentant, a sun smiling and not unkind.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+AU LARGE
+
+
+It was weeks after the night of the great storm, and the camp of the
+_voyageurs_ still held its place on the shore of the great Green Bay.
+The wild game and the abundant fishes of the lake gave ample provender
+for the party, and the little bivouac had been rendered more comfortable
+in many ways best known to those dwellers of the forest. The light jest,
+the burst of laughter, the careless ease of attitude showed the
+light-hearted _voyageurs_ content with this, their last abode, nor for
+the time did any word issue which threatened to end their tarrying.
+
+Law one morning strolled out from the lodge and seated himself on a bit
+of driftwood at the edge of the forest's fringe of cedars, where,
+seemingly half forgetting himself in the witchery of the scene, he gazed
+out idly over the wide prospect which lay before him. He was the same
+young man as ever. Surely, this increased gauntness was but the result
+of long hours at the paddle, the hollow cheeks but betokened hard fare
+and the defining winds of the outdoor air. If the eye were a trace more
+dim, that could be due but to the reflectiveness induced by the quiet
+scene and hour. Yet why should John Law, young and refreshed, drop chin
+in hand and sit there moodily looking ahead of him, comprehending not at
+all that which he beheld?
+
+Indeed there appeared now to the eye of this young man not the white
+shores and black crowned bluffs and distant islands, not the sweep of
+broad-winged birds circling near the waters, nor the shadow of the
+high-poised eagle drifting far above. He felt not the soft wind upon his
+cheek, nor noted the warmth of the oncoming sun. In truth, even here,
+on the very threshold of a new world and a new life, he was going back,
+pausing uncertainly at the door of that life and of that world which he
+had left behind. There appeared to him not the rolling undulations of
+the black-topped forest, not the tossing surface of the inland sea, nor
+the white-pebbled beach laved by its pulsing waters. He saw instead a
+white and dusty road, lined by green English hedge-rows. Back, over
+there, beyond these rolling blue waves, back of the long water trail
+over which he had come, there were chapel and bell and robed priest, and
+the word which made all fast forever. But back of the wilderness
+mission, back of the straggling settlements of Montréal and Quebec, back
+of the blue waters of the ocean, there, too, were church and minister;
+and there dwelt a woman whose figure stood now before his eyes, part of
+this mental picture of the white road lined with the hedges of green.
+
+A hand was laid on his shoulder, and he half started up in sudden
+surprise. Before him, the sun shining through her hair, her eyes dark in
+the shadow, stood Mary Connynge. A fair woman indeed, comely, round of
+form, soft-eyed, and light of touch, she might none the less have been a
+very savage as she stood there, clad no longer in the dress of
+civilization, but in the soft native garb of skins, ornamented with the
+stained quills of the porcupine and the bizarre adornments of the native
+bead work; in her hair dull metal bands, like any Indian woman, upon her
+feet little beaded moccasins--the very moccasin, it might have been,
+which Law had first seen in ancient London town and which had played so
+strange a part in his life since then.
+
+"You startled me," said Law, simply. "I was thinking."
+
+A sudden jealous wave of woman's divining intuition came upon the woman
+at his side. "I doubt not," said she, bitterly, "that I could name the
+subject of your thought! Why? Why sit here and dream of her, when here
+am I, who deserve everything that you can give?"
+
+She stood erect, her eyes flashing, her arms outstretched, her bosom
+panting under the fringed garments, her voice ringing as it might have
+been with the very essence of truth and passion. Law looked at her
+steadily. But the shadow did not lift from his brow, though he looked
+long and pondered.
+
+"Come," said he, at length, gently. "None the less we are as we are. In
+every game we take our chances, and in every game we pay our debts. Let
+us go back to the camp."
+
+As they turned back down the beach Law saw standing at a little distance
+his lieutenant, Du Mesne, who hesitated as though he would speak.
+
+"What is it, Du Mesne?" asked Law, excusing himself with a gesture and
+joining the _voyageur_ where he stood.
+
+"Why, Monsieur L'as," said Du Mesne, "I am making bold to mention it,
+but in good truth there was some question in my mind as to what might be
+our plans. The spring, as you know, is now well advanced. It was your
+first design to go far into the West, and there to set up your station
+for the trading in furs. Now there have come these little incidents
+which have occasioned us some delay. While I have not doubted your
+enterprise, Monsieur, I bethought me perhaps it might be within your
+plans now to go but little farther on--perhaps, indeed, to turn back--"
+
+"To go back?" said Law.
+
+"Well, yes; that is to say, Monsieur L'as, back again down the Great
+Lakes."
+
+"Have you then known me so ill as this, Du Mesne?" said Law. "It has not
+been my custom to set backward foot on any sort of trail."
+
+"Oh, well, to be sure, Monsieur, that I know quite well," replied Du
+Mesne, apologetically. "I would only say that, if you do go forward, you
+will do more than most men accomplish on their first voyage _au large_
+in the wilderness. There comes to many a certain shrinking of the heart
+which leads them to find excuse for not faring farther on. Yonder, as
+you know, Monsieur, lie Quebec and Montréal, somewhat better fitted for
+the abode of monsieur and madame than the tents of the wilderness. Back
+of that, too, as we both very well know, Monsieur, lie London and old
+England; and I had been dull of eye indeed did I not recognize the
+opportunities of a young gallant like yourself. Now, while I know
+yourself to be a man of spirit, Monsieur L'as, and while I should
+welcome you gladly as a brother of the trail, I had only thought that
+perhaps you would pardon me if I did but ask your purpose at this time."
+
+Law bent his head in silence for a moment. "What know you of this
+forward trail, Du Mesne?" said he. "Have you ever gone beyond this point
+in your own journeyings?"
+
+"Never beyond this," replied Du Mesne, "and indeed not so far by many
+hundred miles. For my own part I rely chiefly upon the story of my
+brother, Greysolon du L'hut, the boldest soul that ever put paddle in
+the St. Lawrence. My brother Greysolon, by the fire one night, told me
+that some years before he had been at the mouth of the Green
+Bay--perhaps near this very spot--and that here he and his brothers
+found a deserted Indian camp. Near it, lying half in the fire, where he
+had fallen in exhaustion, was an old, a very old Indian, who had been
+abandoned by his tribe to die--for that, you must know, Monsieur, is one
+of the pleasant customs of the wilderness.
+
+"Greysolon and his men revived this savage in some fashion, and meantime
+had much speech with him about this unknown land at whose edge we have
+now arrived. The old savage said that he had been many moons north and
+west of that place. He knew of the river called the Blue Earth, perhaps
+the same of which Father Hennepin has told. And also of the Divine
+River, far below and tributary to the Messasebe. He said that his father
+was once of a war party who went far to the north against the Ojibways,
+and that his people took from the Ojibways one of their prisoners, who
+said that he came from some strange country far to the westward, where
+there was a very wide plain, of no trees. Beyond that there were great
+mountains, taller than any to be found in all this region hereabout.
+Beyond these mountains the prisoner did not know what there might be,
+but these mountains his people took to be the edge of the world, beyond
+which could live only wicked spirits. This was what the prisoner of the
+Ojibways said. He, too, was an old man.
+
+"The captive of my brother Greysolon was an Outagamie, and he said that
+the Outagamies burned this prisoner of the Ojibways, for they knew that
+he was surely lying to them. Without doubt they did quite right to burn
+him, for the notion of a great open country without trees or streams is,
+of course, absurd to any one who knows America. And as for mountains,
+all men know that the mountains lie to the east of us, not to the
+westward."
+
+"'Twould seem much hearsay," said Law, "this information which comes at
+second, third and fourth hand."
+
+"True," said Du Mesne, "but such is the source of the little we know of
+the valley of the Messasebe, and that which lies beyond it. None the
+less this idea offers interest."
+
+"Yet you ask me if I would return."
+
+"'Twas but for yourself, Monsieur. It is there, if I may humbly confess
+to you, that it is my own ambition some day to arrive. Myself--this
+West, as I said long ago to the gentlemen in London--appeals to me,
+since it is indeed a land unoccupied, unowned, an empire which we may
+have all for ourselves. What say you, Monsieur L'as?"
+
+John Law straightened and stiffened as he stood. For an instant his eye
+flashed with the zeal of youth and of adventure. It was but a transient
+cloud which crossed his face, yet there was sadness in his tone as he
+replied.
+
+"My friend," said he, "you ask me for my answer. I have pondered and I
+now decide. We shall go on. We shall go forward. Let us have this West,
+my friend. Heaven helping us, let me find somewhere, in some land, a
+place where I may be utterly lost, and where I may forget!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+THE PATHWAY OF THE WATERS
+
+
+The news of the intended departure was received with joy by the crew of
+_voyageurs_, who, on the warning of an instant, fell forthwith to the
+simple tasks of breaking camp and storing the accustomed bales and
+bundles in their places in the great _canot du Nord_.
+
+"_La voilà_!" said Tête Gris. "Here she sits, this canoe, eager to go
+on. 'Tis forward again, _mes amis_! Forward once more; and glad enough
+am I for this day. We shall see new lands ere long."
+
+"For my part," said Jean Breboeuf, "I also am most anxious to be away,
+for I have eaten this white-fish until I crave no more. I had bethought
+me how excellent are the pumpkins of the good fathers at the Straits;
+and indeed I would we had with us more of that excellent fruit, the
+bean."
+
+"Bah! Jean Breboeuf," retorted Pierre Noir. "'Tis but a poor-hearted
+_voyageur_ would hang about a mission garden with a hoe in his hand
+instead of a gun. Perhaps the good sisters at the Mountain miss thy
+skill at pulling weeds."
+
+"Nay, now, I can live as long on fish and flesh as any man," replied
+Jean Breboeuf, stoutly, "nor do I hold myself, Monsieur Tête Gris, one
+jot in courage back of any man upon the trail."
+
+"Of course not, save in time of storm," grinned Tête Gris. "Then, it is
+'Holy Mary, witness my vow of a bale of beaver!' It is--"
+
+"Well, so be it," said Jean Breboeuf, stoutly. "'Tis sure a bale of
+beaver will come easily enough in these new lands; and--though I insist
+again that I have naught of superstition in my soul--when a raven sits
+on a tree near camp and croaks of a morning before breakfast--as upon my
+word of honor was the case this morning--there must be some ill fate in
+store for us, as doth but stand to reason."
+
+"But say you so?" said Tête Gris, pausing at his task, with his face
+assuming a certain seriousness.
+
+"Assuredly," said Jean Breboeuf. "'Tis as I told you. Moreover, I insist
+to you, my brothers, that the signs have not been right for this trip at
+any time. For myself, I look for nothing but disaster."
+
+The humor of Jean Breboeuf's very gravity appealed so strongly to his
+older comrades that they broke out into laughter, and so all fell again
+to their tasks, in sheer light-heartedness forgetting the superstitions
+of their class.
+
+Thus at length the party took ship again, and in time made the head of
+the great bay within whose arms they had been for some time encamped.
+They won up over the sullen rapids of the river which came into the bay,
+toiling sometimes waist-deep at the _cordelle_, yet complaining not at
+all. So in time they came out on the wide expanse of the shallow lake of
+the Winnebagoes, which body of water they crossed directly, coming into
+the quiet channel of the stream which fell in upon its western shore. Up
+this stream in turn steadily they passed, amid a panorama filled with
+constant change. Sometimes the gentle river bent away in long curves,
+with hardly a ripple upon its placid surface, save where now and again
+some startled fish sprang into the air in fright or sport, or in the
+rush upon its prey. Then the stream would lead away into vast seas of
+marsh lands, waving in illimitable reaches of rushes, or fringed with
+the unspeakably beautiful green of the graceful wild rice plant.
+
+In these wide levels now and again the channel divided, or lost itself
+in little _cul de sacs_, from which the paddlers were obliged to retrace
+their way. All about them rose myriads of birds and wild fowl, which
+made their nests among these marshes, and the babbling chatter of the
+rail, the high-keyed calling of the coot, or the clamoring of the
+home-building mallard assailed their ears hour after hour as they passed
+on between the leafy shores. Then, again, the channel would sweep to one
+side of the marsh, and give view to wide vistas of high and rolling
+lands, dotted with groves of hardwood, with here and there a swamp of
+cedar or of tamarack. Little herds of elk and droves of deer fed on the
+grass-covered slopes, as fat, as sleek and fearless of mankind as though
+they dwelt domesticated in some noble park.
+
+It was a land obviously but little known, even to the most adventurous,
+and as chance would have it, they met not even a wandering party of the
+native tribes. Clearly now the little boat was climbing, climbing slowly
+and gently, yet surely, upward from the level of the great Lake
+Michiganon. In time the little river broadened and flattened out into
+wide, shallow expanses, the waters known as the Lakes of the Foxes; and
+beyond that it became yet more shallow and uncertain, winding among
+quaking bogs and unknown marshes; yet still, whether by patience, or by
+cheerfulness, or by determination, the craft stood on and on, and so
+reached that end of the waterway which, in the opinion of the more
+experienced Du Mesne, must surely be the place known among the Indian
+tribes as the "Place for the carrying of boats."
+
+Here they paused for a few days, at that mild summit of land which marks
+the portage between the east bound and the west bound waters; yet,
+impelled ever by the eager spirit of the adventurer, they made their
+pause but short. In time they launched their craft on the bright, smooth
+flood of the river of the Ouisconsins, stained coppery-red by its
+far-off, unknown course in the north, where it had bathed leagues of the
+roots of pine and tamarack and cedar. They passed on steadily westward,
+hour after hour, with the current of this great stream, among little
+islands covered with timber; passed along bars of white sand and flats
+of hardwood; beyond forest-covered knolls, in the openings of which one
+might now and again see great vistas of a scenery now peaceful and now
+bold, with turreted knolls and sweeping swards of green, as though some
+noble house of old England were set back secluded within these wide and
+well-kept grounds. The country now rapidly lost its marshy character,
+and as they approached the mouth of the great stream, it being now well
+toward the middle of the summer, they reached, suddenly and without
+forewarning, that which they long had sought.
+
+The sturdy paddlers were bending to their tasks, each broad back
+swinging in unison forward and back over the thwart, each brown throat
+bared to the air, each swart head uncovered to the glare of the midday
+sun, each narrow-bladed paddle keeping unison with those before and
+behind, the hand of the paddler never reaching higher than his chin,
+since each had learned the labor-saving fashion of the Indian canoeman.
+The day was bright and cheery, the air not too ardent, and across the
+coppery waters there stretched slants of shadow from the embowering
+forest trees. They were alone, these travelers; yet for the time at
+least part of them seemed care-free and quite abandoned to the sheer
+zest of life. There arose again, after the fashion of the _voyageurs_,
+the measure of the paddling song, without which indeed the paddler had
+not been able to perform his labor at the thwart.
+
+    "_Dans mon chemin j'ai rencontré_--"
+
+chanted the leader; and voices behind him responded lustily with the
+next line:
+
+    "_Trois cavaliers bien montés_--"
+    "_Trois cavaliers bien montés_--"
+
+chanted the leader again.
+
+
+    "_L'un à cheval et l'autre à pied_--"
+
+came the response; and then the chorus:
+
+    "_Lon, lon laridon daine--
+     Lon, lon laridon dai!_"
+
+The great boat began to move ahead steadily and more swiftly, and bend
+after bend of the river was rounded by the rushing prow. None knew this
+country, nor wist how far the journey might carry him. None knew as of
+certainty that he would ever in this way reach the great Messasebe; or
+even if he thought that such would be the case, did any one know how far
+that Messasebe still might be. Yet there came a time in the afternoon of
+that day, even as the chant of the _voyageurs_ still echoed on the
+wooded bluffs, and even as the great birch-bark ship still responded
+swiftly to their gaiety, when, on a sudden turn in the arm of the river,
+there appeared wide before them a scene for which they had not been
+prepared. There, rippling and rolling under the breeze, as though itself
+the arm of some great sea, they saw a majestic flood, whose real nature
+and whose name each man there knew on the instant and instinctively.
+
+"Messasebe! Messasebe!" broke out the voices of the paddlers.
+
+"Stop the paddles!" cried Du Mesne. "_Voilà_!"
+
+John Law rose in the bow of the boat and uncovered his head. It was a
+noble prospect which lay before him. His was the soul of the adventurer,
+quick to respond to challenge. There was a fluttering in his throat as
+he stood and gazed out upon this solemn, mysterious and tremendous
+flood, coming whence, going whither, none might say. He gazed and gazed,
+and it was long before the shadow crossed his face and before he drew a
+sigh.
+
+"Madam," said he, at length, turning until he faced Mary Connynge, "this
+is the West. We have chosen, and we have arrived!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+MESSASEBE
+
+
+The boat, now lacking its propelling power, drifted on and out into the
+clear tide of the mighty stream. The paddlers were idle, and silence had
+fallen upon all. The rush of this majestic flood, steady, mysterious,
+secret-keeping, created a feeling of awe and wonder. They gazed and
+gazed again, up the great waterway, across to its farther shore, along
+its rolling course below, and still each man forgot his paddle, and
+still the little ship of New France drifted on, just rocking gently in
+the mimic waves which ruffled the face of the mighty Father of the
+Waters.
+
+"By our Lady!" cried Du Mesne, at length, and tears stood in his
+tan-framed eyes as he turned, "'tis true, all that has been said! Here
+it is, Messasebe, more mighty than any story could have told! Monsieur
+L'as, 'tis big enough to carry ships."
+
+"'Twill carry fleets of them one day, Du Mesne," replied John Law. "'Tis
+a roadway fit for a nation. Ah, Du Mesne! our St. Lawrence, our New
+France--they dwindle when compared to this new land."
+
+"Aye! and 'tis all our own!" cried Du Mesne. "Look; for the last ten
+days we have scarce seen even the smoke of a wigwam, and, so far as I
+can tell, there is not in all this valley now the home of a single white
+man. My friend Du L'hut--he may be far north of the Superior to-day for
+aught we know, or somewhere among the Sauteur people. If there he any
+man below us, let some one else tell who that may be. Sir, I promise
+you, when I see this big water going on so fast and heading so far away
+from home--well, I admit it causes me to shiver!"
+
+"'Tis much the same," said Law, "where home may be for me."
+
+"Ah, but 'tis different on the Lakes," said Du Mesne, "for there we
+always knew the way back, and knew that 'twas down stream."
+
+"He says well," broke in Mary Connynge. "There is something in this big
+river that chills me. I am afraid."
+
+"And what say you, Tête Gris, and you, Pierre Noir?" asked Law.
+
+"Why, myself," replied the former, "I am with the captain. It matters
+not. There must always be one trail from which one does not return."
+
+"_Oui_," said Pierre Noir. "To be sure, we have passed as good beaver
+country as heart of man could ask; but never was land so good but there
+was better just beyond."
+
+"They say well, Du Mesne," spoke John Law, presently; "'tis better on
+beyond. Suppose we never do return? Did I not say to you that I would
+leave this other world as far behind me as might be?"
+
+"_Eh bien_, Monsieur L'as, you reply with spirit, as ever," replied Du
+Mesne, "and it is not for me to stand in the way. My own fortune and
+family are also with me, and home is where my fire is lit."
+
+"Very well," replied Law. "Let us run the river to its mouth, if need
+be. 'Tis all one to me. And whether we get back or not, 'tis another
+tale."
+
+"Oh, I make no doubt we shall win back if need be," replied Du Mesne.
+"'Tis said the savages know the ways by the Divine River of the Illini
+to the foot of Michiganon; and that, perhaps, might be our best way back
+to the Lakes and to the Mountain with our beaver. We shall, provided we
+reach the Divine River, as I should guess by the stories I have heard,
+be then below the Illini, the Ottawas and the Miamis, with I know not
+what tribes from west of the Messasebe. 'Tis for you to say, Monsieur
+L'as, but for my own part--and 'tis but a hazard at best--I would say
+remain here, or press on to the river of the Illini."
+
+"'Tis easy of decision, then," replied Law, after a moment of
+reflection. "We take that course which leads us farther on at least.
+Again the paddles, my friends! To-night we sup in our own kingdom.
+Strike up the song, Du Mesne!"
+
+A shout of approval broke from the hardy men along the boat side, and
+even Jean Breboeuf tossed up his cap upon his paddle shaft.
+
+"Forward, then, _mes amis_!" cried Du Mesne, setting his own
+paddle-blade deep into the flood. "_En roulant ma boule, roulant_--"
+
+Again the chorus rose, and again the hardy craft leaped onward into the
+unexplored.
+
+Day after day following this the journey was resumed, and day after day
+the travelers with eager eyes witnessed a prospect of continual change.
+The bluffs, bolder and more gigantic, towered more precipitous than the
+banks of the gentler streams which they had left behind. Forests ranged
+down to the shores, and wide, green-decked islands crept into view, and
+little timbered valleys of lesser streams came marching down to the
+imposing flood of Messasebe. Again the serrated bluffs broke back and
+showed vast vistas of green savannas, covered with tall, waving grasses,
+broken by little rolling hills, over which crossed herds of elk, and
+buffalo, and deer.
+
+"'Tis a land of plenty," said Du Mesne one day, breaking the habitual
+silence into which the party had fallen. "'Tis a great land, and a
+mighty. And now, Monsieur, I know why the Indians say 'tis guarded by
+spirits. Sure, I can myself feel something in the air which makes my
+shoulder-blades to creep."
+
+"'Tis a mighty land, and full of wonders," assented Law, who, in
+different fashion, had felt the same mysterious spell of this great
+stream. For himself, he was nearer to reverence than ever yet he had
+been in all his wild young life.
+
+Now so it happened that at length, after a long though rapid journey
+down the great river, they came to that stream which they took to be the
+river of the Illini. This they ascended, and so finally, early in one
+evening, at the bank of a wide and placid bayou, shaded by willows and
+birch trees, and by great elms that bore aloft a canopy of clinging
+vines, they made a landing for the bivouac which was to prove their
+final tarrying place. The great _canot du Nord_ came to rest at the foot
+of a timbered hill, back of which stretched high, rolling prairies,
+dotted with little groves and broken with wide swales and winding
+sloughs. The leaders of the party, with Tête Gris and Pierre Noir,
+ascended the bluffs and made brief exploration; not more, as was tacitly
+understood, with view to choosing the spot for the evening encampment
+than with the purpose of selecting a permanent stopping place. Du Mesne
+at length turned to Law with questioning gaze. John Law struck the earth
+with his heel.
+
+"Here!" said he. "Here let us stop. 'Tis as well as any place. There are
+flowers and trees, and meadows and hedges, like to those of England.
+Here let us stay!"
+
+"Ah, you say well indeed!" cried Du Mesne, "and may fortune send us
+happy enterprises."
+
+"But then, for the houses," continued Law. "I presume we must keep close
+to this little stream which flows from the bluff. And yet we must have a
+place whence we can obtain good view. Then, with stout walls to protect
+us, we might--but see! What is that beyond? Look! There is, if I mistake
+not, a house already builded!"
+
+"'Tis true, as I live!" cried Du Mesne, lowering his voice
+instinctively, as his quick eye caught the spot where Law was pointing.
+"But, good God! what can it mean?"
+
+They advanced cautiously into the little open space beyond them, a glade
+but a few hundred yards across and lined by encircling trees. They saw
+indeed a habitation erected by human hands, apparently not altogether
+without skill. There were rude walls of logs, reinforced by stakes
+planted in the ground. From the four corners of the inclosure projected
+overhanging beams. There was an opening in the inclosure, as they
+discovered upon closer approach, and entering at this rude door, the
+party looked about them curiously.
+
+Du Mesne shut his lips tight together. This was no house built by the
+hands of white men. There were here no quarters, no shops, no chapel
+with its little bell. Instead there stood a few dried and twisted poles,
+and all around lay the litter of an abandoned camp.
+
+"Iroquois, by the living Mother of God!" cried Pierre Noir.
+
+"Look!" cried Tête Gris, calling them again outside the inclosure. He
+stood kicking in the ashes of what had been a fire-place. He disclosed,
+half buried in the charred embers, an iron kettle into which he gazed
+curiously. He turned away as John Law stepped up beside him.
+
+"There must have been game here in plenty," said Law. "There are bones
+scattered all about."
+
+Du Mesne and Tête Gris looked at each other in silence, and the former
+at length replied:
+
+"This is an Iroquois war house, Monsieur L'as," said he. "They lived
+here for more than a month, and, as you say, they fed well. But these
+bones you see are not the bones of elk or deer. They are the bones of
+men, and women, and children."
+
+Law stood taking in each detail of the scene about him.
+
+"Now you have seen what is before us," resumed Du Mesne. "The Iroquois
+have gone, 'tis true. They have wiped out the villages which were here.
+There are the little cornfields, but I warrant you they have not seen a
+tomahawk hoe for a month or more. The Iroquois have gone, yet the fact
+that they have been here proves they may come again. What say you, Tête
+Gris; and what is your belief, Pierre?"
+
+Tête Gris remained silent for some moments. "'Tis as Monsieur says,"
+replied he at length. "'Tis all one to me. I go or stay, as it shall
+please the others. There is always the one trail over which one does not
+return."
+
+"And you, Pierre?"
+
+"I stay by my friends," replied Pierre Noir, briefly.
+
+"And you, Monsieur L'as?" asked Du Mesne.
+
+Law raised his head with the old-time determination. "My friends," said
+he, "we have elected to come into this country and take its conditions
+as we find them. If we falter, we lose; of that we may rest assured.
+Let us not turn back because a few savages have been here and have
+slaughtered a few other savages. For me, there seems but one opinion
+possible. The lightning has struck, yet it may not strike again at the
+same tree. The Iroquois have been here, but they have departed, and they
+have left nothing to invite their return. Now, it is necessary that we
+make a pause and build some place for our abode. Here is a post already
+half builded to our hands."
+
+"But if the savages return?" said Du Mesne.
+
+"Then we will fight," said John Law.
+
+"And right you are," replied Du Mesne. "Your reasoning is correct. I
+vote that we build here our station."
+
+"Myself also," said Tête Gris. And Pierre Noir nodded his assent in
+silence.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+MAIZE
+
+
+"Ola! Jean Breboeuf," called out Du Mesne to that worthy, who presently
+appeared, breathing hard from his climb up the river bluff. "Know you
+what has been concluded?"
+
+"No; how should I guess?" replied Jean Breboeuf. "Or, at least, if I
+should guess, what else should I guess save that we are to take boat at
+once and set back to Montréal as fast as we may? But that--what is this?
+Whose house is that yonder?"
+
+"'Tis our own, _mon enfant_," replied Du Mesne, dryly. "'Twas perhaps
+the property of the Iroquois a moon ago. A moon before that time the
+soil it stands on belonged to the Illini. To-day both house and soil
+belong to us. See; here stood the village. There are the cornfields, cut
+and trampled by the Iroquois. Here are the kettles of the natives--"
+
+"But, but--why--what is all this? Why do we not hasten away?" broke in
+Jean Breboeuf.
+
+"Pish! We do not go away. We remain where we are."
+
+"Remain? Stay here, and be eaten by the Iroquois? Nay! not Jean
+Breboeuf."
+
+Du Mesne smiled broadly at his terrors, and a dry grin even broke over
+the features of the impassive old trapper, Tête Gris.
+
+"Not so fast with your going away, Jean, my brother," said Du Mesne.
+"Thou'rt ever hinting of corn and the bean; now see what can be done in
+this garden-place of the Iroquois and the Illini. You are appointed head
+gardener for the post!"
+
+"Messieurs, _me voilà_," said Jean Breboeuf, dropping his hands in
+despair. "Were I not the bravest man in all New France I should leave
+you at this moment. It is mad, quite mad you are, every one of you! I,
+Jean Breboeuf, will remain, and, if necessary, will protect. Corn, and
+perhaps the bean, ye shall have; perhaps even some of those little roots
+that the savages dig and eat; but, look you, this is but because you are
+with one who is brave. _Enfin_, I go. I bend me to the hoe, here in this
+place, like any peasant."
+
+"An excellent hoe can be made from the blade bone of an elk, as the
+woman Wabana will perhaps show you if you like," said Pierre Noir,
+derisively, to his comrade of the paddle.
+
+"Even so," said Jean Breboeuf. "I make me the hoe. Could I have but
+thee, old Pierre, to sit on a stump and fright the crows away, I make no
+doubt that all would go well with our husbandry. I had as lief go
+_censitaire_ for Monsieur L'as as for any seignieur on the Richelieu; of
+that be sure, old Pierre."
+
+"Faith," replied the latter, "when it comes to frightening crows, I'll
+even agree to sit on a stump with my musket across my knees and watch
+you work. 'Tis a good place for a sentinel--to keep the crows from
+picking yet more bones than these which will embarrass you in your
+hoeing, Jean Breboeuf."
+
+"He says the Richelieu, Du Mesne," broke in John Law, musingly. "Very
+far away it sounds. I wonder if we shall ever see it again, with its
+little narrow farms. But here we have our own trails and our own lands,
+and let us hope that Monsieur Jean shall prosper in his belated farming.
+And now, for the rest of us, we must look presently to the building of
+our houses."
+
+Thus began, slowly and in primitive fashion, the building of one of the
+first cities of the vast valley of the Messasebe; the seeds of
+civilization taking hold upon the ground of barbarism, the one
+supplanting the other, yet availing itself of that other. As the white
+men took over the crude fields of the departed savages, so also they
+appropriated the imperfect edifice which the conquerors of those savages
+had left for them. It was in little the story of old England herself,
+builded upon the races and the ruins of Briton, and Roman, and Saxon, of
+Dane and Norman.
+
+Under the direction of Law, the walls of the old war house were
+strengthened with an inner row of palisades, supporting an embankment of
+earth and stone. The overlap of the gate was extended into a re-entrant
+angle, and rude battlements were erected at the four corners of the
+inclosure. The little stream of unfailing water was led through a corner
+of the fortress. In the center of the inclosure they built the houses; a
+cabin for Law, one for the men, and a larger one to serve as store room
+and as trading place, should there be opportunity for trade.
+
+It was in these rude quarters that Law and his companion established
+that which was the nearest approach to a home that either for the time
+might claim; and it was thus that both undertook once more that old and
+bootless human experiment of seeking to escape from one's own self.
+Silent now, and dutifully obedient enough was this erstwhile English
+beauty, Mary Connynge; yet often and often Law caught the question of
+her gaze. And often enough, too, he found his own questioning running
+back up the water trails, and down the lakes and across the wide ocean,
+in a demand which, fiercer and fiercer as it grew, he yet remained too
+bitter and too proud to put to the proof by any means now within his
+power. Strange enough, savage enough, hopeless enough, was this wild
+home of his in the wilderness of the Messasebe.
+
+The smoke of the new settlement rose steadily day by day, but it gave
+signal for no watching enemy. All about stretched the pale green ocean
+of the grasses, dotted by many wild flowers, nodding and bowing like
+bits of fragile flotsam on the surface of a continually rolling sea. The
+little groves of timber, scattered here and there, sheltered from the
+summer sun the wild cattle of the plains. The shorter grasses hid the
+coveys of the prairie hens, and on the marsh-grown bayou banks the wild
+duck led her brood. A great land, a rich, a fruitful one, was this that
+lay about these adventurers.
+
+A soberness had come over the habit of the master mind of this little
+colony. His hand took up the ax, and forgot the sword and gun. Day after
+day he stood looking about him, examining and studying in little all the
+strange things which he saw; seeking to learn as much as might be of
+the timorous savages, who in time began to straggle back to their ruined
+villages; talking, as best he might, through such interpreting as was
+possible, with savages who came from the west of the Messasebe, and from
+the South and from the far Southwest; hearing, and learning and
+wondering of a land which seemed as large as all the earth, and various
+as all the lands that lay beneath the sun--that West, so glorious, so
+new, so boundless, which was yet to be the home of countless
+hearth-fires and the sites of myriad fields of corn. Let others hunt,
+and fish, and rob the Indians of their furs, after the accepted fashion
+of the time; as for John Law, he must look about him, and think, and
+watch this growing of the corn.
+
+He saw it fairly from its beginning, this growth of the maize, this
+plant which never yet had grown on Scotch or English soil; this tall,
+beautiful, broad-bladed, tender tree, the very emblem of all
+fruitfulness. He saw here and there, dropped by the careless hand of
+some departed Indian woman, the little germinating seeds, just thrusting
+their pale-green heads up through the soil, half broken by the tomahawk.
+He saw the clustering green shoots--numerous, in the sign of plenty--all
+crowding together and clamoring for light, and life, and air, and room.
+He saw the prevailing of the tall and strong upthrusting stalks, after
+the way of life; saw the others dwarf and whiten, and yet cling on at
+the base of the bolder stem, parasites, worthless, yet existing, after
+the way of life.
+
+He saw the great central stalks spring boldly up, so swiftly that it
+almost seemed possible to count the successive leaps of progress. He saw
+the strong-ribbed leaves thrown out, waving a thousand hands of cheerful
+welcome and assurance--these blades of the corn, so much mightier than
+any blades of steel. He saw the broad beckoning banners of the pale
+tassels bursting out atop of the stalk, token of fecundity and of the
+future. He caught the wide-driven pollen as it whitened upon the earth,
+borne by the parent West Wind, mother of increase. He saw the thickening
+of the green leaf at the base, its swelling, its growth and expansion,
+till the indefinite enlargement showed at length the incipient ear.
+
+He noted the faint brown of the ends of the sweetly-enveloping silk of
+the ear, pale-green and soft underneath the sheltering and protecting
+husk. He found the sweet and milk-white tender kernels, row upon row,
+forming rapidly beneath the husk, and saw at length the hardening and
+darkening of the husk at its free end, which told that man might pluck
+and eat.
+
+And then he saw the fading of the tassels, the darkening of the silk
+and the crinkling of the blades; and there, borne on the strong parent
+stem, he noted now the many full-rowed ears, protected by their husks
+and heralded by the tassels and the blades. "Come, come ye, all ye
+people! Enter in, for I will feed ye all!" This was the song of the
+maize, its invitation, its counsel, its promise.
+
+Under the warped lodge frames which the fires of the Iroquois had
+spared, there were yet visible clusters of the ears of last year's corn.
+Here, under his own eye, were growing yet other ears, ripe for the
+harvesting and ripe for the coming growth. A strange spell fell upon the
+soul of Law. Visions crossed his mind, born in the soft warm air of
+these fecundating winds, of this strange yet peaceful scene.
+
+At times he stood and looked out from the door of the palisade, when the
+prairie mists were rising in the morning at the mandate of the sun, and
+to his eyes these waving seas of grasses all seemed beckoning fields of
+corn. These smokes, coming from the broken tepees of the timid
+tribesmen, surely they arose from the roofs of happy and contented
+homes! These wreaths and wraiths of the twisting and wide-stalking
+mists, surely these were the captains of a general husbandry! Ah, John
+Law, John Law! Had God given thee the right feeling and contented
+heart, happy indeed had been these days in this new land of thine own,
+far from ignoble strivings and from fevered dreams, far from aimless
+struggles and unregulated avarice, far from oppression and from misery,
+far from bickerings, heart-burnings and envyings! Ah, John Law! Had God
+but given thee the pure and well-contented heart! For here in the
+Messasebe, that Mind which made the universe and set man to be one of
+its little inhabitants--surely that Mind had planned that man should
+come and grow in this place, tall and strong, and fruitful, useful to
+all the world, even as this swift, strong growing of the maize.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+THE BRINK OF CHANGE
+
+
+The breath of autumn came into the air. The little flowers which had
+dotted the grassy robe of the rolling hills had long since faded away
+under the ardent sun, and now there appeared only the denuded stalks of
+the mulleins and the flaunting banners of the goldenrod. The wild grouse
+shrank from the edges of the little fields and joined their numbers into
+general bands, which night and morn crossed the country on sustained and
+strong-winged flight. The plumage of the young wild turkeys, stalking in
+droves among the open groves, began to emulate the iridescent splendors
+of their elders. The marshes above the village became the home of yet
+more numerous thousands of clamoring wild fowl, and high up against the
+blue there passed, on the south-bound journey, the harrow of the wild
+geese, wending their way from North to South across an unknown empire.
+
+A chill came into the waters of the river, so that the bass and pike
+sought out the deeper pools. The squirrels busily hoarded up supplies
+of the nuts now ripening. The antlers of the deer and the elk which
+emerged from the concealing thickets now showed no longer ragged strips
+of velvet, and their tips were polished in the preliminary fitting for
+the fall season of love and combat. There came nights when the white
+frost hung heavy upon all the bending grasses and the broad-leafed
+plants, a frost which seared the maize leaves and set aflame the foliage
+of the maples all along the streams, and decked in a hundred flamboyant
+tones the leaves of the sumach and all the climbing vines.
+
+As all things now presaged the coming winter, so there approached also
+the time when the little party, so long companions upon the Western
+trails, must for the first time know division. Du Mesne, making ready
+for the return trip over the unknown waterways back to the Lakes, as had
+been determined to be necessary, spoke of it as though the journey were
+but an affair of every day.
+
+"Make no doubt, Monsieur L'as," said he, "that I shall ascend this river
+of the Illini and reach Michiganon well before the snows. Once at the
+mission of the Miamis, or the village at the river Chicaqua, I shall be
+quite safe for the winter, if I decide not to go farther on. Then, in
+the spring, I make no doubt, I shall be able to trade our furs at the
+Straits, if I like not the long run down to the Mountain. Thus, you see,
+I may be with you again sometime within the following spring."
+
+"I hope it may be so, my friend," replied Law, "for I shall miss you
+sadly enough."
+
+"'Tis nothing, Monsieur; you will be well occupied. Suppose I take with
+me Kataikini and Kabayan, perhaps also Tête Gris. That will give us four
+paddlers for the big canoe, and you will still have left Pierre Noir and
+Jean, to say nothing of our friends the Illini hereabout, who will be
+glad enough to make cause with you in case of need. I will leave Wabana
+for madame, and trust she may prove of service. See to it, pray you,
+that she observes the offices of the church; for methinks, unless
+watched, Wabana is disposed to become careless and un-Christianized."
+
+"This I will look to," said Law, smiling.
+
+"Then all is well," resumed Du Mesne, "and my absence will be but a
+little thing, as we measure it on the trails. You may find a winter
+alone in the wilderness a bit dull for you, mayhap duller than were it
+in London, or even in Quebec. Yet 'twill pass, and in time we shall meet
+again. Perhaps some good father will be wishing to come back with me to
+set up a mission among the Illini. These good fathers, they so delight
+in losing fingers, and ears, and noses for the good of the
+Church--though where the Church be glorified therein I sometimes can not
+say. Perhaps some leech--mayhap some artisan--"
+
+"Nay, 'tis too far a spot, Du Mesne, to tempt others than ourselves."
+
+"Upon the contrary rather, Monsieur L'as. It is matter for laughter to
+see the efforts of Louis and his ministers to keep New France chained to
+the St. Lawrence! Yet my good lord governor might as well puff out his
+cheeks against the north wind as to try to keep New France from pouring
+west into the Messasebe; and as much might be said for those good rulers
+of the English colonies, who are seeking ever to keep their people east
+of the Alleghanies."
+
+"'Tis the Old World over again, there in the St. Lawrence," said Law.
+
+"Right you are, Monsieur L'as," exclaimed Du Mesne. "New France is but
+an extension of the family of Louis. The intendant reports everything to
+the king. Monsieur So-and-so is married. Very well, the king must know
+it! Monsieur's eldest daughter is making sheep's eyes at such and such a
+soldier of the regiment of the king. Very well, this is weighty matter,
+of which the king must be advised! Monsieur's wife becomes expectant of
+a son and heir. 'Tis meet that Louis the Great should be advised of
+this! Mother of God! 'Tis a pretty mess enough back there on the St.
+Lawrence, where not a hen may cackle over its new-laid egg but the king
+must know it, and where not a family has meat enough for its children to
+eat nor clothes enough to cover them. My faith, in that poor medley of
+little lords and lazy vassals, how can you wonder that the best of us
+have risen and taken to the woods! Yet 'tis we who catch their beaver
+for them; and if God and the king be willing, sometime we shall get a
+certain price for our beaver--provided God and the king furnish currency
+to pay us; and that the governor, the priest and the intendant ratify
+the acts of God and the king!"
+
+Law smiled at the sturdy vehemence of the other's speech, yet there was
+something of soberness in his own reply.
+
+"Sir," said he, "you see here my little crooked rows of maize. Look you,
+the beaver will pass away, but the roots of the corn will never be torn
+out. Here is your wealth, Du Mesne."
+
+The sturdy captain scratched his head. "I only know, for my part," said
+he, "that I do not care for the settlements. Not that I would not be
+glad to see the king extend his arm farther to the West, for these
+sullen English are crowding us more and more along our borders. Surely
+the land belongs to him who finds it."
+
+"Perhaps better to him who can both find and hold it. But this soil will
+one day raise up a people of its own."
+
+"Yet as to that," rejoined Du Mesne, as the two turned and walked back
+to the stockade, "we are not here to handle the affairs of either Louis
+or William. Let us e'en leave that to monsieur the intendant, and
+monsieur the governor, and our friends, the gray owls and the black
+crows, the Recollets and the Jesuits. I mind to call this spot home with
+you, if you like. I shall be back as soon as may be with the things we
+need, and we shall plant here no starving colony, but one good enough
+for the home of any man. Monsieur, I wish you very well, and I may
+congratulate you on your daughter. A heartier infant never was born
+anywhere on the water trail between the Mountain and the Messasebe. What
+name have you chosen for the young lady, Monsieur?"
+
+"I have decided," said John Law, "to call her Catharine."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+TOUS SAUVAGES
+
+
+Had nature indeed intended Law for the wild life of the trail, and had
+he indeed spent years rather than months among these unusual scenes, he
+could hardly have been better fitted for the part. Hardy of limb, keen
+of eye, tireless of foot, with a hand which any weapon fitted, his
+success as hunter made his companions willing enough to assign to him
+the chase of the bison or the stag; so that he became not only patron
+but provider for the camp.
+
+Some weeks after the departure of Du Mesne, Law was returning from the
+hunt some miles below the station. His tall and powerful figure,
+hardened by continued outdoor exercise, was scarce bowed by the weight
+of the wild buck which he bore across his shoulders. His eye, accustomed
+to the instant readiness demanded in the _voyageur's_ life, glanced
+keenly about, taking in each item of the scene, each movement of the
+little bird on the tree, the rustling of the grass where a rabbit
+started from its form, the whisk of the gray squirrel's tail on the
+limb far overhead.
+
+The touch of autumn was now in the air. The leaves of the wild grapevine
+were falling. The oaks had donned garments of somber brown, the
+hickories had lost their leaves, while here and there along the river
+shores the flaming sentinels of the maples had changed their scarlet
+uniform for one of duller hue. The wild rice in the marshes had shed its
+grain upon the mud banks. The acorns were loosening in their cups. Fall
+in the West, gorgeous, beautiful, had now set in, of all the seasons of
+the year, that most loved by the huntsman.
+
+This tall, lean man, clad in buckskin like a savage, brown almost as a
+savage, as active and as alert, seemed to fit not ill with these
+environments, nor to lack either confidence or contentment. He walked on
+steadily, following the path along the bayou bank, and at length paused
+for a moment, throwing down his burden and stooping to drink at the tiny
+pool made by the little rivulet which trickled down the face of the
+bluff. Here he bathed his face and hands in the cool stream, for the
+moment abandoning himself to that rest which the hunter earns. It was
+when at length he raised his head and turned to resume his burden that
+his suspicious eye caught a glimpse of something which sent him in a
+flash below the level of the grasses, and thence to the cover of a tree
+trunk.
+
+As he gazed from his hiding-place he saw the tawny waters of the bayou
+broken into a long series of advancing ripples. Passing the fringe of
+wild rice, swimming down beneath the heavy cordage of the wild
+grapevines, there came on two canoes, roughly made of elm bark, in
+fashion which would have shown an older frontiersman full proof of their
+Western origin.
+
+In the bow of the foremost boat, as Law could now clearly see, sat a
+slender young man, clad in the uniform, now soiled and faded, of a
+captain in the British army. His boat was propelled by four dusky
+paddlers, Indians of the East. Stalwart, powerful, silent, they sent the
+craft on down stream, their keen eyes glancing swiftly from one point to
+the other of the ever-changing panorama, yet finding nothing that would
+seem to warrant pause. Back of the first boat by a short distance came a
+kindred craft, its crew comprising two white men and two Indian
+paddlers. Of the white men, one might have been a petty officer, the
+other perhaps a private soldier.
+
+It was, then, as Du Mesne had said. Every party bound into the West must
+pass this very point upon the river of the Illini. But why should these
+be present here? Were they friends or foes? So queried the watcher,
+tense and eager as a waiting panther, now crouched with straining eye
+behind the sheltering tree.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+As the leading boat swung clear of the shadows, the man in the prow
+turned his face, scanning closely the shore of the stream. As he did so,
+Law half started to his feet, and a moment later stepped from his
+concealment. He gazed again and again, doubting what he saw. Surely
+those clean-cut, handsome features could belong to no man but his former
+friend, Sir Arthur Pembroke!
+
+Yet how could Sir Arthur be here? What could be his errand, and how had
+he been guided hither? These sudden questions might, upon the instant,
+have confused a brain ready as that of this observer, who paused not to
+reflect that this meeting, seemingly so impossible, was in fact the most
+natural thing in the world; indeed, could scarce have been avoided by
+any one traveling with Indian guides down the waterway to the Messasebe.
+
+The keen eyes of the red paddlers caught sight of the crushed grasses at
+the little landing on the bayou bank, even as Law rose from his
+hiding-place. A swift, concerted sweep of the paddles sent the boat
+circling out into midstream, and before Law knew it he was covered by
+half a dozen guns. He hardly noticed this. His own gun he left leaning
+against a tree, and his hand was thrown out high, in front of him as he
+came on, calling out to those in the stream. He heard the command of the
+leader in the boat, and a moment later both canoes swung inshore.
+
+"Have down your guns, Sir Arthur," cried Law, loudly and gaily. "We are
+none but friends here. Come in, and tell me that it is yourself, and not
+some miracle of mine eyes."
+
+The young man so surprisingly addressed half started from the thwart in
+his amazement. His face bent into an incredulous frown, scarce carrying
+comprehension, even as he approached the shore. As he left the boat, for
+an instant Pembroke's hand was half extended in greeting, yet a swift
+change came over his countenance, and his body stiffened.
+
+"Is it indeed you, Mr. Law?" he said. "I could not have believed myself
+so fortunate."
+
+"'Tis myself and no one else," replied Law. "But why this melodrama, Sir
+Arthur? Why reject my hand?"
+
+"I have sworn to extend to you no hand but that bearing a weapon, Mr.
+Law!" said Pembroke. "This may be accident, but it seems to me the
+justice of God. Oh, you have run far, Mr. Law--"
+
+"What mean you, Sir Arthur?" exclaimed Law, his face assuming the dull
+red of anger. "I have gone where I pleased, and asked no man's leave for
+it, and I shall live as I please and ask no man's leave for that. I
+admit that it seems almost a miracle to meet you here, but come you one
+way or the other, you come best without riddles, and still better
+without threats."
+
+"You are not armed," said Sir Arthur. He gazed at the bronzed figure
+before him, clad in fringed tunic and leggings of deer hide; at the belt
+with little knife and ax, at the gun which now rested in the hollow of
+his arm. Law himself laughed keenly.
+
+"Why, as to that," said he, "I had thought myself well enough equipped.
+But as for a sword, 'tis true my hand is more familiar, these days, with
+the ax and gun."
+
+"The late Jessamy Law shows change in his capacity of renegade," said
+Pembroke, raspingly. His face displayed a scorn which jumped ill with
+the nature of the man before him.
+
+"I am what I am, Sir Arthur," said Law, "and what I was. And always I am
+at any man's service who is in search of what you call God's justice, or
+what I may call personal satisfaction. I doubt not we shall find my
+other trinkets in good order not far away. But meantime, before you
+turn my hospitality into shame, bring on your men and follow me."
+
+His face working with emotion, Law turned away. He caught up the body of
+the dead buck, and tossing it across his shoulders, strode up the
+winding pathway.
+
+"Come, Gray, and Ellsworth," said Pembroke. "Get your men together. We
+shall see what there is to this."
+
+At the summit of the river-bluff Law awaited their arrival. He noted in
+silence the look of surprise which crossed Pembroke's face as at length
+they came into view of the little panorama of the stockade and its
+surroundings.
+
+"This is my home, Sir Arthur," said he simply. "These are my fields. And
+see, if I mistake not, yonder is some proof of the ability of my people
+to care for themselves."
+
+He pointed to the gateway, from the loop-holes guarding which there
+might now be seen protruding two long dark barrels, leveled in the
+direction of the approaching party. There came a call from within the
+palisade, and the sound of men running to take their places along the
+wall. Law raised his hand, and the barrels of the guns were lowered.
+
+"This, then, is your hiding-place!" said Pembroke.
+
+"I call it not such. 'Tis public to the world."
+
+"Tush! You lack not in the least of your old conceit and assurance, Mr.
+Law!" said Pembroke.
+
+"Nay, I lack not so much in assurance of myself," said Law, "as in my
+patience, which I find, Sir Arthur, now begins to grow a bit short about
+its breath. But since the courtesy of the trail demands somewhat, I say
+to you, there is my home. Enter it as friend if you like, but if not,
+come as you please. Did you indeed come bearing war, I should be obliged
+to signify to you, Sir Arthur, that you are my prisoner. You see my
+people."
+
+"Sir," replied Sir Arthur, blindly, "I have vowed to find you no matter
+where you should go."
+
+"It would seem that your vow is well fulfilled. But now, since you deal
+in mysteries, I shall even ask you definitely, Sir Arthur, who and what
+are you? Why do you come hither, and how shall we regard you?"
+
+"I am, in the first place," said Sir Arthur, "messenger of my Lord
+Bellomont, governor at Albany of our English colonies. I add my chief
+errand, which has been to find Mr. Law, whom I would hold to an
+accounting."
+
+"Oh, granted," replied Law, flicking lightly at the cuff of his tunic,
+"yet your errand still carries mystery."
+
+"You have at least heard of the Peace of Ryswick, I presume?"
+
+"No; how should I? And why should I care?"
+
+"None the less, the king of England and the king of France are no longer
+at war, nor are their colonies this side of the water. There are to be
+no more raids between the colonies of New England and New France. The
+Hurons are to give back their English prisoners, and the Iroquois are to
+return all their captives to the French. The Western tribes are to
+render up their prisoners also, be they French, English, Huron or
+Iroquois. The errand of carrying this news was offered to me. It agreed
+well enough with my own private purposes. I had tracked you, Mr. Law, to
+Montréal, lost you on the Richelieu, and was glad enough to take up this
+chance of finding you farther to the West. And now, by the justice of
+heaven, as I have said, I have found you easily."
+
+"And has Sir Arthur gone to sheriffing? Has my friend become constable?
+Is Sir Arthur a spy? Because, look you, this is not London, nor yet New
+France, nor Albany. This is Messasebe! This is my valley. I rule here.
+Now, if kings, or constables, or even spies, wish to find John
+Law--why, here is John Law. Now watch your people, and go you carefully
+here, else that may follow which will be ill extinguished."
+
+Pembroke flung down his sword upon the ground in front of him.
+
+"You are lucky, Mr. Law," said he, "lucky as ever. But surely, never was
+man so eminently deserving of death as yourself."
+
+"You do me very much honor, Sir Arthur," replied Law. "Here is your
+sword, sir." Stooping, he picked it up and handed it to the other. "I
+did but ill if I refused to accord satisfaction to one bringing me such
+speech as that. 'Tis well you wear your weapons, Sir Arthur, since you
+come thus as emissary of the Great Peace! I know you for a gentleman,
+and I shall ask no parole of you to-night; but meantime, let us wait
+until to-morrow, when I promise you I shall be eager as yourself. Come!
+We can stand here guessing and talking no longer. I am weary of it."
+
+They came now to the gate of the stockade, and there Pembroke stood for
+a moment in surprise and perplexity. He was not prepared to meet this
+dark-haired, wide-eyed girl, clad in native dress of skin, with tinkling
+metals at wrist and ankle, and on her feet the tiny, beaded shoes. For
+her part, Mary Connynge, filled with woman's curiosity, was yet less
+prepared for that which appeared before her--an apparition, as ran her
+first thought, come to threaten and affright.
+
+"Sir Arthur!" she began, her trembling tongue but half forming the
+words. Her eyes stared in terror, and beneath her dark skin the blood
+shrank away and left her pale. She recoiled from him, her left hand
+carrying behind her instinctively the babe that lay on her arm.
+
+Sir Arthur bowed, but found no word. He could only look questioningly at
+Law.
+
+"Madam," said the latter, "Sir Arthur Pembroke journeys through as the
+messenger of Lord Bellomont, governor at Albany, to spread peace among
+the Western tribes. He has by mere chance blundered upon our valley, and
+will delay over night. It seemed well you should be advised."
+
+Mary Connynge, gray and pale, haggard and horrified, dreading all things
+and knowing nothing, found no manner of reply. Without a word she turned
+and fled back into the cabin.
+
+Sir Arthur once more looked about him. Motioning to the others of the
+party to remain outside the gate, Law led him within the stockade. On
+one hand stood Pierre Noir, tall, silent, impassive as a savage, leaning
+upon his gun and fixing on the red coat of the English uniform an eye
+none too friendly. Jean Breboeuf, his piece half ready and his voluble
+tongue half on the point of breaking over restraint, Law quieted with a
+gesture. Back of these, ranged in a silent yet watchful group, their
+weapons well in hand, stood numbers of the savage allies of this new
+war-lord. Pembroke turned to Law again.
+
+"You are strongly stationed, sir; but I do not understand."
+
+"It is my home."
+
+"But yet--why?"
+
+"As well this as any, where one leaves an old life and begins a new,"
+said Law. "'Tis as good a place as any if one would leave all behind,
+and if he would forget."
+
+"And this--that is to say--madam?"
+
+Sir Arthur stumbled in his speech. John Law looked him straight in the
+eye, a slow, sad smile upon his face.
+
+"Had we here the plank of poor La Salle his ship," said he, "we might
+nail the message of that other renegade above our door--'_Nous sommes
+tous sauvages_!'"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+THE DREAM
+
+
+That night John Law dreamed as he slept, and it was in some form the
+same haunting and familiar dream. In his vision he saw not the low roof
+nor the rude walls about him. To his mind there appeared a little dingy
+room, smaller than this in which he lay, with walls of stone, with door
+of iron grating and not of rough-hewn slabs. He saw the door of the
+prison cell swing open; saw near it the figure of a noble young girl,
+with large and frightened eyes and lips half tremulous. To this vision
+he outstretched his hands. He was almost conscious of uttering some word
+supplicatingly, almost conscious of uttering a name.
+
+Perhaps he slept on. We little know the ways of the land of dreams. It
+might have been half an instant or half an hour later that he suddenly
+awoke, finding his hand clapped close against his side, where suddenly
+there had come a sharp and burning pain. His own hand struck another. He
+saw something gleaming in the light of the flickering fire which still
+survived upon the hearth. The dim rays lit up two green, glowing,
+venomous balls, the eyes of the woman whom he found bending above him.
+He reached out his hand in the instinct of safety. This which glittered
+in the firelight was the blade of a knife, and it was in the hand of
+Mary Connynge!
+
+In a moment Law was master of himself. "Give it to me, Madam, if you
+please," he said, quietly, and took the knife from fingers which
+loosened under his grasp. There was no further word spoken. He tossed
+the knife into a crack of the bunk beyond him. He lay with his right arm
+doubled under his head, looking up steadily into the low ceiling, upon
+which the fire made ragged masses of shadows. His left arm, round, full
+and muscular, lay across the figure of the woman whom he had forced down
+upon the couch beside him. He could feel her bosom rise and pant in
+sheer sobs of anger. Once he felt the writhing of the body beneath his
+arm, but he simply tightened his grasp and spoke no word.
+
+It was not far from morning. In time the gray dawn came creeping in at
+the window, until at length the chinks between the logs in the little
+square-cut window and the ill-fitting door were flooded with a sea of
+sunlight. As this light grew stronger, Law slowly turned and looked at
+the face beside him. Out of the tangle of dark hair there blazed still
+two eyes, eyes which looked steadily up at the ceiling, refusing to turn
+either to the right or to the left. He calmly pulled closer to him, so
+that it might not stain the garments of the woman beside him, the
+blood-soaked shirt whose looseness and lack of definition had perhaps
+saved him from a fatal blow. He paid no attention to his wound, which he
+knew was nothing serious. So he lay and looked at Mary Connynge, and
+finally removed his arm.
+
+"Get up," said he, simply, and the woman obeyed him.
+
+"The fire, Madam, if you please, and breakfast."
+
+These had been the duties of the Indian woman, but Mary Connynge obeyed.
+
+"Madam," said Law, calmly, after the morning meal was at last finished
+in silence, "I shall be very glad to have your company for a few
+moments, if you please."
+
+Mary Connynge rose and followed him into the open air, her eyes still
+fixed upon the dark-crusted stain which had spread upon his tunic. They
+walked in silence to a point beyond the cabin.
+
+"You would call her Catharine!" burst out Mary Connynge. "Oh! I heard
+you in your very sleep. You believe every lying word Sir Arthur tells
+you. You believe--"
+
+John Law looked at her with the simple and direct gaze which the tamer
+of the wild beast employs when he goes among them, the look of a man not
+afraid of any living thing.
+
+"Madam," said he, at length, calmly and evenly, as before, "what I have
+said, sleeping or waking, will not matter. You have tried to kill me.
+You did not succeed. You will never try again. Now, Madam, I give you
+the privilege of kneeling here on the ground before me, and asking of
+me, not my pardon, but the pardon of the woman you have foully stabbed,
+even as you have me."
+
+The figure before him straightened up, the blazing yellow eyes sought
+his once, twice, thrice, behind them all the fury of a savage soul. It
+was of no avail. The cool blue eyes looked straight into her heart. The
+tall figure stood before her, unyielding. She sought to raise her eyes
+once more, failed, and so would have sunk down as he had said, actually
+on her knees before him.
+
+John Law extended a hand and stopped her. "There," said he. "It will
+suffice. I can not demean you. There is the child."
+
+"You called her Catharine!" broke out the woman once more in her
+ungovernable rage. "You would name my child--"
+
+"Madam, get up!" said John Law, sharply and sternly. "Get up on your
+feet and look me in the face. The child shall be called for her who
+should have been its mother. Let those forgive who can. That you have
+ruined my life for me is but perhaps a fair exchange; yet you shall say
+no word against that woman whose life we have both of us despoiled."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+BY THE HILT OF THE SWORD
+
+
+Law passed on out at the gate of the stockade and down to the bivouac,
+where Pembroke and his men had spent the night.
+
+"Now, Sir Arthur," said he to the latter, when he had found him, "come.
+I am ready to talk with you. Let us go apart."
+
+Pembroke joined him, and the two walked slowly away toward the
+encircling wood which swept back of the stockade. Law turned upon him at
+length squarely.
+
+"Sir Arthur," said he, "I think you would tell me something concerned
+with the Lady Catharine Knollys. Do you bring any message from her?"
+
+The face of Pembroke flamed scarlet with sudden wrath. "Message!" said
+he. "Message from Lady Catharine Knollys to you? By God! sir, her only
+message could be her hope that she might never hear your name again."
+
+"You have still your temper, Sir Arthur, and you speak harsh enough."
+
+"Harsh or not," rejoined Pembroke, "I scarce can endure her name upon
+your lips. You, who scouted her, who left her, who took up with the
+lewdest woman in all Great Britain, as it now appears--you who would
+consort with this creature--"
+
+"In this matter," said John Law, simply, "you are not my prisoner, and I
+beg you to speak frankly. It shall be man and man between us."
+
+"How you could have stooped to such baseness is what mortal man can
+never understand," resumed Sir Arthur, bitterly. "Good God! to abandon a
+woman like that so heartlessly--"
+
+"Sir Arthur," said John Law, his voice trembling, "I do myself the very
+great pleasure of telling you that you lie!"
+
+For a moment the two stood silent, facing each other, the face of each
+stony, gone gray with the emotions back of it.
+
+"There is light," said Pembroke, "and abundant space."
+
+They turned and paced back farther toward the open forest glade. Yet now
+and again their steps faltered and half paused, and neither man cared to
+go forward or to return. Pembroke's face, stern as it had been, again
+took on the imprint of a growing hesitation.
+
+"Mr. Law," said he, "there is something in your attitude which I admit
+puzzles me. I ask you in all honor, I ask you on the hilt of that sword
+which I know you will never disgrace, why did you thus flout the Lady
+Catharine Knollys? Why did you scorn her and take up with this woman
+yonder in her stead?"
+
+"Sir Arthur," said John Law, with trembling lips, "I must be very low
+indeed in reputation, since you can ask me question such as this."
+
+"But you must answer!" cried Sir Arthur, "and you must swear!"
+
+"If you would have my answer and my oath, then I give you both. I did
+not do what you suggest, nor can I conceive how any man should think me
+guilty of it. I loved Lady Catharine Knollys with all my heart. 'Twas my
+chief bitterness, keener than even the thought of the gallows itself,
+that she forsook me in my trouble. Then, bitter as any man would be, I
+persuaded myself that I cared naught. Then came this other woman. Then
+I--well, I was a man and a fool--a fool, Sir Arthur, a most miserable
+fool! Every moment of my life since first I saw her, I have loved the
+Lady Catharine; and, God help me, I do now!"
+
+Sir Arthur struck his hand upon the hilt of his sword. "You were more
+lucky than myself, as I know," said he, and from his lips broke half a
+groan.
+
+"Good God!" broke out Law. "Let us not talk of it. I give you my word of
+honor, there has been no happiness to this. But come! We waste time. Let
+us cross swords!"
+
+"Wait. Let me explain, since we are in the way of it. You must know that
+'twas within the plans of Montague that Lady Catharine Knollys should be
+the agent of your freedom. I was pledged to the Lady Catharine to assist
+her, though, as you may perhaps see, sir," and Pembroke gulped in his
+throat as he spoke, "'twas difficult enough, this part that was assigned
+to me. It was I, Mr. Law, who drove the coach to the gate, the coach
+which brought the Lady Catharine. 'Twas she who opened the door of
+Newgate jail for you. My God! sir, how could you walk past that woman,
+coming there as she did, with such a purpose!"
+
+At hearing these words, the tall figure of the man opposed to him
+drooped and sank, as though under some fearful blow. He staggered to a
+near-by support and sank weakly to a seat, his head falling between his
+hands, his whole face convulsed.
+
+"Ah!" said he, "you did right to cross seas in search of me! God hath
+indeed found me out and given me my punishment. Yet I ask God to bear
+me witness that I knew not the truth. Come, Sir Arthur! Come, I beseech
+you! Let us fall to!"
+
+"I shall be no man's executioner for his sentence on himself. I could
+not fight you now." His eye fell by chance upon the blotch in Law's
+bloodstained tunic. "And here," he said; "see! You are already wounded."
+
+"'Twas but one woman's way of showing her regard," said Law. "'Twas Mary
+Connynge stabbed me."
+
+"But why?"
+
+"Nay, I am glad of it; since it proves the truth of all you say, even as
+it proves me to be the most unworthy man in all the world. Oh, what had
+it meant to me to know a real love! God! How could I have been so
+blind?"
+
+"'Tis the ancient puzzle."
+
+"Yes!" cried Law. "And let us make an end of puzzles! Your quarrel, sir,
+I admit is just. Let us go on."
+
+"And again I tell you, Mr. Law," replied Sir Arthur, "that I will not
+fight you."
+
+"Then, sir," said Law, dropping his own sword upon the grass and
+extending his hand with a broken smile, "'tis I who am your prisoner!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+THE IROQUOIS
+
+
+Even as Sir Arthur and John Law clasped hands, there came a sudden
+interruption. A half-score yards deeper in the wood there arose a
+sudden, half-choked cry, followed by a shrill whoop. There was a
+crashing as of one running, and immediately there pressed into the open
+space the figure of an Indian, an old man from the village of the
+Illini. Even as his staggering footsteps brought him within gaze, the
+two startled observers saw the shaft which had sunk deep within his
+breast. He had been shot through by an Indian arrow, and upon the
+instant it was all too plain whose hand had sped the shaft. Following
+close upon his heels there came a stalwart savage, whose face, hideously
+painted, appeared fairly demoniacal as he came bounding on with uplifted
+hatchet, seeking to strike down the victim already impaled by the silent
+arrow.
+
+"Quick!" cried Law, in a flash catching the meaning of this sudden
+spectacle. "Into the fort, Sir Arthur, and call the men together!"
+
+Not stopping to relieve the struggles of the victim, who had now fallen
+forward gasping, Law sprang on with drawn blade to meet the advancing
+savage. The latter paused for an uncertain moment, and then with a
+shrill yell of defiance, hurled the keen steel hatchet full at Law's
+head. It shore away a piece of his hat brim, and sank with edge deep
+buried in the trunk of a tree beyond. The savage turned, but turned too
+late. The blade of the swordsman passed through from rib to rib under
+his arm, and he fell choking, even as he sought again to give vent to
+his war-cry.
+
+And now there arose in the woods beyond, and in the fields below the
+hill, and from the villages of the neighboring Indians, a series of
+sharp, ululating yells. Shots came from within the fortress, where the
+loop-holes were already manned. There were borne from the nearest
+wigwams of the Illini the screams of wounded men, the shrieks of
+terrified women. In an instant the peaceful spot had become the scene of
+a horrible confusion. Once more the wolves of the woods, the Iroquois,
+had fallen on their prey!
+
+Swift as had been Law's movements, Pembroke was but a pace behind him as
+he wrenched free his blade. The two turned back together and started at
+speed for the palisade. At the gate they met others hurrying in,
+Pembroke's men joining in the rush of the frightened villagers. Among
+these the Iroquois pressed with shrill yells, plying knife and bow and
+hatchet as they ran, and the horrified eyes of those within the palisade
+saw many a tragedy enacted.
+
+"Watch the gate!" cried Pierre Noir, from his station in the corner
+tower. As he spoke there came a rush of screaming Iroquois, who sought
+to gain the entrance.
+
+"Now!" cried Pierre Noir, discharging his piece into the crowded ranks
+below him; and shot after shot followed his own. The packed brown mass
+gave back and resolved itself into scattered units, who broke and ran
+for the nearest cover.
+
+"They will not come on again until dark," said Pierre Noir, calmly
+leaning his piece against the wall. "Therefore I may attend to certain
+little matters."
+
+He passed out into the entry-way, where lay the bodies of three
+Iroquois, abandoned, under the close and deadly fire, by their
+companions where they had fallen. When Pierre Noir returned and calmly
+propped up again the door of slabs which he had removed, he carried in
+his hand three tufts of long black hair, from which dripped heavy gouts
+of blood.
+
+"Good God, man!" said Pembroke. "You must not be savage as these
+Indians!"
+
+"Speak for yourself, Monsieur Anglais," replied Pierre, stoutly. "You
+need not save these head pieces if you do not care for them. For myself,
+'tis part of the trade."
+
+"Assuredly," broke in Jean Breboeuf. "We keep these trinkets, we
+_voyageurs_ of the French. Make no doubt that Jean Breboeuf will take
+back with him full tale of the Indians he has killed. Presently I go
+out. Zip! goes my knife, and off comes the topknot of Monsieur Indian,
+him I killed but now as he ran. Then I shall dry the scalp here by the
+fire, and mount it on a bit of willow, and take it back for a present to
+my sweetheart, Susanne Duchéne, on the seignieury at home."
+
+"Bravo, Jean!" cried out the old Indian fighter, Pierre Noir, the old
+baresark rage of the fighting man now rising hot in his blood. "And
+look! Here come more chances for our little ornaments."
+
+Pierre Noir for once had been mistaken and underestimated the courage of
+the warriors of the Onondagos. Lashing themselves to fury at the thought
+of their losses, they came on again, now banding and charging in the
+open close up to the walls of the palisade. Again the little party of
+whites maintained a steady fire, and again the Iroquois, baffled and
+enraged, fell back into the wood, whence they poured volley after volley
+rattling against the walls of the sturdy fortress.
+
+"I am sorry, sir," said Sergeant Gray to Pembroke, "but 'tis all up with
+me." The poor fellow staggered against the wall, and in a few moments
+all was indeed over with him. A chance shot had pierced his chest.
+
+"_Peste_! If this keeps up," said Pierre Noir, "there will not be many
+of us left by morning. I never saw them fight so well. 'Tis a good watch
+we'll need this night."
+
+In fact, all through the night the Iroquois tried every stratagem of
+their savage warfare. With ear-splitting yells they came close up to the
+stockade, and in one such charge two or three of their young men even
+managed to climb to the tops of the pointed stakes, though but to meet
+their death at the muzzles of the muskets within. Then there arose
+curving lines of fire from without the walls, half circles which
+terminated at last in little jarring thuds, where blazing arrows fell
+and stood in log, or earth, or unprotected roof. These projectiles,
+wrapped with lighted birch bark, served as fire brands, and danger
+enough they carried. Yet, after some fashion, the little garrison kept
+down these incipient blazes, held together the terrified Illini,
+repulsed each repeated charge of the Iroquois, and so at last wore
+through the long and fearful night.
+
+The sun was just rising across the tops of the distant groves when the
+Iroquois made their next advance. It came not in the form of a concerted
+attack, but of an appeal for peace. A party of the savages left their
+cover and approached the fortress, waving their hands above their heads.
+One of them presently advanced alone.
+
+"What is it, Pierre?" asked Law. "What does the fellow want?"
+
+"I care not what he wants," said Pierre Noir, carefully adjusting the
+lock of his piece and steadily regarding the savage as he approached;
+"but I'll wager you a year's pay he never gets alive past yonder stump."
+
+"Stay!" cried Pembroke, catching at the barrel of the leveled gun. "I
+believe he would talk with us."
+
+"What does he say, Pierre?" asked Law. "Speak to him, if you can."
+
+"He wants to know," said Pierre, as the messenger at length stopped and
+began a harangue, "whether we are English or French. He says something
+about there being a big peace between Corlaer and Onontio; by which he
+means, gentlemen, the governor at New York and the governor at Quebec."
+
+"Tell him," cried Pembroke, with a sudden thought, "that I am an
+officer of Corlaer, and that Corlaer bids the Iroquois to bring in all
+the prisoners they have taken. Tell him that the French are going to
+give up all their prisoners to us, and that the Iroquois must leave the
+war path, or my Lord Bellomont will take the war trail and wipe their
+villages off the earth."
+
+Something in this speech as conveyed to the savage seemed to give him a
+certain concern. He retired, and presently his place was taken by a tall
+and stately figure, dressed in the full habiliments of an Iroquois
+chieftain. He came on calmly and proudly, his head erect, and in his
+extended hand the long-stemmed pipe of peace. Pierre Noir heaved a deep
+sigh of relief.
+
+"Unless my eyes deceive me," said he, "'tis old Teganisoris himself, one
+of the head men of the Onondagos. If so, there is some hope, for
+Teganisoris is wise enough to know when peace is best."
+
+It was, indeed, that noted chieftain of the Iroquois who now advanced
+close up to the wall. Law and Pembroke stepped out to meet him beyond
+the palisade, the old _voyageur_ still serving as interpreter from the
+platform at their back.
+
+"He says--listen, Messieurs!--he says he knows there is going to be a
+big peace; that the Iroquois are tired of fighting and that their
+hearts are sore. He says--a most manifest lie, I beg you to observe,
+Messieurs--that he loves the English, and that, although he ought to
+kill the Frenchmen of our garrison, he will, since some of us are
+English, and hence his friends, spare us all if we will cease to fight."
+
+Pembroke turned to Law with question in his eye.
+
+"There must be something done," said the latter in a low tone. "We were
+short enough of ammunition here even before Du Mesne left for the
+settlements, and your own men have none too much left."
+
+"'Reflect! Bethink yourselves, Englishmen!' he says to us," continued
+Pierre Noir. "'We came to make war upon the Illini. Our work here is
+done. 'Tis time now that we went back to our villages. If there is to be
+a big peace, the Iroquois must be there; for unless the Iroquois demand
+it, there can be no peace at all.' And, gentlemen, I beg you to remember
+it is an Iroquois who is talking, and that the truth is not in the
+tongue of an Iroquois."
+
+"'Tis a desperate chance, Mr. Law," said Pembroke. "Yet if we keep up
+the fight here, there can be but one end."
+
+"'Tis true," said Law; "and there are others to be considered."
+
+It was hurriedly thus concluded. Law finally advanced toward the tall
+figure of the Iroquois headman, and looked him straight in the face.
+
+"Tell him," said he to Pierre Noir, "that we are all English, and that
+we are not afraid; and that if we are harmed, the armies of Corlaer will
+destroy the Iroquois, even as the Iroquois have the Illini. Tell him
+that we will go back with him to the settlements because we are willing
+to go that way upon a journey which we had already planned. We could
+fight forever if we chose, and he can see for himself by the bodies of
+his young men how well we are able to make war."
+
+"It is well," replied Teganisoris. "You have the word of an Iroquois
+that this shall be done, as I have said."
+
+"The word of an Iroquois!" cried Pierre Noir, slamming down the butt of
+his musket. "The word of a snake, say rather! Jean Breboeuf, harken you
+to what our leaders have agreed! We are to go as prisoners of the
+Iroquois! Mary, Mother of God, what folly! And there is madame, and _la
+pauvre petite_, that infant so young. By God! Were it left to me, Pierre
+Berthier would stand here, and fight to the end. I know these Iroquois!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+PRISONERS OF THE IROQUOIS
+
+
+The faith of the Iroquois was worse than Punic, nor was there lacking
+swift proof of its real nature. Law and Pembroke, the moment they had
+led their little garrison beyond the gate, found themselves surrounded
+by a ring of tomahawks and drawn bows. Their weapons were snatched away
+from them, and on the instant they found themselves beyond all
+possibility of that resistance whose giving over they now bitterly
+repented. Teganisoris regarded them with a sardonic smile.
+
+"I see you are all English," said he, "though some of you wear blue
+coats. These we may perhaps adopt into our tribe, for our boys grow up
+but slowly, and some of the blue coats are good fighters. These dogs of
+Illini we shall of course burn. As for your war house, you will no
+longer need it, since you are now friends of the Iroquois, and are going
+to their villages. You may say to Corlaer that you well know the
+Iroquois have no prisoners."
+
+The horrid significance of this threat was all too soon made plain. In
+an hour the little stockade was but a mass of embers and ashes. In
+another hour the little valley had become a Gehenna of anguish and
+lamentations, with whose riot of grief and woe there mingled the savage
+exultations of a foe whose treachery was but surpassed by his cruelty.
+Again the planting-ground of the Illini was utterly laid waste, to mark
+it naught remaining but trampled grain, and heaps of ashes, and remnants
+of blackened and incinerated bones. By nightfall the party of prisoners
+had begun a wild journey through the wilderness, whose horrors surpassed
+any they had supposed to be humanly endurable.
+
+Day after day, week after week, for more than a month, and much of the
+time in winter weather, they toiled on, part of the way by boat, the
+remainder of the journey on foot, crossing snow-clogged forest, and
+tangled thicket and frozen morass, yet daring not to drop out for rest,
+since to lag might mean to die. It was as though after some frightful
+nightmare of suffering and despair that at length they reached the
+villages of the Five Nations, located far to the east, at the foot of
+the great waterway which Law and his family had ascended more than a
+year before.
+
+Yet if that which had gone before seemed like some bitter dream, surely
+the day of awakening promised but little better hope. From village to
+village, footsore and ill, they were hurried without rest, at each new
+stopping place the central figures of a barbarous triumph; and nowhere
+did they meet the representatives of either the French or the English
+government, whose expected presence had constituted their one ground of
+hope.
+
+"Where is your big peace?" asked Teganisoris of Pembroke. "Where are the
+head men of Corlaer? Who brings presents to the Iroquois, and who is to
+tell us that Onontio has carried the pipe of peace to Corlaer? Here are
+our villages as when we left them, and here again are we, save for the
+absent ones who have been killed by your young men. It is no wonder that
+my people are displeased."
+
+Indeed those of the Iroquois who had remained at home clamored
+continually that some of the prisoners should be given over to them.
+Thus, in doubt, uncertainty and terror the party passed through the
+villages, moving always eastward, until at length they arrived at the
+fortified town where Teganisoris made his home, a spot toward the foot
+of Lake Ontario, and not widely removed from that stupendous cataract
+which, from the beginning of earth, had uplifted its thunderous
+diapason here in the savage wilderness--Ontoneagrea, object of
+superstitious awe among all the tribes.
+
+Time hung heavy on the hands of the savages. It was winter, and the
+parties had all returned from the war trails. The mutterings arose yet
+more loudly among families who had lost most heavily in these Western
+expeditions. The shrewd mind of Teganisoris knew that some new thing
+must be planned. He announced his decision at his own village, after the
+triumphal progress among the tribes had at length been concluded.
+
+"Since they have sent us no presents," said he, with that daring
+diplomacy which made him a leader in red statesmanship, "let those who
+stayed at home be given some prisoner in pay for those of their people
+who have been killed. Moreover, let us offer to the Great Spirit some
+sacrifice in propitiation; since surely the Great Spirit is offended."
+Such was the conclusion of this head man of the Onondagos, and fateful
+enough it was to the prisoners.
+
+The great gorge through which poured the vast waters of the Northern
+seas was a spot not always visited by those passing up the Great Lakes
+for the Western stations, nor down the Lakes to the settlements of the
+St. Lawrence. Yet there was a trail which led around the great cataract,
+and the occasional _coureurs de bois_, or the passing friars, or the
+adventurous merchants of the lower settlements now and again left that
+trail, and came to look upon the tremendous scene of the great falling
+of the waters. Here where the tumult ascended up to heaven, and where
+the white-blown wreaths of mist might indeed, even in an imagination
+better than that of a savage, have been construed into actual forms of
+spirits, the Indians had, from time immemorial, made their offerings to
+the genius of the cataract--strips of rude cloth, the skin of the beaver
+and the otter, baskets woven of sweet grasses, and, after the advent of
+the white man, pieces of metal or strings of precious beads. Such valued
+things as these were in rude adoration placed upon rocks or uplifted
+scaffolds near to the brink of the abyss. This was the spot most
+commonly chosen by the medicine man in the pursuit of his incantations.
+It was the church, the wild and savage cathedral of the red men.
+
+Following now the command of their chieftain, the Iroquois left their
+stationary lodges and moved in a body, pitching a temporary camp at a
+spot not far from the Falls. Here, in a great council lodge, the older
+men sat in deliberation for a full day and night. The dull drum sounded
+continually, the council pipe went round, and the warriors besought the
+spirits to give them knowledge. The savage hysteria, little by little,
+yet steadily, arose higher and higher, until at length it reached that
+point of frenzy where naught could suffice save some terrible, some
+tremendous thing.
+
+Enforced spectators of these curious and ominous ceremonies, the
+prisoners looked on, wondering, imagining, hesitating and fearing.
+"Monsieur," said Pierre Noir, turning at last to Law, "it grieves me to
+speak, yet 'tis best for you to know the truth. It is to be you or
+Monsieur Pembroke. They will not have me. They say that it must be one
+of you two great chiefs, for that you were brave, your hearts were
+strong, and that hence you would find favor as the adopted child of the
+Great Spirit who has been offended."
+
+Law looked at Pembroke, and they both regarded Mary Connynge and the
+babe. "At least," said Law, "they spare the woman and the child. So far
+very well. Sir Arthur, we are at the last hazard."
+
+"I have asked them to take me," said Pierre Noir, "for I am an old man
+and have no family. But they will not listen to me."
+
+Pembroke passed his hand wearily across his face. "I have behind me so
+long a memory of suffering," said he, "and before me so small an amount
+of promise, that for myself I am content to let it end. It comes to all
+sooner or later, according to our fate."
+
+"You speak," said Law, "as though it were determined. Yet Pierre says it
+will not be both of us, but one."
+
+Pembroke smiled sadly. "Why, sir," said he, "do you think me so sorry a
+fellow as that? Look!" and he pointed to Mary Connynge and the child.
+"There is your duty."
+
+Law followed his gaze, and his look was returned dumbly by the woman who
+had played so strange a part in the late passages of his life. Never a
+word with her had Law spoken regarding his plans or concerning what he
+had learned from Pembroke. As to this, Mary Connynge had been afraid to
+ask, nor dare ask even now.
+
+"Besides," went on Pembroke later, as he called Law aside, "there is
+something to be done--not here, but over there, in England, or in
+France. Your duty is involved not only with this woman. You must find
+sometime the other woman. You must see the Lady Catharine Knollys."
+
+Law sunk his head between his hands and groaned bitterly.
+
+"Go you rather," said he, "and spend your life for her. I choose that it
+should end at once, and here."
+
+"I have not been wont to call Mr. Law a coward," said Pembroke, simply.
+
+"I should be a coward if I should stand aside and allow you to sacrifice
+yourself; nor shall I do so," replied the other.
+
+"They say," broke in Pierre Noir, who had been listening to the excited
+harangues of first one warrior and then another, "that both warriors are
+great chiefs, and that both should go together. Teganisoris insists that
+only one shall be offered. This last has been almost agreed; but which
+one of you 'tis to be has not yet been determined."
+
+Dawn came through the narrow door and open roof holes of the lodge. The
+rising of the sun seemed to bring conviction to the Iroquois. All at
+once the savage council broke up and scattered into groups, which
+hurried to different parts of the village. Presently these reappeared at
+the central lodge. There sounded a concerted savage chant. A ragged
+column appeared, whose head was faced toward the cataract. There were
+those who bore strings of beads and strips of fur, even the prized
+treasures of the tufted scalp locks, whose tresses, combed smooth, were
+adorned with colored cloth and feathers.
+
+Pierre Noir was silent; yet, as the captives looked, they needed no
+advice that the sacrificial procession was now forming.
+
+"They said," began Pierre Noir, at length, with trembling voice, turning
+his eyes aside as he spoke, "that it could not be myself, that it must
+be one of you, and but one. They are going to cast lots for it. It is
+Teganisoris who has proposed that the lots shall be thrown by--" Pierre
+Noir faltered, unwilling to go on.
+
+"And by whom?" asked Law, quietly.
+
+"By--by the woman--by madame!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+THE SACRIFICE
+
+
+There was sometimes practised among the Iroquois a game which bore a
+certain resemblance to the casting of dice, as the latter is known among
+civilized peoples. The method of the play was simple. Two oblong
+polished bones, of the bigness of a man's finger, were used as the dice.
+The ends of these were ground thin and were rudely polished. One of the
+dice was stained red, the other left white. The players in the game
+marked out a line on the hard ground, and then each in turn cast up the
+two dice into the air, throwing them from some receptacle. The game was
+determined by the falling of the red bone, he who cast this colored bone
+closer to the line upon the ground being declared the winner. The game
+was simple, and depended much upon chance. If the red die fell flat upon
+its face at a point near to the line, it was apt to lie close to the
+spot where it dropped. On the other hand, did it alight upon either end,
+it might bound back and fall at some little distance upon one side of
+the line.
+
+It was this game which, in horrible fashion, Teganisoris now proposed to
+play. He offered to the clamoring medicine man and his ferocious
+disciples one of these captives, whose death should appease not only the
+offended Great Spirit, but also the unsated vengeance of the tribe. He
+offered, at the same time, the spectacle of a play in which a human life
+should be the stake. He used as practical executioner the woman who was
+possessed by one of them, and who, in the crude notions of the savages,
+was no doubt coveted by both. It must be the hand of this woman that
+should cast the dice, a white one and a red one for each man, and he
+whose red die fell closer to the line was winner in the grim game of
+life and death.
+
+Jean Breboeuf and Pierre Noir stood apart, and tears poured from the
+eyes of both. They were hardened men, well acquainted with Indian
+warfare; they had seen the writhings of tortured victims, and more than
+once had faced such possibilities themselves; yet never had they seen
+sight like this.
+
+Near the two men stood Mary Connynge, the bright blood burning in her
+cheeks, her eyes dry and wide open, looking from one to the other. God,
+who gives to this earth the few Mary Connynges, alone knows the nature
+of those elements which made her, and the character of the conflict
+which now went on within her soul. Tell such a woman as Mary Connynge
+that she has a rival, and she will either love the more madly the man
+whom she demands as her own, or with equal madness and with greater
+intensity will hate her lover with a hatred undying and unappeasable.
+
+Mary Connynge stood, her eyes glancing from one to the other of the men
+before her. She had seen them both proved brave men, strong of arm,
+undaunted of heart, both gallant gentlemen. God, who makes the Mary
+Connynges of this earth, only can tell whether or not there arose in the
+heart of this savage woman, this woman at bay, scorned, rebuked,
+mastered, this one question: Which? If Mary Connynge hated John Law, or
+if she loved him--ah! how must have pulsed her heart in agony, or in
+bitterness, as she took into her hand those lots which were the arbiters
+of life and death!
+
+Teganisoris looked about him and spoke a few rapid words. He caught Mary
+Connynge roughly by the shoulder and pulled her forward. The two men
+stood with faces set and gray in the pitiless light of morn. Their arms
+were fast bound behind their backs. Eagerly the crowding savages
+pressed up to them, gesticulating wildly, and peering again and again
+into their faces to discover any sign of weakness. They failed. The
+pride of birth, the strength of character, the sheer animal vigor of
+each man stood him in stead at this ultimate trial. Each had made up his
+mind to die. Each proposed, not doubting that he would be the one to
+draw the fatal lot, to die as a man and a gentleman.
+
+Teganisoris would play this game with all possible mystery and
+importance. It should be told generations hence about the council fires,
+how he, Teganisoris, devised this game, how he played it, how he drew it
+out link by link to the last atom of its agony. There was no receptacle
+at hand in which the dice could be placed. Teganisoris stooped, and
+without ceremony wrenched from Mary Connynge's foot the moccasin which
+covered it--the little shoe--beaded, beautiful, and now again fateful.
+Sir Arthur smiled as though in actual joy.
+
+"My friend," said he, "I have won! This might be the very slipper for
+which we played at the Green Lion long ago."
+
+Law turned upon him a face pale and solemn. "Sir," said he, "I pray God
+that the issue may not be as when we last played. I pray God that the
+dice may elect me and not yourself."
+
+"You were ever lucky in the games of chance," replied Pembroke.
+
+"Too lucky," said Law. "But the winner here is the loser, if it be
+myself."
+
+Teganisoris roughly took from Mary Connynge's hand the little bits of
+bone. He cast them into the hollow of the moccasin and shook them
+dramatically together, holding them high above his head. Then he lowered
+them and took out from the receptacle two of the dice. He placed his
+hand on Law's shoulder, signifying that his was to be the first cast.
+Then he handed back the moccasin to the woman.
+
+Mary Connynge took the shoe in her hand and stepped forward to the line
+which had been drawn upon the ground. The red spots still burned upon
+her cheeks; her eyes, amber, feline, still flamed hard and dry. She
+still glanced rapidly from one to the other, her eye as lightly quick
+and as brilliant as that of the crouched cat about to spring.
+
+Which? Which would it be? Could she control this game? Could she elect
+which man should live and which should die--this woman, scorned, abased,
+mastered? Neither of these sought to read the riddle of her set face and
+blazing eyes. Each as he might offered his soul to his Creator.
+
+The hand of Mary Connynge was raised above her head. Her face was
+turned once more to John Law, her master, her commander, her repudiator.
+Slowly she turned the moccasin over in her hand. The white bone fell
+first, the red for a moment hanging in the soft folds of the buckskin.
+She shook it out. It fell with its face nearly parallel to the ground
+and alighted not more than a foot from the line, rebounding scarce more
+than an inch or so. Low exclamations arose from all around the thickened
+circle.
+
+"As I said, my friend," cried Sir Arthur, "I have won! The throw is
+passing close for you."
+
+Teganisoris again caught Mary Connynge by the shoulder, and dragged her
+a step or so farther along the line, the two dice being left on the
+ground as they had fallen. Once more, her hand arose, once more it
+turned, once more the dice were cast.
+
+The goddess of fortune still stood faithful to this bold young man who
+had so often confidently assumed her friendship. His life, later to be
+so intimately concerned with this same new savage country, was to be
+preserved for an ultimate opportunity.
+
+The white and the red bone fell together from the moccasin. Had it been
+the white that counted, Sir Arthur had been saved, for the white bone
+lay actually upon the line. The red fell almost as close, but alighted
+on its end. As though impelled by some spirit of evil, it dropped upon
+some little pebble or hard bit of earth, bounded into the air, fell, and
+rolled quite away from the mark!
+
+Even on that crowd of cruel savages there came a silence. Of the whites,
+one scarce dared look at the other. Slowly the faces of Pembroke and Law
+turned one toward the other.
+
+"Would God I could shake you by the hand," said Pembroke. "Good by."
+
+"As for you, dogs and worse than dogs," he cried, turning toward the red
+faces about him, "mark you! where I stand the feet of the white man
+shall stand forever, and crush your faces into the dirt!"
+
+Whether or not the Iroquois understood his defiance could not be
+determined. With a wild shout they pressed upon him. Borne struggling
+and stumbling by the impulse of a dozen hands, Pembroke half walked and
+half was carried over the distance between the village and the brink of
+the chasm of Niagara.
+
+Until then it had not been apparent what was to be the nature of his
+fate, but when he looked upon the sliding floor of waters below him, and
+heard beyond the thunderous voices of the cataract, Pembroke knew what
+was to be his final portion.
+
+There was, at some distance above the great falls, a spot where descent
+was possible to the edge of the water. Pembroke's feet were loosened and
+he was compelled to descend the narrow path. A canoe was tethered at the
+shore, and the face of the young Englishman went pale as he realized
+what was to be the use assigned it. Bound again hand and foot, helpless,
+he was cast into this canoe. A strong arm sent the tiny craft out toward
+midstream.
+
+The hands of the great waters grasped the frail cockleshell, twisted it
+about, tossed it, played with it, and claimed it irrevocably for their
+own. For a few moments it was visible as it passed on down with the
+resistless current of the mighty stream. Almost at the verge of the
+plunge, the eyes watching from the shore saw at a distance the struggle
+made by the victim. He half raised himself in the boat and threw himself
+against its side. It was overset. For one instant the cold sun shone
+glistening on the wet bark of the upturned craft. It was but a moment,
+and then there was no dot upon the solemn flood.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+THE EMBASSY
+
+
+"Monsieur! Madame! Pierre Noir! Listen to me! I have saved you! I, Jean
+Breboeuf, I have rescued you!"
+
+So spoke Jean Breboeuf, thrusting his head within the door of the lodge
+in which were the remaining prisoners of the Iroquois.
+
+It was indeed Jean Breboeuf who, strolling beyond the outer edge of the
+village, had been among the first to espy an approaching party of
+visitors. Of any travelers possible, none could have been more important
+to the prisoners. Too late, yet welcome even now, the embassy from New
+France among the Iroquois had arrived. In an instant the village was in
+an uproar.
+
+The leader of this embassy from Quebec was one Captain Joncaire, at that
+time of the French settlements, but in former years a prisoner among the
+Onondagos, where he was adopted into the tribe and much respected.
+Joncaire was accompanied by a priest of the Jesuit brotherhood, by a
+young officer late of the regiment Carignan, and by two or three petty
+Canadian officials, as well as a struggling retinue of savages picked up
+on the way between Lake George and the Indian villages. He advanced now
+at the head of his little party, bearing in his hand a wampum belt. He
+pushed aside the young men, and demanded that he be brought to the chief
+of the village. Teganisoris himself presently advanced to meet him, and
+of him Joncaire demanded that there should at once be called a full
+council of the tribe; with which request the chief of the Onondagos
+hastened to comply.
+
+Fully accustomed to such ceremonies, Joncaire sat in the council calmly
+listening to the speeches of its orators, and at length arose for his
+own reply. "Brothers," said he, "I have here"--and he drew from his
+tunic a copy of the decree of Louis XIV declaring peace between the
+French and the English colonies--"a talking paper. This is the will of
+Onontio, whom you love and fear, and it is the will of the great father
+across the water, whom Onontio loves and fears. This talking paper says
+that our young men of the French colonies are no longer to go to war
+against Corlaer. The hatchet has been buried by the two great fathers.
+Brothers, I have come to tell you that it is time for the Iroquois also
+to bury the hatchet, and to place upon it heavy stones, so that it
+never again can be dug up.
+
+"Brothers, as you know, the great canoes from across the sea are
+bringing more and more white men. Look about you, and tell me where are
+your fathers and your brothers and your sons? Half your fighting men are
+gone; and if you turn to the West to seek out strong young men from the
+other tribes, which of them will come to sit by your fires and be your
+brothers? The war trails of the Nations have gone to the West as far as
+the Great River. All the country has been at war. The friends of Onontio
+beyond Michilimackinac have been so busy fighting that they have
+forgotten to take the beaver, or if they have taken it, they have been
+afraid to bring it down the water trail to us, lest the Iroquois or the
+English should rob them.
+
+"Brothers, a great peace is now declared. Onontio, the father of all the
+red men, has taken the promises of his children, the Hurons, the
+Algonquins, the Miamis, the Illini, the Outagamies, the Ojibways, all
+those peoples who live to the west, that they will follow the war trail
+no more. Next summer there will be a great council. Onontio and Corlaer
+have agreed to call the tribes to meet at the Mountain in the St.
+Lawrence. Onontio says to you that he will give you back your prisoners,
+and now he demands that you in return give back those whom you may have
+with you. This is his will; and if you fail him, you know how heavy is
+his hand.
+
+"Brothers, I see that you have prisoners here, white prisoners. These
+must be given up to us. I will take them with me when I return. For your
+Indian captives, it is the will of Onontio that you bring them all to
+the Great Peace in the summer, and that you then, all of you, help to
+dig the great hill under which the hatchet is going to be buried. Then
+once more our rivers will not be red, and will look more like water. The
+sun will not shine red, but will look as the sun should look. The sky
+will again be blue. Our women and our children will no longer be afraid,
+and you Iroquois can go to sleep in your houses and not dread the arms
+of the French. Brothers, I have spoken. Peace is good."
+
+Teganisoris replied in the same strain as that chosen by Joncaire,
+assuring him that he was his brother; that his heart went out to him;
+that the Iroquois loved the French; and that if they had gone to war
+with them, it was but because the young men of Corlaer had closed their
+eyes so that they could not see the truth. "As to these prisoners," said
+he, "take them with you. We do not want them with us, for we fear they
+may bring us harm. Our medicine man counseled us to offer up one of
+these prisoners as a sacrifice to the Great Spirit. We did so. Now our
+medicine man has a bad dream. He says that the white men are going to
+come and tear down our houses and trample our fields. When the time
+comes for the peace, the Iroquois will be at the Mountain. Brother, we
+will bury the hatchet, and bury it so deep that henceforth none may ever
+again dig it up."
+
+"It is well," said Joncaire, abruptly. "My brothers are wise. Now let
+the council end, for my path is long and I must travel back to Onontio
+at once."
+
+Joncaire knew well enough the fickle nature of these savages, who might
+upon the morrow demand another council and perhaps arrive at different
+conclusions. Hearing there were no white prisoners in the villages
+farther to the west, he resolved to set forth at once upon the return
+with those now at hand. Hurrying, therefore, as soon as might be, to
+their leader, he urged him to make ready forthwith for the journey back
+to the St. Lawrence.
+
+"Unless I much mistake, Monsieur," said he to Law, "you are that same
+gentleman who so set all Quebec by the ears last winter. My faith! The
+regiment Carignan had cause to rejoice when you left for up river, even
+though you took with you half the ready coin of the settlement. Yet come
+you once more to meet the gentlemen of France, and I doubt not they
+will be glad as ever to stake you high, as may be in this
+poverty-stricken region. You have been far to the westward, I doubt not.
+You were, perhaps, made prisoner somewhere below the Straits."
+
+"Far below; among the tribe of the Illini, in the valley of the
+Messasebe."
+
+"You tell me so! I had thought no white man left in that valley for this
+season. And madame--this child--surely 'twas the first white infant born
+in the great valley."
+
+"And the most unfortunate."
+
+"Nay, how can you say that, since you have come more than half a
+thousand miles and are all safe and sound to-day? Glad enough we shall
+be to have you and madame with us for the winter, if, indeed, it be not
+for longer dwelling. I can not take you now to the English settlements,
+since I must back to the governor with the news. Yet dull enough you
+would find these Dutch of the Hudson, and worse yet the blue-nosed
+psalmodists of New England. Much better for you and your good lady are
+the gayer capitals of New France, or _la belle France_ itself, that
+older France. Monsieur, how infinitely more fit for a gentleman of
+spirit is France than your dull England and its Dutch king! Either New
+France or Old France, let me advise you; and as to that new West, let
+me counsel that you wait until after the Big Peace. And, in speaking,
+your friend, Du Mesne, your lieutenant, the _coureur_--his fate, I
+suppose, one need not ask. He was killed--where?"
+
+Law recounted the division of his party just previous to the Iroquois
+attack, and added his concern lest Du Mesne should return to the former
+station during the spring and find but its ruins, with no news of the
+fate of his friends.
+
+"Oh, as to that--'twould be but the old story of the _voyageurs_," said
+Joncaire. "They are used enough to journeying a thousand miles or so, to
+find the trail end in a heap of ashes, and to the tune of a scalp dance.
+Fear not for your lieutenant, for, believe me, he has fended for himself
+if there has been need. Yet I would warrant you, now that this word for
+the peace has gone out, we shall see your friend Du Mesne as big as life
+at the Mountain next summer, knowing as much of your history as you
+yourself do, and quite counting upon meeting you with us on the St.
+Lawrence, and madame as well. As to that, methinks madame will be better
+with us on the St. Lawrence than on the savage Messasebe. We have none
+too many dames among us, and I need not state, what monsieur's eyes have
+told him every morning--that a fairer never set foot from ship from
+over seas. Witness my lieutenant yonder, Raoul de Ligny! He is thus soon
+all devotion! Mother of God! but we are well met here, in this
+wilderness, among the savages. _Voilà_, Monsieur! We take you again
+captive, and 'tis madame enslaves us all!"
+
+There had indeed ensued conversation between the young French officer
+above named and Mary Connynge; yet prompt as might have been the former
+with gallant attentions to so fair a captive, it could not have been
+said that he was allowed the first advances. Mary Connynge, even after a
+month of starving foot travel and another month of anxiety at the
+Iroquois villages, had lost neither her rounded body, her brilliance of
+eye and color, nor her subtle magnetism of personality. It had taken
+stronger head than that of Raoul de Ligny to withstand even her slight
+request. How, then, as to Mary Connynge supplicating, entreating,
+craving of him protection?
+
+"Ah, you brave Frenchmen," said she to De Ligny, advancing to him as he
+stood apart, twisting his mustaches and not unmindful of this very
+possibility of a conversation with the captive. "You brave Frenchmen,
+how can we thank you for our salvation? It was all so horrible!"
+
+"It is our duty to save all, Madame," rejoined De Ligny; "our happiness
+unspeakable to save such as Madame. I swear by my sword, I had as soon
+expected to find an angel with the Iroquois as to meet there Madame!
+Quebec--all Quebec has told me who Madame was and is. And I am your
+slave."
+
+"Oh, sir, could you but mean that!" and there was turned upon him the
+full power of a gaze which few men had ever been able to withstand. The
+blood of De Ligny tingled as he bowed and replied.
+
+"If Madame could but demand one proof."
+
+Mary Connynge stepped closer to him. "Hush!" she said. "Speak low! Do
+not let it seem that we are interested. Keep your own counsel. Can you
+do this?"
+
+The eyes of the young officer gleamed. He was bold enough to respond.
+This his temptress noted.
+
+He nodded.
+
+"You see that man--the tall one, John Law? Listen! It is from him I ask
+you to save me. Oh, sir, there is my captivity!"
+
+"What! Your husband?"
+
+"He is not my husband."
+
+"_Mais_--a thousand pardons. The child--your pardon."
+
+"Pish! 'Tis the child of an Indian woman."
+
+"Oh!" The blood again came to the young gallant's forehead.
+
+"Listen, I tell you! I have been scarce better than a prisoner in this
+man's hands. He has abused me, threatened me, would have beaten me--"
+
+"Madame--Mademoiselle!"
+
+"'Tis true. We have been far in the West, and I could not escape. Good
+Providence has now brought my rescue--and you, Monsieur! Oh! tell me
+that it has brought me safety, and also a friend--that it has brought me
+you!"
+
+With every pulse a-tingle, every vein afire, what could the young
+gallant do? What but yield, but promise, but swear, but rage?
+
+"Hush!" said Mary Connynge, her own eyes gleaming. "Wait! The time will
+come. So soon as we reach the settlements, I leave him, and forever!
+Then--" Their hands met swiftly. "He has abandoned me," murmured Mary
+Connynge. "He has not spoken to me for weeks, other than words of 'Yes,'
+or 'No,' 'Do this,' or 'Do that!' Wait! Wait! How soon shall we be at
+Montréal?"
+
+"Less than a month. 'Twill seem an age, I swear!"
+
+"Madam," interrupted Law, "pardon, but Monsieur Joncaire bids us be
+ready. Come, help me arrange the packs for our journey. Perhaps
+Lieutenant de Ligny--for so I think they name you, sir--will pardon us,
+and will consent to resume his conversation later."
+
+"Assuredly," said De Ligny. "I shall wait, Monsieur."
+
+"So, Madam," said Law to Mary Connynge, as they at last found themselves
+alone in the lodge, arranging their few belongings for transport, "we
+are at last to regain the settlements, and for a time, at least, must
+forego our home in the farther West. In time--"
+
+"Oh, in time! What mean you?"
+
+"Why, we may return."
+
+"Never! I have had my fill of savaging. That we are left alive is mighty
+merciful. To go thither again--never!"
+
+"And if I go?"
+
+"As you like."
+
+"Meaning, Madam--?"
+
+"What you like."
+
+Law seated himself on the corded pack, bringing the tips of his fingers
+together.
+
+"Then my late sweetheart has somewhat changed her fancy?"
+
+"I have no fancy left. What I was once to you I shall not recall more
+than I can avoid in my own mind. As to what you heard from that lying
+man, Sir Arthur--"
+
+"Listen! Stop! Neither must you insult the dead nor the absent. I have
+never told you what I learned from Sir Arthur, though it was enough to
+set me well distraught."
+
+"I doubt not that he told you 'twas I who befooled Lady Catharine; that
+'twas I who took the letter which you sent--"
+
+"Stay! No. He told me not so much as that. But he and you together have
+told me enough to show me that I was the basest wretch on earth, the
+most gullible, the most unspeakably false and cruel. How could I have
+doubted the faith of Lady Catharine--how, but for you? Oh, Mary
+Connynge, Mary Connynge! Would God a man were so fashioned he might
+better withstand the argument of soft flesh and shining eyes! I admit, I
+believed the disloyal one, and doubted her who was loyalty itself."
+
+"And you would go back into the wilderness with one who was as false as
+you say."
+
+"Never!" replied John Law, swiftly. "'Tis as you yourself say. 'Tis all
+over. Hell itself hath followed me. Now let it all go, one with the
+other, little with big. I did not forget, nor should I though I tried
+again. Back to Europe, back to the gaming tables, to the wheels and
+cards I go again, and plunge into it madder than ever did man before.
+Let us see if chance can bring John Law anything worse than what he has
+already known. But, Madam, doubt not. So long as you claim my
+protection, here or anywhere on earth--in the West, in France, in
+England--it is yours; for I pay for my folly like a man, be assured of
+that. The child is ours, and it must be considered. But once let me find
+you in unfaithfulness--once let me know that you resign me--then John
+Law is free! I shall sometime see Catharine Knollys again. I shall give
+her my heart's anguish, and I shall have her heart's scorn in return.
+And then, Mary Connynge, the cards, dice, perhaps drink--perhaps gold,
+and the end. Madam, remember! And now come!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+THE GREAT PEACE
+
+
+Of the long and bitter journey from the Iroquois towns to Lake St.
+George, down the Richelieu and thence through the deep snows of the
+Canadian winter, it boots little to make mention; neither to tell of
+that devotion of Raoul de Ligny to the newly-rescued lady, already
+reputed in camp rumor to be of noble English family.
+
+"That _sous-lieutenant_; he is _tête montée_ regarding madame," said
+Pierre Noir one evening to Jean Breboeuf. "As to that--well, you know
+Monsieur L'as. Pouf! So much for yon monkey, _par comparaison_."
+
+"He is a great _capitaine_, Monsieur L'as," said Jean Breboeuf. "Never a
+better went beyond the Straits."
+
+"But very sad of late."
+
+"Oh, _oui_, since the death of his friend, Monsieur _le Capitaine_
+Pembroke--may Mary aid his spirit!"
+
+"Monsieur L'as goes not on the trail again," said Pierre Noir. "At
+least not while this look is in his eye."
+
+"The more the loss, Pierre Noir; but some day the woods will call to him
+again. I know not how long it may be, yet some day Mother Messasebe will
+raise her finger and beckon to Monsieur L'as, and say: 'Come, my son!'
+'Tis thus, as you know, Pierre Noir."
+
+Yet at length the straggling settlements at Montréal were reached, and
+here, after the fashion of the frontier, some sort of _ménage_ was
+inaugurated for Law and his party. Here they lived through the rest of
+the winter and through the long, slow spring.
+
+And then set on again the heats of summer, and there came apace the time
+agreed upon, in the month of August, for the widely heralded assembling
+of the tribes for the Great Peace; one of the most picturesque, as it
+was one of the most remarkable and significant meetings of widely
+diverse human beings, that ever took place within the ken of history.
+
+They came, these savages, now first owning the strength of the invading
+white men, from all the far and unknown corners of the Western
+wilderness. They came afoot, and with little trains of dogs, in single
+canoes, in little groups and growing flotillas and vast fleets of
+canoes, pushing on and on, down stream, following the tide of the furs
+down this pathway of more than a thousand miles. The Iroquois, for once
+mindful of a promise, came in a compact fleet, a hundred canoes strong,
+and they stalked about the island for days, naked, stark, gigantic,
+contemptuous of white and red men, of friend and foe alike. The
+scattered Algonquins, whose villages had been razed by these same savage
+warriors, came down by scores out of the Northern woods, along little,
+unknown streams, and over paths with which none but themselves were
+acquainted. From the North, group joined group, and village added itself
+to village, until a vast body of people had assembled, whose numbers
+would have been hard to estimate, and who proved difficult enough to
+accommodate. Yet from the farther West, adding their numbers to those
+already gathered, came the fleets of the driven Hurons, and the
+Ojibways, and the Miamis, and the Outagamies, and the Ottawas, the
+Menominies and the Mascoutins--even the Illini, late objects of the
+wrath of the Five Nations. The whole Western wilderness poured forth its
+savage population, till all the shores of the St. Lawrence seemed one
+vast aboriginal encampment. These massed at the rendezvous about the
+puny settlement of Montréal in such numbers that, in comparison, the
+white population seemed insignificant. Then, had there been a Pontiac or
+a Tecumseh, had there been one leader of the tribes able to teach the
+strength of unity, the white settlements of upper America had indeed
+been utterly destroyed. Naught but ancient tribal jealousies held the
+savages apart.
+
+With these tribesmen were many prisoners, captives taken in raids all
+along the thin and straggling frontier; farmers and artisans, peasants
+and soldiers, women raped from the farms of the Richelieu _censitaires_,
+and wood-rangers now grown savage as their captors and loth to leave the
+wild life into which they had so naturally grown. It was the first
+reflex of the wave, and even now the bits of flotsam and jetsam of wild
+life were fain to cling to the Western shore whither they had been
+carried by the advancing flood. This was the meeting of the ebb with the
+sea that sent it forward, the meeting of civilized and savage; and
+strange enough was the nature of those confluent tides. Whether the red
+men were yielding to civilization, or the whites all turning
+savage--this question might well have arisen to an observer of this
+tremendous spectacle. The wigwams of the different tribes and clans and
+families were grouped apart, scattered along all the narrow shore back
+of the great hill, and over the Convent gardens; and among these
+stalked the native French, clad in coarse cloth of blue, with gaudy belt
+and buckskins, and cap of fur and moccasins of hide, mingling
+fraternally with their tufted and bepainted visitors, as well as with
+those rangers, both envied and hated, the savage _coureurs de bois_ of
+the far Northern fur trade; men bearded, silent, stern, clad in
+breech-clout and leggings like any savage, as silent, as stoical, as
+hardy on the trail as on the narrow thwart of the canoe.
+
+Savage feastings, riotings and drunkenness, and long debaucheries came
+with the Great Peace, when once the word had gone out that the fur trade
+was to be resumed. Henceforth there was to be peace. The French were no
+longer to raid the little cabins along the Kennebec and the Penobscot.
+The river Richelieu was to be no longer a red war trail. The English
+were no longer to offer arms and blankets for the beaver, belonging by
+right of prior discovery to those who offered French brandy and French
+beads. The Iroquois were no longer to pursue a timid foe across the
+great prairies of the valley of the Messasebe. The Ojibways were not to
+ambush the scattered parties of the Iroquois. The unambitious colonists
+of New England and New York were to be left to till their stony farms in
+quiet. Meantime, the fur trade, wasteful, licentious, unprofitable, was
+to extend onward and outward in all the marches of the West. From one
+end of the Great River of the West to the other the insignia of France
+and of France's king were to be erected, and France's posts were to hold
+all the ancient trails. Even at the mouth of the Great River,
+forestalling these sullen English and these sluggish English colonists,
+far to the south in the somber forests and miasmatic marshes, there was
+to be established one more ruling point for the arms of Louis the Grand.
+It was a great game this, for which the continent of America was in
+preparation. It was a mighty thing, this gathering of the Great Peace,
+this time when colonists and their king were seeing the first breaking
+of the wave on the shore of an empire alluring, wonderful, unparalleled.
+
+Into this wild rabble of savages and citizens, of priest and soldier and
+_coureur_, Law's friends, Pierre Noir and Jean Breboeuf, swiftly
+disappeared, naturally, fitly and unavoidably. "The West is calling to
+us, Monsieur," said Pierre Noir one morning, as he stood looking out
+across the river. "I hear once more the spirits of the Messasebe.
+Monsieur, will you come?"
+
+Law shook his head. Yet two days later, as he stood at that very point,
+there came to him the silent feet of two _coureurs_ instead of one. Once
+more he heard in his ear the question: "Monsieur L'as, will you come?"
+
+At this voice he started. In an instant his arms were about the neck of
+Du Mesne, and tears were falling from the eyes of both in the welcome of
+that brotherhood which is admitted only by those who have known together
+arms and danger and hardship, the touch of the hard ground and the sight
+of the wide blue sky.
+
+"Du Mesne, my friend!"
+
+"Monsieur L'as!"
+
+"It is as though you came from the depths of the sea, Du Mesne!" said
+Law.
+
+"And as though you yourself arose from the grave, Monsieur!"
+
+"How did you know--?"
+
+"Why, easily. You do not yet understand the ways of the wilderness,
+where news travels as fast as in the cities. You were hardly below the
+foot of Michiganon before runners from the Illini had spread the news
+along the Chicaqua, where I was then in camp. For the rest, the runners
+brought also news of the Big Peace. I reasoned that the Iroquois would
+not dare to destroy their captives, that in time the agents of the
+Government would receive the captives of the Iroquois--that these
+captives would naturally come to the settlements on the St. Lawrence,
+since it was the French against whom the Iroquois had been at war; that
+having come to Montréal, you would naturally remain here for a time. The
+rest was easy. I fared on to the Straits this spring, and then on down
+the Lakes. I have sold our furs, and am now ready to account to you with
+a sum quite as much as we should have expected.
+
+"Now, Monsieur," and Du Mesne stretched out his arm again, pointing to
+the down-coming flood of the St. Lawrence, "Monsieur, will you come? I
+see not the St. Lawrence, but the Messasebe. I can hear the voices
+calling!"
+
+Law dashed his hand across his eyes and turned his head away. "Not yet,
+Du Mesne," said he. "I do not know. Not yet. I must first go across the
+waters. Perhaps sometime--I can not tell. But this, my comrades, my
+brothers, I do know; that never, until the last sod lies on my grave,
+will I forget the Messasebe, or forget you. Go back, if you will, my
+brothers; but at night, when you sit by your fireside, think of me, as I
+shall think of you, there in the great valley. My friends, it is the
+heart of the world!"
+
+"But, Monsieur--"
+
+"There, Du Mesne--I would not talk to-day. At another time. Brothers,
+adieu!"
+
+"Adieu, my brother," said the _coureur_, his own emotion showing in his
+eyes; and their hands met again.
+
+"Monsieur is cast down," said Du Mesne to Pierre Noir later, as they
+reached the beach. "Now, what think you?
+
+"Usually, as you know, Pierre, it is a question of some woman. It
+reminds me, Wabana was remiss enough when I left her among the Illini
+with you. Now, God bless my heart, I find her--how think you? With her
+crucifix lost, cooking for a dirty Ojibway!"
+
+"Mary Mother!" said Pierre Noir, "if it be a matter of a woman--well,
+God help us all! At least 'tis something that will take Monsieur L'as
+over seas again."
+
+"'Tis mostly a woman," mused Du Mesne; "but this passeth my wit."
+
+"True, they pass the wit of all. Now, did I ever tell thee about the
+mission girl at Michilimackinac--but stay! That for another time. They
+tell me that our comrade, Greysolon du L'hut, is expected in to-morrow
+with a party from the far end of Superior. Come, let us have the news."
+
+    "_Tous les printemps,
+     Tant des nouvelles_,"
+
+hummed Du Mesne, as he flung his arm above the shoulder of the other;
+and the two so disappeared adown the beach.
+
+Dully, apathetically, Law lived on his life here at Montréal for yet a
+time, at the edge of that wilderness which had proved all else but Eden.
+Near to him, though in these guarded times guest by necessity of the
+good sisters of the Convent, dwelt Mary Connynge. And as for these two,
+it might be said that each but bided the time. To her Law might as well
+have been one of the corded Sulpician priests; and she to him, for all
+he liked, one of the nuns of the Convent garden. What did it all mean;
+where was it all to end? he asked himself a thousand times; and a
+thousand times his mind failed him of any answer. He waited, watching
+the great encampment disappear, first slowly, then swiftly and suddenly,
+so that in a night the last of the lodges had gone and the last canoe
+had left the shore. There remained only the hurrying flood of the St.
+Lawrence, coming from the West.
+
+The autumn came on. Early in November the ships would leave for France.
+Yet before the beginning of November there came swiftly and sharply the
+settlement of the questions which racked Law's mind. One morning Mary
+Connynge was missing from the Convent, nor could any of the sisters, nor
+the mother superior, explain how or when she had departed!
+
+Yet, had there been close observers, there might have been seen a boat
+dropping down the river on the early morning of that day. And at Quebec
+there was later reported in the books of the intendant the shipping,
+upon the good bark Dauphine, of Lieutenant Raoul de Ligny, sometime
+officer of the regiment Carignan, formerly stationed in New France; with
+him a lady recently from Montréal, known very well to Lieutenant de
+Ligny and his family; and to be in his care _en voyage_ to France; the
+name of said lady illegible upon the records, the spelling apparently
+not having suited the clerk who wrote it, and then forgot it in the
+press of other things.
+
+Certain of the governor's household, as well as two or three _habitants_
+from the lower town, witnessed the arrival of this lady, who came down
+from Montréal. They saw her take boat for the bark Dauphine, one of the
+last ships to go down the river that fall. Yes, it was easily to be
+established. Dark, with singular, brown eyes, _petite_, yet not over
+small, of good figure--assuredly so much could be said; for obviously
+the king, kindly as he might feel toward the colony of New France, could
+not send out, among the young women supplied to the colonists as wives,
+very many such demoiselles as this; otherwise assuredly all France
+would have followed the king's ships to the St. Lawrence.
+
+John Law, a grave and saddened man, yet one now no longer lacking in
+decision, stood alone one day at the parapet of the great rock of
+Quebec, gazing down the broad expanse of the stream below. He was alone
+except for a little child, a child too young to know her mother, had
+death or disaster at that time removed the mother. Law took the little
+one up in his arms and gazed hard upon the upturned face.
+
+"Catharine!" he said to himself. "Catharine! Catharine!"
+
+"Pardon, Monsieur," said a voice at his elbow. "Surely I have seen you
+before this?"
+
+Law turned. Joncaire, the ambassador of peace, stood by, smiling and
+extending his hand.
+
+"Naturally, I could never forget you," said Law.
+
+"Monsieur looks at the shipping," said Joncaire, smiling. "Surely he
+would not be leaving New France, after so luckily escaping the worst of
+her dangers?"
+
+"Life might be the same for me over there as here," replied Law. "As for
+my luck, I must declare myself the most unfortunate man on earth."
+
+"Your wife, perhaps, is ill?"
+
+"Pardon, I have none."
+
+"Pardon, in turn, Monsieur--but, you see--the child?"
+
+"It is the child of a savage woman," said Law.
+
+Joncaire pulled aside the infant's hood. He gave no sign, and a nice
+indifference sat in his query: "_Une belle sauvage_?"
+
+"_Belle sauvage_!"
+
+
+
+
+BOOK III
+
+FRANCE
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+THE GRAND MONARQUE
+
+
+On a great bed of state, satin draped, flanked with ancient tapestries,
+piled sickeningly soft with heaps of pillows, there lay a thin, withered
+little man--old, old and very feeble. His face was shrunken and drawn
+with pain; his eyes, once bright, were dulled; his brow, formerly
+imperious, had lost its arrogance. Under the coverings which, in the
+unrest of illness, he now pulled high about his face, now tossed
+restlessly aside, his figure lay, an elongated, shapeless blot, scarce
+showing beneath the silks. One limb, twitched and drawn up convulsively,
+told of a definite seat of pain. The hands, thin and wasted, lay out
+upon the coverlets; and the thumbs were creeping, creeping ever more
+insistently, under the cover of the fingers, telling that the battle for
+life was lost, that the surrender had been made.
+
+It was a death-bed, this great bed of state; a death-bed situated in the
+heart of the greatest temple of desire ever built in all the world. He
+who had been master there, who had set in order those miles of stately
+columns, those seas of glittering gilt and crystal, he who had been
+magician, builder, creator, perverter, debaser--he, Louis of France, the
+Grand Monarque, now lay suffering like any ordinary human being, like
+any common man.
+
+Last night the four and twenty violins, under the king's command, had
+shrilled their chorus, as had been their wont for years while the master
+dined. This morning the cordon of drums and hautboys had pealed their
+high and martial music. Useless. The one or the other music fell upon
+ears too dull to hear. The formal tribute to the central soul for a time
+continued of its own inertia; for a time royalty had still its worship;
+yet the custom was but a lagging one. The musicians grimaced and made
+what discord they liked, openly, insolently, scorning this weak and
+withered figure on the silken bed. The cordon of the white and blue
+guards of the Household still swept about the vast pleasure grounds of
+this fairy temple; yet the officers left their posts and conversed one
+with the other. Musicians and guards, spectators and populace, all were
+waiting, waiting until the end should come. Farther out and beyond,
+where the peaked roofs of Paris rose, back of that line which this
+imperious mind had decreed should not be passed by the dwellings of
+Paris, which must not come too near this temple of luxury, nor disturb
+the king while he enjoyed himself--back of the perfunctorily loyal
+guards of the Household, there reached the ragged, shapeless masses of
+the people of Paris and of France, waiting, smiling, as some animal
+licking its chops in expectation of some satisfying thing. They were
+waiting for news of the death of this shrunken man, this creature once
+so full of arrogant lust, then so full of somber repentance, now so full
+of the very taste of death.
+
+On the great tapestry that hung above the head of the curtained bed
+shone the double sun of Louis the Grand, which had meant death and
+devastation to so much of Europe. It blazed, mimicking the glory that
+was gone; but toward it there was raised no sword nor scepter more in
+vow or exaltation. The race was run, the sun was sinking to its setting.
+Nothing but a man--a weary, worn-out, dying man--was Louis, the Grand
+Monarque, king for seventy-two years of France, almost king of Europe.
+This death-bed lay in the center of a land oppressed, ground down,
+impoverished. The hearts and lives of thousands were in these
+colonnades. The people had paid for their king. They had fed him fat and
+kept him full of loves. In return, he had trampled the people into the
+very dust. He had robbed even their ancient nobles of honors and
+consideration. Blackened, ruined, a vast graveyard, a monumental
+starving-ground, France lay about his death-bed, and its people were but
+waiting with grim impatience for their king to die. What France might do
+in the future was unknown; yet it was unthinkable that aught could be
+worse than this glorious reign of Louis, the Grand Monarque, this
+crumbling clod, this resolving excrescence, this phosphorescent,
+disintegrating fungus of a diseased life and time.
+
+Seventy-two years a king; thirty years a libertine; twenty years a
+repentant. Son, grandson, great-grandson, all gone, as though to leave
+not one of that once haughty breed. For France no hope at all; and for
+the house of Bourbon, all the hope there might be in the life of a
+little boy, sullen, tiny, timid. Far over in Paris, busy about his games
+and his loves, a jesting, long-curled gallant, the Duke of Orléans,
+nephew of this king, was holding a court of his own. And from this court
+which might be, back to the court which was, but which might not be
+long, swung back and forth the fawning creatures of the former court.
+This was the central picture of France, and Paris, and of the New World
+on this day of the year 1715.
+
+In the room about the bed of state, uncertain groups of watchers
+whispered noisily. The five physicians, who had tried first one remedy
+and then another; the rustic physician whose nostrum had kept life
+within the king for some unexpected days; the ladies who had waited upon
+the relatives of the king; some of the relatives themselves; Villeroy,
+guardian of the young king soon to be; the bastard, and the wife of that
+bastard, who hoped for the king's shoes; the mistress of his earlier
+years, for many years his wife--Maintenon, that peerless hypocrite of
+all the years--all these passed, and hesitated, and looked, waiting, as
+did the hungry crowds in Paris toward the Seine, until the double sun
+should set, and the crawling thumbs at last should find their shelter.
+The Grand Monarque was losing the only time in all his life when he
+might have learned human wisdom.
+
+"Madame!" whispered the dry lips, faintly.
+
+She who was addressed as madame, this woman Maintenon, pious murderer,
+unrivaled hypocrite, unspeakably self-contained dissembler, the woman
+who lost for France an empire greater than all France, stepped now to
+the bed-side of the dying monarch, inclining her head to hear what he
+might have to say. Was Maintenon, the outcast, the widow, the wife of
+the king, at last to be made ruler of the Church in France? Was she to
+govern in the household of the king even after the king had departed?
+The woman bent over the dying man, the covetousness of her soul showing
+in her eyes, struggle as she might to retain her habitual and
+unparalleled self-control.
+
+The dying man muttered uneasily. His mind was clouded, his eyes saw
+other things. He turned back to earlier days, when life was bright, when
+he, Louis, as a young man, had lived and loved as any other.
+
+"Louise," he murmured. "Louise! Forgive! Meet me--Louise--dear one. Meet
+me yonder--"
+
+An icy pallor swept across the face of the arch hypocrite who bent over
+him. Into her soul there sank like a knife this consciousness of the
+undying power of a real love. La Vallière, the love of the youth of
+Louis, La Vallière, the beautiful, and sweet, and womanly, dead and gone
+these long years since, but still loved and now triumphant--she it was
+whom Louis now remembered.
+
+Maintenon turned from the bed-side. She stood, an aged and unhappy
+woman, old, gray and haggard, not success but failure written upon every
+lineament. For one instant she stood, her hands clenched, slow anger
+breaking through the mask which, for a quarter of a century, she had so
+successfully worn.
+
+"Bah!" she cried. "Bah! 'Tis a pretty rendezvous this king would set
+for me!" And then she swept from the room, raged for a time apart, and
+so took leave of life and of ambition.
+
+At length even the last energies of the once stubborn will gave way. The
+last gasp of the failing breath was drawn. The herald at the window
+announced to the waiting multitude that Louis the Fourteenth was no
+more.
+
+"Long live the king!" exclaimed the multitude. They hailed the new
+monarch with mockery; but laughter, and sincere joy and feasting were
+the testimonials of their emotions at the death of the king but now
+departed.
+
+On the next day a cheap, tawdry and unimposing procession wended its way
+through the back streets of Paris, its leader seeking to escape even the
+edges of the mob, lest the people should fall upon the somber little
+pageant and rend it into fragments. This was the funeral cortège of
+Louis, the Grand Monarque, Louis the lustful, Louis the bigot, Louis the
+ignorant, Louis the unhappy. They hurried him to his resting-place,
+these last servitors, and then hastened back to the palaces to join
+their hearts and voices to the rising wave of joy which swept across all
+France at the death of this beloved ruler.
+
+Now it happened that, as the funeral procession of the king was
+hurrying through the side streets near the confines of the old city of
+Paris, there encountered it, entering from the great highway which led
+from the east up to the city gates, the carriage of a gentleman who
+might, apparently with justice, have laid some claim to consequence. It
+had its guards and coachmen, and was attended by two riders in livery,
+who kept it company along the narrow streets. This equipage met the head
+of the hurrying funeral cortège, and found occasion for a moment to
+pause. Thus there passed, the one going to his grave, the other to his
+goal, the two men with whom the France of that day was most intimately
+concerned.
+
+There came from the window of the coach the voice of one inquiring the
+reason of the halt, and there might have been seen through the upper
+portion of the vehicle's door the face of the owner of the carriage. He
+seemed a man of imposing presence, with face open and handsome, and an
+eye bright, bold and full of intelligence. His garb was rich and
+elegant, his air well contained and dignified.
+
+"Guillaume," he called out, "what is it that detains us?"
+
+"It is nothing, Monsieur L'as," was the reply, "They tell me it is but
+the funeral of the king."
+
+"_Eh bien_!" replied Law, turning to one who sat beside him in the
+coach. "Nothing! 'Tis nothing but the funeral of the king!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+EVER SAID SHE NAY
+
+
+The coach proceeded steadily on its way, passing in toward that quarter
+where the high-piled, peaked roofs and jagged spires betokened ancient
+Paris. On every hand arose confused sounds from the streets, now filled
+with a populace merry as though some pleasant carnival were just
+beginning. Shopkeeper called across to his neighbor, tradesman gossiped
+with gallant. Even the stolid faces of the plodding peasants, fresh past
+the gate-tax and bound for the markets to seek what little there
+remained after giving to the king, bore an unwonted look, as though hope
+might yet succeed to their surprise.
+
+"Ohé! Marie," called one stout dame to another, who stood smiling in her
+doorway near by. "See the fine coach coming. That is the sort you and I
+shall have one of these days, now that the king is dead. God bless the
+new king, and may he die young! A plague to all kings, Marie. And now
+come and sit with my man and me, for we've a bottle left, and while it
+lasts we drink freedom from all kings!"
+
+"You speak words of gold, Suzanne," was the reply. "Surely I will drink
+with you, and wish a pleasant and speedy death to kings."
+
+"But now, Marie," said the other, argumentatively, "as to my good duke
+regent, that is otherwise. It goes about that he will change all things.
+One is to amuse one's self now and then, and not to work forever for the
+taxes and the conscription. Long live the regent, then, say I!"
+
+"Yes, and let us hope that regents never turn to kings. There are to be
+new days here in France. We people, aye, my faith! We people, so they
+say, are to be considered. True, we shall have carriages one day, Marie,
+like that of my Lord who passes."
+
+John Law and his companions heard broken bits of such speech as this as
+they passed on.
+
+"Ah, they talk," replied he at last, turning toward his companions, "and
+this is talk which means something. Within the year we shall see Paris
+upside down. These people are ready for any new thing. But"--and his
+face lost some of its gravity--"the streets are none too safe to-day, my
+Lady. Therefore you must forgive me if I do not set you down, but keep
+you prisoner until you reach your own gates. 'Tis not your fault that
+your carriage broke down on the road from Marly; and as for my brother
+Will and myself, we can not forego a good fortune which enables us at
+last to destroy a certain long-standing debt of a carriage ride given
+us, once upon a time, by the Lady Catharine Knollys."
+
+"At least, then, we shall be well acquit on both sides," replied the
+soft voice of the woman. "I may, perhaps, be an unwilling prisoner for
+so short a time."
+
+"Madam, I would God it might be forever!"
+
+It was the same John Law of old who made this impetuous reply, and
+indeed he seemed scarce changed by the passing of these few years of
+time. It was the audacious youth of the English highway who now looked
+at her with grave face, yet with eyes that shone.
+
+Some years had indeed passed since Law, turning his back upon the appeal
+of the wide New World, had again set foot upon the shores of England,
+from which his departure had been so singular. Driven by the goads of
+remorse, it had been his first thought to seek out the Lady Catharine
+Knollys; and so intent had he been on this quest, that he learned almost
+without emotion of the king's pardon which had been entered, discharging
+him of further penalty of the law of England. Meeting Lady Catharine, he
+learned, as have others since and before him, that a human soul may
+have laws inflexible; that the iron bars of a woman's resolve may bar
+one out, even as prison doors may bar him in. He found the Lady
+Catharine unshakeable in her resolve not to see him or speak with him.
+Whereat he raged, expostulated by post, waited, waylaid, and so at
+length gained an interview, which taught him many things.
+
+He found the Lady Catharine Knollys changed from a light-hearted girl to
+a maiden tall, grave, reserved and sad, offering no reproaches,
+listening to no protestations. Told of Sir Arthur Pembroke's horrible
+death, she wept with tears which his survivor envied. Told at length of
+the little child, she sat wide-eyed and silent. Approached with words of
+remorse, with expostulations, promises, she shrank back in absolute
+horror, trembling, so that in very pity the wretched young man left her
+and found his way out into a world suddenly grown old and gray.
+
+After this dismissal, Law for many months saw nothing, heard nothing of
+this woman whom he had wronged, even as he received no sign from the
+woman who had forsaken him over seas. He remained away as long as might
+be, until his violent nature, geyser-like, gathered inner storm and fury
+by repression, and broke away in wild eruption.
+
+Once more he sought the presence of the woman whose face haunted his
+soul, and once more he met ice and adamant stronger than his own fires.
+Beaten, he fled from London and from England, seeking still, after the
+ancient and ineffective fashion of man, to forget, though he himself had
+confessed the lesson that man can not escape himself, but takes his own
+hell with him wherever he goes.
+
+Rejected, as he was now, by the new ministry of England, none the less
+every capital of Europe came presently to know John Law, gambler,
+student and financier. Before every ruler on the continent he laid his
+system of financial revolution, and one by one they smiled, or shrugged,
+or scoffed at him. Baffled once more in his dearest purpose, he took
+again to play, play in such colossal and audacious form as never yet had
+been seen even in the gayest courts of a time when gaming was a vice to
+be called national. No hazard was too great for him, no success and no
+reverse sufficiently keen to cause him any apparent concern. There was
+no risk sharp enough to deaden the gnawing in his soul, no excitement
+strong enough to wipe away from his mind the black panorama of his past.
+
+He won princely fortunes and cast them away again. With the figure and
+the air of a prince, he gained greater reputation than any prince of
+Europe. Upon him were spent the blandishments of the fairest women of
+his time. Yet not this, not all this, served to steady his energies, now
+unbalanced, speeding without guidance. The gold, heaped high on the
+tables, was not enough to stupefy his mind, not enough though he doubled
+and trebled it, though he cast great golden markers to spare him trouble
+in the counting of his winnings. Still student, still mathematician, he
+sought at Amsterdam, at Paris, at Vienna, all new theories which offered
+in the science of banking and finance, even as at the same time he
+delved still further into the mysteries of recurrences and chance.
+
+In this latter such was his success that losers made complaint, unjust
+but effectual, to the king, so that Law was obliged to leave Paris for a
+time. He had dwelt long enough in Paris, this double-natured man, this
+student and creator, this gambler and gallant, to win the friendship of
+Philippe of Orléans, later to be regent of France; and gay enough had
+been the life they two had led--so gay, so intimate, that Philippe gave
+promise that, should he ever hold in his own hands the Government of
+France, he would end Law's banishment and give to him the opportunity he
+sought, of proving those theories of finance which constituted the
+absorbing ambition of his life.
+
+Meantime Law, ever restless, had passed from one capital of Europe to
+another, dragging with him from hotel to hotel the young child whose
+life had been cast in such feverish and unnatural surroundings. He
+continued to challenge every hazard, fearless, reckless, contemptuous,
+and withal wretched, as one must be who, after years of effort, found
+that he could not banish from his mind the pictures of a dark-floored
+prison, and of a knife-stab in the dark, and of raging, awful waters,
+and of a girl beautiful, though with sealed lips and heart of ice. From
+time to time, as was well known, Law returned to England. He heard of
+the Lady Catharine Knollys, as might easily be done in London; heard of
+her as a young woman kind of heart, soft of speech, with tenderness for
+every little suffering thing; a beautiful young woman, whose admirers
+listed scores; but who never yet, even according to the eagerest gossip
+of the capital, had found a suitor to whom she gave word or thought of
+love.
+
+So now at last the arrogant selfishness of his heart began to yield. His
+heart was broken before it might soften, but soften at last it did. And
+so he built up in his soul the image of a grave, sweet saint, kindly and
+gentle-voiced, unapproachable, not to be profaned. To this image--ah,
+which of us has not had such a shrine!--he brought in secret the homage
+of his life, his confessions, his despairs, his hopes, his resolutions;
+guiding thereby all his life, as well as poor mortal man may do, failing
+ever of his own standards, as all men do, yet harking ever back to that
+secret sibyl, reckoning all things from her, for her, by her.
+
+There came at length one chastened hour when they met in calmness, when
+there was no longer talk of love between them, when he stood before her
+as though indeed at the altar of some marble deity. Always her answer
+had been that the past had been a mistake; that she had professed to
+love a man, not knowing what that man was; that she had suffered, but
+that it was better so, since it had brought understanding. Now, in this
+calmer time, she begged of him knowledge of this child, regretting the
+wandering life which had been its portion, saying that for Mary Connynge
+she no longer felt horror and hatred. Thus it was that in a hasty moment
+Law had impulsively begged her to assume some sort of tutelage over that
+unfortunate child. It was to his own amazement that he heard Lady
+Catharine Knollys consent, stipulating that the child should be placed
+in a Paris convent for two years, and that for two years John Law should
+see neither his daughter nor herself. Obedient as a child himself he had
+promised.
+
+"Now, go away," she then had said to him. "Go your own way. Drink,
+dice, game, and waste the talents God hath given you. You have made ruin
+enough for all of us. I would only that it may not run so far as to
+another generation."
+
+So both had kept their promises; and now the two years were done, years
+spent by Law more manfully than any of his life. His fortune he had
+gathered together, amounting to more than a million livres. He had sent
+once more for his brother Will, and thus the two had lived for some time
+in company in lower Europe, the elder brother still curious as ever in
+his abstruse theories of banking and finance--theories then new, now
+outlived in great part, though fit to be called a portion of the great
+foundation of the commercial system of the world. It was a wiser and
+soberer and riper John Law, this man who had but recently received a
+summons from Philippe of Orléans to be present in Paris, for that the
+king was dying, and that all France, France the bankrupt and distracted,
+was on the brink of sudden and perhaps fateful change.
+
+With a quick revival of all his Highland superstition, Law hailed now as
+happy harbinger the fact that, upon his entry into Paris, the city once
+more of his hopes, he had met in such fashion this lady of his dreams,
+even at such time as the seal of silence was lifted from his lips. It
+was no wonder that his eye gleamed, that his voice took on the old
+vibrant tone, that every gesture, in thought or in spite of thought,
+assumed the tender deference of the lover.
+
+It was a fair woman, this chance guest of the highway whom he now
+accosted--bronze-haired, blue-eyed, soft of voice, queenly of mien,
+gentle, calm and truly lovable. Oh, what waste that those arms should
+hold nothing, that lips such as those should know no kisses, that eyes
+like those should never swim in love! What robbery! What crime! And this
+man, thief of this woman's life, felt his heart pinch again in the old,
+sharp anguish of remorse, bitterest because unavailing.
+
+For the Lady Catharine herself there had been also many changes. The
+death of her brother, the Earl of Banbury, had wrought many shifts in
+the circumstances of a house apparently pursued by unkind fate. Left
+practically alone and caring little for the life of London, even after
+there had worn away the chill of suspicion which followed upon the
+popular knowledge of her connection with the escape of Law from London,
+Lady Catharine Knollys turned to a life and world suddenly grown vague
+and empty. Travel upon the continent with friends, occasional visits to
+the old family house in England, long sojourns in this or the other
+city--such had been her life, quiet, sweet, reproachless and
+unreproaching. For the present she had taken an hôtel in the older part
+of Paris, in connection with her friend, the Countess of Warrington,
+sometime connected with the embassy of that Lord Stair who was later to
+act as spy for England in Paris, now so soon to know tumultuous scenes.
+With these scenes, as time was soon to prove, there was to be most
+intimately connected this very man who, now bending forward attentively,
+now listening respectfully, and ever gazing directly and ardently, heard
+naught of plots or plans, cared naught for the Paris which lay about,
+saw naught but the beautiful face before him, felt naught but some deep,
+compelling thrill in every heart-string which now reaching sweet accord
+in spite of fate, in spite of the past, in spite of all, went singing on
+in a deep melody of joy. This was she, the idol, the deity. Let the
+world wag. It was a moment yet ere paradise must end!
+
+"Madam, I would God it might be forever!" said Law again. The old
+stubborn nature was showing once more, but under it something deeper,
+softer, tenderer.
+
+A sudden panic fear called at the heart of her to whom he spoke. Two
+rosy spots shone in her cheeks, and as she gazed, her eyes showed the
+veiled softening of woman's gentleness. There fell a silence.
+
+"Madam, I could feel that this were Sadler's Wells over again," said Law
+a moment later.
+
+But now the carriage had arrived at the destination named by Lady
+Catharine. Law sprang out, hat in hand, and assisted Lady Catharine to
+the curb. A passing flower girl, gaily offering her wares, paused as the
+carriage drew up. Law turned quickly and caught from her as many roses
+as his hand could grasp, handing her in return half as much coin as her
+smaller palm could hold. He turned to the Lady Catharine, and bowed with
+that grace which was the talk of a world of gallants. In his hand he
+extended a flower.
+
+"Madam, as before!" he said.
+
+There was a sob in his voice. Their eyes met fairly, unmasked as they
+had not been for years. Tears came into the man's eyes, the first that
+had ever sat there; tears for the past, tears for that sweetness which
+once might have been.
+
+"'Tis for the king! They weep for the king!" sang out the hard voice of
+the flower girl, ironically, as she skipped away. "Ohé, for the king,
+for the king!"
+
+"Nay, for the queen!" said John Law, as he gazed into the eyes of
+Catharine Knollys.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+SEARCH THOU MY HEART
+
+
+"Only believe me, Lady Catharine, and I shall do everything I promised
+years ago--I shall lay all France at your feet. But if you deny me thus
+always, I shall make all France a mockery."
+
+"Monsieur is fresh from the South of France," replied the Lady Catharine
+Knollys. "Has Gascon wine perhaps put Gascon speech into his mouth?"
+
+"Oh, laugh if you like," exclaimed Law, rising and pacing across the
+great room in which these two had met. "Laugh and mock, but we shall
+see!"
+
+"Granted that Mr. Law is well within his customary modesty," replied
+Lady Catharine, "and granted even that Mr. Law has all France in the
+hollow of his hand to-day, to do with as he likes, I must confess I see
+not why France should suffer because I myself have found it difficult to
+endorse Mr. Law's personal code of morals."
+
+It was the third day after Law's entry into Paris, and the first time
+for more than two long years that he found himself alone with the Lady
+Catharine Knollys. His eagerness might have excused his impetuous and
+boastful speech.
+
+As for the Lady Catharine, that one swift, electric moment at the street
+curb had well-nigh undone more than two years of resolve. She had heard
+herself, as it were in a dream, promising that this man might come. She
+had found herself later in her own apartments, panting, wide-eyed,
+afraid. Some great hand, unseen, uninvited, mysterious, had swept
+ruthlessly across each chord of womanly reserve and resolution which so
+long she had held well-ordered and absolutely under control. It was
+self-distrust, fear, which now compelled her to take refuge in this
+woman's fence of speech with him. "Surely," argued she with herself, "if
+love once dies, then it is dead forever, and can never be revived.
+Surely," she insisted to herself, "my love is dead. Then--ah, but then
+was it dead? Can my heart grow again?" asked the Lady Catharine of
+herself, tremblingly. This was that which gave her pause. It was this
+also which gave to her cheek its brighter color, to her eye a softer
+gleam; and to her speech this covering shield of badinage.
+
+Yet all her defenses were in a way to be fairly beaten down by the
+intentness of the other. All things he put aside or overrode, and would
+speak but of himself and herself, of his plans, his opportunities, and
+of how these were concerned with himself and with her.
+
+"There are those who judge not so harshly as yourself, Madam," resumed
+Law. "His Grace the regent is good enough to believe that my studies
+have gone deeper than the green cloth of the gaming table. Now, I tell
+you, my time has come--my day at last is here. I tell you that I shall
+prove to you everything which I said to you long ago, back there in old
+England. I shall prove to you that I have not been altogether an idler
+and a trifler. I shall bring to you, as I promised you long ago, all the
+wealth, all the distinction--"
+
+"But such speech is needless, Mr. Law," came the reply. "I have all the
+wealth I need, nor do I crave distinction, save of my own selection."
+
+"But you do not dream! This is a day unparalleled. There will be such
+changes here as never yet were known. Within a week you shall hear of my
+name in Paris. Within a month you shall hear of it beyond the gates of
+Paris. Within a year you shall hear nothing else in Europe!"
+
+"As I hear nothing else here now, Monsieur?"
+
+Like a horse restless under the snaffle, the man shook his head, but
+went on. "If you should be offered wealth more than any woman of Paris,
+if you had precedence over the proudest peers of France--would these
+things have no weight with you?"
+
+"You know they would not."
+
+Law cast himself restlessly upon a seat across the room from her. "I
+think I do," said he, dejectedly. "At times you drive me to my wit's
+end. What then, Madam, would avail?"
+
+"Why, nothing, so far as the past is to be reviewed for you and me. Yet,
+I should say that, if there were two here speaking as you and I, and if
+they two had no such past as we--then I could fancy that woman saying to
+her friend, 'Have you indeed done all that lay within you to do?'"
+
+"Is it not enough--?"
+
+"There is nothing, sir, that is enough for a woman, but all!"
+
+"I have given you all."
+
+"All that you have left--after yourself."
+
+"Sharp, sharp indeed are your words, my Lady. And they are most sharp
+because they come with justice."
+
+"Oh," broke out the woman, "one may use sharp words who has been scorned
+for her own false friend! You would give me all, Mr. Law, but you must
+remember that it is only what remains after that--that--"
+
+"But would you, could you, have cared had there been no 'that'? Had I
+done all that lay in me to do, could you then have given me your
+confidence, and could you have thought me worthy of it?"
+
+"Oh, 'if!'"
+
+"Yes, 'if!' 'If,' and 'as though,' and 'in that case'--these are all we
+have to console us in this life. But, sweet one--"
+
+"Sir, such words I have forbidden," said Lady Catharine, the blood for
+one cause or another mounting again into her cheek.
+
+"You torture me!" broke out Law.
+
+"As much as you have me? Is it so much as that, Mr. Law?"
+
+He rose and stood apart, his head falling in despair. "As I have done
+this thing, so may God punish me!" said he. "I was not fit, and am not.
+Yet I was bold enough to hope that there could be some atonement, some
+thing--if my suffering--"
+
+"There are things, Mr. Law, for which no suffering atones. But why cause
+suffering longer for us both? You come again and again. Could you not
+leave me for a time untroubled?"
+
+"How can I?" blazed the man, his forehead furrowed up into a frown, the
+moist beads on his brow proving his own intentness. "I can not! I can
+not! That is all I know. Ask me not why. I can not; that is all."
+
+"Sir," said Lady Catharine, "this seems to me no less than terrible."
+
+"It is indeed no less than terrible. Yet I must come and come again,
+bound some day to be heard, not for what I am, but for what I might be.
+'Tis not justice I would have, dear heart, but mercy, a woman's mercy!"
+
+"And you would bully me to agree with you, as I said, in regard to your
+own excellent code of morals, Mr. Law?"
+
+"You evade, like any woman, but if you will, even have it so. At least
+there is to be this battle between us all our lives. I will be loved,
+Lady Catharine! I must be loved by you! Look in my heart. Search beneath
+this man that you and others see. Find me my own fellow, that other self
+better than I, who cries out always thus. Look! 'Tis not for me as I am.
+No man deserves aught for himself. But find in my heart, Lady Catharine,
+that other self, the man I might have been! Dear heart, I beseech you,
+look!"
+
+Impulsively, he even tore apart the front of his coat, as though indeed
+to invite such scrutiny. He stood before her, trembling, choking. The
+passion of his speech caused the color again to rush to the Lady
+Catharine's face. For a moment her bosom rose and fell tumultuously,
+deep answering as of old unto deep, in the ancient, wondrous way.
+
+"Is it the part of manhood to persecute a woman, Mr. Law?" she asked,
+her own uncertitude now showing in her tone.
+
+"I do not know," he answered.
+
+Lady Catharine looked at him curiously.
+
+"Do you love me, Mr. Law?" she asked, directly.
+
+"I have no answer."
+
+"Did you love that other woman?"
+
+It took all his courage to reply. "I am not fit to answer," said he.
+
+"And you would love me, too, for a time and in a way?"
+
+"I will not answer. I will not trifle."
+
+"And I am to think Mr. Law better than himself, better than other men;
+since you say no man dare ask actual justice?"
+
+"Worse than other men, and yet a man. A man--my God! Lady Catharine--a
+man unworthy, yet a man seized fatally of that love which neither life
+nor death can alter!"
+
+As one fascinated, Lady Catharine sat looking at him. "Then," said she,
+"any man may say to any woman--Mr. Law says to me--'I have cared for
+such, and so many other women to the extent, let us say, of so many
+pounds sterling. But I love you to the extent of twice as many pounds,
+shillings and pence?' Is that the dole we women may expect, Mr. Law?"
+
+"Have back your own words!" he cried. "Nothing is enough but all! And as
+God witnesseth in this hour, I have loved you with all my heart-beats,
+with all my prayers. I call upon you now, in the name of that love I
+know you once bore me--"
+
+Upon the face of the Lady Catharine there blazed the red mark of the
+shame of Knollys. Covering her face with her hands, she suddenly bent
+forward, and from her lips there broke a sob of pain.
+
+In a flash Law was at her side, kneeling, seeking to draw away her
+fingers with hands that trembled as much as her own.
+
+"Do not! Do not!" he cried. "I am not worth it! It shall be as you like.
+Let me go away forever. This I can not endure!"
+
+"Ah, John Law, John Law!" murmured Catharine Knollys, "why did you break
+my heart!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+THE REGENT'S PROMISE
+
+
+"Tell me, then, Monsieur L'as, of this new America. I would fain have
+some information at first hand. There was rumor, I know not how exact,
+that you once traveled in those regions."
+
+Thus spake his Grace Philippe, Duke of Orléans, regent of France, now,
+in effect, ruler of France. It was the audience which had been arranged
+for John Law, that opportunity for which he had waited all his life.
+Before him now, as he stood in the great council chamber, facing this
+man whose ambitions ended where his own began--at the convivial board
+and at the gaming table--he saw the path which led to the success that
+he had craved so long. He, Law of Lauriston, sometime adventurer and
+gambler, was now playing his last and greatest game.
+
+"Your Grace," said he, "there be many who might better than I tell you
+of that America."
+
+"There are many who should be able, and many who do," replied the
+regent. "By the body of the Lord! we get nothing but information
+regarding these provinces of New France, and each advice is worse than
+the one preceding it. The gist of it all is that my Lord Governor and my
+very good intendant can never agree, save upon one point or so. They
+want more money, and they want more soldiers--ah, yes, to be sure, they
+also want more women, though we sent them out a ship load of choice
+beauties not more than a six-month ago. But tell me, Monsieur L'as, is
+it indeed true that you have traveled in America?"
+
+"For a short time."
+
+"I have heard nothing regarding you from the intendant at Quebec."
+
+"Your Grace was not at that time caring for intendants. 'Twas many years
+ago, and I was not well known at Quebec by my own name."
+
+"_Eh bien_? Some adventure, then, perhaps? A woman at the bottom of it,
+I warrant."
+
+"Your Grace is right."
+
+"'Twas like you, for a fellow of good zest. May God bless all fair
+dames. And as to what you found in thus following--or was it in
+fleeing--your divinity?"
+
+"I found many things. For one, that this America is the greatest country
+of the world. Neither England nor France is to be compared with it."
+
+The regent fell back in his chair and laughed heartily.
+
+"Monsieur, you are indeed, as I have ever found you, of most excellent
+wit. You please me enormously."
+
+"But, your Grace, I am entirely serious."
+
+"Oh, come, spoil not so good a jest by qualifying, I beseech you!
+England or France, indeed--ah, Monsieur L'as, Monsieur L'as!"
+
+"Your own city of New Orléans, Sire, will lie at the gate of a realm
+greater than all France. Your Grace will hand to the young king, when he
+shall come of age, a realm excellently worth the ownership of any king."
+
+"You say rich. In what way?" asked the regent. "We have not had so much
+of returns after all. Look at Crozat? Look at--"
+
+"Oh fie, Crozat! Your Grace, he solved not the first problem of real
+commerce. He never dreamed the real richness of America."
+
+Philippe sat thoughtful, his finger tips together. "Why have we not
+heard of these things?" said he.
+
+"Because of men like Crozat, of men like your governors and intendants
+at Quebec. Because, your Grace, as you know very well, of the same
+reason which sent me once from Paris, and kept me so long from laying
+before you these very plans of which I now would speak."
+
+"And that cause?"
+
+"Maintenon."
+
+"Oh, ah! Indeed--that is to say--"
+
+"Louis would hear naught of me, of course. Maintenon took care that he
+should find I was but heretic."
+
+"As for myself," said Philippe the regent, "heretic or not heretic makes
+but small figure. 'Twill take France a century to overcome her late
+surfeit of religion. For us, 'tis most a question of how to keep the
+king in the saddle and France underneath."
+
+"Precisely, your Grace."
+
+"Frankly, Monsieur L'as, I take it fittest now not so much to ponder
+over new worlds as over how to keep in touch with this Old World yet
+awhile. France has danced, though for years she danced to the tune of
+Louis clad in black. Now France must pay for the music. My faith, I like
+not the look of things. This joyful France to-day is a hideous thing.
+These people laugh! I had sooner see a lion grin. Now to govern those
+given us by Providence to govern," and the regent smiled grimly at the
+ancient fiction, "it is most meet that the governed should produce
+somewhat of funds in order that they may be governed."
+
+"Yes, and the error has been in going too far," said Law. "These people
+have been taxed beyond the taxation point. Now they laugh."
+
+"Yes; and by God, Monsieur L'as, when France laughs, beware!"
+
+"Your Grace admits that France has no further resources."
+
+"Assuredly."
+
+"Then tax New France!" cried Law, his hand coming down hard upon the
+table, his eyes shining. "Mortgage where the security doubles every
+year, where the soil itself is security for wealth greater than all
+Europe ever owned."
+
+"Oh, very well, Monsieur; though later I must ask you to explain."
+
+"You admit that no more money can be forced from the people of France."
+
+"Ask the farmers of the taxes. Ask Chamillard of the Treasury. My faith,
+look out of the window! Listen! Do I not tell you that France is
+laughing?"
+
+"Very well. Let us also laugh. Let us all laugh together. There is money
+in France, more money in Europe. I assure you these people can be
+brought to give you cheerfully all they have."
+
+"It sounds well, Monsieur L'as, but let me ask you how?"
+
+"France is bankrupt--this is brutal, but none the less true. France must
+repudiate her obligations unless something be swiftly done. It is not
+noble to repudiate, your Grace. Yet, if we cancel and not repudiate, if
+we can obtain the gold of France, of Europe--"
+
+"Body of God! but you speak large, my friend."
+
+"Not so large. All subjects shrink as we come close to them by study.
+'Tis easy to see that France has not money enough for her own business.
+If we had more money in France, we should have more production, and if
+we had more production, we might have taxes. Thereby we might have
+somewhat in our treasury wherewith to keep the king in the saddle, and
+not under foot."
+
+"Then, if I follow you," said Philippe, leaning slightly forward and
+again placing his finger tips judicially together, "you would coin
+greater amounts of money. Then, I would ask you, where would you get
+your gold for the coinage?"
+
+"It is not gold I would coin," said Law, "but credit."
+
+"The kingdom hath been run on credit for these many years."
+
+"No, 'tis not that kind of credit that I mean. I mean the credit which
+comes of confidence. It is fate, necessity, which demands a new system.
+The world has grown too much for every man to put his sixpence into the
+other man's hand, and carry away in a basket what he buys. We are no
+longer savages, to barter beads for hides. Yet we were as savages, did
+we not come to realize that this insufficient coin must be replaced in
+the evolution of affairs, just as barter has long ago been, replaced."
+
+"And by what?"
+
+"As I said, by credit."
+
+"Do not annoy me by things too deep, but rather suggest some definite
+plan, if that may be."
+
+"First of all, then, as I said to you years ago, we need a bank, a bank
+in which all the people of France shall have absolute confidence."
+
+"You would, then, wish a charter of some sort?"
+
+"Only provided your Grace shall please. I have of my own funds a half
+million livres or more. This I would put into a bank of general nature,
+if your Grace shall please. That should be some small guarantee of my
+good faith in these plans."
+
+"Monsieur L'as would seem to have followed play to his good fortune."
+
+"Never to so good fortune as when first I met your Grace," replied Law.
+"I have given to games of chance the severest thought and study. Just
+as much more have I given thought and study to this enterprise which I
+propose now to lay before you."
+
+"And you ask the patent of the Crown for your bank?"
+
+"It were better if the institution received that open endorsement."
+
+A slow frown settled upon the face of the other. "That is, at the
+beginning, impossible, Monsieur L'as," said the regent. "It is you who
+must prove these things which you propose."
+
+"Let it be so, then," said Law, with conviction. "I make no doubt I
+shall obtain subscriptions for the shares. Remember my words. Within a
+few months you shall see trebled the energies of France. Money is the
+only thing which we have not in France. Why, your Grace, suppose the
+collectors of taxes in the South of France succeed in raising the king's
+levies. That specie must come by wheeled vehicle all the way to Paris.
+Consider what loss of time is there, and consider what hindrance to the
+trade of the provinces from which so much specie is taken bodily, and to
+which it can return later only a little at a time. Is it any wonder that
+usury is eating up France? There is not money enough--it is the one
+priceless thing; by which I mean only that there is not belief, not
+confidence, not credit enough in France. Now, given a bank which holds
+the confidence of the people, and I promise the king his taxes, even as
+I promise to abolish usury. You shall see money at work, money begetting
+money, and that begetting trade, and that producing comfort, and comfort
+making easier the collection of the king's taxes."
+
+"By heaven! you begin to make it somewhat more plain to me."
+
+"One thing I beg you to observe most carefully, your Grace," said Law,
+"nor must it ever be forgotten in our understanding. The shares of this
+bank must have a fixed value in regard to the coin of the realm. There
+must be no altering of the value of our coin. Grant that the coin does
+not fluctuate, and I promise you that my bank _actions_, notes of the
+chief bank of Paris, shall soon be found better than gold or silver in
+the eyes of France. Moreover, given a greater safety to foreign gold,
+and I promise you that too shall pour into Paris in such fashion as has
+never yet been seen. Moreover, the people will follow their coin. Paris
+will be the greatest capital of Europe. This I promise you I can do."
+
+"In effect," said the regent, smiling, "you promise me that you can
+build a new Paris, a new world! Yet much of this I can in part believe
+and understand. Let that be as it may. The immediate truth is that
+something must be done, and done at once."
+
+"Obviously."
+
+"Our public debt is twenty-six hundred millions of livres. Its annual
+interest is eighty millions of livres. We can not pay this interest
+alone, not to speak of the principal. Obviously, as you say, the matter
+admits of no delay. Your bank--why, by heaven, let us have your bank!
+What can we do without your bank? Lastly, how quickly can we have it?"
+
+"Sire, you make me the happiest man in all the world!"
+
+"The advantage is quite otherwise, sir. But my head already swims with
+figures. Now let us set the rest aside until to-morrow. Meantime, I must
+confess to you, my dear friend, there is somewhat else that sits upon my
+mind."
+
+A change came upon the demeanor of his Grace the regent. Laying aside
+the dignity of the ruler with the questions of state, he became again
+more nearly that Philippe of Orléans, known by his friends as gay, care
+free and full of _camaraderie_.
+
+"Your Grace, could I be of the least personal service, I should be too
+happy," said Law.
+
+"Well, then, I must admit to you that this is a question of a diamond."
+
+"Oh, a diamond?"
+
+"The greatest diamond in the world. Indeed, there is none other like it,
+and never will be. This Jew hounds me to death, holding up the thing
+before mine eyes. Even Saint Simon, that priggish little duke of ours,
+tells me that France should have this stone, that it is a dignity which
+should not be allowed to pass away from her. But how can France,
+bankrupt as she is, afford a little trifle which costs three million
+francs? Three million francs, when we can not pay eighty millions annual
+interest on our debts!"
+
+"'Tis as you say, somewhat expensive," said Law.
+
+"Naturally, for I say to you that this stone had never parallel in the
+history of the world. It seems that this overseer in the Golconda mines
+got possession of it in some fashion, and escaped to Europe, hiding the
+stone about his person. It has been shown in different parts of Europe,
+but no one yet has been able to meet the price of this extortioner who
+owns it."
+
+"And yet, as Saint Simon says, there is no dignity too great for the
+throne of France."
+
+"Yet, meantime, the king will have no use for it for several years to
+come. There is the Sancy stone--"
+
+"And, as your Grace remembers, this new stone would look excellent well
+upon a woman?" said Law. He gazed, calm and unsmiling, directly into the
+eyes of Philippe of Orléans.
+
+"Monsieur L'as, you have the second sight!" cried the latter,
+unblushingly. "You have genius. May God strike me blind if ever I have
+seen a keener mind than thine!"
+
+"All warm blood is akin," replied John Law. "This stone is perhaps for
+your Grace's best beloved?"
+
+"Eh--ah--which? As you know--"
+
+"Ah! Perhaps for La Parabère. Richly enough she deserves it."
+
+"Ah, Monsieur L'as, even your mind is at fault now," cried the regent,
+shaking his finger exultingly. "I covet this new stone, not for Parabère
+nor for any one of those dear friends whom you might name, and whom you
+may upon occasion have met at some of my little suppers. It is for
+another, whose name or nature you can not guess."
+
+"Not that mysterious beauty of whom rumor goes about this week, the
+woman rated surpassing fair, who has lately come into the acquaintance
+of your Grace, and whom your Grace has concealed as jealously as though
+he feared to lose her by some highway robbery?"
+
+"It is the same, I must admit!"
+
+Law remained thoughtful for a time. "I make no doubt that the Hebrew
+would take two million francs for this stone," said he.
+
+"Perhaps, but two millions is the same as three millions," said
+Philippe. "The question is, where to get two millions."
+
+"As your Grace has said, I have been somewhat fortunate at play,"
+replied Law, "but I must say that this sum is beyond me, and that both
+the diamond and the bank I can not compass. Yet, your Grace has at
+disposal the crown jewels of France. Now, beauty is the sovereign of all
+sovereigns, as Philippe of Orléans must own. To beauty belongs the use
+of these crown jewels. Place them as security, and borrow the two
+millions. For myself, I shall take pride in advancing the interest on
+the sum for a certain time, until such occasion as the treasury may
+afford the price of this trinket. In a short time it will be able to do
+so, I promise your Grace; indeed able to buy a dozen such stones, and
+take no thought of the matter."
+
+"Monsieur L'as, do you actually believe these things?"
+
+"I know them."
+
+"And you can secure for me this gem?"
+
+"Assuredly. We shall have it. Let it be called the 'Regent's Diamond,'
+after your Grace of Orléans. And when the king shall one day wear it,
+let us hope that he will place it as fitly as I am sure your Grace will
+do, on the brow of beauty--even though it be beauty unknown, and kept
+concealed under princely prerogative!"
+
+"Ah! You are too keen, Monsieur L'as, too keen to see my new discovery.
+Not for a little time shall I take the risk of introducing this fair
+friend to one so dangerous as yourself; but one of these times, my very
+good friend, if you can secure for me this diamond, you shall come to a
+very little supper, and see where for a time I shall place this gem, as
+you say, on the brow of beauty. For the sake of Monsieur L'as, head
+magician of France my mysterious alien shall then unmask."
+
+"And then I am to have my bank?"
+
+"Good God, yes, a thousand banks!"
+
+"It is agreed?"
+
+"It is agreed."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+A DAY OF MIRACLES
+
+
+The regent of France kept his promise to Law, and the latter in turn
+fulfilled his prophecy to the regent. Moreover, he swiftly went far
+toward verifying his boast to the Lady Catharine Knollys; for in less
+than a month his name was indeed on every tongue in Paris. The Banque
+Générale de L'as et Compagnie was seized upon by the public, debtor and
+creditor alike, as the one new thing, and hence as the only salvation.
+As ever, it pleased Paris to be mystified. In some way the rumor spread
+about that Monsieur L'as was _philosophique_; that the Banque Générale
+was founded upon "philosophy." It was catch-word sufficient for the
+time.
+
+"_Vive_ Jean L'as, _le philosophe_--Monsieur L'as, he who has saved
+France!" So rang the cry of the shallow-witted people of an age splendid
+even in its contradictions. And meantime the new bank, crudely
+experimental as it was, flourished as though its master spirit had
+indeed in his possession the philosopher's stone, turning all things to
+gold.
+
+One day, shortly after the beginning of that brilliantly spectacular
+series of events destined so soon to make Paris the Mecca of the world,
+there sat at table, in a little, obscure _cabaret_ of the gay city, a
+group of persons who seemed to have chosen that spot for purposes of
+privacy. Yet privacy was difficult where all the curious passers-by
+stared in amaze at the great coach near the door, half filling the
+narrow and unclean street--a vehicle bearing the arms of no less a
+person than that august and unscrupulous representative of the French
+nobility, the Prince de Conti. No less a person than the prince himself,
+thin-faced, aquiline and haughty, sat at this table, looking about him
+like any common criminal to note whether his speech might be overheard.
+Next to him sat a hook-nosed Jew from Austria, Fraslin by name, one of
+many of his kind gathered so quickly within the last few weeks in Paris,
+even as the scent of carrion fetches ravens to the feast. Another of the
+party was a man of middle age, of handsome, calm, patrician features and
+an unruffled mien--that De la Chaise, nephew of the confessor of Louis
+the Grand, who was later to represent the young king in the provinces of
+Louisiana.
+
+Near by the latter, and indeed the central figure of this gathering, was
+one less distinguished than either of the above, evidently neither of
+churchly ancestry nor civic distinction--Henri Varenne, sometime clerk
+for the noted Paris Frères, farmers of the national revenues. Varenne,
+now serving but as clerk in the new bank of L'as et Compagnie, could
+have been called a man of no great standing; yet it was he whose
+presence had called hither these others to this unusual meeting. In
+point of fact, Varenne was a spy, a spy chosen by the jealous Paris
+Frères, to learn what he might of the internal mechanism of this new and
+startling institution which had sprung into such sudden prominence.
+
+"As to the bank of these brothers L'as," said the Prince de Conti,
+rapping out emphasis with his sword hilt on the table, "it surely has
+much to commend it. Here is one of its notes, and witness what it says.
+'The bank promises to pay to the bearer at sight the sum of fifty livres
+in coin of the weight and standard of this day.' That is to say, of this
+date which it bears. Following these, are the words 'value received.'
+Now, my notary tells me that these words make this absolutely safe, so
+that I know what it means in coin to me at this day, or a year from now.
+Is it not so, Monsieur Fraslin?"
+
+The Jew reached out his hand, took the note, and peered over it in close
+scrutiny.
+
+"'Tis no wonder, Monsieur le Prince," said he, presently, "that orders
+have been given by the Government to receive this note without discount
+for the payment of the general taxes. Upon my reputation, I must say to
+you that these notes will pass current better than your uncertain coin.
+The specie of the king has been changed twice in value by the king's
+orders. Yet this bases itself upon a specie value which is not subject
+to any change. Therein lies its own value."
+
+"It is indeed true," broke in Varenne. "Not a day goes by at this new
+bank but persons come to us and demand our notes rather than coin of the
+realm of France."
+
+"Yes, yes," broke in the prince, "we are agreed as to all this, but
+there is much talk about further plans of this Monsieur L'as. He has the
+ear of his Grace the regent, surely. Now, sir, tell us what you know of
+these future affairs."
+
+"The rumor is, as I understand it," answered Varenne, "that he is to
+take over control of the Company of the West--to succeed, in short, to
+the shoes of Anthony Crozat. There come curious stories of this province
+of Louisiana."
+
+"Of course," resumed the prince, with easy wisdom, "we all of us know of
+the voyage of L'Huillier, who, with his four ships, went up this great
+river Messasebe, and who, as is well known, found that river of Blue
+Earth, described by early writers as abounding in gold and gems."
+
+"Aye, and there comes the strange part of it, and this is what I would
+lay before your Lordships, as bearing upon the value of the shares of
+this new bank, since it is taking over the charter of the Company of the
+West. It is news not yet known upon the street. The story goes that the
+half has not been told of the wealth of these provinces.
+
+"Now, as you say, L'Huillier had with him four ships, and it is well
+known that his gentlemen had with them certain ladies of distinction,
+among these a mysterious dame reported to have earlier traveled in
+portions of New France. The name of this mysterious female is not known,
+save that she is reported to have been a good friend of a
+_sous-lieutenant_ of the regiment Carignan, sometime dweller at Quebec
+and Montréal, and who later became a lieutenant under L'Huillier. It is
+said that this same mysterious fair, having returned from America and
+having cast aside her lieutenant, has come under protection of no less a
+person than his Grace Philippe of Orléans, the regent. Now, as you know,
+the bank is the best friend of the regent, and this mysterious dame, as
+we are advised by servants of his Grace's household, hath told his Grace
+such stories of the wealth of the Messasebe that he has secretly and
+quickly made over the control of the trade of those provinces to this
+new bank. There is story also that his Grace himself will not lack
+profit in this movement!"
+
+The hand of Conti smote hard upon the table. "By heaven! it were strange
+thing," said he, "if this foreign traveler should prove the same
+mysterious beauty Philippe is reported to have kept in hiding. My faith,
+is it indeed true that we are come upon a time of miracles?"
+
+"Listen!" broke in again Varenne, his ardor overcoming his
+obsequiousness. "These are some of the tales brought back--and reported
+privately, I can assure you, gentlemen, now for the first time and to
+yourselves. The people of this country are said to be clad in beauteous
+raiment, made of skins, of grasses, and of the barks of trees. Their
+ornaments are made of pure, yellow gold, and of precious gems which they
+pick up from the banks of the streams, as common as pebbles here in
+France. The climate is such that all things grow in the most unrivaled
+fruitfulness. There is neither too much sun nor too much rain. The lakes
+and rivers are vast and beautiful, and the forests are filled with
+myriads of strange and sweet-voiced birds. 'Tis said that the dream of
+Ponce de Leon hath been realized, and that not only one, but scores of
+fountains of youth have been discovered in this great valley. The people
+are said never to grow old. Their personal beauty is of surpassing
+nature, and their disposition easy and complaisant to the last degree--"
+
+"My faith, say on!" broke in De la Chaise. "'Tis surely a story of
+paradise which you recount."
+
+"But, listen, gentlemen! The story goes yet farther. As to mines of gold
+and silver, 'twas matter of report that such mines are common in all the
+valley of the Messasebe. Indeed the whole surface of the earth, in some
+parts, is covered with lumps of gold, so that the natives care nothing
+for it. The bottoms of the streams, the beaches of the lakes, carry as
+many particles of gold as they have pebbles and little stones. As for
+silver, none take note of it. 'Tis used as building stone."
+
+"In the name of Jehovah, is there support for these wonders you have
+spoken?" broke in Fraslin the Jew, his eyes shining with suppressed
+excitement.
+
+"Assuredly. Yet I am telling not half of the news which came to my
+knowledge this very morning--the story is said to have emanated from the
+Palais Royal itself, and therefore, no doubt, is to be traced to this
+same unknown queen of the Messasebe. She reports, so it is said, that
+beyond the country where L'Huillier secured his cargo of blue earth,
+there is a land where grows a most peculiar plant. The meadows and
+fields are covered with it, and it is said that the dews of night, which
+gather within the petals of these flowers, become, in the course of a
+single day, nothing less than a solid diamond stone! From this in time
+the leaves drop down, leaving the diamond exposed there, shining and
+radiant."
+
+"Ah, bah!" broke in Fraslin the Jew. "Why believe such babblings? We all
+know that the diamond is a product not of the vegetable but of the
+mineral world!"
+
+"So have we known many things," stoutly replied Varenne, "only to find
+ourselves frequently mistaken. Now for my part, a diamond is a diamond,
+be it born in a flower or broken from a rock. And as for the excellence
+of these stones, 'tis rumored that the lady hath abundant proof. 'Tis no
+wonder that the natives of the valley of the Messasebe robe themselves
+in silks, and that they deck themselves carelessly with precious stones,
+as would a peasant of ours with a chain of daisy blossoms. Now, if there
+be such wealth as this, is it not easy to see the profit of a bank which
+controls the trade with such a province? True, there have been some
+discoveries in this valley, but nothing thorough. 'Tis but recent the
+thing hath been done thorough."
+
+The Prince de Conti sat back in his chair and drew a long breath. "If
+these things be true," said he, "then this Monsieur L'as is not so bad a
+leader to follow."
+
+"But listen!" exclaimed Varenne once more. "I have not even yet told you
+the most important thing, and this is rumor which perhaps your Grace has
+caught. 'Tis whispered that the bank of the brothers L'as is within a
+fortnight to be changed."
+
+"What is that?" queried Fraslin quickly. "'Tis not to be abandoned?"
+
+"By no means. Abandoned would be quite the improper word. 'Tis to be
+improved, expanded, increased, magnified! My Lords, there is the
+opportunity of a life-time for every one of us here!"
+
+"Say on, man, say on!" commanded the prince, the covetousness of his
+soul shining in his eyes as he leaned forward.
+
+"I mean to say this," and the spy lowered his voice as he looked
+anxiously about. "The regent hath taken a fancy to be chief owner
+himself of an enterprise so profitable. In fine, the Banque Générale is
+to become the Banque Royale. His Majesty of France, represented by his
+Grace the regent, is to become the head banker of France and Europe!
+Monsieur L'as is to be retained as director-general of this Banque
+Royale. There are to be branches fixed in different cities of the realm,
+at Lyons, at Tours, at Amiens, at Rochelle, at Orléans--in fact, all
+France is to go upon a different footing."
+
+The glances of the Prince de Conti and the Austrian met each other. The
+Jew drew a long breath as he sat back in his chair, his hands grasping
+at the edge of the table. Try as he might, he scarce could keep his chin
+from trembling. He licked out his tongue to moisten his lips.
+
+"There is so much," resumed Varenne, "that 'tis hard to tell it all. But
+you must know that this Banque Royale will be still more powerful than
+the old one. There will be incorporated with it, not only the Company of
+the West, but also the General Company of the Indies, as you know, the
+most considerable mercantile enterprise of France. Now listen! Within
+the first year the Banque Royale will issue one thousand million livres
+in notes. This embodiment of the Compagnie Générale of the Indies will
+warrant, as I know by the secret plans of the bank, the issue of notes
+amounting to two billion livres. Therefore, as Monsieur de la Chaise
+signifies, he who is lucky enough to-day to own a few _actions_ of the
+Banque Royale, or even the old _actions_ of Monsieur L'as' bank, which
+will be redeemed by its successor, is in a way to gain greater sums than
+were ever seen on the face of any investment from the beginning of the
+world until to-day! Now, as I was about to ask of you, Monsieur
+Fraslin--"
+
+The speaker turned in his chair to where Fraslin had been but a moment
+before. The chair was empty.
+
+"Our friend stepped to the door but on the instant," said De la Chaise.
+"He is perhaps--"
+
+"That he has," cried Varenne. "He is the first of us to profit! Monsieur
+le Prince, in virtue of what I have said to you, if you could favor me
+with an advance of a few hundred louis, I could assure my family of
+independence. Monsieur le Prince! Monsieur le Prince--"
+
+Monsieur le Prince, however, was not so far behind the Austrian! Varenne
+followed him, tugging at his coat, but Conti shook him off, sprang into
+his carriage and was away.
+
+"To the Place Vendôme!" he cried to his coachman, "and hasten!"
+
+De la Chaise, aristocratic, handsome and thick-witted, remained alone at
+the table, wondering what was the cause of this sudden commotion.
+Varenne re-appeared at the door wringing his hands.
+
+"What is it, my friend?" asked De la Chaise. "Why all this haste? Why
+this confusion?"
+
+"Nothing!" exclaimed Varenne, bitterly, "except that every minute of
+this day is worth a million francs. Man, do you know?"--and in his
+frenzy he caught De la Chaise by the collar and half shook him out of
+his usual calm--"man, can you not see that Jean L'as has brought
+revolution into Paris? Oh! This L'as, this devil of a L'as! A thousand
+louis, my friend, a hundred, ten--give me but ten louis, and I will make
+you rich! A day of miracles is here!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+THE GREATEST NEED
+
+
+There sprang now with incredible swiftness upward and outward an Aladdin
+edifice of illusion. It was as though indeed this genius who had waved
+his wand and bidden this fairy palace of chimera to arise, had used for
+his material the intangible, iridescent film of bubbles, light as air.
+Wider and wider spread the balloon of phantasm. Higher and higher it
+floated, on it fixed the eyes of France. And France laughed, and asked
+that yet other bubbles should be blown.
+
+All France was mad, and to its madness there was joined that of all
+Europe. The population of Paris doubled. The prices of labor and
+commodities trebled in a day. There was now none willing to be called
+artisan. Every man was broker in stocks. Bubbles, bubbles, dreams,
+fantasies--these were the things all carried in their hands and in their
+hearts. These made the object of their desire, of their pursuit
+unimaginably passionate and frenzied.
+
+With a leap from the somberness of the reign of Louis, all France went
+to the extreme of levity. Costumes changed. Manners, but late devout,
+grew debonair. Morals, once lax, now grew yet more lax. The blaze and
+tinsel, the music and the rouge, the wine, the flowing, uncounted
+gold--all Paris might have been called a golden brothel of delirious
+delight, tenanted by a people utterly gone mad.
+
+It was a house made of bubbles. Its domes were of bubbles. Its roof was
+of bubbles, and its walls. Its windows were of that nacreous film. Even
+its foundations had naught in them more substantial than an evanescent
+dream of gauze-like web, frail as the spider's house upon the dew-hung
+grasses.
+
+Yet as to this latter, there should be somewhat of qualification. The
+wizard who created this fairy structure saw it swiftly grow beyond its
+original plan, saw unforeseen results spring from those causes which
+were first well within his comprehension.
+
+Berated by later generations as an adventurer, a schemer, a charlatan,
+Law originally deserved anything but such a verdict of his public.
+Dishonest he was not, insincere he never was; and as a student of
+fundamentals, he was in advance of his age, which is ever to be
+accursed. His method was but the forerunner of the modern commercial
+system, which is of itself to-day but a tougher faith bubble, as may be
+seen in all the changing cycles of finance and trade. His bank was but
+a portion of a nobler dream. His system was but one vast belief, one
+glorious hope.
+
+The Company of the West--this it was that made John Law's heart throb.
+America--its trade--its future! John Law, dead now and gone--he was the
+colossal pioneer! He saw in his dreams what we see to-day in reality;
+and no bubble of all the frenzied Paris streets equaled this splendid
+dream of a renewed and revived humanity that is a fact to-day.
+
+But there came to this dreamer and doer, at the very door of his
+success, that which arrested him even upon his entering in. There came
+the preliminary blow which in a flash his far-seeing mind knew was to
+mean ultimate ruin. In a word, the loose principles of a dissolute man
+were to ruin France, and with it one who had once saved France from
+ruin.
+
+Philippe of Orléans found it ever difficult to say no to a friend, and
+more so if that friend were a woman; and of the latter sort, none had
+more than he. Men and women alike, these could all see only this
+abundance of money made of paper. What, then, was to prevent the regent,
+all powerful, from printing more and yet more of it, and giving it to
+his friends? The regent did so. Never were mistresses better paid than
+those of Philippe of Orléans, receiving in effect faithlessness in
+return for insincerity.
+
+Philippe of Orléans could not see why, since credit based on specie made
+possible a great volume of accepted notes, a credit based on all France
+might not warrant an indefinite issue of such notes. He offered his
+director-general all the concessions which the crown could give, all the
+revenue-producing elements of France--in effect, all France itself, as
+security. In return he asked but the small privilege of printing for
+himself as much money as he chose and whenever he saw fit!
+
+The notes of the private bank of Law were an absolute promise to pay a
+certain and definite sum, not a changeable or indefinite sum; and Law
+made it a part of his published creed that any banker was worthy of
+death who issued notes without having the specie wherewith to pay them.
+He insisted that the payment should mean specie in the value of the day
+on which the note was issued. This item the regent liked little, as
+being too irksome for his temper. Was it not of record how Louis, the
+Grand Monarque, had twice made certain millions for himself by the
+simple process of changing the value of the coin? Dicing, drinking,
+amorous Philippe, easy-going, shallow-thinking, truly wert thou better
+fitted for a throne than for a banker's chair!
+
+The royal bank, which the regent himself hastened to foster when he saw
+the profits of the first private bank of circulation and discount France
+had ever known, issued notes against which Law entered immediately his
+firm protest. He saw that their tenor spelled ruin for the whole system
+of finance which, at such labor, he had erected. These notes promised to
+pay, for instance, fifty livres "in silver coin," not "in coin of the
+weight and standard of this day," as had the honester notes of Law's
+bank. That is to say, the notes meant nothing sure and nothing definite.
+They might be money for a time, but not forever; and this the
+director-general was too shrewd a man not to know.
+
+"But under this issue you shall have all France," said the regent to him
+one day, as they renewed their discussion yet again upon this scheme.
+"You shall have the farming of the taxes. I will give you all the
+foreign trade as monopoly, if you like--will give you the mint--will
+give you, in effect, as I have said, all France. But, Monsieur my
+director-general, I must have money. It is for that purpose that I
+appoint you director-general--because I find you the most remarkable man
+in all the world."
+
+"Your Grace," said Law, "print your notes thus, and print them to such
+extent as you wish, and France is again worse than bankrupt! Then,
+indeed, you have worse than repudiated the debts of France."
+
+"Ah bah! _mon drôle_! You are ill to-day. You have a _migraine_,
+perhaps? What folly for you to speak thus. France hath swiftly grown so
+strong that she can never again be ruined. What ails my magician, my
+Prince of Golconda, this morning? France bankrupt! Even were it so, does
+that relieve me of this begging of De Prie, of Parabère, and all the
+others? My God, Monsieur L'as, they are like leeches! They think me made
+of money."
+
+"And your Grace thinks France made of money."
+
+"Nay; I only think my director-general is made of money, or can make it
+as he likes."
+
+And this was ever the end of Law's reproaches and his expostulations.
+This, then, was to be the end of his glorious enterprises, thought he,
+as he sat one morning, staring out of the window when left alone. This
+sordid love for money for its own sake--this was to be the limit of an
+ambition which dealt in theories, in men, in nations, and not in livres
+and louis d'or! Law smiled bitterly. For an instant he was not the
+confident man of action and of affairs, not the man claiming with
+assurance the perpetual protection of good fortune. He sat there, alone,
+feeling nothing but the great human craving for sympathy and trust. A
+line of carriages swept back across the street at his window, and
+streams of nobles besought entrance at his door. And the man who had
+called out all these, the man for whose friendship all Europe
+clamored--that man sat with aching heart, longing, craving, begging now
+of fortune only the one thing--a friend!
+
+At last he arose, his face showing lean and haggard. He passed into
+another room.
+
+"Will," said he, "I am at a place where I am dizzy and need a hand. You
+know what hand it means for me. Can you go--will you take her, as you
+did once before for me, a message? I can not go. I can not venture into
+her presence. Will you go? Tell her it is the last time! Tell her it is
+the last!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+THE MIRACLE UNWROUGHT
+
+
+"You do not know my brother, Lady Catharine."
+
+Thus spoke Will Law, who had been admitted but a half hour since at the
+great door of the private hotel where dwelt the Lady Catharine Knollys.
+
+"'Twould seem, then, 'tis by no fault of his," replied Lady Catharine,
+hotly.
+
+"And is that not well? There are many in Paris who would fain change
+places with you, Lady Catharine."
+
+"Would heaven they might!" exclaimed she. "Would that my various
+friends, or the prefect of police, or heaven knows who that may have
+spread the news of my acquaintance with your brother, would take me out
+of that acquaintance!"
+
+"They might hold his friendship a high honor," said Will.
+
+"Oh, an honor! Excellent well comes this distinguished honor. Sirrah,
+carriages block my street, filled with those who beseech my introduction
+to John Law. I am waylaid if I step abroad, by women--persons of
+quality, ladies of the realm, God knoweth what--and they beg of me the
+favor of an introduction to John Law! There seems spread, I know not
+how, a silly rumor of the child Kate. And though I did scarce more than
+name a convent for her attendance, there are now out all manner of
+reports of Monsieur John Law's child, and--what do I say--'tis
+monstrous! I protest that I have come closer than I care into the public
+thoughts with this prodigy, this John Law, whose favor is sought by
+every one. Honor!--'tis not less than outrage!"
+
+"'Tis but argument that my brother is a person not without note."
+
+"But granted. 'We have seen his carriage at your curb,' they say. I
+insist that it is a mistake. 'But we saw him come from your door at such
+and such an hour.' If he came, 'twas but for meeting such answer as I
+have always given him. Will they never believe--will your brother
+himself never believe that, though did he have, as he himself says, all
+France in the hollow of his hand, he could be nothing to me? Now I will
+make an end to this. I will leave Paris."
+
+"Madam, you might not be allowed to go."
+
+"What! I not allowed to go! And what would hinder a Knollys of Banbury
+from going when the hour shall arrive?"
+
+"The regent."
+
+"And why the regent?"
+
+"Because of my brother."
+
+"Your brother!"
+
+"Assuredly. My brother is to-day king of Paris. If he liked he could
+keep you prisoner in Paris. My brother does as he chooses. He could
+abolish Parliament to-morrow if he chose. My brother can do all
+things--except to win from you, Lady Catharine, one word of kindness, of
+respect. Now, then, he has come to the end. He told me to come to you
+and bear his word. He told me to say to you that this is the last time
+he will importune, the last time that he will implore. Oh, Lady
+Catharine! Once before I carried to you a message from John Law--from
+John Law, not in distress then more than he is now, even in this hour of
+his success."
+
+Lady Catharine paled as she sank back into her seat. Her white hand
+caught at the lace at her throat. Her eyes grew dark in their emotion.
+
+"Yes, Madam," went on Will Law, tears shining in his own eyes, "'twas I,
+an unfaithful messenger, who, by an error, wrought ruin for my brother
+and for yourself, even as I did for myself. Madam, hear me! I would be a
+better messenger to-day."
+
+Lady Catharine sat still silent, her bosom heaving, her eyes gone wide
+and straining.
+
+"I have seen my brother weep," said Will, going on impulsively. "I have
+seen him walk the floor at night, have heard him cry out to himself.
+They call him crazed. Indeed he is crazed. Yet 'tis but for one word
+from you."
+
+"Sir," said Lady Catharine, struggling to gain self-control, and in
+spite of herself softened by this appeal, "you speak well."
+
+"If I do, 'tis but because I am the mouth-piece of a man who all his
+life has sought to speak the truth; who has sought--yes, I say to you
+even now, Lady Catharine--who has sought always to live the truth. This
+I say in spite of all that we both know."
+
+There came no reply from the woman, who sat still looking at him, not
+yet moved by the voice of the proxy as she might then have been by the
+voice of that proxy's principal. Vehemently the young man, ordinarily so
+timid and diffident, approached her.
+
+"Look you!" exclaimed he. "If my brother said he could lay France at
+your feet, by heaven! he can well-nigh do so now. See! Here are some of
+the properties he has lately purchased in the realm of France. The
+Marquisat d'Effiat--'tis worth eight hundred thousand livres; the estate
+of Rivière--worth nine hundred thousand livres; the estate of
+Roissy--worth six hundred and fifty thousand livres; the estates of
+Berville, of Fontaine, of Yville, of Gerponville, of Tancarville, of
+Guermande--the tale runs near a score! Lately my brother has purchased
+the Hôtel Mazarin, and the property at Rue Vivienne, paying for them one
+million two hundred thousand livres. He has other city properties,
+houses in Paris, estates here and there, running not into the hundreds
+of thousands, but into the millions of livres in actual value. Among
+these are some of the estates of the greatest nobles of France. Their
+value is more than any man can compute. Is this not something? Moreover,
+there goes with it all the dignity of the most stupendous personal
+success ever made by a single man since the world began. 'Tis all yours,
+Lady Catharine. And unless you share it, it has no value to my brother.
+I know myself that he will fling it all away, calling it worthless,
+since he can not have that greatest fortune which he craves!"
+
+"Sirrah, I have entertained much speech of both yourself and your
+brother, because I would not seem ungracious nor forgetful. Yet this
+paying of court by means of figures, by virtue of lists of estates--do
+you not know how ineffectual this must seem?"
+
+"If you could but understand!" cried Will. "If you could but believe
+that there is none on earth values these less than my brother. Under
+all this he has yet greater dreams. His ambition is to awaken an old
+world and to build a new one. By heaven! Lady Catharine, I am asked to
+speak for my brother, and so I shall! These are his ambitions. First of
+all, Lady Catharine, you. Second, America. Third, a people for
+America--a people who may hope! Oh, I admit all the folly of his life.
+He played deep, yet 'twas but to forget you. He drank, but 'twas to
+forget you. Foolish he was, as are all men. Now he succeeds, and finds
+he can not forget you. I have told you his ambitions, Madam, and though
+others may never know nor acknowledge them, you, at least, must do so.
+And I beg you to remember, Madam, that of all his ambitions, 'twas you,
+Lady Catharine, your favor, your kindness, your mercy, that made his
+first and chief desire."
+
+"As for that," said the woman, somewhat scornfully, "if you please, I
+had rather I received my protestations direct; and your brother knows I
+forbid him further protestations. He has, it is true, raised some
+considerable noise by way of enterprises. That I might know, even did I
+not see this horde of dukes and duchesses and princes of the blood,
+clamoring for the recognition of even his remotest friends. I know,
+too, that he is accepted as a hero by the people."
+
+"And well he may be. Coachmen and valets have liveries of their own
+these days. Servants now eat from plate, and clerks have their own
+coaches. Paris is packed with people, and, look you, they are people no
+longer clamoring for bread. Who has done this? Why, my brother, John Law
+of Lauriston, Lady Catharine, who loves you, and loves you dearly."
+
+The old wrinkle of perplexity gathered between the brows of the woman
+before him. Her face was clouded, the changeful eyes now deep covered by
+their lids.
+
+Lacking the precise word for that crucial moment, Will Law broke further
+on into material details. "To be explicit, as I have said," resumed he,
+"everything seems to center about my brother, the director-general of
+finance. He took the old notes of the government, worth not half their
+face, and in a week made them treble their face value. The king owes him
+over one hundred million livres to-day. My brother has taken over the
+farming of the royal taxes. And now he forms a little Company of the
+Indies; and to this he adds the charter of the Senegal Company. Not
+content, he adds the entire trade of the Indies, of China and the South
+Seas. He has been given the privilege of the royal farming of tobacco,
+for which he pays the king the little trifle of two hundred million
+livres, and assures to the king certain interest moneys, which, I need
+not say, the king will actually obtain. In addition to these things, he
+has lately been given the mint of France. The whole coinage of the realm
+has been made over to this Company of the Indies. My brother pays the
+king fifty million livres for this privilege, and this he will do within
+fifteen months. All France is indeed in the hands of my brother. Now,
+call John Law an adventurer, a gambler, if you will, and if you can; but
+at least admit that he has given life and hope to the poor of France,
+that he has given back to the king a people which was despoiled and
+ruined by the former king. He has trebled the trade of France, he has
+saved her honor, and opened to her the avenues of a new world. Are these
+things nothing? They have all been done by my brother, this man whom you
+believe incapable of faith and constancy. Good God! It surely seems that
+he has at least been constant to himself!"
+
+"Oh, I hear talk of it all. I hear that a share in the new company
+promises dividends of two hundred livres. I hear talk of shares and
+'sub-shares,' called 'mothers,' and 'daughters,' and 'granddaughters,'
+and I know not what. It seems as though half the coin were divided into
+centimes, and as though each centime had been planted by your brother
+and had grown to be worth a thousand pounds. I admit somewhat of
+knowledge of these miracles."
+
+"True, Lady Catharine. Can there not be one miracle more?"
+
+Lady Catharine Knollys bent her face forward upon her hands, unhappiness
+in every gesture.
+
+"Sir," said she, "it grieves my heart to say it; yet this answer you
+must take to your brother, John Law. That miracle hath not yet been
+wrought which can give us back the past again."
+
+"This," said Will Law, sadly, "is this all the message I may take?"
+
+"It is all."
+
+"Though it is the last?"
+
+"It is the last."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+THE LITTLE SUPPER OF THE REGENT
+
+
+Paris, city of delights, Paris drunk with gold, mad with the delirium of
+excesses, Paris with no aim except joy, no method but extravagance, held
+within her gilded gates one citadel of sensuality which remained ever an
+object of mystery, a source of curiosity even in that dissipated and
+pleasure-sated city. In the Palais Royal, back of the regally beautiful
+gardens, back of the noble rows of trees, beyond the gates of iron and
+the guards in uniform, lived France's regent, in a city of libertines
+the prince of libertines. In a city where there were more mistresses
+than wives, he it was who led the list of the licentious. In a city of
+unregulated vice and yet of exquisitely ordered taste, he it was who
+accorded to himself daily pleasures which were admittedly beyond
+approach. How unspeakably unbridled, how delightfully wicked, how
+temptingly ingenious in their features the little suppers of the regent
+might be--these were matters of curious interest to all, of intimate
+knowledge to but few.
+
+It was to one of these famous yet mysterious gatherings that the regent
+of France had invited the master of that great and glittering bubble
+house, wherein dwelt so insecurely the affairs of France. John Law,
+director-general of the finances, controller of the Company of the
+Indies, was chosen by Philippe of Orléans for a position not granted to
+the crafty Dubois or to the shrewd D'Argenson, the last of that strange
+trinity who made his council. John Law, gallant, graceful, owner of a
+reputation as wit and beau scarce behind that of his sudden fame as
+financier, was admitted not only to the business affairs of the gay
+duke, but to his pleasures as well. To him and his brother Will, still
+associated in large measure in the stupendous operations of the
+director-general, there came the invitation of the regent, practically
+the command of the king, to join the regent after the opera for a little
+supper at the Palais Royal.
+
+Law would have excused himself from this unsought honor. "Your Grace
+will observe," said he, "that my time is occupied to the full. The
+people scarcely suffer me to rest at night. Perhaps your Grace might not
+care for company so dull as mine."
+
+"Fie! my friend, my very good friend," replied Philippe. "Have you
+become _dévot_? Whence this sudden change? Consider; 'tis no hardship to
+meet such ladies as Madame de Sabran, or Madame de Prie--designer
+though I fear De Prie is for the domestic felicity of the youthful
+king--nor indeed my good friend, La Parabère, somewhat pale and pensive
+though she groweth. And what shall I say for Madame de Tencin, the
+_spirituelle_, who is to be with us; or Madame de Caylus, niece of
+Maintenon, but the very opposite of Maintenon in every possible way?
+Moreover, we are promised the attendance of Mademoiselle Aïssé. She hath
+become devout of late, and thinks it a sin even to powder her hair, but
+Aïssé devout is none the less Aïssé the beautiful."
+
+"Surely your Grace hath never lacked in excellent taste, and that is the
+talk of Paris," replied Law.
+
+"Oh, well, long training bringeth perfection in due time," replied
+Philippe of Orléans, composedly, it having no ill effect with him to
+call attention to his numerous intrigues. "It should hardly be called a
+poor privilege, after all, to witness the results of that highly
+cultivated taste, as it shall be displayed this evening, not to mention
+the privilege you will have of meeting one or two other gentlemen; and
+lastly, of course, myself, if you be not tired of such company."
+
+"Your Grace," replied Law, "you both honor and flatter me."
+
+"Why, sir, you speak as if this were a new experience for you. Now, in
+the days--"
+
+"'Tis true; but of late years I have grown grave in the cares of state,
+as your Grace may know."
+
+"And most efficiently," replied the regent. "But stay! I have kept until
+the last my main attraction. You shall witness there, I give you my
+word, the making public of the secret of the fair unknown who is reputed
+to have been especially kind to Philippe of Orléans for these some
+months past. Join us at the little enterprise, my friend, and you shall
+see, I promise you, the most beautiful woman in Paris, crowned with the
+greatest gem of all the world. The regent's diamond, that great gem
+which you have made possible for France, shall, for the first time, and
+for one evening at least, adorn the forehead of the regent's queen of
+beauty!"
+
+As the gay words of the regent fell upon his ears, there came into Law's
+heart a curious tension, a presentiment, a feeling as though some great
+and curious thing were about to happen. Yet ever the challenge of danger
+was one to draw him forward, not to hold him back. If for a moment he
+had hesitated, his mind was now suddenly resolved.
+
+"Your Grace," said he, "your wish is for me command, and certainly in
+this instance is peculiarly agreeable."
+
+"As I thought," replied the regent. "Had you hesitated, I should have
+called your attention to the fact that the table of the Palais Royal is
+considered to possess somewhat of character. The Vicomte de Béchamel is
+at the very zenith of his genius, and he daily produces dishes such as
+all Paris has not ever dreamed. Moreover, we have been fortunate in some
+recent additions of most excellent _vin d'Ai_. I make no doubt, upon the
+whole, we shall find somewhat with which to occupy ourselves."
+
+Thus it came about that, upon that evening, there gathered at the
+entrance of the Palais Royal, after an evening with Lecouvreur at the
+Théâtre Français, some scattered groups of persons evidently possessing
+consequence. The chairs of others, from more distant locations,
+threading their way through the narrow, dark and unlighted streets of
+the old, crude capital of France, brought their passengers in time to a
+scene far different from that of the gloomy streets.
+
+The little supper of the regent, arranged in the private _salle_, whose
+decorations had been devised for the special purpose, was more
+entrancing than even the glitter of the mimic world of the Théâtre
+Français. There extended down the center of the room, though filling but
+a small portion of its vast extent, the grand table provided for the
+banquet, a reach of snowy linen, broken at the upper end by the arm of
+an abbreviated cross. At each end of this cross-arm stood magnificent
+candelabra, repeated at intervals along the greater extension of the
+board. Noble epergnes, filled with the choicest plants, found their
+reflections in plates of glass cunningly inlaid here and there upon the
+surface of the table. Vast mirrors, framed in wreaths of roses and
+surmounted by little laughing cupids, gleamed in the walls of the room,
+and in the faces of these mirrors were reflected the beams of the
+many-colored tapers, carried in brackets of engraved gold and silver and
+many-colored glasses. The ceiling of the room was a soft mass of silken
+draperies, depending edgewise from above, thousands of yards of the most
+expensive fabrics of the world. From these, as they were gently swayed
+by the breath of invisible fans, there floated delicious, languorous
+perfumes, intoxicating to the senses. On any hand within the great room,
+removed at some distance from the table, were rich, luxurious couches
+and divans.
+
+As one trod within the door of this temple of the senses, surely it must
+have seemed to him that he had come into another world, which at first
+glance might have appeared to be one of an unrighteous ease, an
+unprincipled enjoyment and an unmanly abandonment to embowered vice.
+Yet here it was that Philippe of Orléans, ruler of France, spent those
+hours most dear to him. If he gave thought to affairs of state during
+the day it was but that these affairs of state might give to him the
+means to indulge fancies of his own. Alike shrewd and easy, alike
+haughty and sensuous, here it was that Philippe held his real court.
+
+These young gentlemen of France, these _roués_ who have come to meet
+Philippe at his little supper--how different from the same beings under
+the rule of the Grand Monarque. Their coats are no longer dark in hue.
+Their silks and velvets have blossomed out, even as Paris has blossomed
+since the death of Louis the Grand. Jabots of lace are shown in full
+abundance, and so far from the abolishment of jewels from their garb,
+rubies, sapphires, diamonds sparkle everywhere, from the clasp of the
+high ruffles of the neck to the buckles of the red-heeled shoes. Powder
+sparkles on the head coverings of these new gallants of France. They
+step daintily, yet not ungracefully, into this brilliantly-lighted room,
+these creatures, gracious and resplendent, sparkling, painted,
+ephemeral, not unsuited to the place and hour.
+
+For the ladies, witness the attire, for instance, of that Madame de
+Tencin, the wonder of the wits of Paris. A full blue costume, with
+pannier more than five yards in circumference, under a skirt of silver
+gauze, trimmed with golden gauze and pink crape, and a train lying six
+yards upon the floor, showing silver embroideries with white roses. The
+sleeves are half-draped, as is the skirt, and each caught up with
+diamonds, showing folds lying above and below the silk underneath.
+Madame wears a necklace of rubies and of diamonds, and above the pannier
+a belt of diamonds and rubies. Her hair is dressed, following the mental
+habit of madame, in the Greek style, and abundantly trimmed with roses
+and gems and bits of silver gauze. There is a little crown upon the top
+of madame's coiffure. Her bodice, cut sufficiently low, is seen to be of
+light silken weave. From her hair depends a veil of light gauze covered
+with gold spangles, and it is secured upon the left side by a hand's
+grasp of pink and white feathers, surmounted by a magnificent heron
+plume of long and silken whiteness. The gloves of madame are white silk,
+and so also, as she is not reluctant to advise, are her stockings,
+picked out with pink and silver clocks. Her shoes, made by the
+celebrated _cordonnier_, Raveneau, show heels three inches in height. As
+madame enters she casts aside the camlet coat which has covered her
+costume. She sweeps back the veil, endangering its confining clasp of
+plumes. Madame makes a deliberate and open inspection of her face in her
+little looking-glass to discover whether her _mouches_ are well placed.
+She carefully arranges the patch upon the middle of her cheek. She would
+be "gallant" to-night, would lay aside things _spirituelle_. She twirls
+carelessly her fan, a creation of ivory and mother of pearl, elaborately
+carved, tipped with gold and silver and set with precious stones.
+
+Close at the elbow of Madame de Tencin steps a figure of different type,
+a woman not accustomed to please by brilliance of mind or vivacity of
+speech, but by sheer femininity of face and form. Tall, slender, yet
+with figure divinely proportioned, this beautiful girl, Haideé, or
+Mademoiselle Aïssé, reputed to be of Turkish or Circassian birth, and
+possessed of a history as strange as her own personality is attractive,
+would seem certainly as pure as angel of the skies. Not so would say the
+gossips of Paris, who whisper that mademoiselle is not happy from her
+_chevalier_--who speak of a certain visit to England, and a little child
+born across seas and not acknowledged by its parent. Aïssé, the devout,
+the beautiful, is no better than others of her sex in this gay city.
+True, she has abandoned all artificial aids to the complexion and
+appears distinct among her flattering rivals, the clear olive of her
+skin showing in strange contrast to the heightened colors of her
+sisters. Yet Aïssé, the toast of Europe and the text of poets, proves
+herself not behind the others in the loose gaiety of this occasion.
+
+And there came others: Madame de Prie, later to hold such intimate
+relations with the fortunes of France in the selection of a future queen
+for the boy king; De Sabran, plain, gracious and good-natured; Parabère,
+of delicately oval face, of tiny mouth, of thin high nose and large
+expressive eyes, her soft hair twined with a deep flushed rose, and over
+her corsage drooping a continuous garland of magnificent flowers. Also
+Caylus the wit, Caylus the friend of Peter the Great, by duty and by
+devotion a _religieuse_, but by thought and training a gay woman of the
+world--all these butterflies of the bubble house of Paris came swimming
+in as by right upon this exotic air.
+
+And all of these, as they advanced into the room, paused as they met,
+coming from the head of the apartment, the imposing figure of their
+host. Philippe of Orléans, his powdered wig drawn closely into a
+half-bag at the nape of the neck, his full eye shining with merriment
+and good nature, his soft, yet not unmanly figure appearing to good
+advantage in his well-chosen garments, advances with a certain dignity
+to meet his guests. He is garbed in a coat made of watered silk, its
+straight collar faced with dark-green material edged with gold. A green
+and gold shoulder knot sets off the garment, which is provided with
+large opal buttons set in brilliants, this same adornment appearing on
+the hilt of his sword, which he lays aside as he approaches. From the
+sides of his wig depend two carefully-arranged locks, dusted with a
+tan-colored powder. His small-clothes, of lighter hue than the coat,
+display fitly the proportions of his lower limbs. The high-heeled shoes
+blaze with the glare of reflected lights as the diamonds change their
+angles during the calm advance down the room.
+
+"Welcome, my very dear ladies," exclaimed Philippe, advancing to the
+head of the board and at once setting all at ease, if any there needed
+such encouragement, by the grace and good feeling of his air. "You do me
+much honor, ladies. If I be not careful, the fair Adrienne will become
+jealous, since I fear you have deserted the pomp of the play full early
+for the table of Philippe. Ladies, as you know, I am your devoted slave.
+Myself and the Vicomte de Béchamel have labored, seriously labored, for
+your welfare this day. I promise you something of the results of those
+painstaking efforts, which we both hope will not disappoint you.
+Meantime, that the moments may not lag, let me recommend, if I am
+allowed, this new vintage of Ai, which Béchamel advises me we have
+never yet surpassed in all our efforts. Madame de Tencin, let me beg of
+you to be seated close to my arm. Not upon this side, Mademoiselle
+Haidée, if you please, for I have been wheedled into promising that
+station this night to another. Who is it to be, my dear Caylus? Ah, that
+is my secret! Presently we shall see. Have I not promised you an
+occasion this evening? And did Philippe ever fail in his endeavors to
+please? At least, did he ever cease to strive to please his angels? Now,
+my children, accept the blessing of your father Philippe, your friend,
+who, though years may multiply upon him, retains in his heart, none the
+less, for each and all of you, those sentiments of passion and of
+admiration which constitute for him his dearest memories! Ladies, I pray
+you be seated. I pray you tarry not too long before proving the judgment
+of Béchamel in regard to this new vintage of Ai."
+
+"Ah, your Grace," exclaimed De Tencin, "were it not Philippe of Orléans,
+we women might not be apt to sit in peace together. Yet, as we have
+earlier proved your hospitality, we may perhaps not scruple to
+continue."
+
+Philippe smiled blandly. The remark was not ill-fitted to the actual
+case. Though the regent counted his sweethearts by scores, he dismissed
+the one with the same air of interest as he welcomed the other, and
+indeed ended by retaining all as his friends.
+
+"Madame de Tencin, in admiration there can be no degrees," said he. "In
+love there can be no rank."
+
+"Why, then, do you place as your chief guest this other, this unknown?"
+pouted Mademoiselle Aïssé, as she seated herself, turning upon her host
+the radiance of her large, dark eyes. "Is this stranger, then, so
+passing fair?"
+
+"Not so fair as you, my lovely Haidée, that I may swear, and safely,
+since she is not yet present. Yet I announce to you that she is _très
+intéressante_, my unknown queen of beauty, my _belle sauvage_ from
+America. But see! Here she comes. 'Tis time for her to appear, and not
+keep our guests in waiting."
+
+There sounded at the back of the great hall the tinkle of a little bell
+of some soft metal. It approached, and with it the sweeping stir of
+heavy silken garb. The door opened, admitting a still greater blaze of
+light, and there swept into the hall, as though swimming upon the flood
+of this added brilliance, a figure striking enough to arouse attention
+even at that time and place, even among the beauties of the court of
+France. There advanced, calm and stately, with the gliding ease of a
+perfect carriage, the figure of a woman, slender, with full bright eyes
+and somber hair--so much might be seen at a glance. Yet the newcomer
+left somewhat of query in the mind of womankind accustomed to view in
+detail any costume.
+
+The stranger was enveloped in a wide and undefining garment, a sweeping
+robe fit for any duchess of the realm, whose flowing folds showed a
+magnificent tissue of silver embroidery covered with golden flowers,
+below the plum-color and green. The high corsage of the white robe
+covered the bosom fully, and was caught at the throat with a bunch of
+blazing jewels. Under these soft draperies, tinkling in time with the
+movements of an otherwise noiseless tread, there sounded ever the faint
+note of the little bell. At the toe of shoes otherwise silent, there
+peeped in and out the flash of diamonds, and in the dark masses of her
+hair, shifting as she trod beneath each new sconce in turn, and catching
+more and more brilliance as she advanced, there smoldered the flame of a
+mass of scintillating gems. A queen's raiment was that of this unknown
+beauty, and she herself might have been a queen as she swept down the
+great hall, scornfully careless of the eyes of those other beauties.
+
+She stepped to the place at the regent's right hand, with head high and
+eyes undrooping. For a dramatic instant she paused, as though in the
+rehearsal of a part--a part of which it might be said that the regent
+was not alone the author. This triumph of woman over other women, this
+triumph of vice over other vice, of effrontery over effrontery
+akin--this could not have been so planned and executed by any but a
+woman. One another these beauties might tolerate, knowing one another's
+frailties as they did; yet the elegance, the disdain, the indifference
+of this newcomer--this they could not support. Hatred sat in the bosom
+of each woman there as she swept her courtesy to the new guest of the
+regent, who took her place as of right at the head of the board and near
+the regent's arm.
+
+"Our gentlemen are somewhat late this evening," exclaimed Philippe.
+"'Tis too bad the Abbé Dubois could not be with us to-night to
+administer clerical consolation."
+
+"Ah! _le drôle_ Dubois!" exclaimed Madame de Tencin.
+
+"And that vagabond, the Due de Richelieu--but we may not wait. Again
+ladies, the glasses, or Béchamel will be aggrieved. And finally, though
+I perceive most of you have graciously unmasked, let me say that the
+moment has now arrived when we make plain all secrets."
+
+He turned his gaze upon the woman at his right. As though at a signal,
+she half rose, unclasped the circlet of gems at her throat, and swept
+back across the arm of her chair the soft garment which enveloped her.
+
+A sigh, a long breath of amazement broke from those other dames of
+Paris. Not one of them but was sated with the blaze of diamonds, the
+rich, red light of rubies and the fathomless radiance of sapphires.
+Silks and satins and cloth of gold and silver had few novelties for
+them. The costumers of Paris, center of the world of art, even in those
+times of unrivaled extravagance and unbridled self-gratification, held
+no new surprise for these beauties, possessed so long of all that their
+imagination required or that princely liberality could supply. Yet here
+indeed was a surprise.
+
+As she stood at the regent's right, calmly and composedly looking down
+the long board as she arranged her drapery before reseating herself,
+this new favorite of the regent appeared in the full costume of the
+American native! A long soft tunic of exquisitely dressed white leather
+fell below her hips, intricately embroidered in the native bead work of
+America, and stained with great blotches of colors done in the quills of
+the porcupine--heavy reds, sprightly yellows, and deep blues. Down the
+seams of this loose-fitting tunic depended little waving fringes. The
+belt which caught it at the waist was wrought likewise in beads. Beneath
+the level of the table, as she stood, the inquiring eyes might not so
+clearly see; yet the white leggings, fringed and beaded, and covered by
+a sweeping blanket of snowy buckskin, might have been seen to finish at
+the ankle and blend in texture and ornamentation with tiny shoes, which
+covered the smallest foot yet seen in Paris--shoes at the side of which
+there dangled the little bells of metal whose tones had told her coming.
+
+Here and there upon the bead work of the native artist, who had made
+this attire at the expense of so much patient effort, there blazed the
+changing rays of real gems, diamonds, rubies, emeralds--every stone
+known as precious. As the full bosom of the scornful beauty rose and
+fell there were cast about in sprays of light the reflections of these
+gems. Bracelets of dull, beaten metal hung about her wrists. In her hair
+were ornaments of some dull blue stone. Barbaric, beautiful,
+fascinating, savage she surely seemed as she met unruffled the startled
+gaze of these beautiful women of the court, who never, at even the most
+fanciful _bal masque_ in all Paris, had seen costume like to this.
+
+"Ladies, _la voilà_!" spoke the regent. "_Ma belle sauvage_!"
+
+The newcomer swept a careless courtesy as she took her seat. As yet she
+had spoken no word. The door at the lower end of the hall opened.
+
+"His Grace le Duc de Richelieu," announced the attendant, who stood
+beneath the board.
+
+There advanced into the room, with slouchy, ill-bred carriage, a young
+man whose sole reputation was that of being the greatest rake in Paris,
+the Duc de Richelieu, half-gamin, half-nobleman, who counted more
+victims among titled ladies than he had fingers on his hands, whose sole
+concern of living was to plan some new impassioned avowal, some new and
+pitiless abandonment. This creature, meeting the salute of the regent,
+and catching at the same moment a view of the regent's guest, found eyes
+for nothing else, and stood boldly gazing at the face of her whom Paris
+knew for the first time and under no more definite title than that of
+"_Belle Sauvage_."
+
+"Pray you, be seated, Monsieur le Duc," said the regent, calmly, and the
+latter was wise enough to comply.
+
+"Your Grace," said Madame de Sabran, "was it not understood that we were
+to meet to-night none less than the wizard, Monsieur L'as?"
+
+"Monsieur L'as will be with us, and his brother," replied Philippe.
+"But now I ask you to bear witness to the shrewdness of your friend
+Philippe in entertainment. I bethought me that, as we were to have with
+us the master of the Messasebe, it were well to have with us also the
+typified genius of that same Messasebe. 'Twas but a little conceit of my
+own. And why--_mon enfant_, what is it to you? What do you know of our
+controller of finance?"
+
+The face of the woman at his right had suddenly gone white with a pallor
+visible even beneath its rouge and patches. She half turned, as though
+to push back her chair from the board, would have arisen, would have
+spoken perhaps; yet act and gesture were at the time unnoticed.
+
+"His Excellency, Monsieur Jean L'as, _le contrôleur-général_," came the
+soft tones of the attendant near the door. "Monsieur Guillaume L'as,
+brother of the _contrôleur-général_."
+
+The eyes of all were turned toward the door. Every petted belle of
+Paris there assembled shifted bodily in her seat, turning her gaze upon
+that man whose reputation was the talk of all the realm of France.
+
+There appeared now the tall, erect and vigorous form of a man owning a
+superb physical beauty. Powerful, yet not too heavy for ease, his figure
+retained that elasticity and grace which had won him favor in more than
+one court of Europe. He himself might have been king as he advanced
+steadily up the brilliantly-illuminated room. His costume, simply made,
+yet of the richest materials of the time; his wig, highly powdered
+though of modest proportions; his every item of apparel appeared alike
+of great simplicity and barren of pretentiousness. As much might be said
+for the garb of his brother, who stepped close behind him, a figure less
+self-contained than that of the man who now occupied the absorbed
+attention of the public mind, even as he now filled the eager eyes of
+those who turned to greet his entrance.
+
+"Ah, Monsieur L'as, Monsieur L'as!" exclaimed Philippe of Orléans,
+stepping forward to welcome him and taking the hand of Law in both his
+own. "You are welcome, you are very welcome indeed. The soup will be
+with us presently, and the wine of Ai is with us now. You and your
+brother are with us; so all at last is well. These ladies are, as I
+believe, all within your acquaintance. You have been present at the
+_salon_ of Madame de Tencin. You know her Grace the Duchesse de Falari,
+recently Madame d'Artague? Mademoiselle de Caylus you know very well,
+and of course also Mademoiselle Aïssé, _la belle Circassienne_--But
+what? _Diable_! Have you too gone mad? Come, is the sight of my guest
+too much for you also, Monsieur L'as?"
+
+There was irritation in the tone with which the regent uttered this
+protest, yet he continued.
+
+"Monsieur L'as, 'tis but a little surprise I had planned for you.
+Mademoiselle, my princess of the Messasebe, let me present Monsieur Jean
+L'as, king of the Messasebe, and hence your sovereign! This is my fair
+unknown, whose face I have promised you should see to-night--this,
+Monsieur L'as, is my princess, the one whom I have seen fit to honor
+this evening by the wearing of the chief gem of France."
+
+The regent fumbled for an instant at his fob. He stepped to the side of
+the faltering figure which stood arrayed in all its savage finery. One
+movement, and upon the dark locks which fell about her brow there blazed
+the unspeakable fires of a stone whose magnificence brought forth
+exclamations of awe from every person present.
+
+"See!" cried Philippe of Orléans. "'Twas on the advice and by the aid of
+Monsieur L'as that I secured the gem, whose like is not known in all the
+world. 'Tis chief of the crown jewels of the realm of France, this
+stone, now to be known as the regent's diamond. And now, as regent of
+France and master for a day of her jewels, I place this gem upon the
+brow of her who for this night is to be your queen of beauty!"
+
+The wine of Ai had already done part of its work. There were brightened
+eyes, easy gestures and ready compliance as the guests arose to quaff
+the toast to this new queen.
+
+As for the queen herself, she stood faltering, her eyes averted, her
+limbs trembling. John Law, tall, calm, self-possessed, did not take his
+seat, but stood with set, fixed face, gazing at the woman who held the
+place of honor at the table of the regent.
+
+"Come! Come!" cried the latter, testily, his wine working in his brain.
+"Why stand you there, Monsieur L'as, gazing as though spellbound?
+Salute, sir, as I do, the chief gem of France, and her who is most fit
+to wear it!"
+
+John Law stood, as though he had not heard him speak. There swept
+through the softly brilliant air, over the flash and glitter of the
+great banquet board, across the little group which stood about it, a
+sudden sense of a strange, tense, unfamiliar situation. There came to
+all a presentiment of some unusual thing about to happen. Instinctively
+the hands paused, even as they raised the bright and brimming glasses.
+The eyes of all turned from one to the other, from the stern-faced man
+to the woman decked in barbaric finery, who now stood trembling,
+drooping, at the head of the table.
+
+Law for a moment removed his gaze from the face of the regent's guest.
+He flicked lightly at the deep cuff of lace which hung about his hands.
+"Your Grace is not far wrong," said he. "I regret that you do not have
+your way in planning for me a surprise. Yet I must say to you, that I
+have already met this lady."
+
+"What?" cried the regent. "You have met her? Impossible! Incredible!
+How, Monsieur L'as? We will admit you wizard enough, and owner of the
+philosopher's stone--owner of anything you like, except this secret of
+mine own. According to mademoiselle's own words, it would have been
+impossible."
+
+"None the less, what I have said is true," said John Law, calmly, his
+voice even and well-modulated, vibrating a little, yet showing no trace
+of anger nor of emotional uncontrol.
+
+"But I tell you it could not be!" again exclaimed the regent.
+
+"No, it is impossible," broke in the young Duc de Richelieu. "I would
+swear that had such beauty ever set foot in Paris before now, the news
+would so have spread that all France had been at her feet."
+
+Law looked at the impudent youth with a gaze that seemed to pass
+through him, seeing him not. Then suddenly this scene and its
+significance, its ultimate meaning seemed to take instant hold upon him.
+He could feel rising within his soul a flood of irresistible emotions.
+All at once his anger, heritage of an impetuous youth, blazed up hot and
+furious. He trod a step farther forward, after his fashion advancing
+close to that which threatened him.
+
+"This lady, your Grace," said he, "has been known to me for years. Mary
+Connynge, what do you masquerading here?"
+
+A sudden silence fell, a silence broken at length by the voice of the
+regent himself.
+
+"Surely, Monsieur L'as," said Philippe, "surely we must accept your
+statements. But Monsieur must remember that this is the table of the
+regent, that these are the friends of the regent. We bring no
+recollections here which shall cut short the joy of any person. Sir, I
+would not reprimand you, but I must beg that you be seated and be calm!"
+
+Yet the imperious nature of the other brooked not even so pointed a
+rebuke. As though he had not heard, Law stepped yet a pace nearer to the
+woman, upon whom he now bent the blaze of his angered eyes. He looked
+neither to right nor left, but visually commanded the woman until in
+turn her eyes sought his own.
+
+"This woman, your Grace," said Law, at length, "was for some time in
+effect my wife. This I do not offer as matter of interest. What I would
+say to your Grace is this--she was also my slave!"
+
+"Sirrah!" cried the regent.
+
+"Ah, Dame!" exclaimed the Duc de Richelieu. And even from the women
+about there came little murmurs of expostulation. Indeed there might
+have been pity, even in this assemblage, for the agony now visible upon
+the brow of Mary Connynge.
+
+"Monsieur, the wine has turned your head," said the regent scornfully.
+"You boast!"
+
+"I boast of nothing," cried Law, savagely, his voice now ringing with a
+tone none present had ever known it to assume. "I say to you again, this
+woman was my slave, and that she will again do as I shall choose. Your
+Grace, she would come and wipe the dust from my shoes if I should
+command it! She would kneel at my feet, and beg of me, if I should
+command it! Shall I prove this, your Grace?"
+
+"Oh, assuredly!" replied the regent, with a sarcasm which now seemed his
+only relief. "Assuredly, if Monsieur L'as should please. We here in
+Paris are quite his humble servants."
+
+Law said nothing. He stood with his biting blue eyes still fixed upon
+Mary Connynge, whose own eyes faltered, trying their utmost to escape
+from his; whose fingers, resting just lightly on the snowy Hollands of
+the table cloth, moved tremulously; whose limbs appeared ready to sink
+beneath her.
+
+"Come, then, Mary Connynge!" cried Law at last, his teeth setting
+savagely together. "Come, then, traitress and slave, and kneel before
+me, as you did once before!"
+
+Then there ensued a strange and horrible spectacle. A hush as of death
+fell upon the group. Mary Connynge, trembling, halting, yet always
+advancing, did indeed as her master had bidden! She passed from the head
+of the table, back of the chair of the regent, who stood gazing with
+horror in his eyes; she passed the chair of Aïssé, near which Law now
+stood; she paused in front of him, and stood as though in a dream. Her
+knees would have indeed sunk beneath her. She drew from her bosom a
+silken kerchief, as though she would indeed have performed the ignoble
+service which had been threatened for her. There came neither voice nor
+motion to those who saw this thing. The sheer force of one strong
+nature, terrible in the intensity of one supreme moment--this might have
+been the spell which commanded at the table of the regent. Yet this did
+occur.
+
+There came a sound which broke the silence, which caused all to start as
+with swift relief. A sob, short, dry, hard, as from one whose heart is
+broken, came from beyond the place where Law stood facing the trembling
+woman. The eyes of all turned upon Will Law, from whom had burst this
+irrepressible exclamation of agony. Will Law, as one grown swiftly old,
+haggard, broken-down, stood gazing in wide-eyed horror at this woman, so
+humiliated in the presence of all in this brilliantly-lighted hall;
+before the blazing mirrors which should have reflected back naught but
+beauty and joy; under the twining roses, which should have been the
+signs manual of undying love; under the smiling cherubs, which should
+have typified the deities of happy love. Will Law, too, had loved.
+Perhaps still he loved.
+
+This sharp sound served to break also the spell under which Law himself
+seemed held. He cast aloft his arms, as in remorse or in despair. Then
+he extended a hand to the woman who would have sunk before him.
+
+"God forgive me! Madam," he cried. "I had forgot. Savage indeed you are
+and have been, but 'tis not for me to treat you brutally."
+
+"Your Grace," said he, turning toward the regent, "I crave your
+pardon. Our explanations shall reach you on the morrow."
+
+[Illustration]
+
+He turned, and taking his brother by the arm, advanced toward the door
+at which he had recently entered, pausing not to look behind him. Had
+his eye been more curious as he and his half-fainting brother bowed
+before passing through the door, it might have seen that which he must
+long have borne in memory.
+
+Mary Connynge, trembling, pallid, utterly broken, never found her way
+back to the right hand of the regent. She half stumbled into a chair
+near the foot of the table. Her bosom fluttered at the base of the
+throat. Half blindly she reached out her hand toward a glass of wine
+which stood near by, foaming and sparkling, its gem-like drops of keen
+pungency swimming continuously up to the surface. Her hand caught at the
+slender stem of the glass. Leaning upon her left arm, she half rose as
+though to put it to her lips. Her head moved, as though she would follow
+the retreating figure of the man who had thus scornfully used her. All
+at once, slowly, and then with a sudden crash, she sank down upon her
+seat and fell forward across the table. The fragile glass snapped in her
+fingers. The amber wine rushed in swift flood across the linen. In the
+broadening stain there fell and lay blazing the great gem of France.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+THE NEWS
+
+
+"Lady Kitty! Lady Kitty! Have you heard the news?"
+
+Thus, breathless, the Countess of Warrington, Lady Catharine's English
+neighbor in exile, who burst into the drawing-room early in the morning,
+not waiting for announcement of her presence.
+
+"Nay, not yet, my dear," said Lady Catharine, advancing and embracing
+her. "What is it, pray? Has the poodle swallowed a bone, or the baby
+perhaps cut another tooth? And, forsooth, how is the little one?"
+
+Lady Emily Warrington, slender, elegant, well clad, and for the most
+part languorously calm, was in a state of excitement quite without her
+customary _aplomb_. She sank into a seat, fanning herself with a vigor
+which threatened ruin to the precious slats of a fan which bore the
+handiwork of Watteau.
+
+"The streets are full of it," said she. "Have you not heard, really?"
+
+"I must say, not yet. But what is it?"
+
+"Why, the quarrel between the regent and his director-general, Mr.
+Law."
+
+"No, I have not heard of it." Lady Catharine sought refuge behind her
+own fan. "But tell me" she continued.
+
+"But that is not all. 'Twas the reason for the quarrel. Paris is all
+agog. 'Twas about a woman!"
+
+"You mean--there was--a woman?"
+
+"Yes, it all happened last night, at the Palais Royal. The woman is
+dead--died last night. 'Tis said she fell in a fit at the very
+table--'twas at a little supper given by the regent--and that when they
+came to her she was quite dead."
+
+"But Mr. Law--"
+
+"'Twas he that killed her!"
+
+"Good God! What mean you?" cried Lady Catharine, her own face blanching
+behind her protecting fan. The blood swept back upon her heart, leaving
+her cold as a statue.
+
+"Why," continued the caller, in her own excitement to tell the news
+scarce noting what went on before her, "it seems that this mysterious
+beauty of the regent's, of whom there has been so much talk, proved to
+be none other than a former mistress of this same Mr. Law, who is
+reputed to have been somewhat given to that sort of thing, though of
+late monstrous virtuous, for some cause or other. Mr. Law came suddenly
+upon her at the table of the regent, arrayed in some kind of savage
+finery--for 'twas in fashion a mask that evening, as you must know. And
+what doth my director-general do, so high and mighty? Why, in spite of
+the regent and in spite of all those present, he upbraids her, taunts
+her, reviles her, demanding that she fall on her knees before him, as it
+seems indeed she would have done--as, forsooth, half the dames of Paris
+would do to-day! Then, all of a sudden, my Lord Director changes, and he
+craves pardon of the woman and of the regent, and so stalks off and
+leaves the room! And now then the poor creature walks to the table,
+would lift a glass of wine, and so--'tis over! 'Twas like a play! Indeed
+all Paris is like a play nowadays. Of course you know the rest."
+
+A gesture of negative came from the hand that lay in Lady Catharine's
+lap. The busy gossip went on.
+
+"The regent, be sure, was angry enough at this cheapening of his own
+wares before all, and perhaps 'tis true he had a fancy for the woman. At
+any rate, 'tis said that this very morning he quarreled hotly with Mr.
+Law. The latter gave back words hot as he received, and so they had it
+violent enough. 'Tis stated on the Quinquempoix that another must take
+Mr. Law's place. But if Mr. Law goes, what will become of the System?
+And what would the System be without Mr. Law? And what would Paris be
+without the System? Why, listen, Lady Catharine! I gained fifty thousand
+livres yesterday, and my coachman, the rascal, in some manner seems to
+have done quite as well for himself. I doubt not he will yet build a
+mansion of his own, and perhaps my husband may drive for him! These be
+strange days indeed. I only hope they may continue, in spite of what my
+husband says."
+
+"And what says he?" asked Lady Catharine, her own voice sounding to her
+unfamiliar and far away.
+
+"Why, that the city is mad, and that this soon must end--this
+Mississippi bubble, as my Lord Stair calls it at the embassy."
+
+"Yet I have heard all France is prosperous."
+
+"Oh, yes indeed. 'Tis said that but yesterday the kingdom paid four
+millions of its debt to Bavaria, three millions of its debt to
+Sweden--yet these are not the most pressing debts of France."
+
+"Meaning--"
+
+"Why, the debts of the regent to his friends--those are the important
+things. But the other day he gave eighty thousand livres to Madame
+Châteauthiers, as a little present. He gave two hundred thousand livres
+to the Abbé Something-or-other, who asked for it, and another thousand
+livres to that rat Dubois. The thief D'Argenson ever counsels him to
+give in abundance now that he hath abundance, and the regent is ready
+with a vengeance with his compliance. Saint Simon, that priggish duke,
+has had a million given him to repay a debt his father took on for the
+king a generation ago. To the captain of the guard the regent gives six
+hundred thousand livres, for carrying the fan of the regent's forgotten
+wife; to the Prince Courtenay, two hundred thousand, most like because
+the prince said he had need of it; a pension of two hundred thousand
+annually to the Marquise de Bellefonte, the second such sum, because
+perhaps she once made eyes at him; a pension of sixty thousand livres to
+a three-year-old relative to the Prince de Conti, because Conti cried
+for it; one hundred thousand livres to Mademoiselle Haidée, because she
+has a consumption; and as much more to the Duchesse de Falari, because
+she has not a consumption. Bah! The credit of France might indeed, as my
+husband says, be called leaking through the slats of fans."
+
+"But, look you!" she went on, "how Mr. Law feathers his own nest. He
+bought lately, for a half million livres, the house of the Comte de
+Tesse; and on the same day, as you know, the Hôtel Mazarin. There is no
+limit to his buying of estates. This, so says my husband, is the great
+proof of his honesty. He puts his money here in France, and does not
+send it over seas. He seems to have no doubt, and indeed no fear, of
+anything."
+
+Lady Warrington paused, half for want of breath. Silence fell in the
+great room. A big and busy fly, deep down in the crystal _cylindre_
+which sheltered a taper on a near-by table, buzzed out a droning
+protest. The face of Lady Catharine was averted.
+
+"You did not tell me, Lady Emily," said she, with woman's feigned
+indifference, "what was the name of this poor woman of the other
+evening."
+
+"Why, so I had forgot--and 'tis said that Mr. Law, after all, comported
+himself something of the gentleman. No one knows how far back the affair
+runs, nor how serious it was. And indeed I have seen no one who ever
+heard of the woman before."
+
+"And the name?"
+
+"'Twas said Mr. Law called her Mary Connynge."
+
+The big fly, deep down in the crystal cage, buzzed on audibly; and to
+one who heard it, the drone of the lazy wings seemed like the roars of a
+thousand tempests.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+MASTER AND MAN
+
+
+John Law, idle, preoccupied, sat gazing out at the busy scenes of the
+street before him. The room in which he found himself was one of a suite
+in that magnificent Hôtel de Soisson, bought but recently of the Prince
+de Carignan for the sum of one million four hundred thousand livres,
+which had of late been chosen as the temple of Fortuna. The great
+gardens of this distinguished site were now filled with hundreds of
+tents and kiosks, which offered quarters for the wild mob of speculators
+which surged and swirled and fought throughout the narrow avenues,
+contending for the privilege of buying the latest issue of the priceless
+shares of the Company of the Indies.
+
+The System was at its height. The bubble was blown to its last limit.
+The popular delirium had grown to its last possible degree.
+
+From the window these mad mobs of infuriated human beings might have
+seemed so many little ants, running about as though their home had been
+destroyed above their heads. They hastened as though fleeing from the
+breath of some devouring flame. Surely the point of flame was there, at
+that focus of Paris, this focus of all Europe; and thrice refined was
+the quality of this heat, burning out the hearts of those distracted
+ones.
+
+Yet it was a scene not altogether without its fascinations. Hither came
+titled beauties of Paris, peers of the realm, statesmen, high officials,
+princes of the blood; all these animated but by one purpose--to bid and
+outbid for these bits of paper, which for the moment meant wealth,
+luxury, ease, every imaginable desire. It seemed indeed that the world
+was mad. Tradesmen, artisans, laborers, peasants, jostled the princes
+and nobility, nor met reproof. Rank was forgotten. Democracy, for the
+first time on earth, had arrived. All were equal who held equal numbers
+of these shares. The mind of each was blank to all but one absorbing
+theme.
+
+Law looked over this familiar scene, indifferent, calm, almost moody,
+his cheek against his hand, his elbow on his chair. "What was the call,
+Henri," asked he, at length, of the old Swiss who had, during these
+stormy times, been so long his faithful attendant. "What was the last
+quotation that you heard?"
+
+"Your Honor, there are no quotations," replied the attendant. "'Tis
+only as one is able to buy. The _actions_ of the last issue, three
+hundred thousand in all, were swept away at a breath at fifteen thousand
+livres the share."
+
+"Ninety times what their face demands," said Law, impassively.
+
+"True, some ninety times," said the Swiss. "'Tis said that of this issue
+the regent has taken over one-third, or one hundred thousand, himself.
+'Tis this that makes the price of the other two-thirds run the higher,
+since 'tis all that the public has to buy."
+
+"Lucky regent," said Law, sententiously. "Plenty would seem to have been
+his fortune!"
+
+He grimly turned again to his study of the crowds which swarmed among
+the pavilions before his window. Outside his door he heard knockings and
+cries, and impatient footfalls, but neither he nor the impassive Swiss
+paid to these the least attention. It was to them an old experience.
+
+"Your Honor, the Prince de Conti is in the antechamber and would see
+you," at length ventured the attendant, after listening for some time
+with his ear at an aperture in the door.
+
+"Let the Prince de Conti wait," said Law, "and a plague take him for a
+grasping miser! He has gained enough. Time was when I waited at his
+door."
+
+"The Abbé Dubois--here is his message pushed beneath the door."
+
+"My dearest enemy," replied Law, calmly. "The old rat may seek another
+burrow."
+
+"The Duchesse de la Rochefoucauld."
+
+"Ah, then, she hath overcome her husband's righteousness of resolution,
+and would beg a share or so? Let her wait. I find these duchesses the
+most tiresome animals in the world."
+
+"The Madame de Tencin."
+
+"I can not see the Madame de Tencin."
+
+"A score of dukes and foreign princes. My faith! master, we have never
+had so large a line of guests as come this morning." The stolid
+impassiveness of the Swiss seemed on the point of giving way.
+
+"Let them wait," replied Law, evenly as before. "Not one of them would
+listen to me five years ago. Now I shall listen to them--shall listen to
+them knocking at my door, as I have knocked at theirs. To-day I am
+aweary, and not of mind to see any one. Let them wait."
+
+"But what shall I say? What shall I tell them, my master?"
+
+"Tell them nothing. Let them wait."
+
+Thus the crowd of notables packed into the anterooms waited at the
+door, fuming and execrating, yet not departing. They all awaited the
+magician, each with the same plea--some hope of favor, of advancement,
+or of gain.
+
+At last there arose yet a greater tumult in the hall which led to the
+door. A squad of guardsmen pushed through the packed ranks with the cry:
+"For the king!" The regent of France stood at the closed door of the man
+who was still the real ruler of France.
+
+"Open, open, in the name of the king!" cried one, as he beat loudly on
+the panels.
+
+Law turned languidly toward the attendant. "Henri," said he, "tell them
+to be more quiet."
+
+"My master, 'tis the regent!" expostulated the other, with somewhat of
+anxiety in his tones.
+
+"Let him wait," replied Law, coolly. "I have waited for him."
+
+"But, my master, they protest, they clamor--"
+
+"Very well. Let them do so--but stay. If it is indeed the regent, I may
+as well meet him now and say that which is in my mind. Open the door."
+
+The door swung open and there entered the form of Philippe of Orléans,
+preceded by his halberdiers and followed close by a rush of humanity
+which the guards and the Swiss together had much pains to force back
+into the anteroom.
+
+"How now, Monsieur L'as, how now?" fumed the regent, his heavy face
+glowing a dull red, his prominent eyes still more protruding, his
+forehead bent into a heavy frown. "You deny entrance to our person, who
+are next to the body of his Majesty?"
+
+"Did you have delay?" asked Law, sweetly. "'Twas unfortunate."
+
+"'Twas execrable!"
+
+"True. I myself find these crowds execrable."
+
+"Nay, execrable to suffer this annoyance of delay!"
+
+"Your Grace's pardon," said Law, coolly. "You should have made an
+appointment a few days in advance."
+
+"What! The regent of France need to arrange a day when he would see a
+servant!"
+
+"Your Grace is unfortunate in his choice of words," replied Law,
+blandly. "I am not your servant. I am your master."
+
+The regent sank back into a chair, gasping, his hand clutching at the
+hilt of his sword.
+
+"Seize him! Seize him! To the Bastille with him! The presumer! The
+impostor!"
+
+Yet even the guards hesitated before the commanding presence of that man
+whom all had been so long accustomed to obey. With hand upraised, Law
+gazed at them for one instant, and then gave them no further attention.
+
+"Yet these words I must hasten to qualify," resumed he. "True, I am at
+this moment your master, your Grace, but two minutes hence, and for all
+time thereafter, I shall no longer be your master. Your Grace was once
+so good as to make me head of certain financial matters, and to give me
+control of them. The fabric of this Messasebe, which you see without,
+was all my own. It was this which made me master of Paris, and of every
+man within the gates of Paris. So far, very well. My plans were honest,
+and the growth of France--nay, let us say the resurrection of
+France--the new life of France--shows how my own plans were made and how
+well I knew that which was to happen. I made you rich, your Grace. I
+gave you funds to pay off millions of your private debts, millions to
+gratify your fancies. I gave you more millions to pay the debts of
+France. France and her regent have again taken a position of honor in
+the eyes of the world. You may well call me master of your fate, who
+have been able to accomplish these things. So long as you knew your
+master, you did well. Now your Grace has seen fit to change masters. He
+would be his own master again. There can not be two in control of a
+concern like this. Sir, the two minutes have elapsed. I am your very
+humble servant!"
+
+The regent still sat staring from his chair, and speech was yet denied
+him.
+
+"There are your people. There is your France," said Law, beckoning as he
+turned toward the window and pointing to the crowd without. "There is
+your France. Now handle it, my master! Here are the reins! Now drive;
+but see that you be careful how you drive. Come, your Grace," said he,
+mockingly, over his shoulder. "Come, and see your France!"
+
+The audacity of John Law was a thing without parallel, as had been
+proved a hundred times in his strange life and in a hundred places. His
+sheer contemptuous daring brought Philippe of Orléans to his senses. He
+relaxed now in his purpose, changeable as was his wont, and advanced
+towards Law with hand outstretched.
+
+"There, there, Monsieur L'as, I did you wrong, perhaps," said he. "But
+as to these hasty words, pray reconsider them at once. 'Twill have a bad
+effect should a breath of this get afloat. Indeed, 'twas because of some
+such thing that I came to see you this morning. A most unspeakable, a
+most incredible thing hath occurred. It comes to me with certain
+confirmation that there have been shares sold upon the street at twelve
+thousand livres to the _action_, whereas, as you very well know,
+fifteen thousand should be the lowest price to-day."
+
+"And what of that, your Grace?" said Law, calmly. "Is it not what you
+planned? Is it not what you have been expecting?"
+
+"How, sirrah! What do you mean?"
+
+"Why, I mean this, your Grace," said Law, calmly, "that since you have
+taken the reins, it is you who must drive the chariot. I shall suggest
+no plans, shall offer no remedy. But, if you still lack ability to see
+how and why this thing has attained this situation, I will take so much
+trouble as to make it plain."
+
+"Go on, then, sir," said the regent. "Is not all well? Is there any
+danger?"
+
+"As to danger," said Law, "we can not call it a time of danger after the
+worst has happened."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"Why, that the worst has happened. But, as I was about to say, I shall
+tell you how it happened."
+
+The gaze of the regent fell. His hand trembled as he fumbled at his
+sword hilt.
+
+"Your Grace," said Law, calmly, "will do me the kindness to remember
+that when I first asked of you the charter of the Banque Générale, to be
+taken privately in the name of myself and my brother, I told you that
+any banker merited the punishment of death if he issued notes or bills
+of exchange without having their effective value safe in his own strong
+boxes."
+
+"Well, what of that?" queried the regent, weakly.
+
+"Nothing, your Grace, except that your Grace deserves the punishment of
+death."
+
+"How, sir! Good God!"
+
+"If the truth of this matter should ever become known, those people out
+there, that France yonder, would tear your Grace limb from limb, and
+trample you in the dust!"
+
+The livid face of the regent went paler as the other spoke. There was
+conviction in those tones which could not fail to reach even his heavy
+wits.
+
+"Let me explain," went on Law. "I beg your Grace to remember again, that
+when your Grace was good enough to take out of the hands of my brother
+and myself our little bank--which we had run honorably and
+successfully--you changed at one sweep the whole principle of honest
+banking. You promised to pay something which was unstipulated. You
+issued a note back of which there was no value, no fixed limit of
+measurement. Twice you have changed the coinage of the realm, and twice
+assigned a new value to your specie. No one can tell what one of your
+shares in the stock of the Indies means in actual coin. It means
+nothing, stands for nothing, is good for nothing. Now, think you, when
+these people, when this France shall discover these facts, that they
+will be lenient with those who have thus deceived them?"
+
+"Yet your theory always was that we had too great a scarcity of money
+here in France," expostulated the regent.
+
+"True, so I did. We had not enough of good money. We can not have too
+little of false money, of money such as your Grace--as you thought
+without my knowledge--has been so eager to issue from the presses of our
+Company. It had been an easy thing for the regent of France to pay off
+all the debts of the world from now until the verge of eternity, had not
+his presses given out. Money of that sort, your Grace, is such as any
+man could print for himself, did he but have the linen and the ink."
+
+The regent again dropped to his chair, his head falling forward upon his
+breast.
+
+"But what does it all mean? What shall be done? What will be the
+result?" he asked, his voice showing well enough the anxiety which had
+swiftly fallen upon his soul.
+
+"As to that," replied Law, laconically, "I am no longer master here. I
+am not controller of finance. Appoint Dubois, appoint D'Argenson. Send
+for the Brothers Paris. Take them to this window, your Grace, and show
+them your people, show them your France, and then ask them to tell you
+what shall be done. Cry out to all the world, as I know you will, that
+this was the fault of an unknown adventurer, of a Scotch gambler, of one
+John Law, who brought forth some pretentious schemes to the detriment of
+the realm. Saddle upon me the blame for all this ruin which is coming.
+Malign me, misrepresent me, imprison me, exile me, behead me if you
+like, and blame John Law for the discomfiture of France! But when you
+come to seek your remedies, why, ask no more of John Law. Ask of Dubois,
+ask of D'Argenson, ask of the Paris Frères; or, since your Grace has
+seen fit to override me and to take these matters in his own hands, let
+your Grace ask of himself! Tell me, as regent of France, as master of
+Paris, as guardian of the rights of this young king, as controller of
+the finances of France, as savior or destroyer of the welfare of these
+people of France and of that America which is greater than this
+France--tell me, what will you do, your Grace? What do you suggest as
+remedy?"
+
+"You devil! you arch fiend!" exclaimed the regent, starting up and
+laying his hand on his sword. "There is no punishment you do not
+deserve! You will leave me in this plight--you--you, who have supplanted
+me at every turn; you who made that horrible scene but last night at my
+own table, within the very gates of the Palais Royal; you, the murderer
+of the woman I adored! And now, you mocker and flouter of what may be my
+bitterest misfortune--why, sir, no punishment is sharp enough for you!
+Why do you stand there, sir? Do you dare to mock me--to mock us, the
+person of the king?"
+
+"I mock not in the least, your Grace," said John Law, "nor do aught else
+that ill beseems a gentleman. I should have been proud to be known as
+the friend of Philippe of Orléans, yet I stand before that Philippe of
+Orléans and tell him that that man doth not live, nor that set of
+terrors exist, which can frighten John Law, nor cause him to depart from
+that stand which he once has taken. Sir, if you seek to frighten me, you
+fail."
+
+"But, look you--consider," said the regent. "Something must be done."
+
+"As I said," replied Law.
+
+"But what is going to happen? What will the people do?"
+
+"First," said Law, judicially, flicking at the deep lace of his cuff as
+though he were taking into consideration the price of a wig or cane,
+"first, the price of a share having gone to twelve thousand livres this
+morning, by two o'clock will be so low as ten thousand. By three
+o'clock this afternoon it will be six thousand. Then, your Grace, there
+will be panic. Then the spell will be broken. France will rub her eyes
+and begin to awaken. Then, since the king can do no wrong, and since the
+regent is the king, your Grace can do one of two things. He can send a
+body-guard to watch my door, or he can see John Law torn into fragments,
+as these people would tear the real author of their undoing, did they
+but recognize him."
+
+"But can nothing be done to stop this? Can it not be accommodated?"
+
+"Ask yourself. But I must go on to say what these people will do. All at
+once they will demand specie for their notes. The Prince de Conti will
+drive his coaches to the door of your bank, and demand that they be
+loaded with gold. Jacques and Raoul and Pierre, and every peasant and
+pavior in Paris will come with boxes and panniers, and each of them will
+also demand his gold. Make edicts, your Grace. Publish broadcast and
+force out into publicity, on every highway of France, your decree that
+gold and silver are not so good as your bank notes; that no one must
+have gold or silver; that no one must send his gold and silver out of
+France, but that all must bring it to the king and take for it in
+exchange these notes of yours. Try that. It ought to succeed, ought it
+not, your Grace?" His bantering tone sank into one of half plausibility.
+
+"Why, surely. That would be the solution."
+
+"Oh, think you so? Your Grace is wondrous keen as a financier! Now take
+the counsel of Dubois, of D'Argenson, my very good friends. This is what
+they will counsel you to do. And I will counsel you at the same time to
+avail yourself of their advice. Tell all France to bring in its gold, to
+enable you to put something essential under the value of all this paper
+money which you have been sending out so lavishly, so unthinkingly, so
+without stint or measure."
+
+"Yes. And then?"
+
+"Why, then, your Grace," said Law, "then we shall see what we shall
+see!"
+
+The regent again choked with anger. Law continued. "Go on. Smooth down
+the back of this animal. Continue to reduce these taxes. The specie of
+the realm of France, as I am banker enough to know, is not more than
+thirteen hundred millions of livres, allowing sixty-five livres to the
+marc. Yet long before this your Grace has crowded the issue of our
+_actions_ until there are out not less than twenty-six hundred millions
+of livres in the stock of our Company. Your Brothers Paris, your
+D'Argenson, your Dubois will tell you how you can make the people of
+France continue to believe that twice two is not four, that twice
+thirteen is not twenty-six!"
+
+"But this they are doing," broke in the regent, with a ray of hope in
+his face. "This they are doing. We have provided for that. In the
+council not an hour ago the Abbé Dubois and Monsieur d'Argenson decided
+that the time had come to make some fixed proportion between the specie
+and these notes. We have to-day framed an edict, which the Parliament
+will register, stating that the interests of the subjects of the king
+require that the price of these bank notes should be lessened, so that
+there may be some sort of accommodation between them and the coin of the
+realm. We have ordered that the shares shall, within thirty days, drop
+to seventy-five hundred livres, in another thirty days to seven thousand
+livres, and so on, at five hundred livres a month, until at last they
+shall have a value of one-half what they were to-day. Then, tell me, my
+wise Monsieur L'as, would not the issue of our notes and the total of
+our specie be equal, one with the other? The only wrong thing is this
+insulting presumption of these people, who have sold _actions_ at a
+price lower than we have decreed."
+
+Law smiled as he replied. "You say excellently well, my master. These
+plans surely show that you and your able counselors have studied deeply
+the questions of finance! I have told you what would happen to-day
+without any decree of the king. Now go you on, and make your decrees.
+You will find that the people are much more eager for values which are
+going up than values which are going down. Start your shares down hill,
+and you will see all France scramble for such coin, such plate, such
+jewels as may be within the ability of France to lay her hands upon.
+Tell me, your Grace, did Monsieur d'Argenson advise you this morning as
+to the total issue of the _actions_ of this Company?"
+
+"Surely he did, and here I have it in memorandum, for I was to have
+taken it up with yourself," replied the regent.
+
+"So," exclaimed Law, a look of surprise passing over his countenance,
+until now rigidly controlled, as he gazed at the little slip of paper.
+"Your Grace advises me that there are issued at this time in the shares
+of the Company no less than two billion, two hundred and thirty-five
+million, eighty-five thousand, five hundred and ninety livres in notes!
+Against this, as your Grace is good enough to agree with me, we have
+thirteen hundred millions of specie. Your Grace, yourself and I have
+seen some pretty games in our day. Look you, the merriest game of all
+your life is now but just before you!"
+
+"And you would go and leave me at this time?"
+
+"Never in my life have I forsaken a friend at the time of distress,"
+replied Law. "But your Grace absolved me when you forsook me, when you
+doubted and hesitated regarding me, and believed the protestations of
+those not so able as myself to judge of what was best. And now it is too
+late. Will your Grace allow me to suggest that a place behind stout
+gates and barred doors, deep within the interior of the Palais Royal,
+will be the best residence for him to-night--perhaps for several nights
+to come?"
+
+"And yourself?"
+
+"As for myself, it does not matter," replied Law, slowly and
+deliberately. "I have lived, and I thought I had succeeded. Indeed,
+success was mine for some short months, though now I must meet failure.
+I have this to console me--that 'twas failure not of my own fault. As
+for France, I loved her. As for America, I believe in her to-day, this
+very hour. As for your Grace in person, I was your friend, nor was I
+ever disloyal to you. But it sometimes doth seem that, no matter how
+sincere be one in one's endeavors, no matter how cherished, no matter
+how successful for a time may be his ambitions, there is ever some
+little blight to eat the face of the full fruit of his happiness.
+To-morrow I shall perhaps not be alive. It is very well. There is
+nothing I could desire, and it is as well to-morrow as at any time."
+
+"But surely, Monsieur L'as," interrupted the regent, with a trace of his
+old generosity, "if there should be outbreak, as you fear, I shall, of
+course, give you a guard. I shall indeed see you safe out of the city,
+if you so prefer, though I had much liefer you would remain and try to
+help us undo this coil, wherein I much misdoubt myself."
+
+"Your Grace, I am a disappointed man, a man with nothing in the world to
+comfort him. I have said that I would not help you, since 'twas yourself
+brought ruin on my plans, and cast down that work which I had labored
+all my life to finish. Yet I will advise this, as being your most
+immediate plan. Smooth down this France as best you may. Remit more
+taxes, as I said. Depreciate the value of these shares gently, but
+rapidly as you can. Institute great numbers of perpetual annuities.
+Juggle, temporize, postpone, get for yourself all the time you can.
+Trade for the people's shares all you have that they will take. You can
+never strike a balance, and can never atone for the egregious error of
+this over-issue of stock which has no intrinsic value. Eventually you
+may have to declare void many of these shares and withdraw from the
+currency these _actions_ for which so recently the people have been
+clamoring."
+
+"That means repudiation!" broke in the regent.
+
+"Certainly, your Grace, and in so far your Grace has my extremest
+sympathy. I know it was your resolve not to repudiate the debts of
+France, as those debts stood when I first met you some years ago. That
+was honorable. Yet now the debts of France are immeasurably greater,
+rich as France thinks herself to be. Not all France, were the people and
+the produce of the commerce counted in the coin, could pay the debt of
+France as it now exists. Hence, honorable or not, there is nothing
+else--it is repudiation which now confronts you. France is worse than
+bankrupt. And now it would seem wise if your Grace took immediate steps,
+not only for the safety of his person, but for the safety of the
+Government."
+
+"Sir, do you mean that the people would dare, that they would presume--"
+
+"The people are not what they were. There hath come into Europe the
+leaven of the New World. I had looked there to see a nobler and a better
+France. It is too late for that, and surely it is too late for the old
+ways of this France which we see about us. You can not presume now upon
+the temper of these folk as you might have done fifty years ago. The
+Messasebe, that noble stream, it hath swept its purifying flood
+throughout the world! Look you, at this moment there is tumbling this
+house which we have built of bubbles, one bubble upon another, blowing
+each bubble bigger and thinner than the last. Mine is not the only
+fault, nor yet the greatest fault. I was sincere, where others cared
+naught for sincerity. Another day, another people, may yet say the world
+was better for my effort, and that therefore at the last I have not
+failed."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+THE BREAKING OF THE BUBBLE
+
+
+It was the evening of the day following that on which John Law and the
+regent of France had met in their stormy interview. During the morning
+but little had transpired regarding the significant events of the
+previous day. In these vast and excited crowds, divided into groups and
+cliques and factions, aided by no bulletins, counseled by no printed
+page, there was but little cohesion of purpose, since there was little
+unity of understanding. The price of shares at one kiosk might be
+certain thousands of livres, whereas a square away, the price might vary
+by half as many livres; so impetuous was the advance of these
+continually rising prices, and so frenzied and careless the temper of
+those who bargained for them.
+
+Yet before noon of the day following the decree of the regent, which
+fixed the value of _actions_ upon a descending scale, the news, after a
+fashion of its own, spread rapidly abroad, and all too swiftly the truth
+was generally known. The story started in a rumor that shares had been
+offered and declined at a price which had been current but a few moments
+before. This was something which had not been known in all these
+feverish months of the Messasebe. Then came the story that shares could
+not be counted upon to realize over eight thousand livres. At that the
+price of all the _actions_ dropped in a flash, as Law had prophesied. A
+sudden wave of sanity, a panic chill of sober understanding swept over
+this vast multitude of still unreasoning souls who had traded so long
+upon this impossible supposition of an ever-advancing market. Reason
+still lacked among them, yet fear and sudden suspicion were not wanting.
+Man after man hastened swiftly away to sell privately his shares before
+greater drop in the price might come. He met others upon the same
+errand.
+
+Precisely the reverse of the old situation now obtained. As all Paris
+had fought to buy, so now all Paris fought to sell. The streets were
+filled with clamoring mobs. If earlier there had been confusion, now
+there was pandemonium. Never was such a scene witnessed. Never was there
+chronicled so swift and utter reversion of emotion in the minds of a
+great concourse of people. Bitter indeed was the wave of agony that
+swept over Paris. It began at the Messasebe, in the gardens of the Hôtel
+de Soisson, at that focus hard by the temple of Fortuna. It spread and
+spread, edging out into all the remoter portions of the walled city. It
+reached ultimately the extreme confines of Paris. Into the crowded
+square which had been decreed as the trading-place of the Messasebe
+System, there crowded from the outer purlieus yet other thousands of
+excited human beings. The end had come. The bubble had burst. There was
+no longer any System of the Messasebe!
+
+It was late in the day, in fact well on toward night, when the knowledge
+of the crash came into the neighborhood where dwelt the Lady Catharine
+Knollys. To her the news was brought by a servant, who excitedly burst
+unannounced into her mistress's presence.
+
+"Madame! Madame!" she cried. "Prepare! 'Tis horrible! 'Tis impossible!
+All is at an end!"
+
+"What mean you, girl!" cried Lady Catharine, displeased at the
+disrespect. "What is happening? Is there fire? And even if there were,
+could you not remember your duty more seemly than this?"
+
+"Worse, worse than fire, Madame! Worse than anything! The bank has
+failed! The shares of the System are going down! 'Tis said that we can
+get but three thousand livres the share, perhaps less--perhaps they will
+go down to nothing. I am ruined, ruined! We are all ruined! And within
+the month I was to have been married to the footman of the Marquis
+d'Allouez, who has bought himself a title this very week!"
+
+"And if it has fallen so ill," said Lady Catharine, "since I have not
+speculated in these things like most folk, I shall be none the worse for
+it, and shall still have money to pay your wages. So perhaps you can
+marry your marquis after all."
+
+"But we shall not be rich, Madame! We are ruined, ruined! _Mon Dieu_! we
+poor folk! We had the hope to be persons of quality. 'Tis all the work
+of this villain Jean L'as. May the Bastille get him, or the people, and
+make him pay for this!"
+
+"Stop! Enough of this, Marie!" said the Lady Catharine, sternly. "After
+this have better wisdom, and do not meddle in things which you do not
+understand."
+
+Yet scarce had the girl departed before there appeared again the sound
+of running steps, and presently there broke, equally unannounced, into
+the presence of his mistress, the coachman, fresh from his stables and
+none too careful of his garb. Tears ran down his cheeks. He flung out
+his hands with gestures as of one demented.
+
+"The news!" cried he. "The news, my Lady! The horrible news! The System
+has vanished, the shares are going down!"
+
+"Fellow, what do you here?" said Lady Catharine. "Why do you come with
+this same story which Marie has just brought to me? Can you not learn
+your place?"
+
+"But, my Lady, you do not understand!" reiterated the man, blankly.
+"'Tis all over. There is no Messasebe; there is no longer any System, no
+longer any Company of the Indies. There is no longer wealth for the
+stretching out of the hand. 'Tis all over. I must go back to horses--I,
+Madame, who should presently have associated with the nobility!"
+
+"Well, and if so," replied his mistress, "I can say to you, as I have to
+Marie, that there will still be money for your wages."
+
+"Wages! My faith, what trifles, my Lady! This Monsieur L'as, the
+director-general, he it is who has ruined us! Well enough it is that the
+square in front of his hotel is filled with people! Presently they will
+break down his doors. And then, pray God they punish him for this that
+he has done!"
+
+The cheek of Lady Catharine paled and a sudden flood of contending
+emotions crossed her mind. "You do not tellme that Monsieur L'as is in
+danger, Pierre?" said she.
+
+"Assuredly. Perhaps within the very hour they will tear down his doors
+and rend him limb from limb. There is no punishment which can serve him
+right--him who has ruined our pretty, pretty System. _Mon Dieu_! It was
+so beautiful!"
+
+"Is this news certain?"
+
+"Assuredly, most certain. Why should it not be? The entire square in
+front of the Hôtel de Soisson is packed. Unless my Lady needs me, I
+myself must hasten thither to aid in the punishment of this Jean L'as!"
+
+"You will stay here," said Lady Catharine. "Wait! There may be need! For
+the present, go!"
+
+Left alone, Lady Catharine stood for a moment pale and motionless, in
+the center of the room. She strode then to the window and stood looking
+fixedly out. Her whole figure was tense, rigid. Yonder, over there,
+across the gabled roofs of Paris, they were clamoring at the door of him
+who had given back Paris to the king, and Franceagain to its people.
+They were assailing him--this man so long unfaltering, so insistent on
+his ambitions, so--so steadfast! Could she call him steadfast? And they
+would seize him in spite of the courage which she knew would never fail.
+They would kill, they would rend, they would trample him! They would
+crush that glorious body, abase the lips that had spoke so well of love!
+
+The clenched fingers of Lady Catharine broke apart, her arms were flung
+wide in a gesture of resolution. She turned from the window, looking
+here and there about the room. Unconsciously she stopped before the
+great cheval-glass that hung against the wall. She stood there, looking
+at her own image, keenly, deeply.
+
+She saw indeed a woman fit for sweet usages of love, comely and rounded,
+deep-bosomed, her oval face framed in the piled masses of glorious
+red-brown hair. But her wide, blue eyes, scarce seeing this outward
+form, stared into the soul of that other whom she witnessed.
+
+It was as though the Lady Catharine Knollys at last saw another self and
+recognized it! A quick, hard sob broke from her throat. In haste she
+flew, now to one part of the room, now to another, picking up first this
+article and then that which seemed of need. And so at last she hurried
+to the bell-cord.
+
+"Quick," cried she, as the servant at length appeared. "Quick! Do not
+delay an instant! My carriage at once!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+THAT WHICH REMAINED
+
+
+As for John Law, all through that fatal day which meant for him the ruin
+of his ambitions, he continued in the icy calm which, for days past, had
+distinguished him. He discontinued his ordinary employments, and spent
+some hours in sorting and destroying numbers of papers and documents.
+His faithful servant, the Swiss, Henri, he commanded to make ready his
+apparel for a journey.
+
+"At six this evening," said he, "Henri, we shall be ready to depart. Let
+us be quite ready well before that time."
+
+"Monsieur is leaving Paris?" asked the Swiss, respectfully.
+
+"Quite so."
+
+"Perhaps for a stay of some duration?"
+
+"Quite so, indeed, Henri."
+
+"Then, sir," expostulated the Swiss, "it would require a day or so for
+me to properly arrange your luggage."
+
+"Not at all," replied Law. "Two valises will suffice, not more, and I
+shall perhaps not need even these."
+
+"Not all the apparel, the many coats, the jewels--"
+
+"Do not trouble over them."
+
+"But what disposition shall I make--?"
+
+"None at all. Leave all these things as they are. But stay--this package
+which I shall prepare for you--take it to the regent, and have it marked
+in his care and for the Parliament of France."
+
+Law raised in his hands a bundle of parchments, which one by one he tore
+across, throwing the fragments into a basket as he did so.
+
+"The seat of Tancarville," he said. "The estate of Berville; the Hôtel
+Mazarin; the lands of Bourget; the Marquisat of Charleville; the lands
+of Orcher; the estate of Roissy--Gad! what a number of them I find."
+
+"But, Monsieur," expostulated the Swiss, "what is that you do? Are these
+not your possessions?"
+
+"Not so, _mon ami_," replied Law. "They once were mine. They are estates
+in France. Take back these deeds. Dead Sully may have his own again, and
+each of these late owners of the lands. I wished them for a purpose.
+That purpose is no longer possible, and now I wish them no more. Take
+back your deeds, my friends, and bear in your minds that John Law tore
+them in two, and thus canceled the obligation."
+
+"But the moneys you have paid--they are enormous. Surely you will exact
+restitution?"
+
+"Sirrah, could I not afford these moneys?"
+
+"Admirably at the time," replied the Swiss, with the freedom of long
+service. "But for the future, what do we know? Besides, it is a matter
+of right and justice."
+
+"Ah, _mon ami_" said Law, "right and justice are no more. But since you
+speak of money, let us take precautions as to that. We shall need some
+money for our journey. See, Henri! Take this note and get the money
+which it calls for. But no! The crowd may be too great. Look in the
+drawer of my desk yonder, and take out what you find."
+
+The Swiss did as he was bidden, but at length returned with troubled
+face.
+
+"Monsieur," said he, "I can find but a hundred louis."
+
+"Put half of it back," said Law. "We shall not need so much."
+
+"But, Monsieur, I do not understand."
+
+"We shall not need more than fifty louis. That is enough. Leave the
+rest," said Law. "Leave it where you found it."
+
+"But for whom? Does Monsieur soon return?"
+
+"No. Leave it for him who may be first to find it. These dear people
+without, these same people whom I have enriched, and who now will claim
+that I have impoverished them--these people will demand of me everything
+that I have. As a man of honor I can not deny them. They shall have
+every jot and stiver of the property of John Law, even the million or so
+of good coin which he brought here to Paris with him. The coat on my
+back, the wheels beneath me, gold enough to pay for the charges of the
+inns through France--that is all that John Law will take away with him."
+
+The arms of the old servant fell helpless at his side. "Sir, this is
+madness," he expostulated.
+
+"Not so, Henri," replied Law, leniently. "Madness enough there has been
+in Paris, it is true, but madness not mine nor of my making. For
+madness, look you yonder."
+
+He pointed a finger through the window where the stately edifice of the
+Palais Royal rose.
+
+"My good friend the regent--it is he who hath been mad," continued Law.
+"He, holding France in trust, has ruined France forever."
+
+"Monsieur, I grieve for you," said the Swiss. "I have seen your success
+in these years and, as you may imagine, have understood something of
+your affairs as time went on."
+
+"And have you not profited by your knowledge in these times?"
+
+"I have had the salary your Honor has agreed to pay me," replied the
+Swiss.
+
+"And no more?"
+
+"No more."
+
+"Why, there are serving folk in France by the hundreds who have grown
+millionaires by the knowledge of their employers' affairs these last two
+years in Paris. Never was such a time in all the world for making money.
+Have you been more blind than they? Why did you not tell me? Why did you
+not ask?"
+
+"I was content with your employment. Monsieur L'as. I would ask no
+better master."
+
+"It is not so with certain others. They think me a hard master enough,
+and having displaced me, will do all they can to punish me. But now,
+Henri, you will perhaps need to look elsewhere for a master. I am going
+far away--perhaps across the seas. It may be--but I know not where and
+care not where my foot may wander hereafter, nor will I seek now to plan
+for it. As for you, Henri, since you admit you have been thus blind to
+your own interests, let us look to that. Go to the desk again. Take out
+the drawer--that one on the left hand. So--bring it to me."
+
+The servant obeyed. Law took from his hand the receptacle, and with a
+sweep of his hand poured out on the table its contents. A mass of
+glittering gems, diamonds, sapphires, pearls, emeralds, fell and spread
+over the table top. The light cast out by their thousand facets lit up
+the surroundings with shimmering, many-colored gleams. The wealth of a
+kingdom might have been here in the careless possession of this man,
+whose resources had been absolutely without measure.
+
+"Help yourself, Henri," said Law, calmly, and turned about to his
+employment among the papers. A moment later he turned again to see his
+servant still standing motionless.
+
+"Well?" said Law.
+
+"I do not understand," said the Swiss.
+
+"Take what you like," said Law. "I have said it, and I mean it. It is
+for your pay, because you have been honest, because I understand you as
+a faithful man."
+
+"But, Monsieur, these things have very great value," said the Swiss.
+"Let me ask how is it that you yourself take so little gold along? Does
+Monsieur purpose to take with him his fortune in gems and jewels
+instead?"
+
+"By no means. I purpose taking but fifty louis, as I have said."
+
+"Monsieur would have me replace the drawer?"
+
+"How do you mean?"
+
+"Why, I want none of them."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because Monsieur wants none of them."
+
+"Fie! Your case is quite different from mine."
+
+"Perhaps, but I want none of them."
+
+"Are you afraid?"
+
+"Monsieur!"
+
+"Do you not think them genuine stones?"
+
+"Assuredly," said the Swiss, "else why should we have cared for them
+among our gems?"
+
+"Well, then, I command you as your master, to take forth some of these
+jewels and keep them for your own."
+
+"But no," replied the Swiss. "It is only after Monsieur."
+
+"What? Myself?"
+
+"Assuredly."
+
+"Then, for the sake of precedent," said Law, "let me see. Well, then, I
+will take one gem, only one. Here, Henri, is the diamond which I brought
+with me when I came to Paris years ago. It was the sole jewel owned then
+by my brother and myself, though we had somewhat of gold between us,
+thanks to this same diamond. It was once my sole capital, in years gone
+by. Perhaps we may need a carriage through France, and this may serve to
+pay the hire of a vehicle from one of my late dukes or marquises. Or
+perhaps at best I may send this same stone across the channel to my
+brother Will, who has wisely gone to Scotland, or should have departed
+before this. So, very well, Henri, to oblige you I will take this single
+stone. Now, do you help yourself."
+
+"Since Monsieur limits himself to so little," said the Swiss, sturdily,
+"I shall not want more. This little pin will serve me, and I shall wear
+it long in memory of your many kindnesses."
+
+Law rose to his feet and caught the good fellow by the hand.
+
+"By heaven, I find you of good blood!" said he. "My friend, I thank you.
+And now put up the box. I shall not counsel you to take more than this.
+We shall leave the rest for those who will presently come to claim it."
+
+For some time silence reigned in the great room, as Law, deeply engaged
+in the affairs before him, buried himself in the mass of scattered books
+and papers. Hour after hour wore on, and at last he turned from his
+employment. His face showed calm, pale, and furrowed with a sadness
+which till now had been foreign to it. He arose at last, and with a
+sweep of his arm pushed back the papers which lay before him.
+
+"There," said he. "This should conclude it all. It should all be plain
+enough now to those who follow."
+
+"Monsieur is weary," mentioned the faithful attendant. "He would have
+some refreshment."
+
+"Presently, but I think not here, Henri. My household is not all so
+faithful as yourself, and I question if we could find cook or servants
+for the table below. No, we are to leave Paris to-night, Henri, and it
+is well the journey should begin. Get you down to the stables, and, if
+you can, have my best coach brought to the front door."
+
+"It may not be quite safe, if Monsieur will permit me to suggest."
+
+"Perhaps not. These fools are so deep in their folly that they do not
+know their friends. But safe or not, that is the way I shall go. We
+might slip out through the back door, but 'tis not thus John Law will go
+from Paris."
+
+The servant departed, and Law, left alone, sat silent and motionless,
+buried in thought. Now and again his head sank forward, like that of one
+who has received a deep hurt. But again he drew himself up sternly, and
+so remained, not leaving his seat nor turning toward the window, beyond
+which could now be heard the sound of shouting, and cries whose confused
+and threatening tones might have given ground for the gravest
+apprehension. At length the Swiss again reported, much agitated and
+shaken from his ordinary self-control.
+
+"Monsieur," said he, "come. I have at last the coach at the door.
+Hasten, Monsieur; a crowd is gathering. Indeed, we may meet violence."
+
+Law seemed not to hear him, but sat for a time, his head still bowed,
+his eyes gazing straight before him.
+
+"But, Monsieur," again broke in the Swiss, anxiously, "if I may
+interrupt, there is need to hasten. There will be a mob. Our guard is
+gone."
+
+"So," said Law. "They were afraid?"
+
+"Surely. They fled forthwith when they heard the people below crying out
+at the house. They are indeed threatening death to yourself. They cry
+that they will burn the house--that should you appear, they will have
+your blood at once."
+
+"And are you not afraid?" asked Law.
+
+"I am here. Does not Monsieur fear for himself?"
+
+Law shrugged his shoulders. "There are many of them, and we are but
+two," said he. "For yourself, go you down the back way and care for your
+own safety. I will go out the front and meet these good people. Are we
+quite ready for the journey?"
+
+"Quite ready, as you have directed."
+
+"Have you the two valises, with the one change of clothing?"
+
+"They are here."
+
+"And have you the fifty louis, as I stated?"
+
+"Here in the purse."
+
+"And I think you have also the single diamond."
+
+"It is here."
+
+"Then," said Law, "let us go."
+
+He rose, and scarce looking behind him, even to see that his orders to
+the servant had been obeyed, he strode down the vast stairway of the
+great hôtel, past many precious works of art, between walls hung with
+richest tapestries and noble paintings. The click of his heel on a
+chance bit of exposed marble here and there echoed hollow, as though
+indeed the master of the palace had been abandoned by all his people.
+The great building was silent, empty.
+
+"What! Are you, then, here?" he said, seeing the servant had disobeyed
+his instructions and was following close behind him. He alone out of
+those scores of servants, those hundreds of fawning nobles, those
+thousands of sycophant souls who had but lately cringed before him, now
+accompanied the late master of France as he turned to leave the house
+in which he no longer held authority.
+
+Without, but the door's thickness from where he stood, there arose a
+tumult of sound, shouts, cries, imprecations, entreaties, as though the
+walls of some asylum for the unfortunate had broken away and allowed its
+inmates to escape unrestrained, irreclaimable, impossible to control.
+
+"Down with Jean L'as! Down with Jean L'as!" rose a cadenced, rhythmic
+shout, the accord of a mob of Paris beating into its tones. And this
+steady burden was broken by the cries of "Enter! Enter! Break down the
+door! Kill the monster! Assassin! Thief! Traitor!" No word of the
+vocabulary of scorn and loathing was wanting in their cries.
+
+Hearing these cries, the face of this fighting man now grew hot with
+anger, and now it paled with grief and sorrow. Yet he faltered not, but
+stepped on, confidently. The Swiss opened the door and stood at the head
+of the flight of stairs. Tall, calm, pale, fearless, John Law stood
+facing the angry mob, his eyes shining brightly. He laid his hand for an
+instant upon his sword, yet it was but to unbuckle the belt. The weapon
+he left leaning against the wall, and so stepped on down toward the
+crowd.
+
+He was met by a rush of excited men and women, screaming, cursing,
+giving vent to inarticulate and indistinguishable speech. A man laid his
+hand upon his shoulder. Law caught the hand, and with a swift wrench of
+the wrist, threw the owner of it to the ground. At this the others gave
+back, and for half a moment silence ensued. The mob lacked just the
+touch of rage to hurl themselves upon him. He raised his hand and
+motioned them aside.
+
+"Are you not Jean L'as?" cried one dame, excitedly, waving in his face a
+handful of the paper shares of the latest issue in the Company of the
+Indies. "Are you not Jean L'as? Tell me, then, where is my money for
+these things? What shall I get for this rotten paper?"
+
+"You are Jean L'as, the director-general!" cried a man, pushing up to
+his side. "'Twas you that ruined the Company. See! Here is all that I
+have!" He wept as he shook his bunch of paper in John Law's face. "Last
+week I was worth half a million!" He wept, and tore across, with
+impotent rage, the bundle of worthless paper.
+
+"Down with Jean L'as! Down with Jean L'as!" came the recurrent cry. A
+rush followed. The carriage, towering above the ring of the surrounding
+crowd, showed its coat of arms, and thus was recognized. A paving-stone
+crashed through its heavy window. A knife ripped up the velvets of the
+cushions.
+
+The coachman was pulled from his box. The horses, plunging with terror,
+were cut loose from the pole and led away. With shouts and cries of rage
+and busy zeal, one madman vied with another in tearing, cutting and
+destroying the vehicle, until it stood there ruined, without means of
+locomotion, defaced and useless. And still the ring of desperate
+humanity closed around him who had late been master of all France.
+
+"What do you want, my friends?" asked he, calmly, as for an instant
+there came a lull in the tumult. He stood looking at them curiously now,
+his dulling eyes regarding them as though they presented some new and
+interesting study. "What is it that you desire?" he repeated.
+
+"We want our money," cried a score of voices. "We want back that which
+you have stolen."
+
+"You are not exact," replied Law, calmly. "I have not your money, nor
+yet have I stolen it. If you have suffered by this foolish panic, you do
+not mend matters by thus treating me. By heaven, you go the wrong way to
+get anything from me! Out of the way, you _canaille_! Do you think to
+frighten me? I made your city. I made you all. Now, do you think to
+frighten me, John Law?"
+
+"Oh! You would go away, you want to escape!" cried the voices of those
+near at hand. "We will see as to that!"
+
+Again they fell upon the carriage, and still they hemmed him in the
+closer.
+
+"True, I am going away," said Law. "But you can not say that I tried to
+steal away without your knowing it. There, up the stairs, are my papers.
+You will see in time that I have concealed nothing. Now I am going to
+leave Paris, it is true; but not because I am afraid to stay here. 'Tis
+for other reason, and reason of mine own."
+
+"'Twas you who ruined Paris--this city which you now seek to leave!"
+shrieked the dame who had spoken before, still shaking her useless
+bank-notes in her hand.
+
+"Oh, very well, my friend. For the argument, let us agree upon that,"
+said Law.
+
+"You ruined our Company, our beautiful Company!" cried another.
+
+"Certainly. Since I was the originator of it, that follows as matter of
+reason," replied Law.
+
+"Ah, he admits it! He admits it!" cried yet another. "Don't let him
+escape. Kill him! Down with Jean L'as!"
+
+"We are going to kill you precisely here!" cried a huge fellow,
+brandishing a paving-stone before his eyes. "You are not fit to live."
+
+"As to that," said Law, "I agree with you perfectly. My hand upon it; I
+am not fit to live. I have found that I made mistakes. I have found that
+there is nothing left to desire. I have found out that all this money is
+not worth the having. I have found out so many things, my very dear
+friends, that I quite agree with you. For if one must want to live
+before he is fit to live, then indeed I am not fit. But what then?"
+
+"Kill him! Kill him! Strike him down!" cried out a voice back of the
+giant with the menacing paving-stone.
+
+"Oh, very well, my friends," resumed the object of their fury, flicking
+again with his old, careless gesture at the deep cuff of his wrist. "As
+you like in regard to that. More than one man has offered me that
+happiness in the past, yet it was many a long year since, any man could
+trouble me by announcing that he was about to kill me."
+
+Something in the attitude of the man stayed the hands of the most
+dangerous members of the mob. Yet ever there came the cry from back of
+them. "Down with Jean L'as! He has ruined everything!"
+
+"Friends," responded Law to this cry, bitterly, "you little know how
+true you speak. It was indeed John Law who brought ruin to everything.
+It was indeed he who threw away what was worth more than all the gold in
+France. It is indeed he who has failed, and failed most utterly. You can
+not frighten John Law, but you may do as you like with him, for surely
+he has failed!"
+
+The bitterness of despair was in his tones. Then, perhaps, the sullen,
+savage crowd had wrought their last act of anger and revenge on him, had
+it not been for a sudden change in that tide of ill fortune that now
+seemed to carry him forward to his doom. There came a sound of far-off
+cries, a distant clacking of hoofs, the clatter of steel, many shouts,
+entreaties and commands. The close-packed crowd which filled the open
+space in front of the hôtel writhed, twisted, turned and would have
+sought to resolve itself into groups and individuals. Some cried out
+that the troops were coming. A detachment of the king's household, sent
+out to disperse these dangerous gatherings, came full front down the
+street, as had so often come the arm of the military in this turbulent
+old city of Paris. Remorselessly they rode over and through the mob,
+driving them, dispersing them. A moment later, and Law stood almost
+alone at the steps of his own house. The squadron wheeled, headed by an
+officer, who rode upon him with sword uplifted as though to cut him
+down. Law raised his hand at this new menace.
+
+"Stop!" he cried. "I am the cause of this rioting. I am John Law."
+
+"What! Monsieur L'as?" cried the lieutenant. "So the people have found
+you, have they?"
+
+"It would so seem. They have destroyed my carriage, and they would have
+killed me," replied Law. "But I perceive it is Captain Mirabec. 'Twas I
+who got you your commission, as you may remember."
+
+"Is it so?" replied the other, with a grin. "I have no recollection.
+Since you are Jean L'as, the late director-general, the pity is I did
+not let the people kill you. You are the cause of the ruin of us all,
+the cause of my own ruin. Three days more, and I had been a
+major-general. I had nearly the sum in _actions_ ready to pay over at
+the right place. By our Lady of Grace, I am minded to run you through
+myself, for a greater villain never set foot in France!"
+
+"Monsieur, I am about to leave France," said Law.
+
+"Oh, you would leave us? You would run away?"
+
+"As you like. But most of all, I am now very weary. I would not remain
+here longer talking. Henri, where are you?"
+
+The faithful Swiss, who had remained close to his employer all the time,
+and who had been not far from his side during the scenes just concluded,
+was in a moment at his side. He hardly reached his master too soon, for
+as he passed his arm about him, the head of Law sank wearily forward. He
+might, perhaps, have sunk to the ground had he lacked a supporting arm.
+
+At this moment there came again the sound of hoofs upon the pavement.
+There was the rush of a mounted outrider, and hard after him sped the
+horses of a carriage, whose driver pulled up close at the curb and
+scarce clear of the little group gathered there. The door of the coach
+was opened, and at it appeared the figure of a woman, who quickly
+descended from the step.
+
+"What is it?" she cried. "Is not this the residence of Monsieur Law?"
+The officer saluted, and the few loiterers gave back and made room, as
+she stepped fully into the street and advanced with decision towards
+those whom she saw.
+
+"Madam," replied the Swiss, "this is the residence of Monsieur L'as, and
+this is Monsieur L'as himself. I fear he is taken suddenly ill."
+
+The lady stepped quickly to his side. As she did so, Law, as one not
+fully hearing, half raised his head. He looked full into her face, and
+releasing himself from the arms of his servant, stood thus, staring
+directly at the visitor, his face haggard, his fixed eyes bearing no
+sign of actual recognition.
+
+"Catharine! Catharine!" he exclaimed. "Oh God, how cruel of you too to
+mock me! Catharine!"
+
+The unspeakable yearning of the cry went to the heart of her who heard
+it. She put out a hand and laid it on his forehead. The Swiss motioned
+toward the house. And even as the officer wheeled his troop to depart,
+these two again ascended the steps, half carrying between them a
+stumbling man, who but repeated mumblingly to himself the same words:
+
+"Mockery! Mockery!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+THE QUALITY OF MERCY
+
+
+Within the great house there was silence, for the vistas of the wide
+interior led far back from the street and its tumult; nor did there
+arise within the walls any sound of voice or footfall. Of the entire
+household there was but one left to do the master service.
+
+They entered the great hall, passed the foot of the wide stairway, and
+turned at the first _entresol_, where were seats and couches. The
+servant paused for a moment and looked inquiringly at the lady with whom
+he now found himself in company.
+
+"The times are serious," he began. "I would not intrude, Madame, yet
+perhaps you are aware--"
+
+"I am a friend of monsieur," replied Lady Catharine. "He is ill. See, he
+is not himself. Tell me, what is this illness?"
+
+"Madame," said the Swiss, gravely, "his illness is that of grief.
+Monsieur's failure sits heavily upon him."
+
+[Illustration]
+
+"How long is it since he slept?" asked the lady, for she noted the
+drooping head of the man now reclining upon the couch.
+
+"Not for many days and nights," replied the Swiss. "He has for the last
+few days been under much strain. But shall I not assist you, Madame? You
+are, perhaps--pardon me, since I do not know your relationship with
+monsieur--"
+
+"A friend of years ago. I knew Mr. Law when he lived in England."
+
+"I perceive. Perhaps Madame would be alone for a time? If you please, I
+will seek aid."
+
+They approached the side of the couch. Law's head lay back upon the
+cushions. His breath came deeply and slowly, not stertorously nor
+labored.
+
+"How strange," whispered the Swiss, "he sleeps!"
+
+Such was indeed the truth. The iron nature, so long overwrought, now
+utterly unstrung, had yielded for the first time to the stress of nature
+and of events. The relief from what he had taken to be death had come
+swiftly, and the reaction brought a lethal calm of its own. If he had
+indeed recognized the face of the woman who had touched him with her
+hand, it was as though he had witnessed her in a vision, a dream bitter
+and troubled, since it was a dream impossible to be true.
+
+The Swiss looked still hesitatingly at the lady who had thus strangely
+come upon the scene, noticing her sweet and tender mouth, her cheeks
+just faintly tinged with pink, her eyes shining with a soft, mysterious
+radiance. She approached the couch and laid both her hands upon the face
+of the unconscious man. Tears sprang within her eyes and fell from her
+dark lashes. The old servant looked up at her, simply.
+
+"Madame would be alone with monsieur?" asked he. "It will be better."
+
+Lady Catharine Knollys, left alone, gazed upon the sleeper. John Law,
+the failure, lay there, supine, abased, cast-down, undone, shorn utterly
+of his old arrogance of mind and mien. Fortune, wealth, even the boon of
+physical well-being--all had fled from him. The pride of a superb
+manhood had departed from the lines of this limp figure. The cheeks were
+lined and sunken, the eye, even had the lid not covered it, lacked the
+late convincing fire. No longer commanding, no longer strong, no longer
+gay and debonair, he lay, a man whose fate was failure, as he himself
+had said.
+
+The woman who stood with clasped hands, gazing at him, tears welling in
+her eyes--she, so closely linked to his every thought for these many
+years--well enough she knew the story of his boundless ambitions, now so
+swiftly ended. Well enough, too, she knew the shortcomings of this
+mortal man before her. Even as she had in her mirror looked into her own
+soul, so now she saw deep into his heart as he lay there, helpless,
+making no further plea for himself, urging no claim, making no
+explanations nor denials, no asseverations, no promises. Did she indeed
+see and recognize again, as sometimes gloriously happens in this poor
+life of ours, that other and inner man, the only one fit to touch a
+woman's hand--the man who might have been? Did she see this, and greet
+again the friend of long ago? God, who hath given mercy, remedy alone
+sufficing for the ill that men may do, He alone may know these things.
+
+Could John Law failing be John Law succeeding, and in his most sublime
+success? Upon the wreck and ruin of the old nature could there grow
+another and a better man? Mayhap the answer to this was what the eye of
+woman saw. How else could there have come into this great room, so late
+the scene of turbulent activities, this vast and soothing calm? How else
+could this man's breath come now so deep and regular and content? The
+angels of God may know, they who drop down the gentle dew of heaven.
+
+An hour passed by. A soft tread came to the door, but Henri heard no
+sound, and saw only the prone figure of the sleeper, and beside it the
+form of the woman, who still held his hand in her own. Still the hours
+wore on, and still the watch continued, there under the mysteries of
+Life and of Love, of Mercy and of Forgiveness. And so at last the gray
+dawn broke again. The panes of the high mullioned windows were tinged
+with splashes of color. The pale light crept into the room, slowly
+revealing and lighting up its splendors.
+
+With the dawn there came into the heart of Catharine Knollys a flood of
+light and joy. Why, she knew not; how, she cared not; yet she knew that
+the shadows were gone. The same tide of peace and calm might have swept
+into the bosom of the man before her. He stirred, moved. His eyes opened
+wide, in their gaze wonder and disbelief, yet hope and longing.
+
+"Catharine," he murmured, "Catharine! Is it you? Catharine! Dear Kate!"
+
+She bent over and softly kissed his face. "Dear heart," she whispered,
+"I have loved you always. Awake. The day has come. There is another
+world before us. See, I have come to you, dear heart, for Faith, and for
+Love, and for Hope!"
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 14001 ***
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+<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 14001 ***</div>
+<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Mississippi Bubble, by Emerson Hough,
+Illustrated by Henry Hutt</h1>
+<hr class="full" noshade>
+<br />
+
+
+<center>
+<img src="images/img1.jpg" height="391" width="300"
+alt="Frontispiece">
+</center>
+
+<h1>THE MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE</h1>
+
+<br />
+
+<h2>HOW THE STAR OF GOOD FORTUNE ROSE
+AND SET AND ROSE AGAIN, BY A WOMAN'S
+GRACE, FOR ONE JOHN LAW <i>of</i> LAURISTON</h2>
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+
+<h2>A NOVEL <i>by</i> EMERSON HOUGH</h2>
+<h3>THE ILLUSTRATIONS <i>by</i> HENRY HUTT</h3>
+
+<h4>NINETEEN HUNDRED TWO</h4>
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+
+<h3>TO<br />
+L.C.H.</h3>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<h2>CONTENTS</h2>
+
+<!-- Autogenerated TOC. Modify or delete as required. -->
+ <a href='#BOOK_I'><b>BOOK I</b></a><br />
+ <br />
+ <a href='#CHAPTER_I'><b>CHAPTER I&mdash;THE RETURNED TRAVELER</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#CHAPTER_II'><b>CHAPTER II&mdash;AT SADLER'S WELLS</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#CHAPTER_III'><b>CHAPTER III&mdash;JOHN LAW OF LAURISTON</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#CHAPTER_IV'><b>CHAPTER IV&mdash;THE POINT OF HONOR</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#CHAPTER_V'><b>CHAPTER V&mdash;DIVERS EMPLOYMENTS OF JOHN LAW</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#CHAPTER_VI'><b>CHAPTER VI&mdash;THE RESOLUTION OF MR. LAW</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#CHAPTER_VII'><b>CHAPTER VII&mdash;TWO MAIDS A-BROIDERING</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#CHAPTER_VIII'><b>CHAPTER VIII&mdash;CATHARINE KNOLLYS</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#CHAPTER_IX'><b>CHAPTER IX&mdash;IN SEARCH OF THE QUARREL</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#CHAPTER_X'><b>CHAPTER X&mdash;THE RUMOR OF THE QUARREL</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#CHAPTER_XI'><b>CHAPTER XI&mdash;AS CHANCE DECREED</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#CHAPTER_XII'><b>CHAPTER XII&mdash;FOR FELONY</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#CHAPTER_XIII'><b>CHAPTER XIII&mdash;THE MESSAGE</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#CHAPTER_XIV'><b>CHAPTER XIV&mdash;PRISONERS</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#CHAPTER_XV'><b>CHAPTER XV&mdash;IF THERE WERE NEED</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#CHAPTER_XVI'><b>CHAPTER XVI&mdash;THE ESCAPE</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#CHAPTER_XVII'><b>CHAPTER XVII&mdash;WHITHER</b></a><br />
+
+ <br />
+ <a href='#BOOK_II'><b>BOOK II</b></a><br />
+ <br />
+ <a href='#BOOK_II_CHAPTER_I'><b>CHAPTER I&mdash;THE DOOR OF THE WEST</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#BOOK_II_CHAPTER_II'><b>CHAPTER II&mdash;THE STORM</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#BOOK_II_CHAPTER_III'><b>CHAPTER III&mdash;AU LARGE</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#BOOK_II_CHAPTER_IV'><b>CHAPTER IV&mdash;THE PATHWAY OF THE WATERS</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#BOOK_II_CHAPTER_V'><b>CHAPTER V&mdash;MESSASEBE</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#BOOK_II_CHAPTER_VI'><b>CHAPTER VI&mdash;MAIZE</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#BOOK_II_CHAPTER_VII'><b>CHAPTER VII&mdash;THE BRINK OF CHANGE</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#BOOK_II_CHAPTER_VIII'><b>CHAPTER VIII&mdash;TOUS SAUVAGES</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#BOOK_II_CHAPTER_IX'><b>CHAPTER IX&mdash;THE DREAM</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#BOOK_II_CHAPTER_X'><b>CHAPTER X&mdash;BY THE HILT OF THE SWORD</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#BOOK_II_CHAPTER_XI'><b>CHAPTER XI&mdash;THE IROQUOIS</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#BOOK_II_CHAPTER_XII'><b>CHAPTER XII&mdash;PRISONERS OF THE IROQUOIS</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#BOOK_II_CHAPTER_XIII'><b>CHAPTER XIII&mdash;THE SACRIFICE</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#BOOK_II_CHAPTER_XIV'><b>CHAPTER XIV&mdash;THE EMBASSY</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#BOOK_II_CHAPTER_XV'><b>CHAPTER XV&mdash;THE GREAT PEACE</b></a><br />
+
+ <br />
+ <a href='#BOOK_III'><b>BOOK III</b></a><br />
+ <br />
+ <a href='#BOOK_III_CHAPTER_I'><b>CHAPTER I&mdash;THE GRAND MONARQUE</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#BOOK_III_CHAPTER_II'><b>CHAPTER II&mdash;EVER SAID SHE NAY</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#BOOK_III_CHAPTER_III'><b>CHAPTER III&mdash;SEARCH THOU MY HEART</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#BOOK_III_CHAPTER_IV'><b>CHAPTER IV&mdash;THE REGENT'S PROMISE</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#BOOK_III_CHAPTER_V'><b>CHAPTER V&mdash;A DAY OF MIRACLES</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#BOOK_III_CHAPTER_VI'><b>CHAPTER VI&mdash;THE GREATEST NEED</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#BOOK_III_CHAPTER_VII'><b>CHAPTER VII&mdash;THE MIRACLE UNWROUGHT</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#BOOK_III_CHAPTER_VIII'><b>CHAPTER VIII&mdash;THE LITTLE SUPPER OF THE REGENT</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#BOOK_III_CHAPTER_IX'><b>CHAPTER IX&mdash;THE NEWS</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#BOOK_III_CHAPTER_X'><b>CHAPTER X&mdash;MASTER AND MAN</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#BOOK_III_CHAPTER_XI'><b>CHAPTER XI&mdash;THE BREAKING OF THE BUBBLE</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#BOOK_III_CHAPTER_XII'><b>CHAPTER XII&mdash;THAT WHICH REMAINED</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#BOOK_III_CHAPTER_XIII'><b>CHAPTER XIII&mdash;THE QUALITY OF MERCY</b></a><br />
+
+<!-- End Autogenerated TOC. -->
+<br />
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+
+<h2><b>THE MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE</b></h2>
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+
+<a name='BOOK_I'></a><h2>BOOK I</h2>
+
+<h3>ENGLAND</h3>
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+
+<a name='CHAPTER_I'></a><h3>CHAPTER I</h3>
+
+<h4>THE RETURNED TRAVELER</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>&quot;Gentlemen, this is America!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The speaker cast upon the cloth-covered table a singular object, whose
+like none of those present had ever seen. They gathered about and bent
+over it curiously.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;This is that America,&quot; the speaker repeated. &quot;Here you have it,
+barbaric, wonderful, abounding!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>With sudden gesture he swept his hand among the gold coin that lay on
+the gaming table. He thrust into the mouth of the object before him a
+handful of louis d'or and English sovereigns. &quot;There is your America,&quot;
+said he. &quot;It runs over with gold. No man may tell its richness. Its
+beauty you can not imagine.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Faith,&quot; said Sir Arthur Pembroke, bending over the table with glass in
+eye, &quot;if the ladies of that land have feet for this sort of shoon,
+methinks we might well emigrate. Take you the money of it. For me, I
+would see the dame could wear such shoe as this.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>One after another this company of young Englishmen, hard players, hard
+drinkers, gathered about the table and bent over to examine the little
+shoe. It was an Indian moccasin, cut after the fashion of the Abenakis,
+from the skin of the wild buck, fashioned large and full for the spread
+of the foot, covered deep with the stained quills of the porcupine, and
+dotted here and there with the precious beads which, to the maker, had
+more worth than any gold. A little flap came up for cover to the ankle,
+and a thong fell from its upper edge. It was the ancient foot-covering
+of the red race of America, made for the slight but effectual protection
+of the foot, while giving perfect freedom to the tread of the wearer.
+Light, dainty and graceful, its size was much less than that of the
+average woman's shoe of that time and place.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Bah! Pembroke,&quot; said Castleton, pushing up the shade above his eyes
+till it rested on his forehead, &quot;'tis a child's shoe.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Not so,&quot; said the first speaker. &quot;I give you my word 'tis the moccasin
+of my sweetheart, a princess in her own right, who waits my coming on
+the Ottawa. And so far from the shoe being too small, I say as a
+gentleman that she not only wore it so, but in addition used somewhat
+of grass therein in place of hose.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The earnestness of this speech in no wise prevented the peal of laughter
+that followed.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There you have it, Pembroke,&quot; cried Castleton. &quot;Would you move to a
+land where princesses use hay for hosiery?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis curious done,&quot; said Pembroke, musingly, &quot;none the less.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And done by her own hand,&quot; said the owner of the shoe, with a certain
+proprietary pride.</p>
+
+<p>Again the laughter broke out. &quot;Do your princesses engage in shoemaking?&quot;
+asked a third gamester as he pushed into the ring. &quot;Sure it must be a
+rare land. Prithee, what doth the king in handicraft? Doth he take to
+saddlery, or, perhaps, smithing?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Have done thy jests, Wilson,&quot; cried Pembroke. &quot;Mayhap there is somewhat
+to be learned here of this New World and of our dear cousins, the
+French. Go on, tell us, Monsieur du Mesne&mdash;as I think you call yourself,
+sir?&mdash;tell us more of your new country of ice and snow, of princesses
+and little shoes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The original speaker went a bit sullen, what with his wine and the jests
+of his companions. &quot;I'll tell ye naught,&quot; said he. &quot;Go see for
+yourselves, by leave of Louis.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Come now,&quot; said Pembroke, conciliatingly. &quot;We'll all admit our
+ignorance. 'Tis little we know of our own province of Virginia, save
+that Virginia is a land of poverty and tobacco. Wealth&mdash;faith, if ye
+have wealth in your end of the continent, 'tis time we English fought ye
+for it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Methinks you English are having enough to do here close at home,&quot;
+sneered Du Mesne. &quot;I have heard somewhat of Steinkirk, and how ye ran
+from the half-dressed gentlemen of France.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Dark looks followed this bold speech, which cut but too closely to the
+quick of English pride. Pembroke quelled the incipient outcry with
+calmer speech.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Peace, friends,&quot; said he. &quot;'Tis not arms we argue here, after all. We
+are but students at the feet of Monsieur du Mesne, who hath returned
+from foreign parts. Prithee, sir, tell us more.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Tell ye more&mdash;and if I did, would ye believe it? What if I tell ye of
+great rivers far to the west of the Ottawa; of races as strange to my
+princess's people as we are to them; of streams whose sands run in gold,
+where diamonds and sapphires are to be picked up as ye like? If I told
+ye, would ye believe?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The martial hearts and adventurous souls of the circle about him began
+to show in the heightened color and closer crowding of the young men to
+the table. Silence fell upon the group.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ye know nothing, in this old rotten world, of what there is yet to be
+found in America,&quot; cried Du Mesne. &quot;For myself, I have been no farther
+than the great falls of the Ontoneagrea&mdash;a mere trifle of a cataract,
+gentlemen, into which ye might pitch your tallest English cathedral and
+sink it beyond its pinnacle with ease. Yet I have spoke with the holy
+fathers who have journeyed far to the westward, even to the vast
+Messasebe, which is well known to run into the China sea upon some
+far-off coast not yet well charted. I have also read the story of
+Sagean, who was far to the west of that mighty river. Did not the latter
+see and pursue and kill in fair fight the giant unicorn, fabled of
+Scripture? Is not that animal known to be a creature of the East, and
+may we not, therefore, be advised that this new country takes hold upon
+the storied lands of the East? Why, this holy friar with whom I spoke,
+fresh back from his voyaging to the cold upper ways of the Northern
+tribes, who live beyond the far-off channel at Michilimackinac&mdash;did he
+not tell of a river of the name of the Blue Earth, and did he not
+himself see turquoises and diamonds and emeralds taken in handfuls from
+this same blue earth? Ah, bah! gentlemen, Europe for you if ye like, but
+for me, back I go, so soon as I may get proper passage and a connection
+which will warrant me the voyage. Back I go to Canada, to America, to
+the woods and streams. I would see again my ancient Du L'hut, and my
+comrade Pierre Noir, and T&ecirc;te Gris, the trapper from the Mistasing&mdash;free
+traders all. Life is there for the living, my comrades. This Old World,
+small and outworn, no more of it for me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And why came you back to this little Old World of ours, an you loved
+the New World so much?&quot; asked the cynical voice of him who had been
+called Wilson.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;By the body of God!&quot; cried Du Mesne, &quot;think ye I came of my own free
+will? Look here, and find your reason.&quot; He stripped back the opening of
+his doublet and under waistcoat, and showed upon his broad shoulder the
+scar of a red tri-point, deep and livid upon his flesh. &quot;Look! There is
+the fleur-de-lis of France. That is why I came. I have rowed in the
+galleys, me&mdash;me a free man, a man of the woods of New France!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Murmurs of concern passed among the little group. Castleton rose from
+his chair and leaned with his hands upon the table, gazing now at the
+face and now at the bared shoulder of this stranger, who had by chance
+become a member of their nightly party.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I have not been in London a fortnight since my escape,&quot; said the man
+with the brand. &quot;I was none the less once a good servant of Louis in New
+France, for that I found many a new tribe and many a bale of furs that
+else had never come to the Mountain for the robbery of the lying
+officers who claim the robe of Louis. I was a soldier for the king as
+well as a traveler of the forest. Was I not with the Le Moynes and the
+band that crossed the icy North and destroyed your robbing English fur
+posts on the Bay of Hudson? I fought there and helped blow down your
+barriers. I packed my own robe on my back, and walked for the king, till
+the <i>raquette</i> thongs cut my ankles to the bone. For what? When I came
+back to the settlements at Quebec I was seized for a <i>coureur de bois</i>,
+a free trader. I was herded like a criminal into a French ship, sent
+over seas to a French prison, branded with a French iron, and set like a
+brute to pull without reason at a bar of wood in the king's galleys&mdash;the
+king's hell!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And yet you are a Frenchman,&quot; sneered Wilson.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yet am I not a Frenchman,&quot; cried the other. &quot;Nor am I an Englishman. I
+am no man of a world of galleys and brands. I am a man of America!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis true what he says,&quot; spoke Pembroke. &quot;'Tis said the minister of
+Louis was feared to keep these men in the galleys, lest their fellows in
+New France should become too bitter, and should join the savages in
+their inroads on the starving settlements of Quebec and Montr&eacute;al.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;True,&quot; exclaimed Du Mesne. &quot;The <i>coureurs</i> care naught for the law and
+little for the king. As for a ruler, we have discovered that a man makes
+a most excellent sovereign for himself.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And excellent said,&quot; cried Castleton.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;None of ye know the West,&quot; went on the <i>coureur</i>. &quot;Your Virginia, we
+know well of it&mdash;a collection of beggars, prostitutes and thieves. Your
+New England&mdash;a lot of cod-fishing, starving snivelers, who are most
+concerned how to keep life in their bodies from year to year. New France
+herself, sitting ever on the edge of an icy death, with naught but
+bickerings at Quebec and naught but reluctant compliance from
+Paris&mdash;what hath she to hope? I tell ye, gentlemen, 'tis beyond, in the
+land of the Messasebe, where I shall for my part seek out my home; and
+no man shall set iron on my soul again.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He spoke bitterly. The group about him, half amused, half cynical and
+all ignorant, as were their kind at this time of the reign of William,
+were none the less impressed and thoughtful. Yet once more the sneering
+voice of Wilson broke in.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;A strange land, my friend,&quot; said he, &quot;monstrous strange. Your unicorns
+are great, and your women are little. Methinks to give thy tale
+proportion thou shouldst have shown shoon somewhat larger.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Peace! Beau,&quot; said Castleton, quickly. &quot;As for the size of the human
+foot&mdash;gad! I'll lay a roll of louis d'or that there's one dame here in
+London town can wear this slipper of New France.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Done!&quot; cried Wilson. &quot;Name the one.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;None other than the pretty Lawrence whom thou hast had under thine
+ancient wing for the past two seasons.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The face of Wilson gathered into a sudden frown at this speech. &quot;What
+doth it matter&quot;&mdash;he began.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Have done, fellows!&quot; cried Pembroke with some asperity. &quot;Lay wagers
+more fit at best, and let us have no more of this thumb-biting. Gad! the
+first we know, we'll be up for fighting among ourselves, and we all know
+how the new court doth look on that.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Come away,&quot; laughed Castleton, gaily. &quot;I'm for a pint of ale and an
+apple; and then beware! 'Tis always my fortune, when I come to this
+country drink, to win like a very countryman. I need revenge upon Lady
+Betty and her lap-dog. I've lost since ever I saw them last.&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='CHAPTER_II'></a><h3>CHAPTER II</h3>
+
+<h4>AT SADLER'S WELLS</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>Sadler's Wells, on this mild and cheery spring morning, was a scene of
+fashion and of folly. Hither came the élite of London, after the custom
+of the day, to seek remedy in the reputed qualities of the springs for
+the weariness and lassitude resultant upon the long season of polite
+dissipations which society demanded of her votaries. Bewigged dandies,
+their long coats of colors well displayed as they strutted about in the
+open, paid court there, as they did within the city gates, to the
+powdered and painted beauties who sat in their couches waiting for their
+servants to bring out to them the draft of which they craved healing for
+crow's-feet and hollow eyes. Here and there traveling merchants called
+their wares, jugglers spread their carpets, bear dancers gave their
+little spectacles, and jockeys conferred as to the merits of horse or
+hound. Hawk-nosed Jews passed among the vehicles, cursed or kicked by
+the young gallants who stood about, hat in hand, at the steps of their
+idols' carriages.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Buy my silks, pretty lady, buy my silks! Fresh from the Turkey walk on
+the Exchange, and cheaper than you can buy their like in all the
+city&mdash;buy my silks, lady!&quot; Thus the peddler with his little pack of
+finery.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;My philter, lady,&quot; cried the gipsy woman, who had left her donkey cart
+outside the line. &quot;My philter! 'Twill keep-a your eyes bright and your
+cheeks red for ay. Secret of the Pharaohs, lady; and but a shilling!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Have ye a parrot, ma'am? Have ye never a parrot to keep ye free and
+give ye laughter every hour? Buy my parrot, lady. Just from the Gold
+Coast. He'll talk ye Spanish, Flemish or good city tongue. Buy my parrot
+at ten crowns, and so cheap, lady!&quot; So spoke the ear-ringed sailor, who
+might never have seen a salter water than the Thames.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Powder-puffs for the face, lady,&quot; whispered a lean and weazen-faced
+hawker, slipping among the crowd with secrecy. &quot;See my puff, made from
+the foot of English hares. Rubs out all wrinkles, lady, and keeps ye
+young as when ye were a lass. But a shilling, a shilling. See!&quot; And with
+the pretense of secrecy the seller would sidle up to a carriage of some
+dame, slip to her the hare's foot and take the shilling with an air as
+though no one could see what none could fail to notice.</p>
+
+<p>Above these mingled cries of the hangers-on of this crowd of nobility
+and gentles rose the blare of crude music, and cries far off and
+confused. Above it all shone the May sun, brighter here than lower
+toward the Thames. In the edge of London town it was, all this little
+pageant, and from the residence squares below and far to the westward
+came the carriages and the riders, gathering at the spot which for the
+hour was the designated rendezvous of capricious fashion. No matter if
+the tower at the drinking curb was crowded, so that inmates of the
+coaches could not find way among the others. There was at least magic in
+the morning, even if one might not drink at the chalybeate spring.
+Cheeks did indeed grow rosy, and eyes brightened under the challenge not
+only of the dawn but of the ardent eyes that gazed impertinently bold or
+reproachfully imploring.</p>
+
+<p>Far-reaching was the line of the gentility, to whose flanks clung the
+rabble of trade. Back upon the white road came yet other carriages,
+saluted by those departing. Low hedges of English green reached out into
+the distance, blending ultimately at the edge of the pleasant sky. Merry
+enough it was, and gladsome, this spring day; for be sure the really ill
+did not brave the long morning ride to test the virtue of the waters of
+Sadler's Wells. It was for the most part the young, the lively, the
+full-blooded, perhaps the wearied, but none the less the vital and
+stirring natures which met in the decreed assemblage.</p>
+
+<p>Back of Sadler's little court the country came creeping close up to the
+town. There were fields not so far away on these long highways.
+Wandering and rambling roads ran off to the westward and to the north,
+leading toward the straight old Roman road which once upon a time ran
+down to London town. Ill-kept enough were some of the lanes, with their
+hedges and shrubs overhanging the highways, if such the paths could be
+called which came braiding down toward the south. One needed not to go
+far outward beyond Sadler's Wells of a night-time to find adventure, or
+to lose a purse.</p>
+
+<p>It was on one of these less crowded highways that there was this morning
+enacted a curious little drama. The sun was still young and not too
+strong for comfort, and as it rose back of the square of Sadler's it
+cast a shadow from a hedge which ran angling toward the southeast. Its
+rays, therefore, did not disturb the slumbers of two young men who were
+lying beneath the shelter of the hedge. Strange enough must have been
+the conclusions of the sun could it have looked over the barrier and
+peered into the faces of these youths. Evidently they were of good
+breeding and some station, albeit their garb was not of the latest
+fashion. The gray hose and the clumsy shoes plainly bespoke some
+northern residence. The wig of each lacked the latest turn, perhaps the
+collar of the coat was not all it should have been. There was but one
+coat visible, for the other, rolled up as a pillow, served to support
+the heads of both. The elder of the two was the one who had sacrificed
+his covering. The other was more restless in his attitude, and though
+thus the warmer for a coat, was more in need of comfort. A white bandage
+covered his wrist, and the linen was stained red. Yet the two slept on,
+well into the morn, well into the rout of Sadler's Wells. Evidently they
+were weary.</p>
+
+<p>The elder man was the taller of the two; as he lay on the bank beneath
+the hedge, he might even in that posture have been seen to own a figure
+of great strength and beauty. His face, bold of outline, with well
+curved, wide jaw and strong cheek bones, was shaded by the tangled mat
+of his wig, tousled in his sleep. His hands, long and graceful, lay idly
+at his side, though one rested lightly on the hilt of the sword which
+lay near him. The ruffles of his shirt were torn, and, indeed, had
+almost disappeared. By study one might have recognized them in the
+bandage about the hand of the other. Somewhat disheveled was this
+youth, yet his young, strong body, slender and shapely, seemed even in
+its rest strangely full of power and confidence.</p>
+
+<p>The younger man was in some fashion an epitome of the other, and it had
+needed little argument to show the two were brothers. But why should two
+brothers, well-clad and apparently well-to-do, probably brothers from a
+country far to the north, be thus lying like common vagabonds beneath an
+English hedge?</p>
+
+<p>Far down the roadway there rose a cloud of dust, which came steadily
+nearer, following the only vehicle in sight, probably the only one which
+had passed that morning. As this little dust-cloud came slowly nearer it
+might have been seen to rise from the wheels of a richly-built and
+well-appointed coach. Four dark horses obeyed the reins handled by a
+solemn-visaged lackey on the box, and there was a goodly footman at the
+back. Within the coach were two passengers such as might have set
+Sadler's Wells by the ears. They sat on the same seat, as equals, and
+their heads lay close together, as confidantes. The tongues of both ran
+fast and free. Long gloves covered the arms of these beauties, and their
+costumes showed them to be of station. The crinoline of the two filled
+all the body of the ample coach from seat to seat, and the folds of
+their figured muslins, flowing out over this ample outline, gave to the
+face of each a daintiness of contour and feature which was not ill
+relieved by the high head-dress of ribbons and bepowdered hair. Of the
+two ladies, one, even in despite of her crinoline, might have been seen
+to be of noble and queenly figure; the towering head-dress did not fully
+disguise the wealth of red-bronze hair. Tall and well-rounded, vigorous
+and young, not yet twenty, adored by many suitors, the Lady Catharine
+Knollys had rarely looked better than she did this morning as she drove
+out to Sadler's, for Providence alone knew what fault of a superb vital
+energy. Her eyes sparkled as she spoke, and every gesture betokened
+rather the grand young creature that she was than the valetudinarian
+going forth for healing. Her cheek, turned now and again, showed a
+clear-cut and untouched soundness that meant naught but health. It
+showed also the one blemish upon a beauty which was toasted in the court
+as faultless. Upon the left cheek there was a <i>mouche</i>, excessive in its
+size. Strangers might have commented on it. Really it covered a
+deep-stained birth-mark, the one blur upon a peerless beauty. Yet even
+this might be forgotten, as it was now.</p>
+
+<p>The companion of the Lady Catharine in her coach was a young woman,
+scarce so tall and more slender. The heavy hoop concealed much of the
+grace of figure which was her portion, but the poise of the upper body,
+free from the seat-back and erect with youthful strength as yet
+unspared, showed easily that here, too, was but an indifferent subject
+for Sadler's. Dark, where her companion was fair, and with the glossy
+texture of her own somber locks showing in the individual roll which ran
+back into the absurd <i>fontange</i> of false hair and falser powder, Mary
+Connynge made good foil for her bosom friend; though honesty must admit
+that neither had yet much concern for foils, since both had their full
+meed of gallants. Much seen together, they were commonly known, as the
+Morning and Eve, sometimes as Aurora and Eve. Never did daughter of the
+original Eve have deeper feminine guile than Mary Connynge. Soft of
+speech&mdash;as her friend, the Lady Catharine, was impulsive,&mdash;slow, suave,
+amber-eyed and innocent of visage, this young English woman, with no
+dower save that of beauty and of wit, had not failed of a sensation at
+the capital whither she had come as guest of the Lady Catharine. Three
+captains and a squire, to say nothing of a gouty colonel, had already
+fallen victims, and had heard their fate in her low, soft tones, which
+could whisper a fashionable oath in the accent of a hymn, and say &quot;no&quot;
+so sweetly that one could only beg to hear the word again. It was
+perhaps of some such incident that these two young maids of old London
+conversed as they trundled slowly out toward the suburb of the city.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Twould have killed you, Lady Kitty; sure 'twould have been your end to
+hear him speak! He walked the floor upon his knees, and clasped his
+hands, and followed me about like a dog in a spectacle. Lord! but I
+feared he would have thrown over the tabouret with his great feet. And
+help me, if I think not he had tears in his eyes!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;My friend,&quot; said Lady Kitty, solemnly, &quot;you must have better care of
+your conduct. I'll not have my father's old friend abused in his own
+house.&quot; At which they both burst into laughter. Youth, the blithely
+cruel, had its own way in this old coach upon the ancient dusty road, as
+it has ever had.</p>
+
+<p>But now serious affairs gained the attention of these two fairs. &quot;Tell
+me, sweetheart,&quot; said Lady Catharine, &quot;what think you of the fancy of my
+new dresser? He insists ever that the mode in Paris favors a deep bow,
+placed high upon the left side of the 'tower.' Montespan, of the French
+court, is said to have given the fashion. She hurried at her toilet, and
+placed the bow there for fault of better care. Hence, so must we if we
+are to live in town. So says my new hair-dresser from Paris. 'Tis to
+Paris we must go for the modes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I am not so sure,&quot; began Mary Connynge, &quot;as to this arrangement. Now I
+am much disposed to believe&mdash;&quot; but what she was disposed to believe at
+that time was not said, then or ever afterward, for at that moment there
+happened matters which ended their little talk; matters which divided
+their two lives, and which, in the end, drove them as far apart as two
+continents could carry them.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;O Gemini!&quot; called out Mary Connynge, as the coachman for a moment
+slackened his pace. &quot;Look! We shall be robbed!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The driver irresolutely pulled up his horses. From under the shade of
+the hedge there arose two men, of whom the taller now stood erect and
+came toward the carriage.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis no robber,&quot; said Lady Catharine Knollys, her eyes fastened on the
+tall figure which came forward.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Save us,&quot; said Mary Connynge, &quot;what a pretty man!&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='CHAPTER_III'></a><h3>CHAPTER III</h3>
+
+<h4>JOHN LAW OF LAURISTON</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>Unconsciously the coachman obeyed the unvoiced command of this man, who
+stepped out from the shelter of the hedge. Travel-stained, just awakened
+from sleep, disheveled, with dress disordered, there was none the less
+abundant boldness in his mien as he came forward, yet withal the grace
+and deference of the courtier. It was a good figure he made as he
+stepped down from the bank and came forward, hat in hand, the sun, now
+rising to the top of the hedge, lighting up his face and showing his
+bold profile, his open and straight blue eye.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ladies,&quot; he said, as he reached the road, &quot;I crave your pardon humbly.
+This, I think, is the coach of my Lord, the Earl of Banbury. Mayhap this
+is the Lady Catharine Knollys to whom I speak?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The lady addressed still gazed at him, though she drew up with dignity.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You have quite the advantage of us,&quot; said she. She glanced uneasily at
+the coachman, but the order to go forward did not quite leave her lips.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I am not aware&mdash;I do not know&mdash;,&quot; she began, afraid of her adventure
+now it had come, after the way of all dreaming maids who prate of men
+and conquests.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I should be dull of eye did I not see the Knollys arms,&quot; said the
+stranger, smiling and bowing low. &quot;And I should be ill advised of the
+families of England did I not know that the daughter of Knollys, the
+sister of the Earl of Banbury, is the Lady Catharine, and most charming
+also. This I might say, though 'tis true I never was in London or in
+England until now.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The speech, given with all respectfulness, did not fail of flattery.
+Again the order to drive on remained unspoken. This speaker, whose foot
+was now close to the carriage step, and whose head, gravely bowed as he
+saluted the occupants of the vehicle, presented so striking a type of
+manly attractiveness, even that first moment cast some spell upon the
+woman whom he sought to interest. The eyes of the Lady Catharine Knollys
+did not turn from him. As though it were another person, she heard
+herself murmur, &quot;And you, sir?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I am John Law of Lauriston, Scotland, Madam, and entirely at your
+service. That is my brother Will, yonder by the bank.&quot; He smiled, and
+the younger man came forward, hesitatingly, and not with the address of
+his brother, though yet with the breeding of a gentleman.</p>
+
+<p>The eyes of Mary Connynge took in both men with the same look, but her
+eyes, as did those of the Lady Catharine, became most concerned with the
+first speaker.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;My brother and I are on our first journey to London,&quot; continued he,
+with a gay laugh which did not consort fully with the plight in which he
+showed. &quot;We started by coach, as gentlemen; and now we come on foot,
+like laborers or thieves. 'Twas my own fault. Yesterday I must needs
+quit the Edinboro' stage. Last night our chaise was stopped, and we were
+asked to hand our money to a pair of evil fellows who had made prey of
+us. In short&mdash;you see&mdash;we fared ill enough. Lost in the dark, we made
+what shift we could along this road, where we both are strangers. At
+last, not able to pay for better quarters even had we found them, we lay
+down to sleep. I have slept far worse. And 'tis a lovely morning. Madam,
+I thank you for this happy beginning of the day.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Mary Connynge pointed to the bandage on the younger man's arm, speaking
+a low word to her companion.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;True,&quot; said the Lady Catharine, &quot;you are injured, sir; you did not come
+off whole.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, we would hardly suffer the fellows to rob us without making some
+argument over it,&quot; said the first speaker. &quot;Indeed, I think we are the
+better off hereabouts for a brace of footpads gone to their account. I
+made them my duties as we came away. Will, here, was pricked a trifle,
+but you see we have done very well.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The face of Will Law hardly offered complete proof of this assertion. He
+had slept ill enough, and in the morning light his face showed gaunt and
+pale. Here, then, was a situation most inopportune; the coach of two
+ladies, unattended, stopped by two strangers, who certainly could not
+claim introduction by either friend or reputation.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I did but wish to ask some advice of the roads hereabout,&quot; said the
+elder brother, turning his eyes full upon those of the Lady Catharine.
+&quot;As you see, we are in ill plight to get forward to the city. If you
+will be so good as to tell me which way to take, I shall remember it
+most gratefully. Once in the city, we should do better, for the rascals
+have not taken certain papers, letters which I bear to gentlemen in the
+city&mdash;Sir Arthur Pembroke I may name as one&mdash;a friend of my father's,
+who hath had some dealings with him in the handling of moneys. I have
+also word for others, and make sure that, once we have got into town, we
+shall soon mend our fortune.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lady Catharine looked at Mary Connynge and the latter in turn gazed at
+her. &quot;There could be no harm,&quot; said each to the other with her eyes.
+&quot;Surely it is our duty to take them in with us; at least the one who is
+wounded.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Will Law had said nothing, though he had come forward to the road, and,
+bowing, stood uncovered. Now he leaned against the flank of one of the
+horses, in a tremor of vertigo which seized him as he stood. It was
+perhaps the paleness of his face that gave determination to the issue.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;William,&quot; called the Lady Catharine Knollys, &quot;open the door for Mr. Law
+of Lauriston!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The footman sprang to the ground and held open the door. Therefore, into
+the coach stepped John Law and his brother, late of Edinboro', sometime
+robbed and afoot, but now to come into London in circumstances which
+surely might have been far worse.</p>
+
+<p>John Law entered the coach with the dignity and grace of a gentleman
+born. He bowed gravely as he took his seat beside his brother, facing
+the ladies. Will Law sank back into the corner, not averse to rest. The
+eyes of the two young women did not linger more upon the wounded man
+than upon his brother. He, in turn, looked straight into their eyes,
+courteously, respectfully, gravely, yet fearlessly and calmly, as
+though he knew what power and possibilities were his. Enigma and
+autocrat alike, Beau Law of Edinboro', one of the handsomest and
+properest men ever bred on any soil, was surely a picture of vigorous
+young manhood, as he rode toward Sadler's Wells, with two of the
+beauties of the hour, and in a coach and four which might have been his
+own.</p>
+
+<p>Now all the sweet spring morning came on apace, and from the fields and
+little gardens came the breath of flowers. The sky was blue. The languor
+of springtime pulsed through the veins of those young creatures, those
+engines of life, of passion and desire. Neither of the two women saw the
+torn garb of the man before them. They saw but the curve of the strong
+chest beneath. They heard, and the one heard and felt as keenly as the
+other, the voice of the young man, musical and rich, touching some
+deep-seated and vibrating heart-string. So in the merry month of May,
+with the birds singing in the trees, and the scent of the flowers wafted
+coolly to their senses, they came on apace to the throng at Sadler's
+Wells. There it was that John Law, finding in a pocket a coin that had
+been overlooked, reached out to a vender and bought a rose. He offered
+his flower with a deep inclination of the body to the Lady Catharine.</p>
+
+<p>It was at this moment that Mary Connynge first began to hate her friend,
+the Lady Catharine Knollys.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='CHAPTER_IV'></a><h3>CHAPTER IV</h3>
+
+<h4>THE POINT OF HONOR</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>&quot;Tell me, friend Castleton,&quot; said Pembroke, banteringly, &quot;art still
+adhering to thy country drink of lamb's-wool? Methinks burnt ale and
+toasted apple might better be replaced in thy case by a beaker of
+stronger waters. You lose, and still you lose.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;May a plague take it!&quot; cried Castleton. &quot;I've had no luck these four
+days. 'Tis that cursed lap-dog of the duchess. Ugh! I saw it in my
+dreams last night.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Gad! your own fortune in love must be ill enough, Sir Arthur,&quot; said
+Beau Wilson, as he pushed back his chair during this little lull in the
+play of the evening.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And tell me why, Beau?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Because of us all who have met here at the Green Lion these last
+months, not one hath ever had so steady a run of luck. Sure some fairy
+hath befriended thee. <i>Sept et le va</i>, <i>sept et le va</i>&mdash;I'll hear it in my
+ears to-night, even as Castleton sees the lap-dog. Man, you play as
+though you read the pack quite through.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah, then, you admit that there is some such thing as a talisman. I'll
+not deny that I have had one these last three evenings, but I feared to
+tell ye all, lest I might be waylaid and robbed of my good-luck charm.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Tell us, tell us, man, what it is!&quot; cried Castleton. &quot;<i>Sept et le va</i>
+has not been made in this room before for many a month, yet here thou
+comest with the run of <i>sept et le va</i> thrice in as many hours.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, then,&quot; continued Pembroke, still smiling, &quot;I'll make a small
+confession. Here is my charm. Salute it!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He cast on the table the Indian moccasin which had been shown the same
+party at the Green Lion a few evenings before. Eager hands reached for
+it.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Treachery!&quot; cried Castleton. &quot;I bid Du Mesne four pounds for the shoe
+myself.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh ho!&quot; said Pembroke, &quot;so you too were after it. Well, the long purse
+won, as it doth ever. I secretly gave our wandering wood ranger,
+ex-galley slave of France, the neat sum of twenty-five pounds for this
+little shoe. Poor fellow, he liked ill enough to part with it; but he
+said, very sensibly, that the twenty-five pounds would take him back to
+Canada, and once there, he could not only get many such shoes, but see
+the maid who made this one for him, or, rather, made it for herself. As
+for me, the price was cheap. You could not replace it in all the
+Exchange for any money. Moreover, to show my canniness, I've won back
+its cost a score of times this very night.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He laughingly extended his hand for the moccasin, which Wilson was
+examining closely.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis clever made,&quot; said the latter. &quot;And what a tale the owner of it
+carried. If half he says be true, we do ill to bide here in old England.
+Let us take ship and follow Monsieur du Mesne.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Twould be a long chase, mayhap,&quot; said Pembroke, reflectively. Yet each
+of the men at that little table in the gaming room of the Green Lion
+coffee-house ceased in his fingering the cards, and gazed upon this
+product of another world.</p>
+
+<p>Pembroke was first to break the silence, and as he heard a footfall at
+the door, he called out:</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ho, fellow! Go fetch me another bottle of Spanish, and do not forget
+this time the brandy and water which I told thee to bring half an hour
+ago.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The step came nearer, and as it did not retreat, but entered the room,
+Pembroke called out again: &quot;Make haste, man, and go on!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The footsteps paused, and Pembroke looked up, as one does when a strange
+presence comes into the room. He saw, standing near the door, a tall and
+comely young man, whose carriage betokened him not ill-born. The
+stranger advanced and bowed gravely. &quot;Pardon me, sir,&quot; he said, &quot;but I
+fear I am awkward in thus intruding. The man showed me up the stair and
+bade me enter. He said that I should find here Sir Arthur Pembroke, upon
+whom I bear letters from friends of his in the North.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir,&quot; said Pembroke, rising and advancing, &quot;you are very welcome, and I
+ask pardon for my unwitting speech.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I come at this hour and at this place,&quot; said the newcomer, &quot;for reasons
+which may seem good a little later. My name is John Law, of Edinboro',
+sir.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>All those present arose.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir,&quot; responded Pembroke, &quot;I am delighted to have your name. I know of
+the acquaintance between your father and my own. These are friends of
+mine, and I am delighted to name ye to each other. Mr. Charles
+Castleton; Mr. Edward Wilson. We are all here to kill the ancient enemy,
+Time. 'Tis an hour of night when one gains an appetite for one thing or
+another, cards or cold joint. I know not why we should not have a bit of
+both?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;With your permission, I shall be glad to join ye at either,&quot; said John
+Law. &quot;I have still the appetite of a traveler&mdash;in faith, rather a better
+appetite than most travelers may claim, for I swear I've had no more to
+eat the last day and night than could be purchased for a pair of
+shillings.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Pembroke raised his eyebrows, scarce knowing whether to be amused at
+this speech or nettled by its cool assurance.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Some ill fortune?&quot;&mdash;he began politely.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There is no such thing as ill fortune,&quot; quoth John Law. &quot;We fail always
+of our own fault. Forsooth I must explore Roman roads by night. England
+hath builded better, and the footpads have the Roman ways. My brother
+Will&mdash;he waiteth below, if ye please, good friends, and is quite as
+hungry as myself, besides having a pricked finger to boot&mdash;and I lost
+what little we had about us, and we came through with scarce a good
+shirt between the two.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>A peal of laughter greeted him as he pulled apart the lapels of his coat
+and showed ruffles torn and disfigured. The speaker smiled gravely.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;To-morrow,&quot; said he, &quot;I must seek me out a goldsmith and a haberdasher,
+if you will be so good as to name such to me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir,&quot; said Sir Arthur Pembroke, &quot;in this plight you must allow me.&quot; He
+extended a purse which he drew from his pocket. &quot;I beg you, help
+yourself.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Thank you, no,&quot; replied John Law. &quot;I shall ask you only to show me the
+goldsmith in the morning, him upon whom I hold certain credits. I make
+no doubt that then I shall be quite fit again. I have never in my life
+borrowed a coin. Besides, I should feel that I had offended my good
+angel did I ask it to help me out of mine own folly. If we have but a
+bit of this cold joint, and a place for my brother Will to sit in
+comfort as we play, I shall beg to hope, my friends, that I shall be
+allowed to stake this trifle against a little of the money that I see
+here; which, I take it, is subject to the fortunes of war.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He tossed on the board a ring, which carried in its setting a diamond of
+size and brilliance.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;This fellow hath a cool assurance enough,&quot; muttered Beau Wilson to his
+neighbor as he leaned toward him at the table.</p>
+
+<p>Pembroke, always good-natured, laughed at the effrontery of the
+newcomer.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You say very well; it is there for the fortune of war,&quot; said he. &quot;It is
+all yours, if you can win it; but I warn you, beware, for I shall have
+your jewel and your letters of credit too, if ye keep not sharp watch.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes,&quot; said Castleton, &quot;Pembroke hath warrant for such speech. The man
+who can make <i>sept et le va</i> thrice in one evening is hard company for
+his friends.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>John Law leaned back comfortably in his chair.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I make no doubt,&quot; said he, &quot;that I shall make <i>trente et le va</i>, here
+at this table, this very evening.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Smiles and good-natured sneerings met this calm speech.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;<i>Trente et le va</i>&mdash;it hath not come out in the history of London play
+for the past four seasons!&quot; cried Wilson. &quot;I'll lay you any odds that
+you're not within eye-sight of <i>trente et le va</i> these next five
+evenings, if you favor us with your company.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Be easy with me, good friends,&quot; said John. Law, calmly. &quot;I am not yet
+in condition for individual wagers, as my jewel is my fortune, till
+to-morrow at least. But if ye choose to make the play at Lands-knecht, I
+will plunge at the bank to the best of my capital. Then, if I win, I
+shall be blithe to lay ye what ye like.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The young Englishmen sat looking at their guest with some curiosity. His
+strange assurance daunted them.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Surely this is a week of wonders,&quot; said Beau Wilson, with scarce
+covered sarcasm in his tone. &quot;First we have a wild man from Canada, with
+his fairy stories of gold and gems, and now we have another gentleman
+who apparently hath fathomed as well how to gain sudden wealth at will,
+and yet keep closer home.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Law took snuff calmly. &quot;I am not romancing, gentlemen,&quot; said he. &quot;With
+me play is not a hazard, but a science. I ought really not to lay on
+even terms with you. As I have said, there is no such thing as chance.
+There are such things as recurrences, such things as laws that govern
+all happenings.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Laughter arose again at this, though it did not disturb the newcomer,
+nor did the cries of derision which followed his announcement of his
+system.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Many a man hath come to London town with a system of play,&quot; cried
+Pembroke. &quot;Tell us, Mr. Law, what and where shall we send thee when we
+have won thy last sixpence?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Good sir,&quot; said Law, &quot;let us first of all have the joint.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I humbly crave a pardon, sir,&quot; said Pembroke. &quot;In this new sort of
+discourse I had forgot thine appetite. We shall mend that at once. Here,
+Simon! Go fetch up Mr. Law's brother, who waits below, and fetch two
+covers and a bit to eat. Some of thy new Java berry, too, and make
+haste! We have much yet to do.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That have ye, if ye are to see the bottom of my purse more than once,&quot;
+said Law gaily. &quot;See! 'tis quite empty now. I make ye all my solemn
+promise that 'twill not be empty again for twenty years. After
+that&mdash;well, the old Highland soothsayer, who dreamed for me, always told
+me to forswear play after I was forty, and never to go too near running
+water. Of the latter I was born with a horror. For play, I was born with
+a gift. Thus I foresee that this little feat which you mention is sure
+to be mine this very night. You all say that <i>trente</i> has not come up
+for many months. Well, 'tis due, and due to-night. The cards never fail
+me when I need.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;By my faith,&quot; cried Wilson, &quot;ye have a pretty way about you up in
+Scotland!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>John Law saw the veiled ill feeling, and replied at once:</p>
+
+<p>&quot;True, we have a pretty way. We had it at Killiecrankie not so long ago;
+and when the clans fight among themselves, we need still prettier ways.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Now, gentlemen,&quot; said Pembroke, &quot;none of this talk, by your leave. The
+odds are fairer here than they were at Killiecrankie's battle, and 'tis
+all of us against the Scotch again. We English stand together, but we
+stand to-night only against this threat of the ultimate fortune of the
+cards. Moreover, here comes the supper, and if I mistake not, also the
+brother of our friend.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Will bowed to one and the other gentlemen, unconsciously drifting toward
+his brother's chair.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Now we must to business,&quot; cried Castleton, as the dishes were at last
+cleared away. &quot;Show him thy talisman, Pem, and let him kiss his jewel
+good by.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Pembroke threw upon the table once more the moccasin of the Indian girl.
+John Law picked it up and examined it long and curiously, asking again
+and again searching questions regarding its origin.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I have read of this new land of America,&quot; said he. &quot;Some day it will be
+more prominent in all plans.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He laid down the slipper and mused for a moment, apparently forgetful of
+the scene about him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Perhaps,&quot; cried Castleton, the zeal of the gambler now showing in his
+eye. &quot;But let us make play here to-night. Let Pembroke bank. His luck is
+best to win this vaunter's stake.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Pembroke dealt the cards about for the first round. The queen fell. John
+Law won. &quot;<i>Deux</i>,&quot; he said calmly, and turned away as though it were a
+matter of course. The cards went round again. &quot;<i>Trois</i>,&quot; he said, as he
+glanced at his stakes, now doubled again.</p>
+
+<p>Wilson murmured. &quot;Luck's with him for a start,&quot; said he, &quot;but 'tis a
+long road.&quot; He himself had lost at the second turn. &quot;<i>Quint!</i>&quot; &quot;<i>Seix!</i>&quot;
+&quot;<i>Sept et le va!</i>&quot; in turn called Law, still coolly, still regarding with
+little interest the growing heap of coin upon the board opposite the
+glittering ring which he had left lying on the table.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;<i>Vingt-un, et le va!</i>&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Good God!&quot; cried Castleton, the sweat breaking out upon his forehead.
+&quot;See the fellow's luck!&mdash;Pembroke, sure he hath stole thy slipper. Such
+a run of cards was never seen in this room since Rigby, of the Tenth,
+made his great game four years ago.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;<i>Vingt-cinq; et le va!</i>&quot; said John Law, calmly.</p>
+
+<p>Will touched his sleeve. The stake had now grown till the money on the
+hoard meant a matter of hundreds of pounds, which might he removed at
+any turn the winner chose. It was there but for the stretching out of
+the hand. Yet this strange genius sat there, scarce deigning to smile at
+the excited faces of those about him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I'll lay thee fifty to one that the next turn sees thee lose!&quot; cried
+Castleton.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Done,&quot; said John Law.</p>
+
+<p>The iciness in the air seemed now an actual thing. There was, in the
+nature of this play, something which no man at that board, hardened
+gamesters as they all were, had ever met before. It was indeed as though
+Fate were there, with her hand upon the shoulder of a favored son.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You lose, Mr. Castleton,&quot; said Law, calmly, as the cards came again his
+way. He swept his winnings from the coin pushed out to him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Now we have thee, Mr. Law!&quot; cried Pembroke. &quot;One more turn, and I hope
+your very good nerve will leave the stake on the board, for so we'll see
+it all come back to the bank, even as the sheep come home at eventide.
+Here your lane turns. And 'tis at the last stage, for the next is the
+limit of the rules of the game. But you'll not win it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Anything you like for a little personal wager,&quot; said the other, with no
+excitement in his voice.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, then, anything you like yourself, sir,&quot; said Pembroke.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Your little slipper against fifty pounds?&quot; asked John Law.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why&mdash;yes&mdash;,&quot; hesitated Pembroke, for the moment feeling a doubt of the
+luck that had favored him so long that evening. &quot;I'd rather make it
+sovereigns, but since you name the slipper, I even make it so, for I
+know there is but one chance in hundreds that you win.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The players leaned over the table as the deal went on. Once, twice,
+thrice, the cards went round. A sigh, a groan, a long breath broke from
+those who looked at the deal. Neither groan nor sigh came from John Law.
+He gazed indifferently at the heap of coin and paper that lay on the
+table, and which, by the law of play, was now his own.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;<i>Trente et le va</i>,&quot; he said. &quot;I knew that it would come. Sir Arthur, I
+half regret to rob thee thus, but I shall ask my slipper in hand paid.
+Pardon me, too, if I chide thee for risking it in play. Gentlemen, there
+is much in this little shoe, empty as it is.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He dandled it upon his finger, hardly looking at the winnings that lay
+before him. &quot;'Tis monstrous pretty, this little shoe,&quot; he said, rousing
+himself from his half reverie.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Confound thee, man!&quot; cried Castleton, &quot;that is the only thing we
+grudge. Of sovereigns there are plenty at the coinage&mdash;but of a shoe
+like this, there is not the equal this day in England!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;So?&quot; laughed Law. &quot;Well, consider, 'tis none too easy to make the run
+of <i>trente</i>. Risk hath its gains, you know, by all the original laws of
+earth and nature.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But heard you not the wager which was proposed over the little shoe?&quot;
+broke in Castleton. &quot;Wilson, here, was angered when I laid him odds that
+there was but one woman in London could wear this shoe. I offered him
+odds that his good friend, Kittie Lawrence&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Nor had ye the right to offer such bet!&quot; cried Wilson, ruffled by the
+doings of the evening.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I'll lay you myself there's no woman in England whom you know with foot
+small enough to wear it,&quot; cried Castleton.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Meaning to me?&quot; asked Law, politely.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;To any one,&quot; cried Castleton, quickly, &quot;but most to thee, I fancy,
+since 'tis now thy shoe!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I'll lay you forty crowns, then, that I know a smaller foot than that
+of Madam Lawrence,&quot; said Law, suavely. &quot;I'll lay you another forty
+crowns that I'll try it on for the test, though I first saw the lady
+this very morning. I'll lay you another forty crowns that Madam Lawrence
+can not wear this shoe, though her I have never seen.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>These words rankled, though they were said offhand and with the license
+of coffee-house talk at so late an hour. Beau Wilson rose, in a somewhat
+unsteady attitude, and, turning towards Law, addressed him with a tone
+which left small option as to its meaning.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sirrah!&quot; cried he, &quot;I know not who you are, but I would have a word or
+two of good advice for you!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir, I thank you,&quot; said John Law, &quot;but perhaps I do not need advice.&quot;
+He did not rise from his seat.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Have it then at any rate, and be civil!&quot; cried the older man. &quot;You seem
+a swaggering sort, with your talk of love and luck, and such are sure to
+get their combs cut early enough here among Englishmen. I'll not
+tolerate your allusion to a lady you have never met, and one I honor
+deeply, sir, deeply!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I am but a young man started out to seek his fortune,&quot; said John Law,
+his eye kindling now for the first time, &quot;and I should do very ill if I
+evaded that fortune, whatsoever it may be.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then you'll take back that talk of Mrs. Lawrence!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I have made no talk of Mrs. Lawrence, sir,&quot; said Law, &quot;and even had I,
+I should take back nothing for a demand like yours. 'Tis not meet, sir,
+where no offense was meant, to crowd in an offensive remark.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Pembroke said nothing. The situation was ominous enough at this point. A
+sudden gravity and dignity fell upon the young men who sat there,
+schooled in an etiquette whose first lesson was that of personal
+courage.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sirrah!&quot; cried Beau Wilson, &quot;I perceive your purpose. If you prove good
+enough to name lodgings where you may he found by my friends, I shall
+ask leave to bid you a very good night.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>So speaking, Wilson flung out of the room. A silence fell upon those
+left within.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sirs,&quot; said Law, a moment later, &quot;I beg you to bear witness that this
+is no matter of my seeking or accepting. This gentleman is a stranger to
+me. I hardly got his name fair.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Wilson is his name, sir,&quot; said Pembroke, &quot;a very good friend of us all.
+He is of good family, and doth keep his coach-and-four like any
+gentleman. For him we may vouch very well.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Wilson!&quot; cried Law, springing now to his feet. &quot;'Tis not him known as
+Beau Wilson? Why, my dear sirs, his father was friend to many of my kin
+long ago. Why, sir, this is one of those to whom my mother bade me look
+to get my first ways of London well laid out.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;These are some of the ways of London,&quot; said Pembroke, grimly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But is there no fashion in which this matter can be accommodated?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Pembroke and Castleton looked at each other, rose and passed him, each
+raising his hat and bowing courteously.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Your servant, sir,&quot; said the one; and, &quot;Your servant, sir,&quot; said the
+other.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='CHAPTER_V'></a><h3>CHAPTER V</h3>
+
+<h4>DIVERS EMPLOYMENTS OF JOHN LAW</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>&quot;And when shall I send these garments to your Lordship?&quot; asked the
+haberdasher, with whom Law was having speech on the morning following
+the first night in London.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Two weeks from to-day,&quot; said Law, &quot;in the afternoon, and not later than
+four o'clock. I shall have need for them.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Impossible!&quot; said the tradesman, hitherto obsequious, but now smitten
+with the conviction regarding the limits of human possibilities.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;At that hour, or not at all,&quot; said John Law, calmly. &quot;At that time I
+shall perhaps be at my lodgings, 59 Bradwell Street, West. As I have
+said to you, I am not clad as I could wish. It is not a matter of your
+convenience, but of mine own.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But, sir,&quot; expostulated the other, &quot;you order of the best. Nothing, I
+am sure, save the utmost of good workmanship would please you. I should
+like a month of time upon these garments, in order to make them worthy
+of yourself. Moreover, there are orders of the nobility already in our
+hands will occupy us more than past the time you name. Make it three
+weeks, sir, and I promise&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>His customer only shook his head and reiterated, &quot;You heard me well.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The tailor, sore puzzled, not wishing to lose a customer who came so
+well recommended, and yet hesitating at the exactions of that customer,
+sat with perplexity written upon his brow.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;So!&quot; exclaimed Law. &quot;Sir Arthur Pembroke told me that you were a clever
+fellow and could execute exact any order I might give you. Now it
+appears to me you are like everybody else. You prate only of hardships
+and of impossibilities.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The perspiration fairly stood out on the forehead of the man of trade.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir,&quot; said he, &quot;I should be glad to please not only a friend of Sir
+Arthur Pembroke, but also a gentleman of such parts as yourself. I
+hesitate to promise&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But you must promise,&quot; said John Law.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, then, I do promise! I will have this apparel at your place on the
+day which you name. 'Tis most extraordinary, but the order shall be
+executed.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;As I thought,&quot; said John Law.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But I must thank you besides,&quot; resumed the tradesman. &quot;In good truth I
+must say that of all the young gentlemen who come hither&mdash;and I may show
+the names of the best nobility of London and of some ports beyond
+seas&mdash;there hath never stepped within these doors a better figure than
+yourself&mdash;nay, not so good. And I am a judge of men.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Law looked at him carelessly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You shall make me none the easier, nor yourself the easier, by soft
+speech,&quot; said he, &quot;if you have not these garments ready by the time
+appointed. Send them, and you shall have back the fifty sovereigns by
+the messenger, with perhaps a coin or so in addition if all be well.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The air of this nobility!&quot; said the tailor, but smiling with pleasure
+none the less. &quot;This is, perhaps, some affair with a lady?&quot; he added.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis an affair with a lady, and also with certain gentlemen.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, so,&quot; said the tailor. &quot;If it he, forsooth, an enterprise with a
+lady, methinks I know the outcome now.&quot; He gazed with professional pride
+upon the symmetrical figure before him. &quot;You shall be all the better
+armed when well fitted in my garments. Not all London shall furnish a
+properer figure of a man, nor one better clad, when I shall have done
+with you, sir.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Law but half heard him, for he was already turning toward the door,
+where he beckoned again for his waiting chair.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;To the offices of the Bank of England,&quot; he directed. And forthwith he
+was again jogging through the crowded streets of London.</p>
+
+<p>The offices of the Bank of England, to which this young adventurer now
+so nonchalantly directed his course, were then not housed in any such
+stately edifice as that which now covers the heart of the financial
+world, nor did the location of the young and struggling institution, in
+a by-street of the great city, tend to give dignity to a concern which
+still lacked importance and assuredness. Thither, then, might have gone
+almost any young traveler who needed a letter of credit cashed, or a
+bill changed after the fashion of the passing goldsmiths.</p>
+
+<p>Yet it was not as mere transient customer of a money-changer that young
+Law now sought the Bank of England, nor was it as a commercial house
+that the bank then commanded attention. That bank, young as it was, had
+already become a pillar of the throne of England. William, distracted by
+wars abroad and factions at home, found his demands for funds ever in
+excess of the supply. More than that, the people of England discovered
+themselves in possession of a currency fluctuating, mutilated, and
+unstable, so that no man knew what was his actual fortune. The shrewd
+young financier, Montague, chancellor of the exchequer, who either by
+wisdom or good fortune had sanctioned the founding of the Bank of
+England, was at this very time addressing himself to the question of a
+recoinage of the specie of the realm of England. He needed help, he
+demanded ideas; nor was he too particular whence he obtained either the
+one or the other.</p>
+
+<p>John Law was in London on no such blind quest as he had himself
+declared. He was here by the invitation, secret yet none the less
+obligatory, of Montague, controller of the financial policy of England.
+And he was to meet, here upon this fair morning, none less than my Lord
+Somers, keeper of the seals; none less than Sir Isaac Newton, the
+greatest mathematician of his time; none less than John Locke, the most
+learned philosopher of the day. Strong company this, for a young and
+unknown man, yet in the belief of Montague, himself a young man and a
+gambler by instinct, not too strong for this young Scotchman who had
+startled the Parliament of his own land by some of the most remarkable
+theories of finance which had ever been proposed in any country or to
+any government. As Law had himself arrogantly announced, he was indeed a
+philosopher and a mathematician, young as he was; and these things
+Montague was himself keen enough to know.</p>
+
+<p>It promised, then, to be a strange and interesting council, this which
+was to meet to-day at the Bank of England, to adjust the value of
+England's coinage; two philosophers, one pompous trimmer, and two
+gamblers; the younger and more daring of whom was now calmly threading
+the streets of London on his way to a meeting which might mean much to
+him.</p>
+
+<p>To John Law, adventurer, mathematician, philosopher, gambler, it seemed
+a natural enough thing that he should be asked to sit at the council
+table with the ablest minds of the day and pass upon questions the most
+important. This was not what gave him trouble. This matter of the
+coinage, these questions of finance&mdash;they were easy. But how to win the
+interest of the tall and gracious English girl whom he had met by chance
+that other morn, who had left no way open for a further meeting; how to
+gain access to the presence of that fair one&mdash;these were the questions
+which to John Law seemed of greater importance, and of greater
+difficulty in the answering.</p>
+
+<p>The chair drew up at the somber quarters where the meeting had been set.
+Law knew the place by instinct, even without seeing the double row of
+heavy-visaged London constabulary which guarded the entrance. Here and
+there along the street were carriages and chairs, and multiplied
+conveyances of persons of consequence. Upon the narrow pavement, and
+within the little entrance-way that led to the inner room, there bustled
+about important-looking men, some with hooked noses, most with florid
+faces and well-fed bodies, but all with a certain dignity and sobriety
+of expression.</p>
+
+<p>Montague himself, young, smooth-faced, dark-eyed, of active frame, of
+mobile and pleasing features, sat at the head of a long table. The
+high-strung quality of his nervous system was evidenced in his restless
+hands, his attitude frequently changed.</p>
+
+<p>At the left of Montague sat Somers, lord keeper; older, of more steady
+demeanor, of fuller figure, of bold face and full light eye, a
+politician, not a ponderer. At the right of Montague, grave, silent,
+impassive, now and again turning a contemplative eye about him, sat that
+great man. Sir Isaac Newton, known then to every nobleman, and now to
+every schoolboy, of the world. A gem-like mind, keen, clear, hard and
+brilliant, exact in every facet, and forsooth held in the setting of an
+iron body. Gentle, unmoved, self-assured, Sir Issac Newton was calm as
+morn itself as he sat in readiness to give England the benefit of his
+wisdom.</p>
+
+<p>Beyond sat John Locke, abstruse philosopher, a man thinner and darker
+than his <i>confr&egrave;re</i>, with large full orb, with the brow of the student
+and the man of thought. In dignity he shared with the learned gentleman
+sitting near him.</p>
+
+<p>All those at the board looked with some intentness at the figure of the
+young man from the North, who came as the guest of Montague. With small
+formality, the latter rose and advanced to meet Law with an eager grasp
+of the hand. He made him known to the others present promptly, but with
+a half apology.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Gentlemen,&quot; said he, &quot;I have made bold to ask the presence with us of a
+young man who has much concerned himself with problems such as those
+which we have now in hand. Sir Isaac Newton, this is Mr. Law of
+Edinboro'. Mr. Law, the fame of John Locke I need not lay before you,
+and of my Lord Somers you need no advice. Mr. Law, I shall pray you to
+be seated.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I shall but serve as your mouthpiece to the Court, gentlemen,&quot; resumed
+Montague, seating himself and turning at once to the business of the
+day. &quot;We are all agreed as to the urgency of the case. The king needs
+behind him in these times a contented people. You have already seen the
+imminence of a popular discontent which may shake the throne of England,
+none too safe in these days of change. That we must reorganize the
+coinage is understood and agreed. The question is, how best to do this
+without further unsettling the times. My Lord Keeper, I must beg you for
+your suggestions.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir,&quot; said Somers, shifting and coughing, &quot;it is as you say. The
+question is of great moment. I should suggest a decree that the old coin
+shall pass by weight alone and not by its face value. Call in all the
+coin and have it weighed, the government to make future payment to the
+owner of the coin of the difference between its nominal and its real
+value. The coin itself should be restored forthwith to its owner. Hence
+the trade and the credit of the realm would not suffer. The money of the
+country would be withdrawn from the use of the country only that short
+time wherein it was in process of counting. This, it occurs to me, would
+surely be a practical method, and could work harm to none.&quot; My Lord
+Somers sat back, puffing out his chest complacently.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir Isaac,&quot; said Montague, &quot;and Mr. Locke, we must beg you to find such
+fault as you may with this plan which my Lord Keeper hath suggested.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Sir Isaac made no immediate reply. John Locke stirred gently in his
+chair. &quot;There seemeth much to commend in this plan of my Lord Keeper,&quot;
+said he, leaning slightly forward, &quot;but in pondering my Lord Keeper's
+suggestion for the bringing in of this older coin, I must ask you if
+this plan can escape that selfish impulse of the human mind which
+seeketh for personal gain? For, look you, short as would be the time
+proposed, it taketh but still shorter time to mutilate a coin; and it
+doth seem to me that, under the plan of my Lord Keeper, we should see
+the old currency of England mutilated in a night. Sir, I should opine in
+the contrary of this plan, and would base my decision upon certain
+principles which I believe to be ever present in the human soul.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Montague cast down his eye for a moment. &quot;Sir Isaac,&quot; at length he
+began, &quot;we are relying very much upon you. Is there no suggestion which
+you can offer on this ticklish theme?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The large, full face of the great man was turned calmly and slowly upon
+the speaker. His deep and serene eye apparently saw not so much the man
+before him as the problem which lay on that man's mind.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir,&quot; said Sir Isaac, &quot;as John Locke hath said, this is after all much
+a matter of clear reasoning. There come into this problem two chief
+questions: First, who shall pay the expense of the recoinage? Shall the
+Government pay the expense, or shall the owner of the coin, who is to
+obtain good coin for evil?</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Again, this matter applieth not to one man but to many men. Now if one
+half the tradesmen of England rush to us with their coin for reminting,
+surely the trade of the country will have left not sufficient medium
+with which to prosper. This I take to be the second part of this
+problem.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There be certain persons of the realm who claim that we may keep our
+present money as it is, but mark from its face a certain amount of
+value. Look you, now, this were a small thing; yet, in my mind, it
+clearly seemeth dishonesty. For, if I owe my neighbor a debt, let us say
+for an hundred sovereigns, shall I not be committing injustice upon my
+neighbor if I pay him an hundred sovereigns less that deduction which
+the realm may see fit thus to impose upon the face of my sovereign?
+This, in justice, sirs, I hold it to be not the part of science, nor the
+part of honesty, neither of statesmanship, to endorse.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir Isaac,&quot; cried Montague, striking his nervous hands upon the table,
+&quot;recoin we must. But how, and, as you say, at whose expense? We are as
+far now from a plan as when we started. We but multiply difficulties.
+What we need now is not so much negative measures as positive ones. We
+must do this thing, and we must do it promptly. The question is still
+of how it may best be done. Mr. Law, by your leave and by the leave of
+these gentlemen here present, I shall take the liberty of asking you if
+there doth occur to your mind any plan by which we may be relieved of
+certain of these difficulties. I am aware, sir, that you are much a
+student in these matters.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>A grave silence fell upon all. John Law, young, confident and arrogant
+in many ways as he was, none the less possessed sobriety and depth of
+thought, just as he possessed the external dignity to give it fitting
+vehicle. He gazed now at the men before him, not with timorousness or
+trepidation. His face was grave, and he returned their glances calmly as
+he rose and made the speech which, unknown to himself, was presently to
+prove so important in his life.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;My Lords,&quot; said he, &quot;and gentlemen of this council, I am ill-fitted to
+be present here, and ill-fitted to add my advice to that which has been
+given. It is not for me to go beyond the purpose of this meeting, or to
+lay before you certain plans of my own regarding the credit of nations.
+I may start, as does our learned friend, simply from established
+principles of human nature.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It is true that the coinage is a creature of the government. Yet I
+believe it to be true that the government lives purely upon credit;
+which is to say, the confidence of the people in that government.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Now, we may reason in this matter perhaps from the lesser relations of
+our daily life. What manner of man do we most trust among those whom we
+meet? Surely, the honest man, the plain man, the one whose directness
+and integrity we do not doubt. Truly you may witness the nature of such
+a man in the manner of his speech, in his mien, in his conduct.
+Therefore, my Lords and gentlemen, it seems to me plain that we shall
+best gain confidence for ourselves if we act in the most simple fashion.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Let us take up this matter directly with Parliament, not seeking to
+evade the knowledge of Parliament in any fashion; for, as we know, the
+Parliament and the king are not the best bed-fellows these days, and the
+one is ready enough to suspect the other. Let us have a bill framed for
+Parliament&mdash;such bill made upon the decisions of these learned gentlemen
+present. Above all things, let us act with perfect openness.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;As to the plan itself, it seems that a few things may be held safe and
+sure. Since we can not use the old coin, then surely we must have new
+coin, milled coin, which Charles, the earlier king of England, has
+decreed. Surely, too, as our learned friend has wisely stated, the loss
+in any recoinage ought, in full justice and honesty, to fall not upon
+the people of England, but upon the government of England. It seems
+equally plain to me there must be a day set after which the old coin may
+no longer be used. Set it some months ahead, not, as my Lord Keeper
+suggests, but a few days; so that full notice may be given to all. Make
+your campaign free and plain, and place it so that it may be known, not
+only of Parliament, but of all the world. Thus you establish yourselves
+in the confidence of Parliament and in the good graces of this people,
+from whom the taxes must ultimately come.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Montague's hands smote again upon the table with a gesture of
+conviction. John Locke shifted again in his chair. Sir Isaac and the
+lord keeper gazed steadfastly at this young man who stood before them,
+calmly, assuredly, and yet with no assumption in his mien.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Moreover,&quot; went on John Law, calmly, &quot;there is this further benefit to
+be gained, as I am sure my countryman, Mr. Paterson, has long ago made
+plain. It is not a question of the wealth of England, but a question of
+the confidence of the people in the throne. There is money in abundance
+in England. It is the province of my Lord Chancellor to wheedle it out
+of those coffers where it is concealed and place it before the uses of
+the king. Gentlemen, it is confidence that we need. There will be no
+trouble to secure loans of money in this rich land, but the taxes must
+be the pledge to your bankers. This new Bank of England will furnish you
+what moneys you may need. Secure them only by the pledge of such taxes
+as you feel the people may not resent; give the people, free of cost, a
+coinage which they can trust; and then, it seems to me, my Lords and
+gentlemen, the problem of the revenue may be thought solved simply and
+easily&mdash;solved, too, without irritating either the people or the
+Parliament, or endangering the relations of Parliament and the throne.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The conviction which fell upon all found its best expression in the face
+of Montague. The youth and nervousness of the man passed away upon the
+instant. He sat there sober and thoughtful, quiet and resolved.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Gentlemen,&quot; said he at last, slowly, &quot;my course is plain from this
+instant. I shall draw the bill and it shall go to Parliament. The
+expense of this recoinage I am sure we can find maintained by the
+stockholders of the Bank of England, and for their pay we shall propose
+a new tax upon the people of England. We shall tax the windows of the
+houses of England, and hence tax not only the poor but the rich of
+England, and that proportionately with their wealth. As for the coin of
+England, it shall be honest coin, made honest and kept honest, at no
+cost to the people of old England. Sirs, my heart is lighter than it has
+been for many days.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The last trace of formality in the meeting having at length vanished,
+Montague made his way rapidly to the foot of the table. He caught Law by
+both his hands.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir,&quot; said he, &quot;you helped us at the last stage of our ascent. A
+mistake here had been ruinous, not only to myself and friends, but to
+the safety of the whole Government. You spoke wisely and practically.
+Sir, if I can ever in all my life serve you, command me, and at whatever
+price you name. I am not yet done with you, sir,&quot; resumed Montague,
+casting his arm boyishly about the other's shoulder as they walked out.
+&quot;We must meet again to discuss certain problems of the currency which, I
+bethink me, you have studied deeply. Keep you here in London, for I
+shall have need of you. Within the month, perhaps within the week, I
+shall require you. England needs men who can do more than dawdle. Pray
+you, keep me advised where you may be found.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>There was ill omen in the light reply. &quot;Why, as to that, my Lord,&quot; said
+Law, &quot;if you should think my poor service useful, your servants might
+get trace of me at the Green Lion&mdash;unless I should be in prison! No man
+knoweth what may come.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Montague laughed lightly. &quot;At the Green Lion, or in Newgate itself,&quot;
+said he. &quot;Be ready, for I have not yet done with you.&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='CHAPTER_VI'></a><h3>CHAPTER VI</h3>
+
+<h4>THE RESOLUTION OF MR. LAW</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>The problems of England's troubled finances, the questions of the
+coinage, the gossip of the king's embroilments with the
+Parliament&mdash;these things, it may again be said, occupied Law's mind far
+less than the question of gaining audience with his fair rescuer of the
+morn at Sadler's Wells. This was the puzzle which, revolve it as he
+might, not even his audacious wit was able to provide with plausible
+solution. He pondered the matter in a hundred different pleasing phases
+as he passed from the Bank of England through the crowded streets of
+London, and so at length found himself at the shabby little lodgings in
+Bradwell Street, where he and his brother had, for the time, taken up
+their quarters.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It starteth well, my boy,&quot; cried he, gaily, to his brother, when at
+length he had found his way up the narrow stair into the little room,
+and discovered Will patiently awaiting his return. &quot;Already two of my
+errands are well acquit.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You have, then, sent the letters to our goldsmith here?&quot; said Will.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Now, to say truth, I had not thought of that. But letters of
+credit&mdash;why need we trouble over such matters? These English are but
+babes. Give me a night or so in the week at the Green Lion, and we'll
+need no letters of credit, Will. Look at your purse, boy&mdash;since you are
+the thrifty cashier of our firm!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I like not this sort of gold,&quot; said Will Law, setting his lips
+judicially.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yet it seems to purchase well as any,&quot; said the other, indifferently.
+&quot;At least, such is my hope, for I have made debt against our purse of
+some fifty sovereigns&mdash;some little apparel which I have ordered. For,
+look you, Will, I must be clothed proper. In these days, as I may tell
+you, I am to meet such men as Montague, chancellor of the exchequer&mdash;my
+Lord Keeper Somers&mdash;Sir Isaac Newton&mdash;Mr. John Locke&mdash;gentry of that
+sort. It is fitting I should have better garb than this which we have
+brought with us.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You are ever free with some mad jest or other, Jack; but what is this
+new madness of which you speak?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No madness at all, my dear boy; for in fact I have but come from the
+council chamber, where I have met these very gentlemen whom I have
+named to you. But pray you note, my dear brother, there are those who
+hold John Law, and his studies, not so light as doth his own brother.
+For myself, the matter furnishes no surprise at all. As for you, you had
+never confidence in me, nor in yourself. Gad! Will, hadst but the
+courage of a flea, what days we two might have together here in this old
+town!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I want none of such days, Jack,&quot; said Will Law, soberly. &quot;I care most
+to see you settled in some decent way of living. What will your mother
+say, if we but go on gaming and roistering, with dangers of some sudden
+quarrel&mdash;as this which has already sprung up&mdash;with no given aim in life,
+with nothing certain for an ambition&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Now, Will,&quot; began his brother, yet with no petulance in his tone, &quot;pray
+go not too hard with me at the start. I thought I had done fairly well,
+to sit at the table of the council of coinage on my first day in London.
+'Tis not every young man gets so far as that. Come, now, Will!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But after all, there must be serious purpose.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Know then,&quot; cried the elder man, suddenly, &quot;that I have found such
+serious purpose!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The speaker stood looking out of the window, his eye fixed out across
+the roofs of London. There had now fallen from his face all trace of
+levity, and into his eye and mouth there came reflex of the decision of
+his speech. Will stirred in his chair, and at length the two faced each
+other.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And pray, what is this sudden resolution, Jack?&quot; said Will Law.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;If I must tell you, it is simply this: I am resolved to marry the girl
+we met at Sadler's Wells.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;How&mdash;what&mdash;?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, how&mdash;what&mdash;?&quot; repeated his brother, mockingly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But I would ask, which?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There was but one,&quot; said John Law. &quot;The tall one, with the
+brassy-brown, copper-red hair, the bright blue eye, and the figure of a
+queen. Her like is not in all the world!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Methought 'twas more like to be the other,&quot; replied Will. &quot;Yet you&mdash;how
+dare you think thus of that lady? Why, Jack, 'twas the Lady Catharine
+Knollys, sister to the Earl of Banbury!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Law did not at once make any answer. He turned to the dressing-table and
+began making such shift as he could to better his appearance.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Will,&quot; said he, at length, &quot;you are, as ever, a babe and a suckling. I
+quite despair of you. 'Twould serve no purpose to explain anything to so
+faint a heart as yours. But you may come with me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And whither?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Whither? Where else, than to the residence of this same lady! Look
+you, I have learned this. She is, as you say, the sister of the Earl of
+Banbury, and is for the time at the town house in Knightwell Terrace.
+Moreover, if that news be worth while to so white-feathered a swain as
+yourself, the other, damsel, the dark one&mdash;the one with the mighty
+pretty little foot&mdash;lives there for the time as the guest of Lady
+Catharine. They are rated thick as peas in a pod. True, we are
+strangers, yet I venture we have made a beginning, and if we venture
+more we may better that beginning. Should I falter, when luck gave me
+the run of <i>trente et le va</i> but yesterday? Nay, ever follow fortune
+hard, and she waits for you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes,&quot; said Will, scornfully. &quot;You would get the name of gambler, and
+add to it the name of fortune-hunting, heiress-seeking adventurer.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Not so,&quot; replied John Law, taking snuff calmly and still keeping the
+evenness of his temper. &quot;My own fortune, as I admit, I keep safe at the
+Green Lion. For the rest, I seek at the start only respectful footing
+with this maid herself. When first I saw her, I knew well enough how the
+end would be. We were made for each other. This whole world was made for
+us both. Will, boy, I could not live without the Lady Catharine
+Knollys!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, cease such talk, Jack! 'Tis ill-mannered, such presumption
+regarding a lady, even had you known her long. Besides, 'tis but another
+of your fancies, Jack,&quot; said Will. &quot;Wilt never make an end of such
+follies?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, my boy,&quot; said his brother, gravely. &quot;I have made an end. Indeed, I
+made it the other morning at Sadler's Wells.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Methinks,&quot; said Will, dryly, &quot;that it might be well first to be sure
+that you can win past the front door of the house of Knollys.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>John Law still kept both his temper and his confidence.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Come with me,&quot; said he, blithely, &quot;and I will show you how that thing
+may be done.&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='CHAPTER_VII'></a><h3>CHAPTER VII</h3>
+
+<h4>TWO MAIDS A-BROIDERING</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>&quot;Now a plague take all created things, Lady Kitty!&quot; cried Mary Connynge,
+petulantly flinging down a silken pattern over which she had pretended
+to be engaged. &quot;There are devils in the skeins to-day. I'll try no more
+with't.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Fie! For shame, Mary Connynge,&quot; replied Lady Catharine Knollys,
+reprovingly. &quot;So far from better temperance of speech, didst ever hear
+of the virtue of perseverance? Now, for my own part&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And what, for your own part? Have I no eyes to see that thou'rt
+puttering over the same corner this last half hour? What is it thou art
+making to-day?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The Lady Catharine paused for a moment and held her embroidery frame
+away from her at arm's length, looking at it with brow puckering into a
+perplexed frown.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I was working a knight,&quot; said she. &quot;A tall one&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, a tall one, with yellow hair, I warrant.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, so it was. I was but seeking floss of the right hue, and found it
+difficult.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And with blue eyes?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;True; or perhaps gray. I could not state which. I had naught in my box
+would serve to suit me for the eyes. But how know you this, Mary
+Connynge?&quot; asked the Lady Catharine.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Because I was making some such knight for myself,&quot; replied the other.
+&quot;See! He was to have been tall, of good figure, wearing a wide hat and
+plume withal. But lest I spoil him, my knight&mdash;now a plague take me
+indeed if I do not ruin him complete!&quot; So saying, she drew with vengeful
+fingers at the intricately woven silks until she had indeed undone all
+that had gone before.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Nay, nay! Mary Connynge! Do not so!&quot; replied Lady Catharine in
+expostulation. &quot;The poor knight, how could he help himself? Why, as for
+mine, though I find him not all I could wish, I'll e'en be patient as I
+may, and seek if I may not mend him. These knights, you know, are most
+difficult. 'Tis hard to make them perfect.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Mary Connynge sat with her hands in her lap, looking idly out of the
+window and scarce heeding the despoiled fabric which lay on her lap.
+&quot;Come, confess, Lady Kitty,&quot; said she at length, turning toward her
+friend. &quot;Wert not trying to copy a knight of a hedge-row after all? Did
+not a certain tall young knight, with eyes of blue, or gray, or the
+like, give pattern for your sampler while you were broidering to-day?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Fie! For shame!&quot; again replied Lady Catharine, flushing none the less.
+&quot;Rather ask, does not such a thought come over thine own broidering? But
+as to the hedge-row, surely the gentleman explained it all proper
+enough; and I am sure&mdash;yes, I am very sure&mdash;that my brother Charles had
+quite approved of my giving the injured young man the lift in the
+coach&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Provided that your Brother Charles had ever heard of such a thing!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, of that, to be sure, why trouble my brother over such a trifle,
+when 'twas so obviously proper?&quot; argued Lady Catharine, bravely. &quot;And
+certainly, if we come to knights and the like, good chivalry has ever
+demanded succor for those in distress; and if, forsooth, it was two
+damsels in a comfortable coach, who rescued two knights from underneath
+a hedge-row, why, such is but the way of these modern days, when knights
+go seeking no more for adventures and ladies fair; as you very well
+know.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;As I do not know, Lady Catharine,&quot; replied Mary Connynge. &quot;To the
+contrary, 'twould not surprise me to learn that he would not shrink
+from any adventure which might offer.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You mean&mdash;that is&mdash;you mean the tall one, him who said he was Mr. Law
+of Lauriston?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, perhaps. Though I must say,&quot; replied Mary Connynge, with
+indirection, &quot;that I fancy the other far more, he being not so forward,
+nor so full of pure conceit. I like not a man so confident.&quot; This with
+an eye cast down, as much as though there were present in the room some
+man subject to her coquetry.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, I had not found him offering such an air,&quot; replied Lady Catharine,
+judicially. &quot;I had but thought him frank enough, and truly most
+courteous.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, truly,&quot; replied Mary Connynge. &quot;But saw you naught in his eye?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, but that it was blue, or gray,&quot; replied Lady Catharine.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, ho! then my lady did look a bit, after all! And so this is why the
+knight flourisheth so bravely in silks to-day&mdash;Fie! but a mere
+adventurer, Lady Kitty. He says he is Law of Lauriston; but what proof
+doth he offer? And did he find such proof, it is proof of what? For my
+part, I did never hear of Lauriston nor its owner.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah, but that I have, to the contrary,&quot; said Lady Catharine. &quot;John
+Law's father was a goldsmith, and it was he who bought the properties of
+Lauriston and Randleston. And so far from John Law being ill-born, why,
+his mother was Jean Campbell, kinswoman of the Campbell, Duke of Argyll;
+and a mighty important man is the Duke of Argyll these days, I may tell
+you, as the king's army hath discovered before this. You see, I have not
+talked with my brother about these things for naught.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;So you make excuse for this Mr. Law of Lauriston,&quot; said Mary Connynge.
+&quot;Well, I like better a knight who comes on his own horse, or in his own
+chariot, and who rescues me when I am in trouble, rather than asks me to
+give him aid. But, as to that, what matter? We set those highway
+travelers down, and there was an end of it. We shall never see either of
+them again.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Of course not,&quot; said Lady Catharine.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It were impossible.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, quite impossible!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Both the young women sighed, and both looked out of the window.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Because,&quot; said Mary Connynge, &quot;they are but strangers. That talk of
+having letters may be but deceit. They themselves may be coiners. I have
+heard it said that coiners are monstrous bold.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;To be sure, he mentioned Sir Arthur Pembroke,&quot; ventured Lady
+Catharine.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh! And be sure Sir Arthur Pembroke will take pains enough that no tall
+young man, who offers roses to ladies on first acquaintance, shall ever
+have opportunity to present himself to Lady Catharine Knollys. Nay, nay!
+There will be no introduction from that source, of that be sure. Sir
+Arthur is jealous as a wolf of thee already, Lady Kitty. See! He hath
+followed thee about like a dog for three years. And after all, why not
+reward him, Lady Kitty? Indeed, but the other day thou wert upon the
+very point of giving him his answer, for thou saidst to me that he sure
+had the prettiest eyes of any man in London. Pray, are Sir Arthur's eyes
+blue, or gray&mdash;or what? And can you match his eyes among the color of
+your flosses?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It might be,&quot; said Lady Catharine, musingly, &quot;that he would some day
+find means to send us word.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Who? Sir Arthur?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No. The young man, Mr. Law of Lauriston.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes; or he might come himself,&quot; replied Mary Connynge.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Fie! He dare not!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, but be not too sure. Now suppose he did come&mdash;'twill do no harm for
+us to suppose so much as that. Suppose he stood there at your very
+door, Lady Kitty. Then what would you do?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Do! Why, tell James that we were not in, and never should be, and
+request the young man to leave at once.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And never let him pass the door again.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Certainly not! 'Twould be presumption. But then&quot;&mdash;this with a gentle
+sigh&mdash;&quot;we need not trouble ourselves with this. I doubt not he hath
+forgot us long ago, just as indeed we have forgotten him&mdash;though I would
+say&mdash;. But I half believe he hit thee, girl, with his boldness and his
+bow, and his fearlessness withal.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Who, I? Why, heavens! Lady Kitty! The idea never came to my mind.
+Indeed no, not for an instant. Of course, as you say, 'twas but a
+passing occurrence, and 'twas all forgot. But, by the way, Lady Kitty,
+go we to Sadler's Wells to-morrow morn?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I see no reason for not going,&quot; replied Lady Catharine. &quot;And we may
+drive about, the same way we took the other morn. I will show you the
+same spot where he stood and bowed so handsomely, and made so little of
+the fight with the robbers the night before, as though 'twere trifling
+enough; and made so little of his poverty, as though he were owner of
+the king's coin.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But we shall never see him more,&quot; said Mary Connynge.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;To be sure not. But just to show you&mdash;see! He stood thus, his hat off,
+his eye laughing, I pledge you, as though for some good jest he had. And
+'twas 'your pardon, ladies!' he said, as though he were indeed nobleman
+himself. See! 'Twas thus.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>What pantomime might have followed did not appear, for at that moment
+the butler appeared at the door with an admonitory cough. &quot;If you
+please, your Ladyship,&quot; said he, &quot;there are two persons waiting.
+They&mdash;that is to say, he&mdash;one of them, asks for admission to your
+Ladyship.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What name does he offer, James?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Mr. John Law of Lauriston, your Ladyship, is the name he sends. He
+says, if your Ladyship please, that he has brought with him something
+which your Ladyship left behind, if your Ladyship please.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lady Catharine and Mary Connynge had both arisen and drawn together, and
+they now turned each a swift half glance upon the other.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Are these gentlemen waiting without the street door?&quot; asked Lady
+Catharine.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No, your Ladyship. That is to say, before I thought, I allowed the tall
+one to come within.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, well then, you see, Mary Connynge,&quot; replied Lady Catharine, with
+the pink flush rising in her cheek, &quot;it were rude to turn them now from
+our door, since they have already been admitted.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, we will send to the library for your brother,&quot; said Mary Connynge,
+dimpling at the corners of her mouth.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No, I think it not needful to do that,&quot; replied Lady Catharine, &quot;but we
+should perhaps learn what this young man brings, and then we'll see to
+it that we chide him so that he'll no more presume upon our kindness. My
+brother need not know, and we ourselves will end this forwardness at
+once, Mary Connynge, you and I. James, you may bring the gentlemen in.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Enter, therefore, John Law and his brother Will, the former seeming thus
+with ease to have made good his promise to win past the door of the Earl
+of Banbury.</p>
+
+<p>John Law, as on the morning of the roadside meeting, approached in
+advance of his more timid brother, though both bowed deeply as they
+entered. He bowed again respectfully, his eyes not wandering hither and
+yon upon the splendors of this great room in an ancestral home of
+England. His gaze was fixed rather upon the beauty of the tall girl
+before him, whose eyes, now round and startled, were not quite able to
+be cold nor yet to be quite cast down; whose white throat throbbed a bit
+under its golden chain; whose bosom rose and fell perceptibly beneath
+its falls of snowy laces.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lady Catharine Knollys,&quot; said John Law, his voice deep and even, and
+showing no false note of embarrassment, &quot;we come, as you may see, to
+make our respects to yourself and your friend, and to thank you for your
+kindness to two strangers.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;To two strangers, Mr. Law,&quot; said Lady Catharine, pointedly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes&quot;&mdash;and the answering smile was hard to be denied&mdash;&quot;to two strangers
+who are still strangers. I did but bethink me it was sweet to have such
+kindness. We were advised that London was cruel cold, and that all folk
+of this city hated their fellow-men. So, since 'twas welcome to be thus
+kindly entreated, I believed it but the act of courtesy to express our
+thanks more seeming than we might as that we were two beggars by the
+wayside. Therefore, I pay the first flower of my perpetual tribute.&quot; He
+bowed and extended, as he spoke, a deep red rose. His eye, though still
+direct, was as much imploring as it was bold.</p>
+
+<p>Instinctively Mary Connynge and Lady Catharine had drawn together,
+retreating somewhat from this intrusion. They were now standing, like
+any school girls, looking timidly over their shoulders, as he advanced.
+Lady Catharine hesitated, and yet she moved forward a half pace, as
+though bidden by some unheard voice. &quot;'Twas nothing, what we did for you
+and your brother,&quot; said she. She extended her hand as she spoke. &quot;As for
+the flower, I think&mdash;I think a rose is a sweet-pretty thing.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>She bent her cheek above the blossom, and whether the cheek or the petal
+were the redder, who should say? If there were any ill at ease in that
+room, it was not Law of Lauriston. He stood calm as though there by
+right. It was an escapade, an adventure, without doubt, as both these
+young women saw plainly enough. And now, what to do with this adventure
+since it had arrived?</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir,&quot; said Lady Catharine at length, &quot;I am sure you must be wearied
+with the heavy heats of the town. Your brother must still be weak from
+his hurt. Pray you, be seated.&quot; She placed the rose upon the tabouret as
+she passed, and presently pulled at the bell cord.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;James,&quot; said she, standing very erect and full of dignity, &quot;go to the
+library and see if Sir Charles be within.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>When the butler's solemn cough again gave warning, it was to bring
+information which may or may not have been news to Lady Catharine. &quot;Your
+Ladyship,&quot; said he, &quot;Sir Charles is said to have taken carriage an hour
+ago, and left no word.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Send me Cecile, James,&quot; said Lady Catharine, and again the butler
+vanished.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Cecile,&quot; said she, as the maid at length appeared, &quot;you may serve us
+with tea.&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='CHAPTER_VIII'></a><h3>CHAPTER VIII</h3>
+
+<h4>CATHARINE KNOLLYS</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>&quot;You mistake, sir! I am no light o' love, John Law!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Thus spoke Catharine Knollys. She stood near the door of the great
+drawing-room of the Knollys mansion, her figure beseeming well its
+framing of deep hangings and rich tapestries. Her eyes were wide and
+flashing, her cheeks deeply pink, the sweet bow of her lips half
+a-quiver in her vehemence. Her surpassing personal beauty, rich, ripe,
+enticing, gave more than sufficient challenge for the fiery blood of the
+young man before her.</p>
+
+<p>It was less than two weeks since these two had met. Surely the flood of
+time had run swiftly in those few days. Not a day had passed that Law
+had not met Catharine Knollys, nor had yet one meeting been such as the
+girl in her own conscience dared call better than clandestine, even
+though they met, as now, under her own roof. Yet, reason as she liked,
+struggle as she could, Catharine Knollys had not yet been quite able to
+end this swift voyaging on the flood of fate. It was so strange, so new,
+so sweet withal, this coming of her suitor, as from the darkness of some
+unknown star, so bold, so strong, so confident, and yet so humble! All
+the old song of the ages thrilled within her soul, and each day its
+compelling melody had accession. That this delirious softening of all
+her senses meant danger, the Lady Catharine could not deny. Yet could
+aught of earth be wrong when it spelled such happiness, such
+sweetness&mdash;when the sound of a footfall sent her blood going the faster,
+when the sight of a tall form, the ring of a vibrant tone, caused her
+limbs to weaken, her throat to choke?</p>
+
+<p>But ah! whence and why this spell, this sorcery&mdash;why this sweetness
+filling all her being, when, after all, duty and seemliness bade it all
+to end, as end it must, to-day? Thus had the Lady Catharine reflected
+but the hour before John Law came; her knight of dreams&mdash;tall,
+yellow-haired, blue-eyed, bold and tender, and surely speaking truth if
+truth dwelt beneath the stars. Now he would come&mdash;now he had come again.
+Here was his red, red rose once more. Here, burning in her ears, singing
+in her heart, were his avowing, pleading words. And this must end!</p>
+
+<p>John Law looked at her calmly, but said nothing. One hand, in a gesture
+customary with him, flicked lightly at the deep cuff of the other
+wrist, and this nervous movement was the sole betrayal of his
+uneasiness.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You come to this house time and again,&quot; resumed Catharine Knollys, &quot;as
+though it were an ancient right on your part, as though you had always
+been a friend of this family. And yet&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And so I have been,&quot; broke in her suitor. &quot;My people were friends of
+yours before we two were born. Why, then, should you advise your
+servant, as you have, fairly to deny me admission at the door?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I have done ill enough to admit you. Had I dreamed of this last
+presumption on your part I should never have seen your face again.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis not presumption,&quot; said the young man, his voice low and even,
+though ringing with the feeling to which even he dared not give full
+expression. &quot;I myself might call this presumption in another, but with
+myself 'tis otherwise.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir,&quot; said Lady Catharine Knollys, &quot;you speak as one not of good mind.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Not of good mind!&quot; broke out John Law. &quot;Say rather of mind too good to
+doubt, or dally, or temporize. Why, 'tis plain as the plan of fate! It
+was in the stars that I should come to you. This face, this form, this
+heart, this soul&mdash;I shall see nothing else so long as I live! Oh, I
+feel myself unworthy; you have right to think me of no station. Yet some
+day I shall bring to you all that wealth can buy, all that station can
+mean. Catharine&mdash;dear Lady Kitty&mdash;dear Kate&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I like not so fast a soothsaying in any suitor of mine,&quot; replied Lady
+Catharine, hotly, &quot;and this shall go no further.&quot; Her hand restrained
+him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then you find me distasteful? You would banish me? I could not learn to
+endure it!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lady Catharine looked at him curiously. &quot;Actually, sir,&quot; said she, &quot;you
+cause me to chill. I could half fear you. What is in your heart? Surely,
+this is a strange love-making.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And by that,&quot; cried John Law, &quot;know, then the better of the truth.
+Listen! I know! And this is what I know&mdash;that I shall succeed, and that
+I shall love you always!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis what one hears often from men, in one form or another,&quot; said the
+girl, coolly, seating herself as she spoke.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Talk not to me of other men&mdash;I'll not brook it!&quot; cried he, advancing
+toward her a few rapid paces. &quot;Think you I have no heart?&quot; His eye
+gleamed, and he came on yet a step in his strange wooing. &quot;Your face is
+here, here,&quot; he cried, &quot;deep in my heart! I must always look upon it, or
+I am a lost man!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis a face not so fair as that,&quot; said the Lady Catharine, demurely.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis the fairest face in England, or in the world!&quot; cried her lover;
+and now he was close at her side. Her hand, she knew not how, rested in
+his own. Something of the honesty and freedom from coquetry of the young
+woman's nature showed in her next speech, inconsequent, illogical,
+almost unmaidenly in its swift sincerity and candor.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis a face but blemished,&quot; said she, slowly, the color rising to her
+cheek. &quot;See! Here is the birth-mark of the house of Knollys. They tell
+me&mdash;my very good friends tell me, that this is the mark of shame, the
+bar sinister of the hand of justice. You know the story of our house.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Somewhat of it,&quot; said Law.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;My brother is not served of the writ when Parliament is called. This
+you know. Tell me why?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I know the so-called reason,&quot; replied John Law. &quot;'Twas brought out in
+his late case at the King's Bench.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;True. 'Twas said that my grandfather, past eighty, was not the father
+of those children of his second wife. There is talk that&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Twas three generations ago, this talk of the Knollys shortcoming. I am
+not eighty. I am twenty-four, and I love you, Catharine Knollys.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It was three generations ago,&quot; said the Lady Catharine, slowly and
+musingly, as though she had not heard the speech of her suitor. &quot;Three
+generations ago. Yet never since then hath there been clean name for the
+Banbury estate. Never yet hath its peer sat in his rightful place in
+Parliament. And never yet hath eldest daughter of this house failed to
+show this mark of shame, this unpurged contempt for that which is
+ordained. Surely it would seem fate holds us in its hands.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You tell me these things,&quot; said John Law, &quot;because you feel it is right
+to tell them. And I tell you of my future, as you tell me of your past.
+Why? Because, Lady Catharine Knollys, it has already come to matter of
+faith between us.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The girl leaned back against the wall near which she had seated herself.
+The young man bent forward, taking both her hands quietly in his own
+now, and gazing steadily into her eyes. There was no triumph in his
+gaze. Perhaps John Law had prescience of the future.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, sir, I had far liefer I had never seen you,&quot; cried Catharine
+Knollys, bending a head from whose eyes there dropped sudden tears.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah, dear heart, say anything but that!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis a hard way a woman must travel at best in this world,&quot; murmured
+the Lady Catharine, with wisdom all unsuited to her youth. &quot;But I can
+not understand. I had thought that the coming of a lover was a joyous
+thing, a time of happiness alone.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah, now, in the hour of mist can you not foresee the time of sunshine?
+All life is before us, my sweet, all life. There is much for us to do,
+there are so many, many days of love and happiness.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>But now the Lady Catharine Knollys veered again, with some sudden change
+of the inner currents of the feminine soul.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I have gone far with you, Mr. Law,&quot; said she, suddenly disengaging her
+hand. &quot;Yet I did but give you insight of things which any man coming as
+you have come should have well within his knowledge. Think not, sir,
+that I am easy to be won. I must know you equally honest with myself.
+And if you come to my regard, it must be step by step and stair by
+stair. This is to be remembered.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I shall remember.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Go, then, and leave me for this time,&quot; she besought him. But still he
+could not go, and still the Lady Catharine could not bid him more
+sternly to depart. Youth&mdash;youth, and love, and fate were in that room;
+and these would have their way.</p>
+
+<p>The beseeching gaze of an eye singular in its power rested on the girl,
+a gaze filled with all the strange, half mandatory pleading of youth and
+yearning. Once more there came a shift in the tidal currents of the
+woman's heart. The Lady Catharine slowly became conscious of a delicious
+helplessness, of a sinking and yielding which she could not resist. Her
+head lost power to be erect. It slipped forward on a shoulder waiting as
+by right. Her breath came in soft measure, and unconsciously a hand was
+raised to touch the cheek pressed down to hers. John Law kissed her once
+upon the lips. Suddenly, without plan&mdash;in spite of all plan&mdash;the seal of
+a strange fate was set forever on her life!</p>
+
+<p>For a long moment they stood thus, until at length she raised a face
+pale and sharp, and pushed back against his breast a hand that trembled.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis wondrous strange,&quot; she whispered.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ask nothing,&quot; said John Law, &quot;fear nothing. Only believe, as I
+believe.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Neither John Law nor the Lady Catharine Knollys saw what was passing
+just without the room. They did not see the set face which looked down
+from the stairway. Through the open door Mary Connynge could see the
+young man as he stepped out of the door, could see the conduct of the
+girl now left alone in the drawing-room. She saw the Lady Catharine sink
+down upon the seat, her head drooped in thought, her hand lying
+languidly out before her. Pale now and distraught, the Lady Catharine
+Knollys wist little of what went on before her. She had full concern
+with the tumult which waged riot in her soul.</p>
+
+<p>Mary Connynge turned, and started back up the stair unseen. She paused,
+her yellow eyes gone narrow, her little hand clutched tight upon the
+rail.</p>
+
+<center>
+<img src="images/img2.jpg" height="414" width="300"
+alt="Illustration">
+</center>
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='CHAPTER_IX'></a><h3>CHAPTER IX</h3>
+
+<h4>IN SEARCH OF THE QUARREL</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>As Law turned away from the door of the Knollys mansion, he walked with
+head bent forward, not looking upon the one hand or the other. He raised
+his eyes only when a passing horseman had called thrice to him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What!&quot; cried Sir Arthur Pembroke. &quot;I little looked to see you here, Mr.
+Law. I thought it more likely you were engaged in other business&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Meaning by that&mdash;?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What should I mean, except that I supposed you preparing for your
+little affair with Wilson?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;My little affair?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Certainly, with Wilson, as I said. I saw our friend Castleton but now,
+and he advised me of your promptness. He had searched for you for days,
+he being chosen by Wilson for his friend&mdash;and said he had at last found
+you in your lodgings. Egad! I have mistook your kidney completely. Never
+in London was a duel brought on so swift. 'Fight? This afternoon!' said
+you. Jove! but the young bloods laughed when they heard of it. 'Bloody
+Scotland' is what they have christened you at the Green Lion. 'He said
+to me,' said Charlie, 'that he was slow to find a quarrel, but since
+this quarrel was brought home to him, 'twere meet 'twere soon finished.
+He thought, forsooth, that four o'clock of the afternoon were late
+enough.' Gad! But you might have given Wilson time at least for one more
+dinner.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What do you mean?&quot; exclaimed Law, mystified still.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Mean! Why, I mean that I've been scouring London to find you. My faith,
+man, but thou'rt a sudden actor! Where caught you this unseemly haste?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir Arthur,&quot; said the other, slowly, &quot;you do me too much justice. I
+have made no arrangement to meet Mr. Wilson, nor have I any wish to do
+so.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Pish, man! You must not jest with me in such a case as this. 'Tis no
+masquerading. Let me tell you, Wilson has a vicious sword, and a temper
+no less vicious. You have touched him on his very sorest spot. He has
+gone to meet you this very hour. His coach will be at Bloomsbury Square
+this afternoon, and there he will await you. I promise you he is eager
+as yourself. 'Tis too late now to accommodate this matter, even had you
+not sent back so prompt and bold an answer.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I have sent him no answer at all!&quot; cried Law. &quot;I have not seen
+Castleton at all.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, come!&quot; expostulated Sir Arthur, his face showing a flush of
+annoyance.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir Arthur,&quot; continued Law, as he raised his head, &quot;I am of the
+misfortune to be but young in London, and I am in need of your
+friendship. I find myself pressed for rapid transportation. Pray you,
+give me your mount, for I must have speed. I shall not need the service
+of your seconding. Indulge me now by asking no more, and wait until we
+meet again. Give me the horse, and quickly.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But you must be seconded!&quot; cried the other. &quot;This is too unusual.
+Consider!&quot; Yet all the time he was giving a hand at the stirrup of Law,
+who sprang up and was off before he had time to formulate his own
+wonder.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Who and what is he?&quot; muttered the young nobleman to himself as he gazed
+after the retreating form. &quot;He rides well, at least, as he does
+everything else well. 'Till I return,' forsooth, 'till I return!' Gad! I
+half wish you had never come in the first place, my Bloody Scotland!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>As for Law, he rode swiftly, asking at times his way, losing time here,
+gaining it again there, creating much hatred among foot folk by his
+tempestuous speed, but giving little heed to aught save his own purpose.
+In time he reached Bradwell Street and flung himself from his panting
+horse in front of the dingy door of the lodging house. He rushed up the
+stairs at speed and threw open the door of the little room. It was
+empty.</p>
+
+<p>There was no word to show what his brother had done, whither he had
+gone, when he would return. Around the lodgings in Bradwell Street lay a
+great and unknown London, with its own secrets, its own hatreds, its own
+crimes. A strange feeling of on-coming ill seized upon the heart of Law,
+as he stood in the center of the dull little room, now suddenly grown
+hateful to him. He dashed his hand upon the table, and stood so, scarce
+knowing which way to turn. A foot sounded in the hallway, and he went to
+the door. The ancient landlady confronted him. &quot;Where has my brother
+gone?&quot; he demanded, fiercely, as she came into view along the
+ill-lighted passage-way.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Gone, good sir?&quot; said she, quaveringly. &quot;Why, how should I know where
+he has gone? More quality has been here this morning than ever I saw in
+Bradwell Street in all my life. First comes a coach this morning, with
+four horses as fine as the king's, and a man atop would turn your
+blood, he was that solemn-like, sir. Then your brother was up here
+alone, sir, and very still. I will swear he was never out of this room.
+Then, but an hour ago, here comes another coach, as big as the first,
+and yellower. And out of it steps another fine lord, and he bows to your
+brother, and in they get, and off goes the coach. But, God help me, sir!
+How should I know which way they went, or what should be their errand?
+Methinks it must be some servant come from the royal palace. Sir, be you
+two of the nobility? And if you be, why come you here to Bradwell
+Street? Sir, I am but a poor woman. If you be not of the nobility, then
+you must be either coiners or smugglers. Sir, I am bethought that you
+are dangerous guests in my house. I am a poor woman, as you know.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Law flung a coin at her as he sped through the hall and down the stair.
+&quot;'Twas to Bloomsbury Square,&quot; he said, as he sprang into saddle and set
+heel to the flank of the good horse. &quot;To Bloomsbury Square, then, and
+fast!&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='CHAPTER_X'></a><h3>CHAPTER X</h3>
+
+<h4>THE RUMOR OF THE QUARREL</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>Meantime, at the Knollys mansion, there were forthcoming other parts of
+the drama of the day. The butler announced to Lady Catharine, still
+sitting dreaming by the window, Sir Arthur Pembroke, now late arrived on
+foot. Lady Catharine hesitated. &quot;Show the gentleman to this room,&quot; she
+said at length.</p>
+
+<p>Pembroke came forward eagerly as he entered. &quot;Such a day of it, Lady
+Kitty!&quot; he exclaimed, impulsively. &quot;You will pardon me for coming thus,
+when I say I have just been robbed of my horse. 'Twas at your very door,
+and methinks you must know the highwayman. I have come to tell you of
+the news.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You don't mean&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, but I do! 'Twas no less than Mr. Law, of Scotland. He hath taken
+my horse and gone off like a whirlwind, leaving me afoot and friendless,
+save for your good self. I am begging a taste of tea and a little
+biscuit, for I vow I am half famished.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The Lady Catharine Knollys, in sheer reaction from the strain, broke out
+into a peal of laughter.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sure, he has strange ways about him, this same Mr. Law,&quot; said she.
+&quot;That young man would have come here direct, and would have made himself
+quite at home, methinks, had he had but the first encouragement.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Gad! Lady Catharine, but he has a conceit of himself. Think you of what
+he has done in his short stay here in town! First, as you know, he sat
+at cards with two or three of us the other evening&mdash;Charlie Castleton,
+Beau Wilson, myself and one or two besides. And what doth he do but
+stake a bauble against good gold that he would make <i>sept et le va</i>.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And did it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And did it. Yes, faith, as though he saw it coming. Yet 'twas I who cut
+and dealt the cards. Nor was that the half of it,&quot; he went on. &quot;He let
+the play run on till 'twas <i>seize et le va</i>, then <i>vingt-un et le va</i>,
+then twenty-five. And, strike me! Lady Catharine, if he sat not there
+cool as my Lord Speaker in the Parliament, and saw the cards run to
+<i>trente et le va</i>, as though 'twere no more to him than the eating of an
+orange!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And showed no anxiety at all?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;None, as I tell you, and he proved to us plain that he had not
+two-pence to his name, for that he had been robbed the night before
+while on his way to town. He staked a diamond, a stone of worth. I must
+say, his like was never seen at cards.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;He hath strange quality.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That you may say. Now read me some farther riddles of this same young
+man. He managed to win from me a little shoe of an American savage,
+which I had bought at a good price but the day before. It came to idle
+talk of ladies' shoes, and wagers&mdash;well, no matter; and so Mr. Law
+brought on a sudden quarrel with Beau Wilson. Then, though he seemed not
+wanting courage, he half declined to face Wilson on the field. Sudden
+to change as ever, this very morning he sent word to Wilson by Mr.
+Castleton that he was ready to meet him at four this afternoon. God save
+us! what a haste was there! And now, to cap it all, he hath taken my
+horse from me and ridden off to keep an appointment which he says he
+never made! Gad! These he odd ways enough, and almost too keen for me to
+credit. Why, 'twould not surprise me to hear that he had been here to
+make love to the Lady Catharine Knollys, and to offer her the proceeds
+of his luck at faro. And, strike me! if that same luck holds, he'll
+have all the money in London in another fortnight! I wish him joy of
+Wilson.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;He may be hurt!&quot; exclaimed the Lady Catharine, starting up.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Who? Beau Wilson?&quot; exclaimed Sir Arthur. &quot;Take no fear. He carries a
+good blade.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir Arthur,&quot; said the girl, &quot;is there no way to stop this foolish
+matter? Is there not yet time?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, as to that,&quot; said Sir Arthur, &quot;it all depends upon the speed of my
+own horse. I should think myself e'en let off cheaply if he took the
+horse and rode on out of London, and never turned up again. Yet, I
+bethink me, he has a way of turning up. If so, then we are too late. Let
+him go. For me, I'd liefer sit me here with Lady Catharine, who, I
+perceive, is about now to save my death of hunger, since now I see the
+tea tray coming. Thank thee prettily.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lady Catharine poured for him with a hand none too steady. &quot;Sir Arthur,&quot;
+said she, &quot;you know why I have this concern over such a quarrel. You
+know well enough what the duello has cost the house of Knollys. Of my
+uncles, four were killed upon this so-called field of honor. My
+grandfather met his death in that same way. Another relative, before my
+time, is reputed to have slain a friend in this same manner. As you
+know, but three years ago, my brother, the living representative of our
+family, had the misfortune to slay his kinsman in a duel which sprang
+out of some little jest. I say to you, Sir Arthur, that this quarrel
+must be stopped, and we must do thus much for our friends forthwith. It
+must not go on.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;For our friends! Our friends!&quot; cried Sir Arthur. &quot;Ah, ha! so you mean
+that the old beau hath hit thee, too, with his ardent eye. Or&mdash;hang!
+What&mdash;you mean not that this stranger, this Scotchman, is a friend of
+yours?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I speak but confusedly,&quot; said the Lady Catharine. &quot;'Tis my prejudice
+against such fighting, as you know. Can we not make haste, and so
+prevent this meeting?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, I doubt if there be much need of haste,&quot; said Sir Arthur, balancing
+his cup in his hand judicially. &quot;This matter will fall through at most
+for the day. They assuredly can not meet until to-morrow. This will be
+the talk of London, if it goes on in this pell-mell, hurly-burly
+fashion. As to the stopping of it&mdash;well now, the law under William and
+Mary saith that one who slays another in a duel of premeditation is
+nothing but a murderer, and may be hanged like any felon; hanged by the
+neck, till he be dead. Alas, what a fate for this pretty Scotchman!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Sir Arthur paused. A look of wonder swept across his face. &quot;Open the
+window, Annie!&quot; he cried suddenly to the servant. &quot;Your mistress is
+ill.&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='CHAPTER_XI'></a><h3>CHAPTER XI</h3>
+
+<h4>AS CHANCE DECREED</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>Mischance delayed the carriage of Beau Wilson in its journeying to
+Bloomsbury Square. It had not appeared at that moment, far toward
+evening, when John Law, riding a trembling and dripping steed, came upon
+one side of this little open common and gazed anxiously across the
+space. He saw standing across from him a carriage, toward which he
+dashed. He flung open the carriage door, crying out, even before he saw
+the face within.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Will! Will Law, I say, come out!&quot; called he. &quot;What mad trick is this?
+What&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He saw indeed the face of Will Law inside the carriage, a face pale,
+melancholy, and yet firm.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Get you back into the city!&quot; cried Will Law. &quot;This is no place for you,
+Jack.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Boy! Are you mad, entirely mad?&quot; cried Law, pushing his way directly
+into the carriage and reaching out with an arm of authority for the
+sword which he saw resting beside his brother against the seat. &quot;No
+place for me! 'Tis no place for you, for either of us. Turn back. This
+foolishness must go no further!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It must go on now to the end,&quot; said Will Law, wearily. &quot;Mr. Wilson's
+carriage is long past due.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But you&mdash;what do you mean? You've had no hand in this. Even had
+you&mdash;why, boy, you would be spitted in an instant by this fellow.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And would not that teach you to cease your mad pranks, and use to
+better purpose the talents God hath given you? Yours is the better
+chance, Jack.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Peace!&quot; cried John Law, tears starting to his eyes. &quot;I'll not argue
+that. Driver, turn back for home!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The coachman at the box touched his hat with a puzzled air. &quot;I beg
+pardon, sir,&quot; said he, &quot;but I was under orders of the gentleman inside.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You were sent for Mr. John Law.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;For Mr. Law&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But I am John Law, sirrah!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You are both Mr. Law? Well, sir, I scarce know which of you is the
+proper Mr. Law. But I must say that here comes a coach drove fast
+enough, and perhaps this is the gentleman I was to wait for, according
+to the first Mr. Law, sir.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;He is coming, then,&quot; cried John Law, angrily. &quot;I'll see into this
+pretty meeting. If this devil's own fool is to have a crossing of steel,
+I'll fair accommodate him, and we'll look into the reasons for it later.
+Sit ye down! Be quiet, Will, boy, I say!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Law was a powerful man, over six feet in height. The sports of the
+Highlands, combined with much fencing and continuous play in the tennis
+court, indeed his ardent love for every hardy exercise, had given his
+form alike solid strength and great activity. &quot;Jessamy Law,&quot; they called
+him at home, in compliment of his slender though full and manly form.
+Cool and skilful in all the games of his youth, as John Law himself had
+often calmly stated, in fence he had a knowledge amounting to science, a
+knowledge based upon the study of first principles. The intricacies of
+the Italian school were to him an old story. With the single blade he
+had never yet met his master. Indeed, the thought of successful
+opposition seemed never to occur to him at all. Certainly at this
+moment, angered at the impatient insolence of his adversary, the thought
+of danger was farthest from his mind. Stronger than his brother, he
+pushed the latter back with one hand, grasping as he did so the
+small-sword with which the latter was provided. With one leap he sprang
+from the carriage, leaving Will half dazed and limp within.</p>
+
+<p>Even as he left the carriage step, he found himself confronted with an
+adversary eager as himself; for at that instant Beau Wilson was
+hastening from his coach. Vain, weak and pompous in a way, yet lacking
+not in a certain personal valor, Beau Wilson stopped not for his
+seconds, tarried not to catch the other's speech, but himself strode
+madly onward, his point raised slightly, as though he had lost all care
+and dignity and desired nothing so much as to stab his enemy as swiftly
+as might be.</p>
+
+<p>It would have mattered nothing now to this Highlander, this fighting
+Argyll, what had been the reason animating his opponent. It was enough
+that he saw a weapon bared. Too late, then, to reason with John Law,
+&quot;Beau&quot; Law of Edinboro', &quot;Jessamy&quot; Law, the best blade and the coolest
+head in all the schools of arms that taught him fence.</p>
+
+<p>For a moment Law paused and raised his point, whether in query or in
+salute the onlookers scarce could tell. Sure it was that Wilson was the
+first to fall into the assault. Scarce pausing in his stride, he came on
+blindly, and, raising his own point, lunged straight for his opponent's
+breast. Sad enough was the fate which impelled him to do this thing.</p>
+
+<p>It was over in an instant. It could not be said that there was an
+actual encounter. The side step of the young Highlander was soft as that
+of a panther, as quick, and yet as full of savagery. The whipping over
+of his wrist, the gliding, twining, clinging of his blade against that
+of his enemy was so swift that eye could scarce have followed it. The
+eye of Beau Wilson was too slow to catch it or to guard. He never
+stopped the <i>riposte</i>, and indeed was too late to attempt any guard.
+Pierced through the body, Wilson staggered back, clapping his hands
+against his chest. Over his face there swept a swift series of changes.
+Anger faded to chagrin, that to surprise, surprise to fright, and that
+to gentleness.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir,&quot; said he, &quot;you've hit me fair, and very hard. I pray you, some
+friend, give me an arm.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>And so they led him to his carriage, and took him home a corpse. Once
+more the code of the time had found its victim.</p>
+
+<p>Law turned away from the coach of his smitten opponent, turned away with
+a face stern and full of trouble. Many things revolved themselves in his
+mind as he stepped slowly towards the carriage, in which his brother
+still sat wringing his hands in an agony of perturbation.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Jack, Jack!&quot; cried Will Law, &quot;Oh, heavens! You have killed him! You
+have killed a man! What shall we do?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Law raised his head and looked his brother in the face, but seemed
+scarce to hear him. Half mechanically he was fumbling in the side pocket
+of his coat. He drew forth from it now a peculiar object, at which he
+gazed intently and half in curiosity, It was the little beaded shoe of
+the Indian woman, the very object over which this ill-fated quarrel had
+arisen, and which now seemed so curiously to intermingle itself with his
+affairs.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Twas a slight shield enough,&quot; he said slowly to himself, &quot;yet it
+served. But for this little piece of hide, methinks there might be two
+of us going home to-day to take somewhat of rest.&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='CHAPTER_XII'></a><h3>CHAPTER XII</h3>
+
+<h4>FOR FELONY</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>Late in the afternoon of the day following the encounter in Bloomsbury
+Square, a little group of excited loiterers filled the entrance and
+passage way at 59 Bradwell Street, the former lodgings of the two young
+gentlemen from Scotland. The motley assemblage seemed for the most part
+to make merry at the expense of a certain messenger boy, who bore a long
+wicker box, which presently he shifted from his shoulder to a more
+convenient resting place on the curb.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Do 'ee but look at un,&quot; said one ancient dame. &quot;He! he! Hath a parcel
+of fine clothes for the tall gentleman was up in third floor! He! he!
+Clothes for Mr. Law, indeed!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Fine clothes, eh?&quot; cried another, a portly dame of certain years. &quot;Much
+fine clothes he'll need where he'm gone.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, indeed, that he will na. Bad luck 'twas to Mary Cullen as took un
+into her house. Now she's no lodging money for her rooms, and her
+lodgers be both in Newgate; least ways, one of un.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah now, 'tis a pity for Mary Cullen, she do need the money so much&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Shut ye all your mouths, the lot o' you,&quot; cried Mary Cullen herself,
+appearing at the door. &quot;'Tis not she is needing the little money, for
+she has it right here in the corner of her apron. Every stiver Mary
+Cullen's young men said they'd pay they paid, like the gentlemen they
+were. I'll warrant the raggle of ye would do well to make out fine as
+Mary Cullen hath.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh now, is that true, Mary Cullen?&quot; said a voice. &quot;'Twas said that
+these two were noble folk come here for the sport of it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What else but true? Do you never know the look of gentry? My fakes,
+I'll warrant the young gentleman is back within a fortnight. His
+brother, the younger one, said to me hisself but this very morn, his
+brother was hinnocent as a child; that he was obliged to strike the
+other man for fear of his own life. Now, what can judge do but turn un
+loose? Four sovereigns he gave me this very morn. What else can judge do
+but turn un free? Tell me that, now!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Let's see the fine clothes,&quot; said the first old lady to the apprentice
+boy, reaching out a hand and pulling at the corner of the box-lid. The
+youth was nothing loath to show, with professional pride, the quality of
+his burden, and so raised the lid.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Land save us! 'Tis gentry sure enough they are,&quot; cried the inquisitive
+one. &quot;Do-a look in there! Such clothes and laces, such a brand new wig,
+such silken hose! Law o' land! Must have cost all of forty crowns. Mary
+Cullen, right ye are; 'twas quality ye had with ye, even if 'twas but
+for little while.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And them gone to prison, him on trial for his life! I saw un ride out
+this very yesterday, fast as though the devil was behind un, and a finer
+body of a man never did I look at in my life. What pity 'tis, what pity
+'tis!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well,&quot; said the apprentice, with a certain superiority in his air. &quot;I
+dare wait no longer. My master said the gentleman was to have the
+clothes this very afternoon. So if to prison he be gone, to prison must
+I go too.&quot; Upon which he set off doggedly, and so removed one of the
+main causes for the assemblage at the curb.</p>
+
+<p>The apprentice was hungry and weary enough before he reached the somber
+portals, yet his insistence won past gate-keeper and turnkey, one after
+another, till at length he reached the jailer who adjudged himself fit
+to pass upon the stolid demand that the messenger be admitted with the
+parcel for John Law, Esquire, late of Bradwell Street, marked urgent,
+and collect fifty sovereigns. The humor of all this appealed to the
+jailer mightily.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Send him along,&quot; he said. And the boy came in, much dismayed but still
+faithful to his trust.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Please, sir,&quot; said the youth, &quot;I would know if ye have John Law,
+Esquire, in this place; and if so, I would see him. Master said I was
+not to bring back this parcel till that I had seen John Law, Esquire,
+and got from him fifty sovereigns. 'Tis for his wedding, sir, and the
+clothes are of the finest.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The jailer smiled grimly. &quot;Mr. Law gets presents passing soon,&quot; said he.
+&quot;Set down your box. It might be weapons or the like.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Some clothes,&quot; said the apprentice. &quot;Some very fine clothes. They are
+of our best.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ha! ha!&quot; roared the jailer. &quot;Here indeed be a pretty jest. Much need
+he'll have of fine clothes here. He'll soon take his coat off the rack
+like the rest, and happen it fits him, very well. Take back your box,
+boy&mdash;or stay, let's have a look in't.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The jailer was a man not devoid of wisdom. Fine clothes sometimes went
+with a long purse, and a long purse might do wonders to help the comfort
+of any prisoner in London, as well as the comfort of his keeper. Truly
+his eyes opened wide as he saw the contents of the box. He felt the
+lapel of the coat, passing it approvingly between his thumb and finger.
+&quot;Well, e'en set ye down the box, lad,&quot; said he, &quot;and wait till I see
+where Mr. Law has gone. Hum, hum! What saith the record? Charged that
+said prisoner did kill&mdash;hum, hum! Taken of said John Law six sovereigns,
+three shillings and sixpence. Item, one snuff-box, gilt. Hour of
+admission, five o'clock of the afternoon. We shall see, we shall see.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir,&quot; said the jailer, approaching the prisoner and his brother, who
+both remained in the detention room, &quot;a lad hath arrived bearing a
+parcel for John Law, Esquire. 'Tis not within possibility that you have
+these goods, but we would know what disposition we shall make of them.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;By my faith!&quot; cried Law, &quot;I had entirely forgot my haberdasher.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The jailer stood on one foot and gave a cough, unnecessarily loud but
+sufficiently significant. It was enough for the quick wit of Law.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There was fifty sovereigns on the charge list,&quot; said the jailer.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sixty sovereigns, I heard you say distinctly,&quot; replied Law. &quot;Will, give
+me thy purse, man!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Will Law obeyed automatically.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There,&quot; said John Law to the jailer. &quot;I am sure the garments will be
+very proper. Is it not all very proper?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The turnkey looked calmly into the face of his prisoner and as calmly
+replied: &quot;It is, sir, as you say, very proper.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It would be much relief,&quot; said John Law, as the turnkey again appeared,
+bearing the box in his own hands, &quot;if I might don my new garments. I
+would liefer make a good showing for thy house, friend, and can not, in
+this garb.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sirrah,&quot; said the jailer, &quot;there be rules of this place, as you very
+well know. Your little chamber was to have been in corridor number four,
+number twelve of the left aisle. But, sir, as perhaps you know, there be
+rules which are rules, and rules which are not so much&mdash;that is to
+say&mdash;rules, as you might put it, sir. The main thing is that I produce
+your body on the day of the hearing, which cometh soon. Meantime, since
+you seem a gentleman, and are in for no common felony, but charged, as I
+might say, with a light offense, why, sir, in such a case, I might say
+that a gentleman like yourself, if he cared to wear a bit of good
+clothes and wear it here in the parlor like, why, sir, I can see no harm
+in it. And that's competent to prove, as the judge says.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Very well, then,&quot; said Law, &quot;I'll e'en deck out with the gear I should
+have had to-night had I been free; though I fear my employment this
+evening will scarce be pleasing as that which I had planned. Will, had I
+had but one more night at the Green Lion, we'd e'en have needed a
+special chair to carry home my winnings of their English gold.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Enter then, a few moments later, &quot;Beau&quot; Law, &quot;Jessamy&quot; Law, late of
+Edinboro', gentleman, and a right gallant figure of a man. Tall he was
+indeed, and, so clad, making a picture of superb manhood. Ease and grace
+he showed in every movement. His long fingers closed lightly at top of a
+lacquered cane which he had found within the box. Deep ruffles of white
+hung down from his wrists, and a fall of wide lace drooped from the
+bosom of his ruffled shirt. His wig, deep curled and well whitened, gave
+a certain austerity to his mien. At his instep sparkled new buckles of
+brilliants, rising above which sprang a graceful ankle, a straight and
+well-rounded leg. The long lapels of his rich coat hung deep, and the
+rich waistcoat of plum-colored satin added slimness to a torso not too
+bulky in itself. Neat, dainty, fastidious, &quot;Jessamy&quot; Law, late of
+Edinboro', for some weeks of London, and now of a London prison, scarce
+seemed a man about to be put on trial for his life.</p>
+
+<p>He advanced from the door of the side room with ease and dignity.
+Reaching out a snuff-box which he had found in the silken pocket of his
+new garment, he extended it to the turnkey with an indifferent gesture.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Kindly have it filled with maccaboy,&quot; he said. &quot;See, 'tis quite empty,
+and as such, 'tis useless.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Certainly, Captain Law,&quot; said the turnkey. &quot;I am a man as knows what a
+gentleman likes, and many a one I've had here in my day, sir. As it
+chances, I've a bit of the best in my own quarters, and I'll see that
+you have what you like.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Will,&quot; said Law to his brother, who had scarce moved during all this,
+&quot;come, cheer up! One would think 'twas thyself was to be inmate here,
+and not another.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Will Law burst into tears.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;God knows, 'twere better myself, and not thee, Jack,&quot; he said.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Pish! boy, no more of that! 'Twas as chance would have it. I'm never
+meant for staying here. Come, take this letter, as I said, and make
+haste to carry it. 'Twill serve nothing to have you moping here. Fare
+you well, and see that you sleep sound.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Will Law turned, obedient as ever to the commands of the superior mind.
+He passed out through the heavily-guarded door as the turnkey swung it
+for him; passed out, turned and looked back. He saw his brother standing
+there, easy, calm, indifferent, a splendid figure of a man.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='CHAPTER_XIII'></a><h3>CHAPTER XIII</h3>
+
+<h4>THE MESSAGE</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>To Will Law, as he turned away from the prison gate upon the errand
+assigned to him, the vast and shapeless shadows of the night-covered
+city took the form of appalling monsters, relentless, remorseless,
+savage of purpose. He passed, as one in some hideous dream, along
+streets that wound and wound until his brain lost distance and
+direction. It might have been an hour, two hours, and the clock might
+have registered after midnight, when at last he discovered himself in
+front of the dark gray mass of stone which the chairmen assured him was
+his destination. It was with trepidation that he stepped to the
+half-lighted door and fumbled for the knocker. The door slowly swung
+open, and he was confronted by the portly presence of a lackey who stood
+in silence waiting for his word.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;A message for Lady Catharine Knollys,&quot; said Will, with what courage he
+could summon. &quot;'Tis of importance, I make no doubt.&quot; For it was to the
+Lady Catharine that John Law had first turned. His heart craved one
+more sight of the face so beloved, one more word from the voice which so
+late had thrilled his soul. Away from these&mdash;ah! that was the prison for
+him, these were the bars which to him seemed imperatively needful to be
+broken. Aid he did not think of asking. Only, across London, in the
+night, he had sent the cry of his heart: &quot;Come to me!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The Lady Catharine is not in at this hour,&quot; said the butler, with, some
+asperity, closing the door again in part.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But 'tis important. I doubt if 'twill bear the delay of a night.&quot;
+Indeed, Will Law had hitherto hardly paused to reflect how unusual was
+this message, from such a person, to such address, and at such an hour.</p>
+
+<p>The butler hesitated, and so did the unbidden guest at the door. Neither
+heard at first the light rustle of garments at the head of the stair,
+nor saw the face bent over the balustrade in the shadows of the hall.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What is it, James?&quot; asked a voice from above.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;A message for the Lady Catharine,&quot; replied the servant. &quot;Said to be
+important. What should I do?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lady Catharine Knollys is away,&quot; said the soft voice of Mary Connynge,
+speaking from the stair. Her voice came nearer as she now descended and
+appeared at the first landing.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;We may crave your pardon, sir,&quot; said she, &quot;that we receive you so ill,
+but the hour is very late. Lady Catharine is away, and Sir Charles is
+forth also, as usual, at this time. I am left proxy for my entertainers,
+and perhaps I may serve you in this case. Therefore pray step within.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Reluctantly the butler swung open the door and admitted the visitor.
+Will Law stood face to face with Mary Connynge, just from her boudoir,
+and with time for but half care as to the details of her toilet; yet
+none the less Mary Connynge, Eve-like, bewitching, endowed with all the
+ancient wiles of womankind. Will Law gazed, since this was his fate.
+Unconsciously the sorcery of the sight enfolded the youth as he stood
+there uncertainly. He saw the round throat, the heavy masses of the dark
+hair, the full round form. He noted, though he could not define; felt,
+though he could not classify. He was young. Utterly helpless might have
+been even an older man in the hands of Mary Connynge at a time like
+this, Mary Connynge deliberately seeking to ensnare.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Pardon this robe, but half concealing,&quot; said her drooping eye and her
+half uplifted hands which caught the defining folds yet closer to her
+bosom. &quot;'Tis in your chivalry I trust. I would not so with others.&quot; This
+to the beholder meant that he was the one man on earth to whom so much
+could be conceded.</p>
+
+<p>Therefore, following to his own undoing, as though led by some actual
+command, while but bidden gently by the softest voice in all the
+kingdom, the young man entered the great drawing-room and waited as the
+butler lessened the shadows by the aid of candles. He saw the smallest
+foot in London just peep in and out, suddenly withdrawn as Mary Connynge
+sat her down.</p>
+
+<p>She held the message now in her hand. In her soul sat burning
+impatience, in her heart contempt for the callow youth before her. Yet
+to that youth her attitude seemed to speak naught but deference for
+himself and doubt for this unusual situation.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir, I am in some hesitation,&quot; said Mary Connynge. &quot;There is indeed
+none in the house except the servants. You say your message is of
+importance&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It has indeed importance,&quot; responded Will. &quot;It comes from my brother.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Your brother, Mr. Law?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;From my brother, John Law. He is in trouble. I make no doubt the
+message will set all plain.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis most grievous that Lady Catharine return not till to-morrow.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Mary Connynge shifted herself upon her seat, caught once more with swift
+modesty at the robe which fell from her throat. She raised her eyes and
+turned them full upon the visitor. Never had the spell of curve and
+color, never had the language of sex addressed this youth as it did now.
+Intoxicating enough was this vague, mysterious speech even at this
+inappropriate time. The girl knew that the mesh had fallen well. She but
+caught again at her robe, and cast down again her eyes, and voiced again
+her assumed anxiety. &quot;I scarce know what to do,&quot; she murmured.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;My brother did not explain&mdash;&quot; said Will.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;In that case,&quot; said Mary Connynge, her voice cool, though her soul was
+hot with impatience, &quot;it might perhaps be well if I took the liberty of
+reading the message in Lady Catharine's absence. You say your brother is
+in trouble?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Of the worst. Madam, to make plain with you, he is in prison, charged
+with the crime of murder.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Mary Connynge sank back into her chair. The blood fled from her cheek.
+Her hands caught each other in a genuine gesture of distress.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;In prison! John Law! Oh heaven! tell me how?&quot; Her voice was trembling
+now.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;My brother slew Mr. Wilson in a duel not of his own seeking. It
+happened yesterday, and so swift I scarce can tell you. He took up a
+quarrel which I had fixed to settle with Mr. Wilson myself. We all met
+at Bloomsbury Square, my brother coming in great haste. Of a sudden,
+after his fashion, he became enraged. He sprang from the carriage and
+met Mr. Wilson. And so&mdash;they passed a time or so, and 'twas done. Mr.
+Wilson died a few moments later. My brother was taken and lodged in
+jail. There is said to be bitter feeling at the court over this custom
+of dueling, and it has long been thought that an example would be made.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And this letter without doubt bears upon all this? Perhaps it might be
+well if I made both of us owners of its contents.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Assuredly, I should say,&quot; replied Will, too distracted to take full
+heed.</p>
+
+<p>The girl tore open the inclosure. She saw but three words, written
+boldly, firmly, addressed to no one, and signed by no one.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Come to me!&quot; Thus spoke the message. This was the summons that had
+crossed black London town that night.</p>
+
+<p>Mary Connynge rose quickly to her feet, forgetting for the time the man
+who stood before her. The instant demanded all the resources of her
+soul. She fought to remain mistress of herself. A moment, and she
+passed Will Law with swift foot, and gained again the stairway in the
+hall, the letter still fast within her hand. Will Law had not time to
+ask its contents.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There is need of haste,&quot; said she. &quot;James, have up the calash at once.
+Mr. Law, I crave your excuse for a time. In a moment I shall be ready to
+go with you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>In two minutes she was sobbing alone, her face down upon the bed. In
+five, she was at the door, dressed, cloaked, smiling sweetly and ready
+for the journey. And thus it was that, of two women who loved John Law,
+that one fared on to see him for whom he had not sent.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='CHAPTER_XIV'></a><h3>CHAPTER XIV</h3>
+
+<h4>PRISONERS</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>The turnkey at the inner door was slothful, sleepy and ill disposed to
+listen when he heard that certain callers would be admitted to the
+prisoner John Law.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Tis late,&quot; said he, &quot;and besides, 'tis contrary to the rules. Must not
+a prison have rules? Tell me that!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;We have come to arrange for certain matters regarding Mr. Law's
+defense,&quot; said Mary Connynge, as she threw back her cloak and bent upon
+the turnkey the full glance of her dark eye. &quot;Surely you would not deny
+us.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The turnkey looked at Will Law with a hesitation in his attitude. &quot;Why,
+this gentleman I know,&quot; he began.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes; let us in,&quot; cried Will Law, with sudden energy. &quot;'Tis time that we
+took steps to set my brother free.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;True, so say they all, young master,&quot; replied the turnkey, grinning.
+&quot;'Tis easy to get ye in, but passing hard to get ye out again. Yet,
+since the young man ye wish to see is a very decent gentleman, and
+knoweth well the needs of a poor working body like myself, we will take
+the matter under advisement, as the court saith, forsooth.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>They passed through the heavy gates, down a narrow and heavy-aired
+passage, and finally into a naked room. It was here, in such somber
+surroundings, that Mary Connynge saw again the man whose image had been
+graven on her heart ever since that morn at Sadler's Wells. How her
+heart coveted him, how her blood leaped for him&mdash;these things the Mary
+Connynges of the world can tell, they who own the primeval heart of
+womankind.</p>
+
+<p>When John Law himself at length entered the room, he stepped forward at
+first confidently, eagerly, though with surprise upon his face. Then,
+with a sudden hesitation, he looked sharply at the figure which he saw
+awaiting him in the dingy room. His breath came sharp, and ended in a
+sigh. For a half moment his face flushed, his brow showed question and
+annoyance. Yet rapidly, after his fashion, he mastered himself.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Will,&quot; said he, calmly, to his brother, &quot;kindly ask the coachman to
+wait for this lady.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He stood for a moment gazing after the form of his brother as it
+disappeared in the outer shadows. For this half-moment he took swift
+counsel of himself. It was a face calm and noncommittal that he turned
+toward the girl who sat now in the darkest corner of the room, her head
+cast down, her foot beating a signal of perturbation upon the floor.
+From the corner of her eye Mary Connynge saw him, a tall and manly man,
+superbly clad, faultless in physique and raiment from top to toe. He
+stood as though ready to step into his carriage for some voyage to rout
+or ball. Youth, vigor, self-reliance, confidence, this was the whole
+message of the splendid figure. The blood of Mary Connynge, this
+survival, this half-savage woman, unregulated, unsubdued, leaped high
+within her bosom, fled to her face, gave color to her cheek and
+brightness to her eye. Her breath shortened after feline fashion. Deep
+was calling unto deep, ancient unto ancient, primitive unto primitive.
+Without the gate of London prison there was one abject prisoner. Within
+its gates there were two prisoners, and one of them was slave for life!</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Madam,&quot; said John Law, in deep and vibrant tone, &quot;you will pardon me if
+I say that it gives me surprise to see you here.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes; I have come,&quot; said the girl, not logically.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You bring, perhaps, some message?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I&mdash;I brought a message.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It is from the Lady Catharine?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Mary Connynge was silent for a moment. It was necessary that, at least
+for a moment, the poison of some &aelig;ons should distil. There was need of
+savagery to say what she proposed to say. The voice of training, of
+civilization, of unselfishness, of friendship raised a protest. Wait
+then for a moment. Wait until the bitterness of an ambitious and
+unrounded life could formulate this evil impulse. Wait, till Mary
+Connynge could summon treachery enough to slay her friend. And yet, wait
+only until the primitive soul of Mary Connynge should become altogether
+imperative in its demands! For after all, was not this friend a woman,
+and is not the earth builded as it is? And hath not God made male and
+female its inhabitants; and as there is war of male and male, is there
+not war of female and female, until the end of time?</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I came from the Lady Catharine,&quot; said Mary Connynge, slowly, &quot;but I
+bring no message from her of the sort which perhaps you wished.&quot; It was
+a desperate, reckless lie, a lie almost certain of detection yet it was
+the only resource of the moment, and a moment later it was too late to
+recall. One lie must now follow another, and all must make a deadly
+coil.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Madam, I am sorry,&quot; said John Law, quietly, yet his face twitched
+sharply at the impact of these cutting words. &quot;Did you know of my letter
+to her?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Am I not here?&quot; said Mary Connynge.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;True, and I thank you deeply. But how, why-pray you, understand that I
+would be set right. I would not undergo more than is necessary. Will you
+not explain?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There is but little to explain&mdash;little, though it may mean much. It
+must be private. Your brother&mdash;he must never know. Promise me not to
+speak to him of this.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;This means much to me, I doubt not, my dear lady,&quot; said John Law. &quot;I
+trust I may keep my counsel in a matter which comes so close to me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, truly,&quot; replied Mary Connynge, &quot;if you had set your heart upon a
+kindly answer.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What! You mean, then, that she&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Do you promise?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The brows of Law settled deeper and deeper into the frown which marked
+him when he was perturbed. The blood, settled back, now slowly mounted
+again into his face, the resentful, fighting blood of the Highlander.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I promise,&quot; he cried. &quot;And now, tell me what answer had the Lady
+Catharine Knollys.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;She declined to answer,&quot; said Mary Connynge, slowly and evenly.
+&quot;Declined to come. She said that she was ill enough pleased to hear of
+your brawling. Said that she doubted not the law would punish you, nor
+doubted that the law was just.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>John Law half whirled upon his heel, smote his hands together and
+laughed loud and bitterly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Madam,&quot; said he, &quot;I had never thought to say it to a woman, but in very
+justice I must tell you that I see quite through this shallow
+falsehood.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir,&quot; said Mary Connynge, her hands clutching at the arms of her chair,
+&quot;this is unusual speech to a lady!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But your story, Madam, is most unusual.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Tell me, then, why should I be here?&quot; burst out the girl. &quot;What is it
+to me? Why should I care what the Lady Catharine says or does? Why
+should I risk my own name to come of this errand in the night? Now let
+me pass, for I shall leave you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Tho swift jealous rage of Mary Connynge was unpremeditated, yet nothing
+had better served her real purpose. The stubborn nature of Law was ever
+ready for a challenge. He caught her arm, and placed her not unkindly
+upon the chair.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;By heaven, I half believe what you say is true!&quot; said he, as though to
+himself.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yet you just said 'twas false,&quot; said the girl, her eyes flashing.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I meant that what you add is true, and hence the first also must be
+believed. Then you saw my message?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I did, since it so fell out.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But you did not read the real message. I asked no aid of any one for my
+escape. I but asked her to come. In sheer truth, I wished but to see
+her.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And by what right could you expect that?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I asked her as my affianced wife,&quot; replied John Law.</p>
+
+<p>Mary Connynge stood an inch taller, as she sprang to her feet in sudden
+scorn and bitterness.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Your affianced wife!&quot; cried she. &quot;What! So soon! Oh, rare indeed must
+be my opinion of this Lady Catharine!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It was never my way to waste time on a journey,&quot; said John Law, coolly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Your wife, your affianced wife?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;As I said.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes,&quot; cried Mary Connynge, bitterly, and again, unconsciously and in
+sheer anger, falling upon that course which best served her purpose.
+&quot;And what manner of affianced wife is it would forsake her lover at the
+first breath of trouble? My God! 'tis then, it seems to me, a woman
+would most swiftly fly to the man she loved.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>John Law turned slowly toward her, his eyes scanning her closely from
+top to toe, noting the heaving of her bosom, the sparkling of her
+gold-colored eye, now darkened and half ready to dissolve in tears. He
+stood as though he were a judge, weighing the evidence before him,
+calmly, dispassionately.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Would you do so much as that, Mary Connynge?&quot; asked John Law.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I, sir?&quot; she replied. &quot;Then why am I here to-night myself? But, God pity
+me, what have I said? There is nothing but misfortune in all my life!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>It was one rebellious, unsubdued nature speaking to another, and of the
+two each was now having its own sharp suffering. The instant of doubt is
+the time of danger. Then comes revulsion, bitterness, despair, folly.
+John Law trod a step nearer.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;By God! Madam,&quot; cried he, &quot;I would I might believe you. I would I might
+believe that you, that any woman, would come to me at such a time! But
+tell me&mdash;and I bethink me my message was not addressed, was even
+unsigned&mdash;whom then may I trust? If this woman scorns my call at such a
+time, tell me, whom shall I hold faithful? Who would come to me at any
+time, in any case, in my trouble? Suppose my message were to you?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Mary Connynge stirred softly under her deep cloak. Her head was lifted
+slightly, the curve of cheek and chin showing in the light that fell
+from the little lamp. The masses of her dark hair lay piled about her
+face, tumbled by the sweeping of her hood. Her eyes showed tremulously
+soft and deep now as he looked into them. Her little hands half twitched
+a trifle from her lap and reached forward and upward. Primitive she
+might have been, wicked she was, sinfully sweet; and yet she was woman.
+It was with the voice of tears that she spoke, if one might claim
+vocalization for her speech.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Have I not come?&quot; whispered she.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;By God! Mary Connynge, yes, you have come!&quot; cried Law. And though there
+was heartbreak in his voice, it sounded sweet to the ear of her who
+heard it, and who now reached up her arms about his neck.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah, John Law,&quot; said Mary Connynge, &quot;when a woman loves&mdash;when a woman
+loves, she stops at nothing!&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='CHAPTER_XV'></a><h3>CHAPTER XV</h3>
+
+<h4>IF THERE WERE NEED</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>Time wore on in the ancient capital of England. The tramp of troops
+echoed in the streets, and the fleets of Britain made ready to carry her
+sons over seas for wars and for adventures. The intrigues of party
+against party, of church against church, of Parliament against king; the
+loves, the hates, the ambitions, the desires of all the city's hurrying
+thousands went on as ever. Who, then, should remember a single prisoner,
+waiting within the walls of England's jail? The hours wore on slowly
+enough for that prisoner. He had faced a jury of his peers and was
+condemned to face the gallows. Meantime he had said farewell to love and
+hope and faithfulness, even as he bade farewell to life. &quot;Since she has
+forsaken me whom I thought faithful,&quot; said he to himself, &quot;why, let it
+end, for life is a mockery I would not live out.&quot; And thenceforth,
+haggard but laughing, pale but with unbroken courage, he trod on his way
+through his few remaining days, the wonder of those who saw him.</p>
+
+<p>As for Mary Connynge, surely she had matters enough which were best kept
+secret in her own soul. While Lady Catharine was hoping, and praying,
+and dreaming and believing, even as the roses left her cheek and the
+hollows fell beneath her eyes, she saw about her in the daily walks of
+life Mary Connynge, sleek and rounded as ever. They sat at table
+together, and neither did the one make sign to the other of her own
+anxiety, nor did that other give sign of her own treachery. Mary
+Connynge, false guest, false friend, false woman, deceived so perfectly
+that she left no indication of deceit. She herself knew, and blindly
+satisfied herself with the knowledge, that she alone now came close into
+the life of &quot;Beau&quot; Law, the convict; &quot;Jessamy&quot; Law, the student, the
+financier, the thinker; John Law, her lord and master. Herein she found
+the sole compensation possible in her savage nature. She had found the
+master whom she sought!</p>
+
+<p>Cynically mirthful or irreverently indifferent, yet never did her
+master's strength forsake him, never did his heart lose its
+undauntedness. And when he bade Mary Connynge do this or that she obeyed
+him; when he bade her arise she arose; at his word she came or departed.
+A dozen nights in the month she was absent from the house of Knollys. A
+dozen nights Will Law was cozened into frenzy, alternating between a
+heaven of delight and a hell of despair, and ignorant of her twofold
+duplicity. A dozen nights John Law knew well enough where Mary Connynge
+was, though no one else might know. There was feminine triumph now in
+full in the heart of this Mary Connynge, who had gone white with rage at
+the sight of a rose offered across her face to another woman. Had she
+not her master? Was he not hers, all hers, belonging in no wise to any
+other?</p>
+
+<p>For the future, Mary Connynge did not ponder it. An ephemera, once
+buried generations deep in the mire and slime of lower conditions, and
+now craving blindly but the sunlight of the day, she would have sought
+the deadly caress of life even though at that moment it had sealed her
+doom. Foolish or wise, she was as she was; since, under our frail
+society, life is as it is.</p>
+
+<p>Only at night, on those nights when she was sleepless on her own couch
+beneath the roof of Catharine Knollys, did Mary Connynge allow herself
+to think. Tell, then, ye who may, whether or not she was a mere survival
+of some forgotten day of the forest and the glade, as she lay with her
+hands clasped in brief moments of emotion. Surely she hoped, as all
+women hope who love, that this might endure for her forever. Yet the
+next moment there came the thought that inevitably it all must end, and
+soon. Then her hand clenched, her eyes grew dry and brilliant. She said
+to herself: &quot;There is no hope. He can not be saved! For this short
+period of his life he shall be mine, all mine! He shall not be set free!
+He shall not go away, to belong, at any time, in any part, to any other
+woman! Though he die, yet shall he love me to the end; me, Mary
+Connynge, and no other woman!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Now, under this same roof of Knollys, separated by but a few yards of
+space, there lay another woman, thinking also of this convict behind the
+prison bars. But this was a woman of another and a nobler mold. Into the
+heart of Catharine Knollys there came no mere mad selfishness of desire,
+yearn though she did in every fiber of her being since that first time
+she felt the mastering kiss of love. There was born in her soul emotion
+of a higher sort. The Lady Catharine Knollys prayed, and her prayer was
+not that her lover should die, but that he might live; that he might be
+free.</p>
+
+<p>Nor was this hope left to wither unnourished in the mind of the
+high-bred and courageous English girl. Alone, without confidant to
+counsel her, with no woman friend to aid her, the Lady Catharine
+Knollys backed her own hopes and wishes with resource and energy. There
+came a time, perilously late, when a faint rose showed once more in her
+cheek, long so worn, a faintly brighter light glowed in her deep eye.</p>
+
+<p>When Sir Arthur Pembroke received a message from the Lady Catharine
+Knollys advising him that the latter would receive him at her home, it
+was left for the impulses, the hopes, the imaginings of that modest
+young nobleman to establish a reason for the message. Puzzling all along
+his rapid way in answer to the summons, Sir Arthur found the answer
+which best suited his hopes in the faint flush, the brightened eye of
+the young woman who received him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lady Catharine,&quot; he began, impetuously, &quot;I have come, and let me hope
+that 'tis at last to have my answer. I have waited&mdash;each moment has been
+a year that I have spent away from you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Now, that is very pretty said.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But I am serious.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And that is why I do not like you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But, Lady Catharine!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I should like it better did you but continue as in the past. We have
+met on the Row, at the routs and drums, in the country; and always I
+have felt free to ask any favor of Sir Arthur Pembroke. Why could it not
+be always thus?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You might ask my very life, Lady Catharine.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah, there it is! When a man offers his life, 'tis time for a woman to
+ask nothing.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>She turned from the open window, her attitude showing an unwonted
+weakness and dejection. Sir Arthur still stood near by, his own face
+frowning and uncertain.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lady Catharine,&quot; he broke out at length, &quot;for years, as you know, I
+have sought your favor. I have dared think that sometime the day would
+come when&mdash;my faith! Lady Catharine, the day has come now when I feel it
+my right to demand the cause of anything which troubles you. And that
+you are troubled is plain enough. Ever since this man Law&mdash;&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There,&quot; cried Lady Catharine, raising her hand. &quot;I beg you to say no
+more.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But I will say more! There must be a reason for this.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The face of the young woman flushed in spite of herself, as Pembroke
+strode closer and gazed at her with sternness.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lady Catharine,&quot; said he, slowly, &quot;I am a friend of your family.
+Perhaps now I may be of aid to you. Prove me, and at the last, ask who
+was indeed your friend.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;We have had misfortunes, we of the family of the Knollys,&quot; said Lady
+Catharine. &quot;This is, perhaps, but the fate of the house of Knollys. It
+is my fate.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Your fate!&quot; said Sir Arthur, slowly. &quot;Your fate! Lady Catharine, I
+thank you. It is at least as well to know the truth.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Pick out the truth, then, Sir Arthur, as you like it. I am not on the
+witness stand before you, and you are not my judge. There has been
+forsworn testimony enough already in this town. Were it not for that,
+Mr. Law would at this moment be free as you or I.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Sir Arthur struck his hands together in despair, and turning away,
+strode down the room.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, I see it all well enough,&quot; cried he. &quot;You are mad as any who have
+hitherto had dealings with this madman from the North.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The girl rose to her full height and stood before him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It may be I am mad,&quot; said she. &quot;It may be the old Knollys madness. If
+so, why should I struggle against it? It may be that I am mad. But I
+venture to say to you that Mr. Law is not born to die in Newgate yards.
+My life! sir, if I love him, who should say me nay? Now, say to
+yourself, and to your friends&mdash;to all London, if you like, since you
+have touched me to this point&mdash;that Catharine Knollys is friend to Mr.
+Law, and believes in him, and declares that he shall be freed from his
+prison, and that within short space! Say that, Sir Arthur; tell them
+that! And if they argue somewhat from it, why, let them reason it as
+best they may.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The young man stood, his lips close together, his head still turned
+away. The girl continued with growing energy.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I have sent for you to tell you that Mr. Law's life has a value in my
+eyes. And now, I say to you, Sir Arthur, that you must aid me in his
+escape.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>A beautiful picture she made, tearful, pleading, a lock of her soft
+red-brown hair falling unnoticed across her tear-wet cheek. It had been
+ill task, indeed, to make refusal of any sort to a woman so gloriously
+feminine, so noble, now so beseeching.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lady Catharine,&quot; said the young man, turning toward her, &quot;this illness,
+this anxiety&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No, I know perfectly well whereof I speak! Listen, and I'll tell you
+somewhat of news. Montague, chancellor of the exchequer, is my warrant
+for what I say to you when I tell you that Mr. Law is to be free.
+Montague himself has said to me, in this very room, that Mr. Law was
+like to be half the salvation of England in these uncertain times. I
+could tell you more, but may not. Only look you, Sir Arthur, John Law
+does not rest in Newgate more than one week from this time!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Sir Arthur took snuff, his voice at length regaining that composure for
+which he had sought.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis very excellent,&quot; he said. &quot;For myself, two centuries have been
+spent in my family to teach me to love like a gentleman, and to deserve
+you like a man. What does this young man need? A few days of bluster, of
+assertion! A few weeks of gaming and of roistering, of self-asserted
+claims! Gad! Lady Catharine, this is passing bitter! And now you ask me
+to help him.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I wish you to help him,&quot; said Lady Catharine, slowly, &quot;only in that I
+ask you to help me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And if I did?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And if you did, you should dwell in a part of my heart forever! Let it
+be as you like.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then,&quot; cried the young man, flushing suddenly and hotly as he strode
+toward her, &quot;do with me as you like! Let me be fool unspeakable!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And do you promise?&quot; said Lady Catharine, rising and advancing toward
+him. Her face was sad and appealing. Her eyes swam in tears, her lips
+were trembling.</p>
+
+<p>Sir Arthur held out his hand. The Lady Catharine extended both her own,
+and he bent and kissed them, tears springing in his eyes. For a time the
+room was silent. Then the girl turned, her own lashes wet. She stepped
+at length to a cabinet and took from an inner drawer a paper.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir Arthur, look at this,&quot; she Said.</p>
+
+<p>He took it from her and scrutinized it carefully.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, this seems to be a street bill, a placard for posting upon the
+walls,&quot; said he.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Read it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, well&mdash;so, so. 'Five hundred pounds reward for information
+regarding the escaped felon, Captain John Law, convicted of murder and
+under sentence of death of the King's Bench. The same Law escaped from
+Newgate prison on the night of'&mdash;hum&mdash;well&mdash;well&mdash;'May be known by this
+description: Is tall, of dark complexion, spare of build, raw-boned,
+face hath deep pock-marks. Eyes dark; hair dark and scanty. Speaketh
+broad and loud.' How&mdash;how, why my dear Lady Catharine, this is the last
+proof that thou'rt stark, staring mad! This no more tallies with the
+true John Law than it does with my hunting horse!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And but few would know him by this description?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;None, absolutely none.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;None could tell 'twas he, even did they meet him full face to face&mdash;no
+one would know it was Mr. Law?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, assuredly not. 'Tis as unlike him as it could be.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then it is well!&quot; said Lady Catharine.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well? Very badly done, I should say.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, my poor Sir Arthur, where are your wits? 'Tis very well because
+'tis very ill, this same description.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah, ha!&quot; said he, a sudden light dawning upon him. &quot;Then you mean to
+tell me that this description was misconceived deliberately?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What would you think?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Did you do this work yourself?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Guess for yourself. Montague, as you know, was once of a pretty
+imagination, ere he took to finance. If he and the poet Prior could
+write such conceits as they have created, could not perhaps Montague&mdash;or
+Prior&mdash;or some one else&mdash;have conceived this description of Mr. Law?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The young man threw himself into a seat, his head between his hands.
+&quot;'Tis like a play,&quot; said he. &quot;And surely the play of fortune ever runs
+well enough for Mr. Law.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir Arthur,&quot; said Lady Catharine, rising uneasily and standing before
+him, &quot;I must confess to you that I bear a certain active part in private
+plans looking to the escape of Mr. Law. I have come to you for aid. Sir
+Arthur, I pray God that we may be successful.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The young man also rose and began to pace the floor.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Even did Law escape,&quot; he began, &quot;it would mean only his flight from
+England.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;True,&quot; said the Lady Catharine, &quot;that is all planned. The ship even now
+awaits him in the Pool. He is to take ship at once upon leaving prison,
+and he sails at once from England. He goes to France.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But, my dear Lady Catharine, this means that he must part from you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Of course, it means our parting.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, but you said&mdash;but I thought&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But I said&mdash;but you thought&mdash;Sir Arthur, do not stand there prating
+like a little boy!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You do not, then, keep your prisoner bound by other fetters after he
+escapes from Newgate?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I do nothing unwomanly, and I do nothing, I trust, ignoble. I go to
+meet the Knollys fate, whatever it may be.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lady Catharine,&quot; cried Pembroke, passionately, &quot;I have said I loved
+you. Never in my life did I love you as I do now!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I like to hear your words,&quot; said the girl, frankly. &quot;There shall always
+be your corner in my heart&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yet you will do this thing?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I will do this thing. I shall not whimper nor repine. I am sending him
+away forever, but 'tis needful for his sake. I shall be ready for
+whatever fate hath for me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Tell me, then,&quot; said Pembroke, his face haggard and unhappy, &quot;how am I
+to serve you in this matter.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;In this way: To-morrow night call here with your coach. My household,
+if they note it, may take your coach for my own, and may perhaps
+understand that I go to the rout of my Lady Swearingsham. We shall go,
+instead, to Newgate. For the night, Sir Arthur Pembroke shall serve as
+coachman. You must drive the carriage to Newgate jail.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And 'tis there,&quot; said Pembroke, slowly, &quot;that the Lady Catharine
+Knollys, the dearest woman of all England, would take the man who
+honorably loves her&mdash;to Newgate, to feloniously set free a felon? Is it
+there, then, Lady Catharine, you would go to meet your lover?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The tall figure of the girl straightened up to its full height. A shade
+of color came to her cheeks, but her voice was firm, though tears came
+to her eyes as she answered:</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Aye, sir, I would go to Newgate if there were need!&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='CHAPTER_XVI'></a><h3>CHAPTER XVI</h3>
+
+<h4>THE ESCAPE</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>On a certain morning a messenger rode in hot haste up to the prison
+gate. He bore the livery of Montague. Turnkey after turnkey admitted
+him, until finally he stood before the cell of John Law and delivered
+into his hand, as he had been commanded, the message that he bore. That
+afternoon this same messenger paused at the gate of the house of
+Knollys. Here, too, he was admitted promptly. He delivered into the
+hands of the Lady Catharine Knollys a certain message. This was of a
+Wednesday. On the following Friday it was decreed that the gallows
+should do its work. Two more days and there would be an end of &quot;Jessamy&quot;
+Law.</p>
+
+<p>That Wednesday night a covered carriage came to the door of the house of
+Knollys. Its driver was muffled in such fashion that he could hardly
+have been known. There stepped from the house the cloaked figure of a
+woman, who entered the carriage and herself pulled shut the door. The
+vehicle was soon lost among the darkling streets.</p>
+
+<p>Catharine Knollys had heard the summons of her fate. She now sat
+trembling in the carriage.</p>
+
+<p>When finally the vehicle stopped at the curb of the walk which led to
+the prison gate, a second carriage, as mysterious as the first, came
+down the street and stopped at a little distance, but close to the curb
+on the side nearest to the gate. The driver of the first carriage,
+evidently not liking the close neighborhood at the time, edged a trifle
+farther down the way. The second carriage thereupon drew up into the
+spot just vacated, and the two, not easily distinguishable at the hour
+and in the dark and unlighted street, stood so, each apparently watchful
+of the other, each seemingly without an occupant.</p>
+
+<p>Lady Catharine had left her carriage before this interchange, and had
+passed the prison gate alone. Her steps faltered. It was hardly
+consciously that she finally found her way into the court, through the
+gate, down the evil-smelling corridors, past the sodden and leering
+constables, up to the last gate which separated her from him whom she
+had come to see.</p>
+
+<p>She had been admitted without demur as far as this point, and even now
+her coming seemed not altogether a matter of surprise. The burly turnkey
+at the last door stood ready to meet her. With loud commands, he drove
+out of the corridor the crowd of prison attendants. He approached Lady
+Catharine, hat in hand and bowing deeply.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I presume you are the man whom I would see,&quot; said she, faintly, almost
+unequal to the task imposed upon her.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Aye, Madam, I doubt not, with my best worship for you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I was to come&quot;&mdash;said Lady Catharine. &quot;I was to speak to you&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Aye,&quot; replied the turnkey. &quot;You were to come, and you were to speak.
+And now, what were you to say to me? Was there no given word?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There was such a word,&quot; she said. &quot;You will understand. It is in the
+matter of Mr. Law.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;True,&quot; said the turnkey. &quot;But I must have the countersign. There are
+heads to lose in this, yours and mine, if there be mistake.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lady Catharine raised her head proudly. &quot;It was for Faith,&quot; said she,
+&quot;for Love, and for Hope! These were the words.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Saying which, as though she had called to her aid the last atom of her
+strength, she staggered back and half fell against the wall near the
+inner gate. The rude jailer sprang forward to steady her.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, yes,&quot; he whispered, eagerly. &quot;'Tis all proper. Those be the
+words. Pray you, have courage, lady.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>There came into the corridor a murmur of voices, and there was audible
+also the sound of a man's footfalls approaching along the flags.
+Catharine Knollys looked through the bars of the gate which the turnkey
+was already beginning to throw open for her. She looked, and there
+appeared upon her vision, a sight which caused her heart to stop, which
+confounded all her reason. From a side door there advanced John Law,
+magnificently clad, walking now as though he trod the floor of some
+great hall or banquet room.</p>
+
+<p>The woman waiting without the gate reached out her arms. She would have
+cried aloud. Then she fell back against the wall, whereat had she not
+grasped she must have sunk down to the floor.</p>
+
+<p>Upon the arm of John Law, and looking up to him as she walked, there
+hung the clinging figure of a woman, half-hidden by the flickering
+shadows of the torches. A deep cloak fell back from her shoulders. It
+might have been the light fabric of the aborigine. Upon the foot of Mary
+Connynge, twinkling in and out as she walked, showed the crudely
+garnished little shoe of the Indian princess over seas, dainty, bizarre,
+singular, covering the smallest foot in all London town.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;By all the saints!&quot; Law was saying, &quot;you might be the very maker of
+this little slipper yourself. I have won the forty crowns, I swear!
+Perforce, I'll leave them to you in my will.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The shock of the light speech made even Mary Connynge wince. For the
+moment she averted her eyes from the handsome face above her. She
+looked, and saw what gave her greater shock. Law, too, stared, as her
+own startled gaze grew fixed. He advanced close to the gate, only to
+start back in a horror of surprise which racked even his steeled
+composure.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Madam!&quot; he cried; and then, &quot;Catharine!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Catharine Knollys made no answer to him, though she looked straight and
+calmly into his face, seeming not in the least to see the woman near
+him. Her eyes were wide and shining. &quot;Sir,&quot; said she, &quot;keep fast to
+Hope! This was for Faith, and for Love!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The jailer with one quick gesture swung wide the gate. &quot;Haste, haste!&quot;
+he cried. &quot;Quick and begone! This night may mean my ruin! Get ye gone,
+all of ye, and give me time to think. Out with ye all, for I must lock
+the gate!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>John Law passed as one stupefied, the slender form of Mary Connynge
+still upon his arm. Hands of men hurried them. &quot;Quick! Into the
+carriage!&quot; one cried.</p>
+
+<p>And now the sounds of feet and voices approaching along the corridor
+were heard. The jailer swiftly swung the heavy gate to and locked it.
+Catharine Knollys caught his last gesture, which bade her begone as fast
+as might be. Her feet were strangely heavy, in spite of her. She reached
+the curb in time to hear only the whir of wheels as a carriage sped away
+over the stones of the street. She stood alone, irresolute for half an
+instant as the crunch of wheels spun up to the curb again. A hand
+reached out and beckoned; involuntarily she obeyed the summons. Her
+wrist was seized, and she was half pulled through the door of the
+carriage.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What!&quot; cried a voice. &quot;You, Lady Catharine! Why, how is this?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>It was the voice of Will Law, whom she knew, but who certainly was not
+the one who had brought her hither. The Lady Catharine accepted this
+last situation as one no longer able to reason. She sank down in the
+carriage seat, shivering.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Is all well?&quot; asked Will Law, eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;He is safe,&quot; said Lady Catharine Knollys. &quot;It is done. It is finished.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What does this mean?&quot; exclaimed Will.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;His carriage&mdash;there it is. It goes to the ship&mdash;to the Pool. He and
+Mary Connynge are only just ahead of us. You may hear the wheels. Do you
+not hear them?&quot; She spoke with leaden voice, and her head sank heavily.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What! My brother&mdash;Mary Connynge&mdash;in that carriage&mdash;what can you mean?
+My God! Lady Catharine, tell me, what do you mean?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I do not know,&quot; said Catharine Knollys. All things now seemed very far
+away from her. Her head sank gently forward, and she heard not the words
+of the man who frantically sought to awaken her to speech.</p>
+
+<p>From the prison to London Pool was a journey of some distance across the
+streets of London. Will Law called out to the driver with savagery in
+his voice. He shouted, cursed, implored, promised, and betimes held one
+hand under the soft, heavy tresses of the head now sunk so humbly
+forward.</p>
+
+<p>The mad ride ended at the quay on Thames side, where the shadows of the
+tall buildings lay rank and thick upon the earth, where tarry smells and
+evil odors filled the heavy air, penetrated none the less by the savor
+of the keen salt air. More than one giant form was outlined in the broad
+stream, vessels tall and ghost-like in the gloom, shadowy, suggestive,
+bearing imprint and promise of far lands across the sea.</p>
+
+<p>Here was the initial point of England's greatness. Here on this heavy
+stream had her captains taken ship. Thence had sailed her admirals to
+encompass all the world. In these dark massed shadows, how much might
+there not be of fate and mystery! Whither might not these vessels carry
+one! To France, to the far-off Indies, to the new-owned islands, to
+America with its little half-grown ports. Whence and whither? What might
+not one do, here at this gateway of the world?</p>
+
+<p>&quot;To the brigantine beyond!&quot; cried Will Law to the wherryman who came up.
+&quot;We want Captain McMasters, of the Polly Perkins. For God's sake, quick!
+There's that afoot must be caught up within the moment, do you hear!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The wherryman touched his cap and quickly made ready his boat. Will Law,
+understanding naught of this swift coil of events, and not daring to
+leave Lady Catharine behind him at the carriage, made down the stairway,
+half carrying the drooping figure which now leaned weakly upon his
+shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Pull now, man! Pull as you never did before!&quot; cried he, and the
+wherryman bent hard to his oars.</p>
+
+<p>Yet great as was the haste of those who put forth into the foggy
+Thames, it was more than equalled by that of one who appeared upon the
+dock, even as the creak of the oars grew fainter in the gloom. There
+came the rattle of wheels upon the quay, and the sound of a driver
+lashing his horses. A carriage rolled up, and there sprang from the box
+a muffled figure which resolved itself into the very embodiment of
+haste.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Hold the horses, man!&quot; he cried to the nearest by-stander, and sprang
+swiftly to the head of the stairs, where a loiterer or two stood idly
+gazing out into the mist which overhung the water.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Saw you aught of a man,&quot; he demanded hastily, &quot;a man and a woman, a
+tall young woman&mdash;you could not mistake her? 'Twas the Polly Greenway
+they should have found. Tell me, for God's sake, has any boat put out
+from this stair?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, sir,&quot; replied one of the wherrymen who stood near by, pipe in
+mouth and hand in pocket, &quot;since you mention it, there was a boat
+started but this instant for midstream. They sought McMaster's
+brigantine, the Polly Perkins, that lies waiting for the tide. 'Twas, as
+you say, a young gentleman, and with him was a young woman. I misdoubt
+the lady was ill.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Get me a boat!&quot; cried the new-comer. &quot;A sovereign, five sovereigns, ten
+sovereigns, a hundred&mdash;but that ship must not weigh anchor until I
+board her, do you hear!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The ring of the imperative voice, and moreover the ring of good English
+coin, set all the dock astir. Straightway there came up another wherry
+with two lusty fellows, who laid her at the stair where stood the
+impatient stranger.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Hurry, men!&quot; he cried. &quot;'Tis life and death&mdash;'tis more than life and
+death!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>And such fortune attended Sir Arthur Pembroke that forsooth he went over
+the side of the Polly Perkins, even as the gray dawn began to break over
+the narrow Thames, and even as the anchor-song of the crew struck up.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='CHAPTER_XVII'></a><h3>CHAPTER XVII</h3>
+
+<h4>WHITHER</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>A few hours later a coppery sun slowly dispersed the morning mists above
+the Thames. The same sun warmed the court-yards of the London jail,
+which lately had confined John Law, convicted of the murder of Beau
+Wilson, gentleman. It was discovered that the said John Law had, in some
+superhuman fashion, climbed the spiked walls of the inner yard. The
+jailer pointed out the very spot where this act had been done. It was
+not so plain how he had passed the outer gates of the prison, yet those
+were not wanting who said that he had overpowered the turnkey at the
+gate, taken from him his keys, and so forced his way out into London
+city.</p>
+
+<p>Far and wide went forth the proclamation of reward for the apprehension
+of this escaped convict. The streets of London were placarded broadcast
+with bills bearing this description of the escaped prisoner:</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Five hundred pounds reward for information regarding the escaped
+felon, John Law, convicted in the King's Bench of murder and under
+sentence of death. The same Law escaped from prison on the night of 20
+July. May be known by the following description: Is tall, of dark
+complexion, spare of build, raw-boned, face hath deep pock-marks. Eyes
+dark, hair dark and scanty. Speaks broad and loud. Carries his shoulders
+stooped, and is of mean appearance.</p>
+
+<span style='margin-left: 15em;'>&quot;WESTON, High Sheriff.</span><br />
+<span style='margin-left: 15em;'>Done at Newgate prison, this 21 July.&quot;</span><br />
+
+<p>Yet though the authorities of the law made full search in London, and
+indeed in other of the principal cities of England, they got no word of
+the escaped prisoner.</p>
+
+<p>The clouded dawn which broke over the Thames below the Pool might have
+told its own story. There sat upon the deck of the good ship Polly
+Greenway, outbound from Thames' mouth, this same John Law. He regarded
+idly the busy scenes of the shipping about him. His gaze, dull and
+listless, looked without joy upon the dawn, without inquiry upon the far
+horizon. For the first time in all his life John Law dropped his head
+between his hands.</p>
+
+<p>Not so Mary Connynge. &quot;Good sir,&quot; cried she, merrily, &quot;'tis morning.
+Let's break our fast, and so set forth proper on our voyage.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;So now we are free,&quot; said Law, dully. &quot;I could swear there were
+shackles on me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, we are free,&quot; said Mary Connynge, &quot;and all the world is before us.
+But saw you ever in all your life a man so dumfounded as was Sir Arthur
+when he discovered 'twas I, and not the Lady Catharine, had stepped into
+the carriage? That confusion of the carriages was like to have cost us
+everything. I know not how your brother made such mistake. He said he
+would fetch me home the night. Gemini! It sure seems a long way about!
+And where may be your brother now, or Sir Arthur, or the Lady
+Catharine&mdash;why, 'tis as much confused as though 'twere all in a play!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But Sir Arthur cried that my ship was for France. Yet here they tell me
+that this brigantine is bound for the mouth of the St. Lawrence, in
+America! What then of this other, and what of my brother&mdash;what of
+us&mdash;what of&mdash;?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, I think this,&quot; said Mary Connynge, calmly. &quot;That you do very well
+to be rid of London jail; and for my own part, 'tis a rare appetite the
+salt air ever gives me!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Upon the same morning tide there was at this very moment just setting
+aloft her sails for the first high airs of dawn the ship of McMasters,
+the Polly Perkins, bound for the port of Brest.</p>
+
+<p>She came down scarce a half-dozen cable lengths behind the craft which
+bore the fugitives now beginning their journey toward another land. Upon
+the deck of this ship, even as upon the other, there were those who
+waited eagerly for the dawn. There were two men here, Will Law and Sir
+Arthur Pembroke, and whether their conversation had been more eager or
+more angry, were hard to tell. Will Law, broken and dejected, his heart
+torn by a thousand doubts and a thousand pains, sat listening, though
+but half comprehending.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Every plan gone wrong!&quot; cried Sir Arthur. &quot;Every plan gone wrong, and
+out of it all we can only say that he has escaped from prison for whom
+no prison could be enough of hell! Though he be your brother, I tell it
+to your face, the gallows had been too good for John Law! Look you
+below. See that girl, pure as an angel, as noble and generous a soul us
+ever breathed&mdash;what hath she done to deserve this fate? You have brought
+her from her home, and to that home she can not now return unsmirched.
+And all this for a man who is at this moment fleeing with the woman whom
+she deemed her friend! What is there left in life for her?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Will Law groaned and buried his own head deeper in his hands. &quot;What is
+there left for any of us?&quot; said he. &quot;What is there left for me?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;For you?&quot; said Sir Arthur, questioningly. &quot;Why, the next ship back from
+Brest, or from any other port of France. 'Tis somewhat different with a
+woman.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You do not understand,&quot; said Will Law. &quot;The separation means somewhat
+for me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Surely you do not mean&mdash;you have no reference to Mary Connynge?&quot; cried
+Sir Arthur.</p>
+
+<p>Will bowed his head abjectly and left the other to guess that which sat
+upon his mind. Sir Arthur drew a long breath and stopped his angry
+pacing up and down.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It ran on for weeks,&quot; said Will Law. &quot;We were to have been married. I
+had no thought of this. 'Twas I who took her to and from the prison
+regularly, and 'twas thus that we met. She told me she was but the
+messenger of the Lady Catharine.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Sir Arthur drew a long, slow breath. &quot;Then I may say to you,&quot; said he,
+&quot;that your brother, John Law, is a hundred times more traitor and felon
+than even now I thought him. Yonder he goes&quot;&mdash;and he shook his fist into
+the enveloping mist which hung above the waters. &quot;Yonder he goes,
+somewhere, I give you warning, where he deems no trail shall be left
+behind him. But I promise you, whatever be your own wish, I shall follow
+him into the last corner of the earth, but he shall see me and give
+account for this! There is none of us he has not deceived, utterly, and
+like a black-hearted villain. He shall account for it, though it be
+years from now.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>So now, inch by inch, fathom after fathom, cable length after cable
+length, soon knot after knot, there sped two English ships out into the
+open seaway. Before long they began to toss restlessly and to pull
+eagerly at the helm as the scent of the salt seas came in. Yet neither
+knew fully the destination of the other, and neither knew that upon the
+deck of that other there was full solution of those questions which now
+sat so heavily upon these human hearts. Thus, silently, slowly,
+steadily, the two drew outward and apart, and before that morn was done,
+both were tossing widely upon the swell of that sea beyond which there
+lay so much of fate and mystery.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='BOOK_II'></a><h2>BOOK II</h2>
+
+<h3>AMERICA </h3>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='BOOK_II_CHAPTER_I'></a><h3>CHAPTER I</h3>
+
+<h4>THE DOOR OF THE WEST</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>&quot;Nearly a league farther, Du Mesne, and the sun but an hour high. Come,
+let us hasten!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You are right, Monsieur L'as,&quot; replied the one addressed, as the first
+speaker seated himself on the thwart of the boat in whose bow he had
+been standing. &quot;Bend to it, <i>mes amis!</i>&quot;</p>
+
+<p>John Law turned about on the seat, gazing back over the length of the
+little ship which had brought him and his comrades thus far on the
+wildest journey he had ever undertaken. Six paddlers there were for this
+great <i>canot du Nord</i>, and steadily enough they sent the thin-shelled
+craft along over the curling blue waves of the great inland sea. And now
+their voices in one accord fell into the cadences of an ancient
+boat-song of New France:</p>
+
+<span style='margin-left: 2em;'>&quot;<i>En roulant ma boule, roulant,</i></span><br />
+<span style='margin-left: 2.25em;'><i>Roulant, rouler, ma boule roulant</i>.&quot;</span><br />
+
+<p>The ictus of the measure marked time for the sweeping paddles, and
+under the added impetus the paper shell, reinforced as it was by
+close-laid splints of cedar, and braced by the fiber-fastened thwarts,
+fairly yielded to the rush of the waves as the stalwart paddlers sent it
+flying forward. A tiny blur of white showed about the bows, and now and
+again a splash of spray came inboard, as some little curling white cap
+was divided by the rush of the swiftly moving prow.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;We shall not arrive too soon, my friend,&quot; rejoined the captain of the
+<i>voyageurs</i>, casting an eye back across the great lake, which lay black
+and ominous under a threatening sky, the sweep and swirl of its white
+caps ever racing hard after the frail craft, as though eager to break
+through its paper sides and tear away the human beings who thus fled on
+so lightly.</p>
+
+<p>This boat, mysteriously appearing as though it were some spirit craft
+railed from the ancient deeps, was far from the beginning of its wild
+journey. Wide as the eye might reach, there arose no fleck of snowy
+canvas, nor showed the dark line of any similar craft propelled by oar
+or paddle. They were alone, these travelers. Before them, at the
+entrance of the wide arm of the great lake Michiganon, lay the point
+even at that early day known as the Door of the West, the beginning of
+the winding water-way which led on into the interior of that West, then
+so alluring and unknown. The eyes of all were fixed on the low,
+white-fronted bluffs, crowned by dark forest growth, which guarded the
+bay at either hand. This spot, so wild, so remote, so significant&mdash;it
+was home for these <i>voyageurs</i> as much as any; as much, too, for Law and
+the woman who lay back, pale-faced and wide-eyed, among the bales in the
+great canoe.</p>
+
+<p>In time the graceful craft approached the beach, on which the long waves
+rolled and curled, now gently, now with imposing force. With the water
+yet half-leg deep, Du Mesne and two of the paddlers sprang bodily
+overboard and held the boat back from the pebbles, so that its tender
+shell might not be damaged. Law himself was as soon as they in the
+water, and he waded back along the gunwale until he reached the stern,
+the water nearly up to his hips. Reaching out his arms, he picked up
+Mary Connynge from her seat and carried her dry-shod ashore, bending
+down to catch some whispered word. Not so gallant was Du Mesne, the
+leader of the <i>voyageurs</i>. He uttered a few short words of semi-command
+to the Indian woman, who had been seated on the floor of the canoe, and
+she, without protest, crawled forward over the thwarts and the heaped
+bundles until she reached the bow, and then went ankle deep into the
+creaming flood. The great canoe, left empty and anchored safe from the
+pebbles of the beach, tossed light as a cork on the incoming waves.</p>
+
+<p>A little open space was quickly found at the edge of the cove in which
+the disembarkation was made, and here Du Mesne and his followers soon
+kicked away the twigs and leveled out a smooth place upon the grass.
+Each man produced from his belt a broad-bladed knife, and for the moment
+disappeared in the deep fringe of evergreens which lined the shore.
+Fairly in the twinkling of an eye a rude frame of bent poles was made,
+above which were spread strips of unrolled birch bark from the cargo of
+the canoe. Over the spaces left uncovered by the supply of bark sheets
+there were laid down long mats made by Indian hands from dried reeds and
+bulrushes, affording no inconsiderable protection against the weather.
+Inside the lodge, bales of goods and packages of provisions were quickly
+arranged in comfortable fashion. Gaudy blankets were spread upon layers
+of soft skins of the buffalo. The Indian woman had meantime struck a
+fire, whose faint blue smoke curled lakeward in the soft evening air.
+Quickly, and with the system of experienced campaigners, the evening
+bivouac had been prepared; and wildly picturesque it must have seemed
+to a bystander, had there been indeed any possible spectator within many
+leagues.</p>
+
+<p>Far enough was this from the turmoil of London, which Law and his
+companion had left nearly a year before; far enough still from the wild
+capital of New France, where they had spent the winter, after landing,
+as much by chance as through any plan, at the port of the St. Lawrence.
+Ever a demon of unrest drove Law forward; ever there beckoned to him
+that irresistible West, of which he was one of the earliest to feel the
+charm. Farther and farther westward, swift and swifter than ever the
+boats of the fur traders had made the journey before, he and his party,
+led by Du Mesne, the ex-galley-slave and wanderer whom Law had by chance
+met again, and gladly, at Montr&eacute;al, had made the long and dangerous run
+up the lakes, past Michilimackinac, down the lake of Michiganon, headed
+toward the interior of a new continent which was then, as for
+generations after then, the land of wondrous distances, of grand
+enterprises, of magnificent promises and immense fulfilments. The bales
+and bundles of this bivouac belonged to John Law, bought by gold from
+the gaming tables of Montr&eacute;al and Quebec, and ventured in the one great
+hazard which appealed to him most irresistibly, the hazard of life and
+fortune in a far land, where he might live unneighbored, and where he
+might forget. Gambler in England, gambler again in New France, now
+trading fur-merchant and <i>voyageur</i>, he was, as always, an adventurer.
+Du Mesne and his hardy crew hailed him already as a new captain of the
+trails, a new <i>coureur</i>, won from the Old World by the savage witchery
+of the New. He was their brother; and had he indeed owned longer years
+of training, his keenness of eye, his strength of arm, his tirelessness
+of limb could hardly have been greater than they seemed in his first
+voyage to the West.</p>
+
+<span style='margin-left: 2em;'>&quot;<i>Tous les printemps,</i></span><br />
+<span style='margin-left: 2.25em;'><i>Tant des nouvelles</i>&quot;</span><br />
+
+<p>hummed Du Mesne, as he busied himself about the camp, casting the while
+a cautious eye to note the progress of the threatening storm.</p>
+
+<span style='margin-left: 2em;'>&quot;<i>Tous les amants</i></span><br />
+<span style='margin-left: 2.25em;'><i>Changent des ma&icirc;tresses.</i></span><br />
+<span style='margin-left: 2.25em;'><i>Jamais le bon vin n'endort&mdash;</i></span><br />
+<span style='margin-left: 2.25em;'><i>L'amour me r&eacute;veille!</i>&quot;</span><br />
+
+<p>&quot;The best is before us now, Monsieur L'as,&quot; said Du Mesne, joining Law,
+at length. &quot;Assuredly the best is always that which is ahead and which
+is unknown; but in point of fact the hardest of our journey is over,
+for henceforth we may stretch our legs ashore, and hunt and fish, and
+make good camps for madame, who, as we both perceive, is much in need of
+ease and care. We shall make all safe and comfortable for this night,
+doubt not.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Meantime,&quot; continued he, &quot;let us see that all is well with our men and
+arms, for henceforth we must put out guards. Attention, comrades!
+Present your pieces and answer the roll-call! Pierre Berthier!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;<i>Ici!</i> Monsieur,&quot; replied the one better known as Pierre Noir, a tall
+and dark-visaged Canadian, clad in the common costume, half-Indian and
+half-civilized, which marked his class. A shirt of soft dressed buckskin
+fell about his thighs; his legs were encased in moose-skin leggings,
+deeply fringed at the seams. About his middle was a broad sash, once
+red, and upon his head a scanty cap of similar color was pushed back. At
+his belt hung the great hunting knife of the <i>voyageur</i>, balanced by a
+keen steel tomahawk such as was in common use among the Indians. In his
+hand he supported a long-barreled musket, which he now examined
+carefully in the presence of the captain of the <i>voyageurs</i>.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Robert Challon!&quot; next commanded Du Mesne, and in turn the one addressed
+looked over his piece, the captain also scrutinizing the flint and
+priming with careful eye.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Naturally, <i>mes enfants</i>,&quot; said he, &quot;your weapons are perfect, as ever.
+Kataikini, and you, Kabayan, my brothers, let me see,&quot; said he to the
+two Indians, the former a Huron and the latter an Ojibway, both from the
+shores of Superior. The Indians arose silently, and without protest
+submitted to the scrutiny which ever seemed to them unnecessary.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Jean Breboeuf!&quot; called Du Mesne; and in response there arose from the
+shadows a wiry little Frenchman, who might have been of any age from
+twenty to forty-five, so sun-burnt and wrinkled, yet so active and
+vigorous did he seem.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;<i>Mon ami</i>,&quot; said Du Mesne to him, chidingly, &quot;see now, here is your
+flint all but out of its engagement. Pray you, have better care of your
+piece. For this you shall stand the long watch of the night. And now let
+us all to bed.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>One by one the little party was lost to view within the dark interior of
+the hut which they had arranged for themselves. Du Mesne retired a
+distance from the fire and seated himself upon a fallen log, his pipe
+glowing like a coal in the enveloping darkness.</p>
+
+<p>Law himself did not so soon leave the outer air. He remained gazing out
+at the wild scene about him, at the rolling waves dashing on the shore,
+their crests whitening in the glare of the lightning, now approaching
+more closely. He harkened to the roll of the far-off thunder re&euml;nforced
+by the thunder of the waves upon the shore, and noted the sweep of the
+black forest about, of the black sky overhead, unlit save for one
+far-off, faint and feeble star.</p>
+
+<p>It was a new world, this that lay around him, a new and savage world. If
+there were a world behind him, a world which once held sunlight and
+flowers, and love and hope&mdash;why then, it was a world lost and gone
+forever, and it was very well that this new world should be so different
+and so stern.</p>
+
+<p>In the darkness John Law heard a voice, the voice of a woman in terror.
+Swiftly he stepped to the door of the rude lodge.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Don't let them sing it again&mdash;never any more&mdash;that song.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And what, Madam?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That one&mdash;'<i>Tous les amants changent des ma&icirc;tresses!</i>'&quot;</p>
+
+<p>A moment later she whispered, &quot;I am afraid.&quot;</p>
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='BOOK_II_CHAPTER_II'></a><h3>CHAPTER II</h3>
+
+<h4>THE STORM</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>Marshaling to the imperious orders of the tempest, and crowding close
+upon the flaming standards of the lightning, the armies of the clouds
+came on. The sea-wide surface of the lake went dull, and above it bent a
+sky appalling in its blackness. The wind at first was light, then fitful
+and gusty, like the rising choler of a man affronted and nursing his own
+anger. It gained in volume and swept on across the tops of the forest
+trees, as though with a hand contemptuous in its strength, forbearing
+only by reason of its own whimsy. Now and again the cohorts of the
+clouds just hinted at parting, letting through a pale radiance from the
+western sky, where lingered the departing day. This light, as did the
+illuminating glare of the forked flames above, disclosed the white
+helmets of the trooping waters, rushing on with thunderous unison of
+tread; and the rattling thunder-shocks, intermittent, though coming
+steadily nearer, served but to emphasize these foot strokes of the
+waves. The heavens above and the waters under the earth&mdash;these
+conspired, these marched together, to assail, to overwhelm, to utterly
+destroy.</p>
+
+<p>To destroy what? Why this wild protest of the wilderness? Was it this
+wide-blown, scattered fire, whose sparks and ashes were sown broadcast,
+till but stubborn remnants clung under the sheltering back-log of the
+bivouac hearth? Was it this frail lodge, built upon pliant, yielding
+poles, covered cunningly with mats and bark, carpeted with robe of elk
+and buffalo? Yet why should the elements rage at a tiny fire, and why
+should they tear at a little house of nomad man, since these things were
+old upon the earth? Was it somewhat else that incited this elemental
+rage? This might have been; for surely, builder of this hearth-fire
+which would not quench, master of this house which would not yield,
+there was now come up to the door of the wilderness the white man, risen
+from the sea, heralding the day which the tribes had for generations
+blindly prophesied! The white man, stern, stubborn, fruitful, had come
+to despoil the West of its secrets!</p>
+
+<p>Let all the elements therefore join in riotous revolt! Let earth and sea
+and sky make common cause! Rage, waves, and blaze, ye fiery tongues,
+and threaten, forests, with all your ominous voices! Smite, destroy, or
+terrify into swift retreat this little band! Crush out their tenement!
+Loosen and brush off this feeble finger-grasp at the ancient threshold!
+With banners of flame, with armies of darkness, with shoutings of the
+captains of the storms, assail, denude, destroy, if even by the agony of
+their terrors, these feeble folk now come hither! And by this more
+especially, since they would set the seal of fruitfulness upon the land,
+and bring upon the earth a generation yet to follow. Hover about this
+bed in the frail and swaying lodge of bark and boughs, all ye most
+terrifying spirits! Let not this thing be!</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Mother of God!&quot; cried Jean Breboeuf, bending low and pulling his tunic
+tighter by the belt, as he came gasping into the faint circle of light
+which still remained at the fire log. &quot;'Tis murderous, this storm! Ah,
+Monsieur du Mesne, we are dead men! But what matter? 'Tis as well now as
+later. Said I not so to you all the way down Michiganon from the
+Straits? A rabbit crossed my path at the last camp before
+Michilimackinac, and when we took boat to leave the mission at the
+Straits, three crows flew directly across our way. Did I not beseech you
+to turn back? Did I not tell you, most of all, that we had no right,
+honest <i>voyageurs</i> that we are, to leave for the woods without
+confessing to the good father? 'Tis two years now since I have been
+proper shriven, and two years is too long for a <i>voyageur</i> to remain
+unabsolved. Mother of God! When I see the lightnings and listen to that
+wind, I bethink me of my sins&mdash;my sins! I vow a bale of beaver&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Pish! Jean,&quot; responded Du Mesne, who had come in from the cover of the
+wood and was casting about in the darkness as best he might to see that
+all was made secure. &quot;Thou'lt feel better when the sun shines again.
+Call Pierre Noir, and hurry, or our canoe will pound to bits upon the
+beach. Come!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>All three went now knee-deep in the surf, and Du Mesne, clinging to the
+gunwale as he passed out, was soon waist deep, and time and again lost
+his footing in the flood.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Pull!&quot; he cried at last. &quot;Now, <i>en avant!</i>&quot; He had flung himself over
+the stern, and with his knife cut the hide rope of the anchor-stone.
+Overboard again in an instant, he joined the others in their rush up the
+beach, and the three bore their ship upon their shoulders above the
+reach of the waves.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Myself,&quot; said Pierre Noir, &quot;shall sleep beneath the boat to-night, for
+since she sheds water from below, she may do as well from above.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Even so, Pierre Noir,&quot; said Du Mesne, &quot;but get you the boat farther
+toward your own camp to-night. Do you not see that Monsieur L'as is not
+with us?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;<i>Eh bien?</i>&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And were he not surely with us at such time, unless&mdash;?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, <i>assur&eacute;ment!</i>&quot; replied Pierre Noir. &quot;Jean Breboeuf, aid me in
+taking the boat back to our camp in the woods.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Now came the rain. Not in steady and even downpour, not with
+intermittent showers, but in a sidelong, terrifying torrent, drenching,
+biting, cutting in its violence. The swift weight of the rain gave to
+the trees more burden than they could bear. As before the storm, when
+all was still, there had come time and again the warning boom of a
+falling tree, stricken with mysterious mortal dread of that which was to
+come, so now, in the riot of that arrived danger, first one and then
+another wide-armed monarch of the wood crashed down, adding with its
+downfall to the testimony of the assailing tempest's strength and fury.
+The lightning now came not only in ragged blazes and long ripping lines
+of light, but in bursts and shocks, and in bomb-like balls, exploding
+with elemental detonations. Balls of this tense surcharged essence
+rolled out over the comb of the bluff, fell upon the shadows of the
+water, and seemed to bound from crest to white-capped crest, till at
+last they split and burst asunder like some ominous missiles from
+engines of wrath and destruction.</p>
+
+<p>And now, suddenly, all grew still again. The sky took on a lighter,
+livid tone, one of pure venom. There came a whisper, a murmur, a rush as
+of mighty waters, a sighing as of an army of the condemned, a shrieking
+as of legions of the lost, a roaring as of all the soul-felt tortures of
+a world. From the forest rose a continuous rending crash. The whiplash
+of the tempest cracked the tree trunks as a child beheads a row of
+daisies. Piled up, falling, riven asunder, torn out by the wind, the
+giant trees joined the toys which the cynic storm gathered in its hands
+and bore along until such time as it should please to crush and drop
+them.</p>
+
+<p>There passed out over the black sea of Michiganon a vast black wraith; a
+thing horrible, tremendous, titanic in organic power. It howled,
+execrated, menaced; missed its aim, and passed. The little swaying house
+still stood! Under the sheltered log some tiny sparks of fire still
+burned, omen of the unquenchable hearthstones which the land was yet to
+know!</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Holy God! what was it? What was that which passed?&quot; cried Jean
+Breboeuf, crawling out from beneath his shelter. &quot;Saint Mary defend us
+all this night! 'Twas the great Canoe of the Damned, running <i>au large</i>
+across the sky! Mary, Mother of God, hear my vow! From this time Jean
+Breboeuf shall lead a better life!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The storm, baffled, passed on. The rain, unsatisfied, sullenly ceased in
+its attack. The waves, hopeless but still vindictive, began to call back
+their legions from the narrow shore. The lightnings, unsated in their
+wrath, flared and flickered on and out across the eastward sea. With
+wild laughter and shrieks and imprecations, the spirit of the tempest
+wailed on its furious way. The red West had raised its hand to smite,
+but it had not smitten sure.</p>
+
+<p>In the silence of the night, in the hush following the uproar of the
+storm, there came a little wailing cry; so faint, so feeble, yet so
+mighty, so conquering, this sign of the coming generation, the voice of
+the new-born babe. At this little human voice, born of sorrow and sin,
+born to suffering and to knowledge, born to life in all its wonders and
+to death in all its mystery&mdash;the elements perchance relented and averted
+their fury. Not yet was there to be punished sin, or wrong, or doubt, or
+weakness. Not at once would justice punish the parents of this babe and
+blot out at once the record of their fault. Storm and lightning,
+darkness and the night yielded to the voice of the infant and allowed
+the old story of humanity and sin, and hope and mercy to run on.</p>
+
+<p>The babe wailed faintly in the silence of the night. Under the
+hearth-log there still endured the fire. And then the red West, seeing
+itself conquered, smiled and flung wide its arms, and greeted them with
+the burgeoning dawn, and the voices of birds, with a sky blue and
+repentant, a sun smiling and not unkind.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='BOOK_II_CHAPTER_III'></a><h3>CHAPTER III</h3>
+
+<h4>AU LARGE</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>It was weeks after the night of the great storm, and the camp of the
+<i>voyageurs</i> still held its place on the shore of the great Green Bay.
+The wild game and the abundant fishes of the lake gave ample provender
+for the party, and the little bivouac had been rendered more comfortable
+in many ways best known to those dwellers of the forest. The light jest,
+the burst of laughter, the careless ease of attitude showed the
+light-hearted <i>voyageurs</i> content with this, their last abode, nor for
+the time did any word issue which threatened to end their tarrying.</p>
+
+<p>Law one morning strolled out from the lodge and seated himself on a bit
+of driftwood at the edge of the forest's fringe of cedars, where,
+seemingly half forgetting himself in the witchery of the scene, he gazed
+out idly over the wide prospect which lay before him. He was the same
+young man as ever. Surely, this increased gauntness was but the result
+of long hours at the paddle, the hollow cheeks but betokened hard fare
+and the defining winds of the outdoor air. If the eye were a trace more
+dim, that could be due but to the reflectiveness induced by the quiet
+scene and hour. Yet why should John Law, young and refreshed, drop chin
+in hand and sit there moodily looking ahead of him, comprehending not at
+all that which he beheld?</p>
+
+<p>Indeed there appeared now to the eye of this young man not the white
+shores and black crowned bluffs and distant islands, not the sweep of
+broad-winged birds circling near the waters, nor the shadow of the
+high-poised eagle drifting far above. He felt not the soft wind upon his
+cheek, nor noted the warmth of the on-coming sun. In truth, even here,
+on the very threshold of a new world and a new life, he was going back,
+pausing uncertainly at the door of that life and of that world which he
+had left behind. There appeared to him not the rolling undulations of
+the black-topped forest, not the tossing surface of the inland sea, nor
+the white-pebbled beach laved by its pulsing waters. He saw instead a
+white and dusty road, lined by green English hedge-rows. Back, over
+there, beyond these rolling blue waves, back of the long water trail
+over which he had come, there were chapel and bell and robed priest, and
+the word which made all fast forever. But back of the wilderness
+mission, back of the straggling settlements of Montr&eacute;al and Quebec, back
+of the blue waters of the ocean, there, too, were church and minister;
+and there dwelt a woman whose figure stood now before his eyes, part of
+this mental picture of the white road lined with the hedges of green.</p>
+
+<p>A hand was laid on his shoulder, and he half started up in sudden
+surprise. Before him, the sun shining through her hair, her eyes dark in
+the shadow, stood Mary Connynge. A fair woman indeed, comely, round of
+form, soft-eyed, and light of touch, she might none the less have been a
+very savage as she stood there, clad no longer in the dress of
+civilization, but in the soft native garb of skins, ornamented with the
+stained quills of the porcupine and the bizarre adornments of the native
+bead work; in her hair dull metal bands, like any Indian woman, upon her
+feet little beaded moccasins&mdash;the very moccasin, it might have been,
+which Law had first seen in ancient London town and which had played so
+strange a part in his life since then.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You startled me,&quot; said Law, simply. &quot;I was thinking.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>A sudden jealous wave of woman's divining intuition came upon the woman
+at his side. &quot;I doubt not,&quot; said she, bitterly, &quot;that I could name the
+subject of your thought! Why? Why sit here and dream of her, when here
+am I, who deserve everything that you can give?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>She stood erect, her eyes flashing, her arms outstretched, her bosom
+panting under the fringed garments, her voice ringing as it might have
+been with the very essence of truth and passion. Law looked at her
+steadily. But the shadow did not lift from his brow, though he looked
+long and pondered.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Come,&quot; said he, at length, gently. &quot;None the less we are as we are. In
+every game we take our chances, and in every game we pay our debts. Let
+us go back to the camp.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>As they turned back down the beach Law saw standing at a little distance
+his lieutenant, Du Mesne, who hesitated as though he would speak.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What is it, Du Mesne?&quot; asked Law, excusing himself with a gesture and
+joining the <i>voyageur</i> where he stood.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, Monsieur L'as,&quot; said Du Mesne, &quot;I am making bold to mention it,
+but in good truth there was some question in my mind as to what might be
+our plans. The spring, as you know, is now well advanced. It was your
+first design to go far into the West, and there to set up your station
+for the trading in furs. Now there have come these little incidents
+which have occasioned us some delay. While I have not doubted your
+enterprise, Monsieur, I bethought me perhaps it might be within your
+plans now to go but little farther on&mdash;perhaps, indeed, to turn back&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;To go back?&quot; said Law.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, yes; that is to say, Monsieur L'as, back again down the Great
+Lakes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Have you then known me so ill as this, Du Mesne?&quot; said Law. &quot;It has not
+been my custom to set backward foot on any sort of trail.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, well, to be sure, Monsieur, that I know quite well,&quot; replied Du
+Mesne, apologetically. &quot;I would only say that, if you do go forward, you
+will do more than most men accomplish on their first voyage <i>au large</i>
+in the wilderness. There comes to many a certain shrinking of the heart
+which leads them to find excuse for not faring farther on. Yonder, as
+you know, Monsieur, lie Quebec and Montr&eacute;al, somewhat better fitted for
+the abode of monsieur and madame than the tents of the wilderness. Back
+of that, too, as we both very well know, Monsieur, lie London and old
+England; and I had been dull of eye indeed did I not recognize the
+opportunities of a young gallant like yourself. Now, while I know
+yourself to be a man of spirit, Monsieur L'as, and while I should
+welcome you gladly as a brother of the trail, I had only thought that
+perhaps you would pardon me if I did but ask your purpose at this time.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Law bent his head in silence for a moment. &quot;What know you of this
+forward trail, Du Mesne?&quot; said he. &quot;Have you ever gone beyond this point
+in your own journeyings?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Never beyond this,&quot; replied Du Mesne, &quot;and indeed not so far by many
+hundred miles. For my own part I rely chiefly upon the story of my
+brother, Greysolon du L'hut, the boldest soul that ever put paddle in
+the St. Lawrence. My brother Greysolon, by the fire one night, told me
+that some years before he had been at the mouth of the Green
+Bay&mdash;perhaps near this very spot&mdash;and that here he and his brothers
+found a deserted Indian camp. Near it, lying half in the fire, where he
+had fallen in exhaustion, was an old, a very old Indian, who had been
+abandoned by his tribe to die&mdash;for that, you must know, Monsieur, is one
+of the pleasant customs of the wilderness.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Greysolon and his men revived this savage in some fashion, and meantime
+had much speech with him about this unknown land at whose edge we have
+now arrived. The old savage said that he had been many moons north and
+west of that place. He knew of the river called the Blue Earth, perhaps
+the same of which Father Hennepin has told. And also of the Divine
+River, far below and tributary to the Messasebe. He said that his father
+was once of a war party who went far to the north against the Ojibways,
+and that his people took from the Ojibways one of their prisoners, who
+said that he came from some strange country far to the westward, where
+there was a very wide plain, of no trees. Beyond that there were great
+mountains, taller than any to be found in all this region hereabout.
+Beyond these mountains the prisoner did not know what there might be,
+but these mountains his people took to be the edge of the world, beyond
+which could live only wicked spirits. This was what the prisoner of the
+Ojibways said. He, too, was an old man.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The captive of my brother Greysolon was an Outagamie, and he said that
+the Outagamies burned this prisoner of the Ojibways, for they knew that
+he was surely lying to them. Without doubt they did quite right to burn
+him, for the notion of a great open country without trees or streams is,
+of course, absurd to any one who knows America. And as for mountains,
+all men know that the mountains lie to the east of us, not to the
+westward.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Twould seem much hearsay,&quot; said Law, &quot;this information which comes at
+second, third and fourth hand.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;True,&quot; said Du Mesne, &quot;but such is the source of the little we know of
+the valley of the Messasebe, and that which lies beyond it. None the
+less this idea offers interest.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yet you ask me if I would return.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Twas but for yourself, Monsieur. It is there, if I may humbly confess
+to you, that it is my own ambition some day to arrive. Myself&mdash;this
+West, as I said long ago to the gentlemen in London&mdash;appeals to me,
+since it is indeed a land unoccupied, unowned, an empire which we may
+have all for ourselves. What say you, Monsieur L'as?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>John Law straightened and stiffened as he stood. For an instant his eye
+flashed with the zeal of youth and of adventure. It was but a transient
+cloud which crossed his face, yet there was sadness in his tone as he
+replied.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;My friend,&quot; said he, &quot;you ask me for my answer. I have pondered and I
+now decide. We shall go on. We shall go forward. Let us have this West,
+my friend. Heaven helping us, let me find somewhere, in some land, a
+place where I may be utterly lost, and where I may forget!&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='BOOK_II_CHAPTER_IV'></a><h3>CHAPTER IV</h3>
+
+<h4>THE PATHWAY OF THE WATERS</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>The news of the intended departure was received with joy by the crew of
+<i>voyageurs</i>, who, on the warning of an instant, fell forthwith to the
+simple tasks of breaking camp and storing the accustomed bales and
+bundles in their places in the great <i>canot du Nord</i>.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;<i>La voil&agrave;!</i>&quot; said T&ecirc;te Gris. &quot;Here she sits, this canoe, eager to go
+on. 'Tis forward again, <i>mes amis!</i> Forward once more; and glad enough
+am I for this day. We shall see new lands ere long.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;For my part,&quot; said Jean Breboeuf, &quot;I also am most anxious to be away,
+for I have eaten this white-fish until I crave no more. I had bethought
+me how excellent are the pumpkins of the good fathers at the Straits;
+and indeed I would we had with us more of that excellent fruit, the
+bean.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Bah! Jean Breboeuf,&quot; retorted Pierre Noir. &quot;'Tis but a poor-hearted
+<i>voyageur</i> would hang about a mission garden with a hoe in his hand
+instead of a gun. Perhaps the good sisters at the Mountain miss thy
+skill at pulling weeds.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Nay, now, I can live as long on fish and flesh as any man,&quot; replied
+Jean Breboeuf, stoutly, &quot;nor do I hold myself, Monsieur T&ecirc;te Gris, one
+jot in courage back of any man upon the trail.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Of course not, save in time of storm,&quot; grinned T&ecirc;te Gris. &quot;Then, it is
+'Holy Mary, witness my vow of a bale of beaver!' It is&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, so be it,&quot; said Jean Breboeuf, stoutly. &quot;'Tis sure a bale of
+beaver will come easily enough in these new lands; and&mdash;though I insist
+again that I have naught of superstition in my soul&mdash;when a raven sits
+on a tree near camp and croaks of a morning before breakfast&mdash;as upon my
+word of honor was the case this morning&mdash;there must be some ill fate in
+store for us, as doth but stand to reason.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But say you so?&quot; said T&ecirc;te Gris, pausing at his task, with his face
+assuming a certain seriousness.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Assuredly,&quot; said Jean Breboeuf. &quot;'Tis as I told you. Moreover, I insist
+to you, my brothers, that the signs have not been right for this trip at
+any time. For myself, I look for nothing but disaster.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The humor of Jean Breboeuf's very gravity appealed so strongly to his
+older comrades that they broke out into laughter, and so all fell again
+to their tasks, in sheer light-heartedness forgetting the superstitions
+of their class.</p>
+
+<p>Thus at length the party took ship again, and in time made the head of
+the great bay within whose arms they had been for some time encamped.
+They won up over the sullen rapids of the river which came into the bay,
+toiling sometimes waist-deep at the <i>cordelle</i>, yet complaining not at
+all. So in time they came out on the wide expanse of the shallow lake of
+the Winnebagoes, which body of water they crossed directly, coming into
+the quiet channel of the stream which fell in upon its western shore. Up
+this stream in turn steadily they passed, amid a panorama filled with
+constant change. Sometimes the gentle river bent away in long curves,
+with hardly a ripple upon its placid surface, save where now and again
+some startled fish sprang into the air in fright or sport, or in the
+rush upon its prey. Then the stream would lead away into vast seas of
+marsh lands, waving in illimitable reaches of rushes, or fringed with
+the unspeakably beautiful green of the graceful wild rice plant.</p>
+
+<p>In these wide levels now and again the channel divided, or lost itself
+in little <i>cul de sacs</i>, from which the paddlers were obliged to retrace
+their way. All about them rose myriads of birds and wild fowl, which
+made their nests among these marshes, and the babbling chatter of the
+rail, the high-keyed calling of the coot, or the clamoring of the
+home-building mallard assailed their ears hour after hour as they passed
+on between the leafy shores. Then, again, the channel would sweep to one
+side of the marsh, and give view to wide vistas of high and rolling
+lands, dotted with groves of hardwood, with here and there a swamp of
+cedar or of tamarack. Little herds of elk and droves of deer fed on the
+grass-covered slopes, as fat, as sleek and fearless of mankind as though
+they dwelt domesticated in some noble park.</p>
+
+<p>It was a land obviously but little known, even to the most adventurous,
+and as chance would have it, they met not even a wandering party of the
+native tribes. Clearly now the little boat was climbing, climbing slowly
+and gently, yet surely, upward from the level of the great Lake
+Michiganon. In time the little river broadened and flattened out into
+wide, shallow expanses, the waters known as the Lakes of the Foxes; and
+beyond that it became yet more shallow and uncertain, winding among
+quaking bogs and unknown marshes; yet still, whether by patience, or by
+cheerfulness, or by determination, the craft stood on and on, and so
+reached that end of the waterway which, in the opinion of the more
+experienced Du Mesne, must surely be the place known among the Indian
+tribes as the &quot;Place for the carrying of boats.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Here they paused for a few days, at that mild summit of land which marks
+the portage between the east bound and the west bound waters; yet,
+impelled ever by the eager spirit of the adventurer, they made their
+pause but short. In time they launched their craft on the bright, smooth
+flood of the river of the Ouisconsins, stained coppery-red by its
+far-off, unknown course in the north, where it had bathed leagues of the
+roots of pine and tamarack and cedar. They passed on steadily westward,
+hour after hour, with the current of this great stream, among little
+islands covered with timber; passed along bars of white sand and flats
+of hardwood; beyond forest-covered knolls, in the openings of which one
+might now and again see great vistas of a scenery now peaceful and now
+bold, with turreted knolls and sweeping swards of green, as though some
+noble house of old England were set back secluded within these wide and
+well-kept grounds. The country now rapidly lost its marshy character,
+and as they approached the mouth of the great stream, it being now well
+toward the middle of the summer, they reached, suddenly and without
+forewarning, that which they long had sought.</p>
+
+<p>The sturdy paddlers were bending to their tasks, each broad back
+swinging in unison forward and back over the thwart, each brown throat
+bared to the air, each swart head uncovered to the glare of the midday
+sun, each narrow-bladed paddle keeping unison with those before and
+behind, the hand of the paddler never reaching higher than his chin,
+since each had learned the labor-saving fashion of the Indian canoeman.
+The day was bright and cheery, the air not too ardent, and across the
+coppery waters there stretched slants of shadow from the embowering
+forest trees. They were alone, these travelers; yet for the time at
+least part of them seemed care-free and quite abandoned to the sheer
+zest of life. There arose again, after the fashion of the <i>voyageurs</i>,
+the measure of the paddling song, without which indeed the paddler had
+not been able to perform his labor at the thwart.</p>
+
+<span style='margin-left: 2em;'>&quot;<i>Dans mon chemin j'ai rencontr&eacute;</i>&mdash;&quot;</span><br />
+
+<p>chanted the leader; and voices behind him responded lustily with the
+next line:</p>
+
+<span style='margin-left: 2em;'>&quot;<i>Trois cavaliers bien mont&eacute;</i>s&mdash;&quot;</span><br />
+<span style='margin-left: 2em;'>&quot;<i>Trois cavaliers bien mont&eacute;</i>s&mdash;&quot;</span><br />
+
+<p>chanted the leader again.</p>
+
+<span style='margin-left: 2em;'>&quot;<i>L'un &agrave; cheval et l'autre &agrave; pied</i>&mdash;&quot;</span><br />
+
+<p>came the response; and then the chorus:</p>
+
+<span style='margin-left: 2em;'>&quot;<i>Lon, lon laridon daine</i>&mdash;</span><br />
+<span style='margin-left: 2.25em;'><i>Lon, lon laridon dai!</i>&quot;</span><br />
+
+<p>The great boat began to move ahead steadily and more swiftly, and bend
+after bend of the river was rounded by the rushing prow. None knew this
+country, nor wist how far the journey might carry him. None knew as of
+certainty that he would ever in this way reach the great Messasebe; or
+even if he thought that such would be the case, did any one know how far
+that Messasebe still might be. Yet there came a time in the afternoon of
+that day, even as the chant of the <i>voyageurs</i> still echoed on the
+wooded bluffs, and even as the great birch-bark ship still responded
+swiftly to their gaiety, when, on a sudden turn in the arm of the river,
+there appeared wide before them a scene for which they had not been
+prepared. There, rippling and rolling under the breeze, as though itself
+the arm of some great sea, they saw a majestic flood, whose real nature
+and whose name each man there knew on the instant and instinctively.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Messasebe! Messasebe!&quot; broke out the voices of the paddlers.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Stop the paddles!&quot; cried Du Mesne. &quot;<i>Voil&agrave;!</i>&quot;</p>
+
+<p>John Law rose in the bow of the boat and uncovered his head. It was a
+noble prospect which lay before him. His was the soul of the adventurer,
+quick to respond to challenge. There was a fluttering in his throat as
+he stood and gazed out upon this solemn, mysterious and tremendous
+flood, coming whence, going whither, none might say. He gazed and gazed,
+and it was long before the shadow crossed his face and before he drew a
+sigh.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Madam,&quot; said he, at length, turning until he faced Mary Connynge, &quot;this
+is the West. We have chosen, and we have arrived!&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='BOOK_II_CHAPTER_V'></a><h3>CHAPTER V</h3>
+
+<h4>MESSASEBE</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>The boat, now lacking its propelling power, drifted on and out into the
+clear tide of the mighty stream. The paddlers were idle, and silence had
+fallen upon all. The rush of this majestic flood, steady, mysterious,
+secret-keeping, created a feeling of awe and wonder. They gazed and
+gazed again, up the great waterway, across to its farther shore, along
+its rolling course below, and still each man forgot his paddle, and
+still the little ship of New France drifted on, just rocking gently in
+the mimic waves which ruffled the face of the mighty Father of the
+Waters.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;By our Lady!&quot; cried Du Mesne, at length, and tears stood in his
+tan-framed eyes as he turned, &quot;'tis true, all that has been said! Here
+it is, Messasebe, more mighty than any story could have told! Monsieur
+L'as, 'tis big enough to carry ships.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Twill carry fleets of them one day, Du Mesne,&quot; replied John Law. &quot;'Tis
+a roadway fit for a nation. Ah, Du Mesne! our St. Lawrence, our New
+France&mdash;they dwindle when compared to this new land.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Aye! and 'tis all our own!&quot; cried Du Mesne. &quot;Look; for the last ten
+days we have scarce seen even the smoke of a wigwam, and, so far as I
+can tell, there is not in all this valley now the home of a single white
+man. My friend Du L'hut&mdash;he may be far north of the Superior to-day for
+aught we know, or somewhere among the Sauteur people. If there he any
+man below us, let some one else tell who that may be. Sir, I promise
+you, when I see this big water going on so fast and heading so far away
+from home&mdash;well, I admit it causes me to shiver!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis much the same,&quot; said Law, &quot;where home may be for me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah, but 'tis different on the Lakes,&quot; said Du Mesne, &quot;for there we
+always knew the way back, and knew that 'twas down stream.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;He says well,&quot; broke in Mary Connynge. &quot;There is something in this big
+river that chills me. I am afraid.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And what say you, T&ecirc;te Gris, and you, Pierre Noir?&quot; asked Law.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, myself,&quot; replied the former, &quot;I am with the captain. It matters
+not. There must always be one trail from which one does not return.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;<i>Oui</i>,&quot; said Pierre Noir. &quot;To be sure, we have passed as good beaver
+country as heart of man could ask; but never was land so good but there
+was better just beyond.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;They say well, Du Mesne,&quot; spoke John Law, presently; &quot;'tis better on
+beyond. Suppose we never do return? Did I not say to you that I would
+leave this other world as far behind me as might be?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;<i>Eh bien</i>, Monsieur L'as, you reply with spirit, as ever,&quot; replied Du
+Mesne, &quot;and it is not for me to stand in the way. My own fortune and
+family are also with me, and home is where my fire is lit.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Very well,&quot; replied Law. &quot;Let us run the river to its mouth, if need
+be. 'Tis all one to me. And whether we get back or not, 'tis another
+tale.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, I make no doubt we shall win back if need be,&quot; replied Du Mesne.
+&quot;'Tis said the savages know the ways by the Divine River of the Illini
+to the foot of Michiganon; and that, perhaps, might be our best way back
+to the Lakes and to the Mountain with our beaver. We shall, provided we
+reach the Divine River, as I should guess by the stories I have heard,
+be then below the Illini, the Ottawas and the Miamis, with I know not
+what tribes from west of the Messasebe. 'Tis for you to say, Monsieur
+L'as, but for my own part&mdash;and 'tis but a hazard at best&mdash;I would say
+remain here, or press on to the river of the Illini.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis easy of decision, then,&quot; replied Law, after a moment of
+reflection. &quot;We take that course which leads us farther on at least.
+Again the paddles, my friends! To-night we sup in our own kingdom.
+Strike up the song, Du Mesne!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>A shout of approval broke from the hardy men along the boat side, and
+even Jean Breboeuf tossed up his cap upon his paddle shaft.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Forward, then, <i>mes amis!</i>&quot; cried Du Mesne, setting his own
+paddle-blade deep into the flood. &quot;<i>En roulant ma boule, roulant</i>&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Again the chorus rose, and again the hardy craft leaped onward into the
+unexplored.</p>
+
+<p>Day after day following this the journey was resumed, and day after day
+the travelers with eager eyes witnessed a prospect of continual change.
+The bluffs, bolder and more gigantic, towered more precipitous than the
+banks of the gentler streams which they had left behind. Forests ranged
+down to the shores, and wide, green-decked islands crept into view, and
+little timbered valleys of lesser streams came marching down to the
+imposing flood of Messasebe. Again the serrated bluffs broke back and
+showed vast vistas of green savannas, covered with tall, waving grasses,
+broken by little rolling hills, over which crossed herds of elk, and
+buffalo, and deer.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis a land of plenty,&quot; said Du Mesne one day, breaking the habitual
+silence into which the party had fallen. &quot;'Tis a great land, and a
+mighty. And now, Monsieur, I know why the Indians say 'tis guarded by
+spirits. Sure, I can myself feel something in the air which makes my
+shoulder-blades to creep.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis a mighty land, and full of wonders,&quot; assented Law, who, in
+different fashion, had felt the same mysterious spell of this great
+stream. For himself, he was nearer to reverence than ever yet he had
+been in all his wild young life.</p>
+
+<p>Now so it happened that at length, after a long though rapid journey
+down the great river, they came to that stream which they took to be the
+river of the Illini. This they ascended, and so finally, early in one
+evening, at the bank of a wide and placid bayou, shaded by willows and
+birch trees, and by great elms that bore aloft a canopy of clinging
+vines, they made a landing for the bivouac which was to prove their
+final tarrying place. The great <i>canot du Nord</i> came to rest at the foot
+of a timbered hill, back of which stretched high, rolling prairies,
+dotted with little groves and broken with wide swales and winding
+sloughs. The leaders of the party, with T&ecirc;te Gris and Pierre Noir,
+ascended the bluffs and made brief exploration; not more, as was tacitly
+understood, with view to choosing the spot for the evening encampment
+than with the purpose of selecting a permanent stopping place. Du Mesne
+at length turned to Law with questioning gaze. John Law struck the earth
+with his heel.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Here!&quot; said he. &quot;Here let us stop. 'Tis as well as any place. There are
+flowers and trees, and meadows and hedges, like to those of England.
+Here let us stay!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah, you say well indeed!&quot; cried Du Mesne, &quot;and may fortune send us
+happy enterprises.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But then, for the houses,&quot; continued Law. &quot;I presume we must keep close
+to this little stream which flows from the bluff. And yet we must have a
+place whence we can obtain good view. Then, with stout walls to protect
+us, we might&mdash;but see! What is that beyond? Look! There is, if I mistake
+not, a house already builded!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis true, as I live!&quot; cried Du Mesne, lowering his voice
+instinctively, as his quick eye caught the spot where Law was pointing.
+&quot;But, good God! what can it mean?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>They advanced cautiously into the little open space beyond them, a glade
+but a few hundred yards across and lined by encircling trees. They saw
+indeed a habitation erected by human hands, apparently not altogether
+without skill. There were rude walls of logs, reinforced by stakes
+planted in the ground. From the four corners of the inclosure projected
+overhanging beams. There was an opening in the inclosure, as they
+discovered upon closer approach, and entering at this rude door, the
+party looked about them curiously.</p>
+
+<p>Du Mesne shut his lips tight together. This was no house built by the
+hands of white men. There were here no quarters, no shops, no chapel
+with its little bell. Instead there stood a few dried and twisted poles,
+and all around lay the litter of an abandoned camp.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Iroquois, by the living Mother of God!&quot; cried Pierre Noir.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Look!&quot; cried T&ecirc;te Gris, calling them again outside the inclosure. He
+stood kicking in the ashes of what had been a fire-place. He disclosed,
+half buried in the charred embers, an iron kettle into which he gazed
+curiously. He turned away as John Law stepped up beside him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There must have been game here in plenty,&quot; said Law. &quot;There are bones
+scattered all about.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Du Mesne and T&ecirc;te Gris looked at each other in silence, and the former
+at length replied:</p>
+
+<p>&quot;This is an Iroquois war house, Monsieur L'as,&quot; said he. &quot;They lived
+here for more than a month, and, as you say, they fed well. But these
+bones you see are not the bones of elk or deer. They are the bones of
+men, and women, and children.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Law stood taking in each detail of the scene about him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Now you have seen what is before us,&quot; resumed Du Mesne. &quot;The Iroquois
+have gone, 'tis true. They have wiped out the villages which were here.
+There are the little cornfields, but I warrant you they have not seen a
+tomahawk hoe for a month or more. The Iroquois have gone, yet the fact
+that they have been here proves they may come again. What say you, T&ecirc;te
+Gris; and what is your belief, Pierre?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>T&ecirc;te Gris remained silent for some moments. &quot;'Tis as Monsieur says,&quot;
+replied he at length. &quot;'Tis all one to me. I go or stay, as it shall
+please the others. There is always the one trail over which one does not
+return.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And you, Pierre?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I stay by my friends,&quot; replied Pierre Noir, briefly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And you, Monsieur L'as?&quot; asked Du Mesne.</p>
+
+<p>Law raised his head with the old-time determination. &quot;My friends,&quot; said
+he, &quot;we have elected to come into this country and take its conditions
+as we find them. If we falter, we lose; of that we may rest assured.
+Let us not turn back because a few savages have been here and have
+slaughtered a few other savages. For me, there seems but one opinion
+possible. The lightning has struck, yet it may not strike again at the
+same tree. The Iroquois have been here, but they have departed, and they
+have left nothing to invite their return. Now, it is necessary that we
+make a pause and build some place for our abode. Here is a post already
+half builded to our hands.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But if the savages return?&quot; said Du Mesne.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then we will fight,&quot; said John Law.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And right you are,&quot; replied Du Mesne. &quot;Your reasoning is correct. I
+vote that we build here our station.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Myself also,&quot; said T&ecirc;te Gris. And Pierre Noir nodded his assent in
+silence.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='BOOK_II_CHAPTER_VI'></a><h3>CHAPTER VI</h3>
+
+<h4>MAIZE</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>&quot;Ola! Jean Breboeuf,&quot; called out Du Mesne to that worthy, who presently
+appeared, breathing hard from his climb up the river bluff. &quot;Know you
+what has been concluded?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No; how should I guess?&quot; replied Jean Breboeuf. &quot;Or, at least, if I
+should guess, what else should I guess save that we are to take boat at
+once and set back to Montr&eacute;al as fast as we may? But that&mdash;what is this?
+Whose house is that yonder?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis our own, <i>mon enfant</i>,&quot; replied Du Mesne, dryly. &quot;'Twas perhaps
+the property of the Iroquois a moon ago. A moon before that time the
+soil it stands on belonged to the Illini. To-day both house and soil
+belong to us. See; here stood the village. There are the cornfields, cut
+and trampled by the Iroquois. Here are the kettles of the natives&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But, but&mdash;why&mdash;what is all this? Why do we not hasten away?&quot; broke in
+Jean Breboeuf.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Pish! We do not go away. We remain where we are.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Remain? Stay here, and be eaten by the Iroquois? Nay! not Jean
+Breboeuf.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Du Mesne smiled broadly at his terrors, and a dry grin even broke over
+the features of the impassive old trapper, T&ecirc;te Gris.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Not so fast with your going away, Jean, my brother,&quot; said Du Mesne.
+&quot;Thou'rt ever hinting of corn and the bean; now see what can be done in
+this garden-place of the Iroquois and the Illini. You are appointed head
+gardener for the post!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Messieurs, <i>me voil&agrave;</i>,&quot; said Jean Breboeuf, dropping his hands in
+despair. &quot;Were I not the bravest man in all New France I should leave
+you at this moment. It is mad, quite mad you are, every one of you! I,
+Jean Breboeuf, will remain, and, if necessary, will protect. Corn, and
+perhaps the bean, ye shall have; perhaps even some of those little roots
+that the savages dig and eat; but, look you, this is but because you are
+with one who is brave. <i>Enfin</i>, I go. I bend me to the hoe, here in this
+place, like any peasant.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;An excellent hoe can be made from the blade bone of an elk, as the
+woman Wabana will perhaps show you if you like,&quot; said Pierre Noir,
+derisively, to his comrade of the paddle.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Even so,&quot; said Jean Breboeuf. &quot;I make me the hoe. Could I have but
+thee, old Pierre, to sit on a stump and fright the crows away, I make no
+doubt that all would go well with our husbandry. I had as lief go
+<i>censitaire</i> for Monsieur L'as as for any seignieur on the Richelieu; of
+that be sure, old Pierre.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Faith,&quot; replied the latter, &quot;when it comes to frightening crows, I'll
+even agree to sit on a stump with my musket across my knees and watch
+you work. 'Tis a good place for a sentinel&mdash;to keep the crows from
+picking yet more bones than these which will embarrass you in your
+hoeing, Jean Breboeuf.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;He says the Richelieu, Du Mesne,&quot; broke in John Law, musingly. &quot;Very
+far away it sounds. I wonder if we shall ever see it again, with its
+little narrow farms. But here we have our own trails and our own lands,
+and let us hope that Monsieur Jean shall prosper in his belated farming.
+And now, for the rest of us, we must look presently to the building of
+our houses.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Thus began, slowly and in primitive fashion, the building of one of the
+first cities of the vast valley of the Messasebe; the seeds of
+civilization taking hold upon the ground of barbarism, the one
+supplanting the other, yet availing itself of that other. As the white
+men took over the crude fields of the departed savages, so also they
+appropriated the imperfect edifice which the conquerors of those savages
+had left for them. It was in little the story of old England herself,
+builded upon the races and the ruins of Briton, and Roman, and Saxon, of
+Dane and Norman.</p>
+
+<p>Under the direction of Law, the walls of the old war house were
+strengthened with an inner row of palisades, supporting an embankment of
+earth and stone. The overlap of the gate was extended into a re-entrant
+angle, and rude battlements were erected at the four corners of the
+inclosure. The little stream of unfailing water was led through a corner
+of the fortress. In the center of the inclosure they built the houses; a
+cabin for Law, one for the men, and a larger one to serve as store room
+and as trading place, should there be opportunity for trade.</p>
+
+<p>It was in these rude quarters that Law and his companion established
+that which was the nearest approach to a home that either for the time
+might claim; and it was thus that both undertook once more that old and
+bootless human experiment of seeking to escape from one's own self.
+Silent now, and dutifully obedient enough was this erstwhile English
+beauty, Mary Connynge; yet often and often Law caught the question of
+her gaze. And often enough, too, he found his own questioning running
+back up the water trails, and down the lakes and across the wide ocean,
+in a demand which, fiercer and fiercer as it grew, he yet remained too
+bitter and too proud to put to the proof by any means now within his
+power. Strange enough, savage enough, hopeless enough, was this wild
+home of his in the wilderness of the Messasebe.</p>
+
+<p>The smoke of the new settlement rose steadily day by day, but it gave
+signal for no watching enemy. All about stretched the pale green ocean
+of the grasses, dotted by many wild flowers, nodding and bowing like
+bits of fragile flotsam on the surface of a continually rolling sea. The
+little groves of timber, scattered here and there, sheltered from the
+summer sun the wild cattle of the plains. The shorter grasses hid the
+coveys of the prairie hens, and on the marsh-grown bayou banks the wild
+duck led her brood. A great land, a rich, a fruitful one, was this that
+lay about these adventurers.</p>
+
+<p>A soberness had come over the habit of the master mind of this little
+colony. His hand took up the ax, and forgot the sword and gun. Day after
+day he stood looking about him, examining and studying in little all the
+strange things which he saw; seeking to learn as much as might be of
+the timorous savages, who in time began to straggle back to their ruined
+villages; talking, as best he might, through such interpreting as was
+possible, with savages who came from the west of the Messasebe, and from
+the South and from the far Southwest; hearing, and learning and
+wondering of a land which seemed as large as all the earth, and various
+as all the lands that lay beneath the sun&mdash;that West, so glorious, so
+new, so boundless, which was yet to be the home of countless
+hearth-fires and the sites of myriad fields of corn. Let others hunt,
+and fish, and rob the Indians of their furs, after the accepted fashion
+of the time; as for John Law, he must look about him, and think, and
+watch this growing of the corn.</p>
+
+<p>He saw it fairly from its beginning, this growth of the maize, this
+plant which never yet had grown on Scotch or English soil; this tall,
+beautiful, broad-bladed, tender tree, the very emblem of all
+fruitfulness. He saw here and there, dropped by the careless hand of
+some departed Indian woman, the little germinating seeds, just thrusting
+their pale-green heads up through the soil, half broken by the tomahawk.
+He saw the clustering green shoots&mdash;numerous, in the sign of plenty&mdash;all
+crowding together and clamoring for light, and life, and air, and room.
+He saw the prevailing of the tall and strong upthrusting stalks, after
+the way of life; saw the others dwarf and whiten, and yet cling on at
+the base of the bolder stem, parasites, worthless, yet existing, after
+the way of life.</p>
+
+<p>He saw the great central stalks spring boldly up, so swiftly that it
+almost seemed possible to count the successive leaps of progress. He saw
+the strong-ribbed leaves thrown out, waving a thousand hands of cheerful
+welcome and assurance&mdash;these blades of the corn, so much mightier than
+any blades of steel. He saw the broad beckoning banners of the pale
+tassels bursting out atop of the stalk, token of fecundity and of the
+future. He caught the wide-driven pollen as it whitened upon the earth,
+borne by the parent West Wind, mother of increase. He saw the thickening
+of the green leaf at the base, its swelling, its growth and expansion,
+till the indefinite enlargement showed at length the incipient ear.</p>
+
+<p>He noted the faint brown of the ends of the sweetly-enveloping silk of
+the ear, pale-green and soft underneath the sheltering and protecting
+husk. He found the sweet and milk-white tender kernels, row upon row,
+forming rapidly beneath the husk, and saw at length the hardening and
+darkening of the husk at its free end, which told that man might pluck
+and eat.</p>
+
+<p>And then he saw the fading of the tassels, the darkening of the silk
+and the crinkling of the blades; and there, borne on the strong parent
+stem, he noted now the many full-rowed ears, protected by their husks
+and heralded by the tassels and the blades. &quot;Come, come ye, all ye
+people! Enter in, for I will feed ye all!&quot; This was the song of the
+maize, its invitation, its counsel, its promise.</p>
+
+<p>Under the warped lodge frames which the fires of the Iroquois had
+spared, there were yet visible clusters of the ears of last year's corn.
+Here, under his own eye, were growing yet other ears, ripe for the
+harvesting and ripe for the coming growth. A strange spell fell upon the
+soul of Law. Visions crossed his mind, born in the soft warm air of
+these fecundating winds, of this strange yet peaceful scene.</p>
+
+<p>At times he stood and looked out from the door of the palisade, when the
+prairie mists were rising in the morning at the mandate of the sun, and
+to his eyes these waving seas of grasses all seemed beckoning fields of
+corn. These smokes, coming from the broken tepees of the timid
+tribesmen, surely they arose from the roofs of happy and contented
+homes! These wreaths and wraiths of the twisting and wide-stalking
+mists, surely these were the captains of a general husbandry! Ah, John
+Law, John Law! Had God given thee the right feeling and contented
+heart, happy indeed had been these days in this new land of thine own,
+far from ignoble strivings and from fevered dreams, far from aimless
+struggles and unregulated avarice, far from oppression and from misery,
+far from bickerings, heart-burnings and envyings! Ah, John Law! Had God
+but given thee the pure and well-contented heart! For here in the
+Messasebe, that Mind which made the universe and set man to be one of
+its little inhabitants&mdash;surely that Mind had planned that man should
+come and grow in this place, tall and strong, and fruitful, useful to
+all the world, even as this swift, strong growing of the maize.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='BOOK_II_CHAPTER_VII'></a><h3>CHAPTER VII</h3>
+
+<h4>THE BRINK OF CHANGE</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>The breath of autumn came into the air. The little flowers which had
+dotted the grassy robe of the rolling hills had long since faded away
+under the ardent sun, and now there appeared only the denuded stalks of
+the mulleins and the flaunting banners of the goldenrod. The wild grouse
+shrank from the edges of the little fields and joined their numbers into
+general bands, which night and morn crossed the country on sustained and
+strong-winged flight. The plumage of the young wild turkeys, stalking in
+droves among the open groves, began to emulate the iridescent splendors
+of their elders. The marshes above the village became the home of yet
+more numerous thousands of clamoring wild fowl, and high up against the
+blue there passed, on the south-bound journey, the harrow of the wild
+geese, wending their way from North to South across an unknown empire.</p>
+
+<p>A chill came into the waters of the river, so that the bass and pike
+sought out the deeper pools. The squirrels busily hoarded up supplies
+of the nuts now ripening. The antlers of the deer and the elk which
+emerged from the concealing thickets now showed no longer ragged strips
+of velvet, and their tips were polished in the preliminary fitting for
+the fall season of love and combat. There came nights when the white
+frost hung heavy upon all the bending grasses and the broad-leafed
+plants, a frost which seared the maize leaves and set aflame the foliage
+of the maples all along the streams, and decked in a hundred flamboyant
+tones the leaves of the sumach and all the climbing vines.</p>
+
+<p>As all things now presaged the coming winter, so there approached also
+the time when the little party, so long companions upon the Western
+trails, must for the first time know division. Du Mesne, making ready
+for the return trip over the unknown waterways back to the Lakes, as had
+been determined to be necessary, spoke of it as though the journey were
+but an affair of every day.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Make no doubt, Monsieur L'as,&quot; said he, &quot;that I shall ascend this river
+of the Illini and reach Michiganon well before the snows. Once at the
+mission of the Miamis, or the village at the river Chicaqua, I shall be
+quite safe for the winter, if I decide not to go farther on. Then, in
+the spring, I make no doubt, I shall be able to trade our furs at the
+Straits, if I like not the long run down to the Mountain. Thus, you see,
+I may be with you again sometime within the following spring.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I hope it may be so, my friend,&quot; replied Law, &quot;for I shall miss you
+sadly enough.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis nothing, Monsieur; you will be well occupied. Suppose I take with
+me Kataikini and Kabayan, perhaps also T&ecirc;te Gris. That will give us four
+paddlers for the big canoe, and you will still have left Pierre Noir and
+Jean, to say nothing of our friends the Illini hereabout, who will be
+glad enough to make cause with you in case of need. I will leave Wabana
+for madame, and trust she may prove of service. See to it, pray you,
+that she observes the offices of the church; for methinks, unless
+watched, Wabana is disposed to become careless and un-Christianized.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;This I will look to,&quot; said Law, smiling.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then all is well,&quot; resumed Du Mesne, &quot;and my absence will be but a
+little thing, as we measure it on the trails. You may find a winter
+alone in the wilderness a bit dull for you, mayhap duller than were it
+in London, or even in Quebec. Yet 'twill pass, and in time we shall meet
+again. Perhaps some good father will be wishing to come back with me to
+set up a mission among the Illini. These good fathers, they so delight
+in losing fingers, and ears, and noses for the good of the
+Church&mdash;though where the Church be glorified therein I sometimes can not
+say. Perhaps some leech&mdash;mayhap some artisan&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Nay, 'tis too far a spot, Du Mesne, to tempt others than ourselves.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Upon the contrary rather, Monsieur L'as. It is matter for laughter to
+see the efforts of Louis and his ministers to keep New France chained to
+the St. Lawrence! Yet my good lord governor might as well puff out his
+cheeks against the north wind as to try to keep New France from pouring
+west into the Messasebe; and as much might be said for those good rulers
+of the English colonies, who are seeking ever to keep their people east
+of the Alleghanies.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis the Old World over again, there in the St. Lawrence,&quot; said Law.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Right you are, Monsieur L'as,&quot; exclaimed Du Mesne. &quot;New France is but
+an extension of the family of Louis. The intendant reports everything to
+the king. Monsieur So-and-so is married. Very well, the king must know
+it! Monsieur's eldest daughter is making sheep's eyes at such and such a
+soldier of the regiment of the king. Very well, this is weighty matter,
+of which the king must be advised! Monsieur's wife becomes expectant of
+a son and heir. 'Tis meet that Louis the Great should be advised of
+this! Mother of God! 'Tis a pretty mess enough back there on the St.
+Lawrence, where not a hen may cackle over its new-laid egg but the king
+must know it, and where not a family has meat enough for its children to
+eat nor clothes enough to cover them. My faith, in that poor medley of
+little lords and lazy vassals, how can you wonder that the best of us
+have risen and taken to the woods! Yet 'tis we who catch their beaver
+for them; and if God and the king be willing, sometime we shall get a
+certain price for our beaver&mdash;provided God and the king furnish currency
+to pay us; and that the governor, the priest and the intendant ratify
+the acts of God and the king!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Law smiled at the sturdy vehemence of the other's speech, yet there was
+something of soberness in his own reply.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir,&quot; said he, &quot;you see here my little crooked rows of maize. Look you,
+the beaver will pass away, but the roots of the corn will never be torn
+out. Here is your wealth, Du Mesne.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The sturdy captain scratched his head. &quot;I only know, for my part,&quot; said
+he, &quot;that I do not care for the settlements. Not that I would not be
+glad to see the king extend his arm farther to the West, for these
+sullen English are crowding us more and more along our borders. Surely
+the land belongs to him who finds it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Perhaps better to him who can both find and hold it. But this soil will
+one day raise up a people of its own.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yet as to that,&quot; rejoined Du Mesne, as the two turned and walked back
+to the stockade, &quot;we are not here to handle the affairs of either Louis
+or William. Let us e'en leave that to monsieur the intendant, and
+monsieur the governor, and our friends, the gray owls and the black
+crows, the Recollets and the Jesuits. I mind to call this spot home with
+you, if you like. I shall be back as soon as may be with the things we
+need, and we shall plant here no starving colony, but one good enough
+for the home of any man. Monsieur, I wish you very well, and I may
+congratulate you on your daughter. A heartier infant never was born
+anywhere on the water trail between the Mountain and the Messasebe. What
+name have you chosen for the young lady, Monsieur?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I have decided,&quot; said John Law, &quot;to call her Catharine.&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='BOOK_II_CHAPTER_VIII'></a><h3>CHAPTER VIII</h3>
+
+<h4>TOUS SAUVAGES</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>Had nature indeed intended Law for the wild life of the trail, and had
+he indeed spent years rather than months among these unusual scenes, he
+could hardly have been better fitted for the part. Hardy of limb, keen
+of eye, tireless of foot, with a hand which any weapon fitted, his
+success as hunter made his companions willing enough to assign to him
+the chase of the bison or the stag; so that he became not only patron
+but provider for the camp.</p>
+
+<p>Some weeks after the departure of Du Mesne, Law was returning from the
+hunt some miles below the station. His tall and powerful figure,
+hardened by continued outdoor exercise, was scarce bowed by the weight
+of the wild buck which he bore across his shoulders. His eye, accustomed
+to the instant readiness demanded in the <i>voyageur's</i> life, glanced
+keenly about, taking in each item of the scene, each movement of the
+little bird on the tree, the rustling of the grass where a rabbit
+started from its form, the whisk of the gray squirrel's tail on the
+limb far overhead.</p>
+
+<p>The touch of autumn was now in the air. The leaves of the wild grapevine
+were falling. The oaks had donned garments of somber brown, the
+hickories had lost their leaves, while here and there along the river
+shores the flaming sentinels of the maples had changed their scarlet
+uniform for one of duller hue. The wild rice in the marshes had shed its
+grain upon the mud banks. The acorns were loosening in their cups. Fall
+in the West, gorgeous, beautiful, had now set in, of all the seasons of
+the year, that most loved by the huntsman.</p>
+
+<p>This tall, lean man, clad in buckskin like a savage, brown almost as a
+savage, as active and as alert, seemed to fit not ill with these
+environments, nor to lack either confidence or contentment. He walked on
+steadily, following the path along the bayou bank, and at length paused
+for a moment, throwing down his burden and stooping to drink at the tiny
+pool made by the little rivulet which trickled down the face of the
+bluff. Here he bathed his face and hands in the cool stream, for the
+moment abandoning himself to that rest which the hunter earns. It was
+when at length he raised his head and turned to resume his burden that
+his suspicious eye caught a glimpse of something which sent him in a
+flash below the level of the grasses, and thence to the cover of a tree
+trunk.</p>
+
+<p>As he gazed from his hiding-place he saw the tawny waters of the bayou
+broken into a long series of advancing ripples. Passing the fringe of
+wild rice, swimming down beneath the heavy cordage of the wild
+grapevines, there came on two canoes, roughly made of elm bark, in
+fashion which would have shown an older frontiersman full proof of their
+Western origin.</p>
+
+<p>In the bow of the foremost boat, as Law could now clearly see, sat a
+slender young man, clad in the uniform, now soiled and faded, of a
+captain in the British army. His boat was propelled by four dusky
+paddlers, Indians of the East. Stalwart, powerful, silent, they sent the
+craft on down stream, their keen eyes glancing swiftly from one point to
+the other of the ever-changing panorama, yet finding nothing that would
+seem to warrant pause. Back of the first boat by a short distance came a
+kindred craft, its crew comprising two white men and two Indian
+paddlers. Of the white men, one might have been a petty officer, the
+other perhaps a private soldier.</p>
+
+<p>It was, then, as Du Mesne had said. Every party bound into the West must
+pass this very point upon the river of the Illini. But why should these
+be present here? Were they friends or foes? So queried the watcher,
+tense and eager as a waiting panther, now crouched with straining eye
+behind the sheltering tree.</p>
+
+<center>
+<img src="images/img3.jpg" height="383" width="300"
+alt="Illustration">
+</center>
+
+<p>As the leading boat swung clear of the shadows, the man in the prow
+turned his face, scanning closely the shore of the stream. As he did so,
+Law half started to his feet, and a moment later stepped from his
+concealment. He gazed again and again, doubting what he saw. Surely
+those clean-cut, handsome features could belong to no man but his former
+friend, Sir Arthur Pembroke!</p>
+
+<p>Yet how could Sir Arthur be here? What could be his errand, and how had
+he been guided hither? These sudden questions might, upon the instant,
+have confused a brain ready as that of this observer, who paused not to
+reflect that this meeting, seemingly so impossible, was in fact the most
+natural thing in the world; indeed, could scarce have been avoided by
+any one traveling with Indian guides down the waterway to the Messasebe.</p>
+
+<p>The keen eyes of the red paddlers caught sight of the crushed grasses at
+the little landing on the bayou bank, even as Law rose from his
+hiding-place. A swift, concerted sweep of the paddles sent the boat
+circling out into midstream, and before Law knew it he was covered by
+half a dozen guns. He hardly noticed this. His own gun he left leaning
+against a tree, and his hand was thrown out high, in front of him as he
+came on, calling out to those in the stream. He heard the command of the
+leader in the boat, and a moment later both canoes swung inshore.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Have down your guns, Sir Arthur,&quot; cried Law, loudly and gaily. &quot;We are
+none but friends here. Come in, and tell me that it is yourself, and not
+some miracle of mine eyes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The young man so surprisingly addressed half started from the thwart in
+his amazement. His face bent into an incredulous frown, scarce carrying
+comprehension, even as he approached the shore. As he left the boat, for
+an instant Pembroke's hand was half extended in greeting, yet a swift
+change came over his countenance, and his body stiffened.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Is it indeed you, Mr. Law?&quot; he said. &quot;I could not have believed myself
+so fortunate.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis myself and no one else,&quot; replied Law. &quot;But why this melodrama, Sir
+Arthur? Why reject my hand?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I have sworn to extend to you no hand but that bearing a weapon, Mr.
+Law!&quot; said Pembroke. &quot;This may be accident, but it seems to me the
+justice of God. Oh, you have run far, Mr. Law&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What mean you, Sir Arthur?&quot; exclaimed Law, his face assuming the dull
+red of anger. &quot;I have gone where I pleased, and asked no man's leave for
+it, and I shall live as I please and ask no man's leave for that. I
+admit that it seems almost a miracle to meet you here, but come you one
+way or the other, you come best without riddles, and still better
+without threats.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You are not armed,&quot; said Sir Arthur. He gazed at the bronzed figure
+before him, clad in fringed tunic and leggings of deer hide; at the belt
+with little knife and ax, at the gun which now rested in the hollow of
+his arm. Law himself laughed keenly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, as to that,&quot; said he, &quot;I had thought myself well enough equipped.
+But as for a sword, 'tis true my hand is more familiar, these days, with
+the ax and gun.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The late Jessamy Law shows change in his capacity of renegade,&quot; said
+Pembroke, raspingly. His face displayed a scorn which jumped ill with
+the nature of the man before him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I am what I am, Sir Arthur,&quot; said Law, &quot;and what I was. And always I am
+at any man's service who is in search of what you call God's justice, or
+what I may call personal satisfaction. I doubt not we shall find my
+other trinkets in good order not far away. But meantime, before you
+turn my hospitality into shame, bring on your men and follow me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>His face working with emotion, Law turned away. He caught up the body of
+the dead buck, and tossing it across his shoulders, strode up the
+winding pathway.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Come, Gray, and Ellsworth,&quot; said Pembroke. &quot;Get your men together. We
+shall see what there is to this.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>At the summit of the river-bluff Law awaited their arrival. He noted in
+silence the look of surprise which crossed Pembroke's face as at length
+they came into view of the little panorama of the stockade and its
+surroundings.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;This is my home, Sir Arthur,&quot; said he simply. &quot;These are my fields. And
+see, if I mistake not, yonder is some proof of the ability of my people
+to care for themselves.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He pointed to the gateway, from the loop-holes guarding which there
+might now be seen protruding two long dark barrels, leveled in the
+direction of the approaching party. There came a call from within the
+palisade, and the sound of men running to take their places along the
+wall. Law raised his hand, and the barrels of the guns were lowered.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;This, then, is your hiding-place!&quot; said Pembroke.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I call it not such. 'Tis public to the world.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Tush! You lack not in the least of your old conceit and assurance, Mr.
+Law!&quot; said Pembroke.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Nay, I lack not so much in assurance of myself,&quot; said Law, &quot;as in my
+patience, which I find, Sir Arthur, now begins to grow a bit short about
+its breath. But since the courtesy of the trail demands somewhat, I say
+to you, there is my home. Enter it as friend if you like, but if not,
+come as you please. Did you indeed come bearing war, I should be obliged
+to signify to you, Sir Arthur, that you are my prisoner. You see my
+people.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir,&quot; replied Sir Arthur, blindly, &quot;I have vowed to find you no matter
+where you should go.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It would seem that your vow is well fulfilled. But now, since you deal
+in mysteries, I shall even ask you definitely, Sir Arthur, who and what
+are you? Why do you come hither, and how shall we regard you?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I am, in the first place,&quot; said Sir Arthur, &quot;messenger of my Lord
+Bellomont, governor at Albany of our English colonies. I add my chief
+errand, which has been to find Mr. Law, whom I would hold to an
+accounting.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, granted,&quot; replied Law, flicking lightly at the cuff of his tunic,
+&quot;yet your errand still carries mystery.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You have at least heard of the Peace of Ryswick, I presume?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No; how should I? And why should I care?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;None the less, the king of England and the king of France are no longer
+at war, nor are their colonies this side of the water. There are to be
+no more raids between the colonies of New England and New France. The
+Hurons are to give back their English prisoners, and the Iroquois are to
+return all their captives to the French. The Western tribes are to
+render up their prisoners also, be they French, English, Huron or
+Iroquois. The errand of carrying this news was offered to me. It agreed
+well enough with my own private purposes. I had tracked you, Mr. Law, to
+Montr&eacute;al, lost you on the Richelieu, and was glad enough to take up this
+chance of finding you farther to the West. And now, by the justice of
+heaven, as I have said, I have found you easily.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And has Sir Arthur gone to sheriffing? Has my friend become constable?
+Is Sir Arthur a spy? Because, look you, this is not London, nor yet New
+France, nor Albany. This is Messasebe! This is my valley. I rule here.
+Now, if kings, or constables, or even spies, wish to find John
+Law&mdash;why, here is John Law. Now watch your people, and go you carefully
+here, else that may follow which will be ill extinguished.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Pembroke flung down his sword upon the ground in front of him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You are lucky, Mr. Law,&quot; said he, &quot;lucky as ever. But surely, never was
+man so eminently deserving of death as yourself.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You do me very much honor, Sir Arthur,&quot; replied Law. &quot;Here is your
+sword, sir.&quot; Stooping, he picked it up and handed it to the other. &quot;I
+did but ill if I refused to accord satisfaction to one bringing me such
+speech as that. 'Tis well you wear your weapons, Sir Arthur, since you
+come thus as emissary of the Great Peace! I know you for a gentleman,
+and I shall ask no parole of you to-night; but meantime, let us wait
+until to-morrow, when I promise you I shall be eager as yourself. Come!
+We can stand here guessing and talking no longer. I am weary of it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>They came now to the gate of the stockade, and there Pembroke stood for
+a moment in surprise and perplexity. He was not prepared to meet this
+dark-haired, wide-eyed girl, clad in native dress of skin, with tinkling
+metals at wrist and ankle, and on her feet the tiny, beaded shoes. For
+her part, Mary Connynge, filled with woman's curiosity, was yet less
+prepared for that which appeared before her&mdash;an apparition, as ran her
+first thought, come to threaten and affright.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir Arthur!&quot; she began, her trembling tongue but half forming the
+words. Her eyes stared in terror, and beneath her dark skin the blood
+shrank away and left her pale. She recoiled from him, her left hand
+carrying behind her instinctively the babe that lay on her arm.</p>
+
+<p>Sir Arthur bowed, but found no word. He could only look questioningly at
+Law.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Madam,&quot; said the latter, &quot;Sir Arthur Pembroke journeys through as the
+messenger of Lord Bellomont, governor at Albany, to spread peace among
+the Western tribes. He has by mere chance blundered upon our valley, and
+will delay over night. It seemed well you should be advised.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Mary Connynge, gray and pale, haggard and horrified, dreading all things
+and knowing nothing, found no manner of reply. Without a word she turned
+and fled back into the cabin.</p>
+
+<p>Sir Arthur once more looked about him. Motioning to the others of the
+party to remain outside the gate, Law led him within the stockade. On
+one hand stood Pierre Noir, tall, silent, impassive as a savage, leaning
+upon his gun and fixing on the red coat of the English uniform an eye
+none too friendly. Jean Breboeuf, his piece half ready and his voluble
+tongue half on the point of breaking over restraint, Law quieted with a
+gesture. Back of these, ranged in a silent yet watchful group, their
+weapons well in hand, stood numbers of the savage allies of this new
+war-lord. Pembroke turned to Law again.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You are strongly stationed, sir; but I do not understand.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It is my home.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But yet&mdash;why?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;As well this as any, where one leaves an old life and begins a new,&quot;
+said Law. &quot;'Tis as good a place as any if one would leave all behind,
+and if he would forget.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And this&mdash;that is to say&mdash;madam?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Sir Arthur stumbled in his speech. John Law looked him straight in the
+eye, a slow, sad smile upon his face.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Had we here the plank of poor La Salle his ship,&quot; said he, &quot;we might
+nail the message of that other renegade above our door&mdash;'<i>Nous sommes
+tous sauvages!</i>'&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='BOOK_II_CHAPTER_IX'></a><h3>CHAPTER IX</h3>
+
+<h4>THE DREAM</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>That night John Law dreamed as he slept, and it was in some form the
+same haunting and familiar dream. In his vision he saw not the low roof
+nor the rude walls about him. To his mind there appeared a little dingy
+room, smaller than this in which he lay, with walls of stone, with door
+of iron grating and not of rough-hewn slabs. He saw the door of the
+prison cell swing open; saw near it the figure of a noble young girl,
+with large and frightened eyes and lips half tremulous. To this vision
+he outstretched his hands. He was almost conscious of uttering some word
+supplicatingly, almost conscious of uttering a name.</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps he slept on. We little know the ways of the land of dreams. It
+might have been half an instant or half an hour later that he suddenly
+awoke, finding his hand clapped close against his side, where suddenly
+there had come a sharp and burning pain. His own hand struck another. He
+saw something gleaming in the light of the flickering fire which still
+survived upon the hearth. The dim rays lit up two green, glowing,
+venomous balls, the eyes of the woman whom he found bending above him.
+He reached out his hand in the instinct of safety. This which glittered
+in the firelight was the blade of a knife, and it was in the hand of
+Mary Connynge!</p>
+
+<p>In a moment Law was master of himself. &quot;Give it to me, Madam, if you
+please,&quot; he said, quietly, and took the knife from fingers which
+loosened under his grasp. There was no further word spoken. He tossed
+the knife into a crack of the bunk beyond him. He lay with his right arm
+doubled under his head, looking up steadily into the low ceiling, upon
+which the fire made ragged masses of shadows. His left arm, round, full
+and muscular, lay across the figure of the woman whom he had forced down
+upon the couch beside him. He could feel her bosom rise and pant in
+sheer sobs of anger. Once he felt the writhing of the body beneath his
+arm, but he simply tightened his grasp and spoke no word.</p>
+
+<p>It was not far from morning. In time the gray dawn came creeping in at
+the window, until at length the chinks between the logs in the little
+square-cut window and the ill-fitting door were flooded with a sea of
+sunlight. As this light grew stronger, Law slowly turned and looked at
+the face beside him. Out of the tangle of dark hair there blazed still
+two eyes, eyes which looked steadily up at the ceiling, refusing to turn
+either to the right or to the left. He calmly pulled closer to him, so
+that it might not stain the garments of the woman beside him, the
+blood-soaked shirt whose looseness and lack of definition had perhaps
+saved him from a fatal blow. He paid no attention to his wound, which he
+knew was nothing serious. So he lay and looked at Mary Connynge, and
+finally removed his arm.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Get up,&quot; said he, simply, and the woman obeyed him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The fire, Madam, if you please, and breakfast.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>These had been the duties of the Indian woman, but Mary Connynge obeyed.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Madam,&quot; said Law, calmly, after the morning meal was at last finished
+in silence, &quot;I shall be very glad to have your company for a few
+moments, if you please.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Mary Connynge rose and followed him into the open air, her eyes still
+fixed upon the dark-crusted stain which had spread upon his tunic. They
+walked in silence to a point beyond the cabin.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You would call her Catharine!&quot; burst out Mary Connynge. &quot;Oh! I heard
+you in your very sleep. You believe every lying word Sir Arthur tells
+you. You believe&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>John Law looked at her with the simple and direct gaze which the tamer
+of the wild beast employs when he goes among them, the look of a man not
+afraid of any living thing.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Madam,&quot; said he, at length, calmly and evenly, as before, &quot;what I have
+said, sleeping or waking, will not matter. You have tried to kill me.
+You did not succeed. You will never try again. Now, Madam, I give you
+the privilege of kneeling here on the ground before me, and asking of
+me, not my pardon, but the pardon of the woman you have foully stabbed,
+even as you have me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The figure before him straightened up, the blazing yellow eyes sought
+his once, twice, thrice, behind them all the fury of a savage soul. It
+was of no avail. The cool blue eyes looked straight into her heart. The
+tall figure stood before her, unyielding. She sought to raise her eyes
+once more, failed, and so would have sunk down as he had said, actually
+on her knees before him.</p>
+
+<p>John Law extended a hand and stopped her. &quot;There,&quot; said he. &quot;It will
+suffice. I can not demean you. There is the child.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You called her Catharine!&quot; broke out the woman once more in her
+ungovernable rage. &quot;You would name my child&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Madam, get up!&quot; said John Law, sharply and sternly. &quot;Get up on your
+feet and look me in the face. The child shall be called for her who
+should have been its mother. Let those forgive who can. That you have
+ruined my life for me is but perhaps a fair exchange; yet you shall say
+no word against that woman whose life we have both of us despoiled.&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='BOOK_II_CHAPTER_X'></a><h3>CHAPTER X</h3>
+
+<h4>BY THE HILT OF THE SWORD</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>Law passed on out at the gate of the stockade and down to the bivouac,
+where Pembroke and his men had spent the night.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Now, Sir Arthur,&quot; said he to the latter, when he had found him, &quot;come.
+I am ready to talk with you. Let us go apart.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Pembroke joined him, and the two walked slowly away toward the
+encircling wood which swept back of the stockade. Law turned upon him at
+length squarely.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir Arthur,&quot; said he, &quot;I think you would tell me something concerned
+with the Lady Catharine Knollys. Do you bring any message from her?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The face of Pembroke flamed scarlet with sudden wrath. &quot;Message!&quot; said
+he. &quot;Message from Lady Catharine Knollys to you? By God! sir, her only
+message could be her hope that she might never hear your name again.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You have still your temper, Sir Arthur, and you speak harsh enough.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Harsh or not,&quot; rejoined Pembroke, &quot;I scarce can endure her name upon
+your lips. You, who scouted her, who left her, who took up with the
+lewdest woman in all Great Britain, as it now appears&mdash;you who would
+consort with this creature&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;In this matter,&quot; said John Law, simply, &quot;you are not my prisoner, and I
+beg you to speak frankly. It shall be man and man between us.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;How you could have stooped to such baseness is what mortal man can
+never understand,&quot; resumed Sir Arthur, bitterly. &quot;Good God! to abandon a
+woman like that so heartlessly&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir Arthur,&quot; said John Law, his voice trembling, &quot;I do myself the very
+great pleasure of telling you that you lie!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>For a moment the two stood silent, facing each other, the face of each
+stony, gone gray with the emotions back of it.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There is light,&quot; said Pembroke, &quot;and abundant space.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>They turned and paced back farther toward the open forest glade. Yet now
+and again their steps faltered and half paused, and neither man cared to
+go forward or to return. Pembroke's face, stern as it had been, again
+took on the imprint of a growing hesitation.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Mr. Law,&quot; said he, &quot;there is something in your attitude which I admit
+puzzles me. I ask you in all honor, I ask you on the hilt of that sword
+which I know you will never disgrace, why did you thus flout the Lady
+Catharine Knollys? Why did you scorn her and take up with this woman
+yonder in her stead?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir Arthur,&quot; said John Law, with trembling lips, &quot;I must be very low
+indeed in reputation, since you can ask me question such as this.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But you must answer!&quot; cried Sir Arthur, &quot;and you must swear!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;If you would have my answer and my oath, then I give you both. I did
+not do what you suggest, nor can I conceive how any man should think me
+guilty of it. I loved Lady Catharine Knollys with all my heart. 'Twas my
+chief bitterness, keener than even the thought of the gallows itself,
+that she forsook me in my trouble. Then, bitter as any man would be, I
+persuaded myself that I cared naught. Then came this other woman. Then
+I&mdash;well, I was a man and a fool&mdash;a fool, Sir Arthur, a most miserable
+fool! Every moment of my life since first I saw her, I have loved the
+Lady Catharine; and, God help me, I do now!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Sir Arthur struck his hand upon the hilt of his sword. &quot;You were more
+lucky than myself, as I know,&quot; said he, and from his lips broke half a
+groan.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Good God!&quot; broke out Law. &quot;Let us not talk of it. I give you my word of
+honor, there has been no happiness to this. But come! We waste time. Let
+us cross swords!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Wait. Let me explain, since we are in the way of it. You must know that
+'twas within the plans of Montague that Lady Catharine Knollys should be
+the agent of your freedom. I was pledged to the Lady Catharine to assist
+her, though, as you may perhaps see, sir,&quot; and Pembroke gulped in his
+throat as he spoke, &quot;'twas difficult enough, this part that was assigned
+to me. It was I, Mr. Law, who drove the coach to the gate, the coach
+which brought the Lady Catharine. 'Twas she who opened the door of
+Newgate jail for you. My God! sir, how could you walk past that woman,
+coming there as she did, with such a purpose!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>At hearing these words, the tall figure of the man opposed to him
+drooped and sank, as though under some fearful blow. He staggered to a
+near-by support and sank weakly to a seat, his head falling between his
+hands, his whole face convulsed.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah!&quot; said he, &quot;you did right to cross seas in search of me! God hath
+indeed found me out and given me my punishment. Yet I ask God to bear
+me witness that I knew not the truth. Come, Sir Arthur! Come, I beseech
+you! Let us fall to!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I shall be no man's executioner for his sentence on himself. I could
+not fight you now.&quot; His eye fell by chance upon the blotch in Law's
+bloodstained tunic. &quot;And here,&quot; he said; &quot;see! You are already wounded.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Twas but one woman's way of showing her regard,&quot; said Law. &quot;'Twas Mary
+Connynge stabbed me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But why?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Nay, I am glad of it; since it proves the truth of all you say, even as
+it proves me to be the most unworthy man in all the world. Oh, what had
+it meant to me to know a real love! God! How could I have been so
+blind?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis the ancient puzzle.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes!&quot; cried Law. &quot;And let us make an end of puzzles! Your quarrel, sir,
+I admit is just. Let us go on.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And again I tell you, Mr. Law,&quot; replied Sir Arthur, &quot;that I will not
+fight you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then, sir,&quot; said Law, dropping his own sword upon the grass and
+extending his hand with a broken smile, &quot;'tis I who am your prisoner!&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='BOOK_II_CHAPTER_XI'></a><h3>CHAPTER XI</h3>
+
+<h4>THE IROQUOIS</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>Even as Sir Arthur and John Law clasped hands, there came a sudden
+interruption. A half-score yards deeper in the wood there arose a
+sudden, half-choked cry, followed by a shrill whoop. There was a
+crashing as of one running, and immediately there pressed into the open
+space the figure of an Indian, an old man from the village of the
+Illini. Even as his staggering footsteps brought him within gaze, the
+two startled observers saw the shaft which had sunk deep within his
+breast. He had been shot through by an Indian arrow, and upon the
+instant it was all too plain whose hand had sped the shaft. Following
+close upon his heels there came a stalwart savage, whose face, hideously
+painted, appeared fairly demoniacal as he came bounding on with uplifted
+hatchet, seeking to strike down the victim already impaled by the silent
+arrow.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Quick!&quot; cried Law, in a flash catching the meaning of this sudden
+spectacle. &quot;Into the fort, Sir Arthur, and call the men together!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Not stopping to relieve the struggles of the victim, who had now fallen
+forward gasping, Law sprang on with drawn blade to meet the advancing
+savage. The latter paused for an uncertain moment, and then with a
+shrill yell of defiance, hurled the keen steel hatchet full at Law's
+head. It shore away a piece of his hat brim, and sank with edge deep
+buried in the trunk of a tree beyond. The savage turned, but turned too
+late. The blade of the swordsman passed through from rib to rib under
+his arm, and he fell choking, even as he sought again to give vent to
+his war-cry.</p>
+
+<p>And now there arose in the woods beyond, and in the fields below the
+hill, and from the villages of the neighboring Indians, a series of
+sharp, ululating yells. Shots came from within the fortress, where the
+loop-holes were already manned. There were borne from the nearest
+wigwams of the Illini the screams of wounded men, the shrieks of
+terrified women. In an instant the peaceful spot had become the scene of
+a horrible confusion. Once more the wolves of the woods, the Iroquois,
+had fallen on their prey!</p>
+
+<p>Swift as had been Law's movements, Pembroke was but a pace behind him as
+he wrenched free his blade. The two turned back together and started at
+speed for the palisade. At the gate they met others hurrying in,
+Pembroke's men joining in the rush of the frightened villagers. Among
+these the Iroquois pressed with shrill yells, plying knife and bow and
+hatchet as they ran, and the horrified eyes of those within the palisade
+saw many a tragedy enacted.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Watch the gate!&quot; cried Pierre Noir, from his station in the corner
+tower. As he spoke there came a rush of screaming Iroquois, who sought
+to gain the entrance.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Now!&quot; cried Pierre Noir, discharging his piece into the crowded ranks
+below him; and shot after shot followed his own. The packed brown mass
+gave back and resolved itself into scattered units, who broke and ran
+for the nearest cover.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;They will not come on again until dark,&quot; said Pierre Noir, calmly
+leaning his piece against the wall. &quot;Therefore I may attend to certain
+little matters.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He passed out into the entry-way, where lay the bodies of three
+Iroquois, abandoned, under the close and deadly fire, by their
+companions where they had fallen. When Pierre Noir returned and calmly
+propped up again the door of slabs which he had removed, he carried in
+his hand three tufts of long black hair, from which dripped heavy gouts
+of blood.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Good God, man!&quot; said Pembroke. &quot;You must not be savage as these
+Indians!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Speak for yourself, Monsieur Anglais,&quot; replied Pierre, stoutly. &quot;You
+need not save these head pieces if you do not care for them. For myself,
+'tis part of the trade.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Assuredly,&quot; broke in Jean Breboeuf. &quot;We keep these trinkets, we
+<i>voyageurs</i> of the French. Make no doubt that Jean Breboeuf will take
+back with him full tale of the Indians he has killed. Presently I go
+out. Zip! goes my knife, and off comes the topknot of Monsieur Indian,
+him I killed but now as he ran. Then I shall dry the scalp here by the
+fire, and mount it on a bit of willow, and take it back for a present to
+my sweetheart, Susanne Duch&eacute;ne, on the seignieury at home.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Bravo, Jean!&quot; cried out the old Indian fighter, Pierre Noir, the old
+baresark rage of the fighting man now rising hot in his blood. &quot;And
+look! Here come more chances for our little ornaments.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Pierre Noir for once had been mistaken and underestimated the courage of
+the warriors of the Onondagos. Lashing themselves to fury at the thought
+of their losses, they came on again, now banding and charging in the
+open close up to the walls of the palisade. Again the little party of
+whites maintained a steady fire, and again the Iroquois, baffled and
+enraged, fell back into the wood, whence they poured volley after volley
+rattling against the walls of the sturdy fortress.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I am sorry, sir,&quot; said Sergeant Gray to Pembroke, &quot;but 'tis all up with
+me.&quot; The poor fellow staggered against the wall, and in a few moments
+all was indeed over with him. A chance shot had pierced his chest.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;<i>Peste!</i> If this keeps up,&quot; said Pierre Noir, &quot;there will not be many
+of us left by morning. I never saw them fight so well. 'Tis a good watch
+we'll need this night.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>In fact, all through the night the Iroquois tried every stratagem of
+their savage warfare. With ear-splitting yells they came close up to the
+stockade, and in one such charge two or three of their young men even
+managed to climb to the tops of the pointed stakes, though but to meet
+their death at the muzzles of the muskets within. Then there arose
+curving lines of fire from without the walls, half circles which
+terminated at last in little jarring thuds, where blazing arrows fell
+and stood in log, or earth, or unprotected roof. These projectiles,
+wrapped with lighted birch bark, served as fire brands, and danger
+enough they carried. Yet, after some fashion, the little garrison kept
+down these incipient blazes, held together the terrified Illini,
+repulsed each repeated charge of the Iroquois, and so at last wore
+through the long and fearful night.</p>
+
+<p>The sun was just rising across the tops of the distant groves when the
+Iroquois made their next advance. It came not in the form of a concerted
+attack, but of an appeal for peace. A party of the savages left their
+cover and approached the fortress, waving their hands above their heads.
+One of them presently advanced alone.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What is it, Pierre?&quot; asked Law. &quot;What does the fellow want?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I care not what he wants,&quot; said Pierre Noir, carefully adjusting the
+lock of his piece and steadily regarding the savage as he approached;
+&quot;but I'll wager you a year's pay he never gets alive past yonder stump.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Stay!&quot; cried Pembroke, catching at the barrel of the leveled gun. &quot;I
+believe he would talk with us.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What does he say, Pierre?&quot; asked Law. &quot;Speak to him, if you can.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;He wants to know,&quot; said Pierre, as the messenger at length stopped and
+began a harangue, &quot;whether we are English or French. He says something
+about there being a big peace between Corlaer and Onontio; by which he
+means, gentlemen, the governor at New York and the governor at Quebec.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Tell him,&quot; cried Pembroke, with a sudden thought, &quot;that I am an
+officer of Corlaer, and that Corlaer bids the Iroquois to bring in all
+the prisoners they have taken. Tell him that the French are going to
+give up all their prisoners to us, and that the Iroquois must leave the
+war path, or my Lord Bellomont will take the war trail and wipe their
+villages off the earth.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Something in this speech as conveyed to the savage seemed to give him a
+certain concern. He retired, and presently his place was taken by a tall
+and stately figure, dressed in the full habiliments of an Iroquois
+chieftain. He came on calmly and proudly, his head erect, and in his
+extended hand the long-stemmed pipe of peace. Pierre Noir heaved a deep
+sigh of relief.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Unless my eyes deceive me,&quot; said he, &quot;'tis old Teganisoris himself, one
+of the head men of the Onondagos. If so, there is some hope, for
+Teganisoris is wise enough to know when peace is best.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>It was, indeed, that noted chieftain of the Iroquois who now advanced
+close up to the wall. Law and Pembroke stepped out to meet him beyond
+the palisade, the old <i>voyageur</i> still serving as interpreter from the
+platform at their back.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;He says&mdash;listen, Messieurs!&mdash;he says he knows there is going to be a
+big peace; that the Iroquois are tired of fighting and that their
+hearts are sore. He says&mdash;a most manifest lie, I beg you to observe,
+Messieurs&mdash;that he loves the English, and that, although he ought to
+kill the Frenchmen of our garrison, he will, since some of us are
+English, and hence his friends, spare us all if we will cease to fight.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Pembroke turned to Law with question in his eye.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There must be something done,&quot; said the latter in a low tone. &quot;We were
+short enough of ammunition here even before Du Mesne left for the
+settlements, and your own men have none too much left.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Reflect! Bethink yourselves, Englishmen!' he says to us,&quot; continued
+Pierre Noir. &quot;'We came to make war upon the Illini. Our work here is
+done. 'Tis time now that we went back to our villages. If there is to be
+a big peace, the Iroquois must be there; for unless the Iroquois demand
+it, there can be no peace at all.' And, gentlemen, I beg you to remember
+it is an Iroquois who is talking, and that the truth is not in the
+tongue of an Iroquois.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis a desperate chance, Mr. Law,&quot; said Pembroke. &quot;Yet if we keep up
+the fight here, there can be but one end.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis true,&quot; said Law; &quot;and there are others to be considered.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>It was hurriedly thus concluded. Law finally advanced toward the tall
+figure of the Iroquois headman, and looked him straight in the face.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Tell him,&quot; said he to Pierre Noir, &quot;that we are all English, and that
+we are not afraid; and that if we are harmed, the armies of Corlaer will
+destroy the Iroquois, even as the Iroquois have the Illini. Tell him
+that we will go back with him to the settlements because we are willing
+to go that way upon a journey which we had already planned. We could
+fight forever if we chose, and he can see for himself by the bodies of
+his young men how well we are able to make war.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It is well,&quot; replied Teganisoris. &quot;You have the word of an Iroquois
+that this shall be done, as I have said.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The word of an Iroquois!&quot; cried Pierre Noir, slamming down the butt of
+his musket. &quot;The word of a snake, say rather! Jean Breboeuf, harken you
+to what our leaders have agreed! We are to go as prisoners of the
+Iroquois! Mary, Mother of God, what folly! And there is madame, and <i>la
+pauvre petite</i>, that infant so young. By God! Were it left to me, Pierre
+Berthier would stand here, and fight to the end. I know these Iroquois!&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='BOOK_II_CHAPTER_XII'></a><h3>CHAPTER XII</h3>
+
+<h4>PRISONERS OF THE IROQUOIS</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>The faith of the Iroquois was worse than Punic, nor was there lacking
+swift proof of its real nature. Law and Pembroke, the moment they had
+led their little garrison beyond the gate, found themselves surrounded
+by a ring of tomahawks and drawn bows. Their weapons were snatched away
+from them, and on the instant they found themselves beyond all
+possibility of that resistance whose giving over they now bitterly
+repented. Teganisoris regarded them with a sardonic smile.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I see you are all English,&quot; said he, &quot;though some of you wear blue
+coats. These we may perhaps adopt into our tribe, for our boys grow up
+but slowly, and some of the blue coats are good fighters. These dogs of
+Illini we shall of course burn. As for your war house, you will no
+longer need it, since you are now friends of the Iroquois, and are going
+to their villages. You may say to Corlaer that you well know the
+Iroquois have no prisoners.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The horrid significance of this threat was all too soon made plain. In
+an hour the little stockade was but a mass of embers and ashes. In
+another hour the little valley had become a Gehenna of anguish and
+lamentations, with whose riot of grief and woe there mingled the savage
+exultations of a foe whose treachery was but surpassed by his cruelty.
+Again the planting-ground of the Illini was utterly laid waste, to mark
+it naught remaining but trampled grain, and heaps of ashes, and remnants
+of blackened and incinerated bones. By nightfall the party of prisoners
+had begun a wild journey through the wilderness, whose horrors surpassed
+any they had supposed to be humanly endurable.</p>
+
+<p>Day after day, week after week, for more than a month, and much of the
+time in winter weather, they toiled on, part of the way by boat, the
+remainder of the journey on foot, crossing snow-clogged forest, and
+tangled thicket and frozen morass, yet daring not to drop out for rest,
+since to lag might mean to die. It was as though after some frightful
+nightmare of suffering and despair that at length they reached the
+villages of the Five Nations, located far to the east, at the foot of
+the great waterway which Law and his family had ascended more than a
+year before.</p>
+
+<p>Yet if that which had gone before seemed like some bitter dream, surely
+the day of awakening promised but little better hope. From village to
+village, footsore and ill, they were hurried without rest, at each new
+stopping place the central figures of a barbarous triumph; and nowhere
+did they meet the representatives of either the French or the English
+government, whose expected presence had constituted their one ground of
+hope.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Where is your big peace?&quot; asked Teganisoris of Pembroke. &quot;Where are the
+head men of Corlaer? Who brings presents to the Iroquois, and who is to
+tell us that Onontio has carried the pipe of peace to Corlaer? Here are
+our villages as when we left them, and here again are we, save for the
+absent ones who have been killed by your young men. It is no wonder that
+my people are displeased.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Indeed those of the Iroquois who had remained at home clamored
+continually that some of the prisoners should be given over to them.
+Thus, in doubt, uncertainty and terror the party passed through the
+villages, moving always eastward, until at length they arrived at the
+fortified town where Teganisoris made his home, a spot toward the foot
+of Lake Ontario, and not widely removed from that stupendous cataract
+which, from the beginning of earth, had uplifted its thunderous
+diapason here in the savage wilderness&mdash;Ontoneagrea, object of
+superstitious awe among all the tribes.</p>
+
+<p>Time hung heavy on the hands of the savages. It was winter, and the
+parties had all returned from the war trails. The mutterings arose yet
+more loudly among families who had lost most heavily in these Western
+expeditions. The shrewd mind of Teganisoris knew that some new thing
+must be planned. He announced his decision at his own village, after the
+triumphal progress among the tribes had at length been concluded.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Since they have sent us no presents,&quot; said he, with that daring
+diplomacy which made him a leader in red statesmanship, &quot;let those who
+stayed at home be given some prisoner in pay for those of their people
+who have been killed. Moreover, let us offer to the Great Spirit some
+sacrifice in propitiation; since surely the Great Spirit is offended.&quot;
+Such was the conclusion of this head man of the Onondagos, and fateful
+enough it was to the prisoners.</p>
+
+<p>The great gorge through which poured the vast waters of the Northern
+seas was a spot not always visited by those passing up the Great Lakes
+for the Western stations, nor down the Lakes to the settlements of the
+St. Lawrence. Yet there was a trail which led around the great cataract,
+and the occasional <i>coureurs de bois</i>, or the passing friars, or the
+adventurous merchants of the lower settlements now and again left that
+trail, and came to look upon the tremendous scene of the great falling
+of the waters. Here where the tumult ascended up to heaven, and where
+the white-blown wreaths of mist might indeed, even in an imagination
+better than that of a savage, have been construed into actual forms of
+spirits, the Indians had, from time immemorial, made their offerings to
+the genius of the cataract&mdash;strips of rude cloth, the skin of the beaver
+and the otter, baskets woven of sweet grasses, and, after the advent of
+the white man, pieces of metal or strings of precious beads. Such valued
+things as these were in rude adoration placed upon rocks or uplifted
+scaffolds near to the brink of the abyss. This was the spot most
+commonly chosen by the medicine man in the pursuit of his incantations.
+It was the church, the wild and savage cathedral of the red men.</p>
+
+<p>Following now the command of their chieftain, the Iroquois left their
+stationary lodges and moved in a body, pitching a temporary camp at a
+spot not far from the Falls. Here, in a great council lodge, the older
+men sat in deliberation for a full day and night. The dull drum sounded
+continually, the council pipe went round, and the warriors besought the
+spirits to give them knowledge. The savage hysteria, little by little,
+yet steadily, arose higher and higher, until at length it reached that
+point of frenzy where naught could suffice save some terrible, some
+tremendous thing.</p>
+
+<p>Enforced spectators of these curious and ominous ceremonies, the
+prisoners looked on, wondering, imagining, hesitating and fearing.
+&quot;Monsieur,&quot; said Pierre Noir, turning at last to Law, &quot;it grieves me to
+speak, yet 'tis best for you to know the truth. It is to be you or
+Monsieur Pembroke. They will not have me. They say that it must be one
+of you two great chiefs, for that you were brave, your hearts were
+strong, and that hence you would find favor as the adopted child of the
+Great Spirit who has been offended.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Law looked at Pembroke, and they both regarded Mary Connynge and the
+babe. &quot;At least,&quot; said Law, &quot;they spare the woman and the child. So far
+very well. Sir Arthur, we are at the last hazard.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I have asked them to take me,&quot; said Pierre Noir, &quot;for I am an old man
+and have no family. But they will not listen to me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Pembroke passed his hand wearily across his face. &quot;I have behind me so
+long a memory of suffering,&quot; said he, &quot;and before me so small an amount
+of promise, that for myself I am content to let it end. It comes to all
+sooner or later, according to our fate.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You speak,&quot; said Law, &quot;as though it were determined. Yet Pierre says it
+will not be both of us, but one.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Pembroke smiled sadly. &quot;Why, sir,&quot; said he, &quot;do you think me so sorry a
+fellow as that? Look!&quot; and he pointed to Mary Connynge and the child.
+&quot;There is your duty.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Law followed his gaze, and his look was returned dumbly by the woman who
+had played so strange a part in the late passages of his life. Never a
+word with her had Law spoken regarding his plans or concerning what he
+had learned from Pembroke. As to this, Mary Connynge had been afraid to
+ask, nor dare ask even now.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Besides,&quot; went on Pembroke later, as he called Law aside, &quot;there is
+something to be done&mdash;not here, but over there, in England, or in
+France. Your duty is involved not only with this woman. You must find
+sometime the other woman. You must see the Lady Catharine Knollys.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Law sunk his head between his hands and groaned bitterly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Go you rather,&quot; said he, &quot;and spend your life for her. I choose that it
+should end at once, and here.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I have not been wont to call Mr. Law a coward,&quot; said Pembroke, simply.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I should be a coward if I should stand aside and allow you to sacrifice
+yourself; nor shall I do so,&quot; replied the other.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;They say,&quot; broke in Pierre Noir, who had been listening to the excited
+harangues of first one warrior and then another, &quot;that both warriors are
+great chiefs, and that both should go together. Teganisoris insists that
+only one shall be offered. This last has been almost agreed; but which
+one of you 'tis to be has not yet been determined.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Dawn came through the narrow door and open roof holes of the lodge. The
+rising of the sun seemed to bring conviction to the Iroquois. All at
+once the savage council broke up and scattered into groups, which
+hurried to different parts of the village. Presently these reappeared at
+the central lodge. There sounded a concerted savage chant. A ragged
+column appeared, whose head was faced toward the cataract. There were
+those who bore strings of beads and strips of fur, even the prized
+treasures of the tufted scalp locks, whose tresses, combed smooth, were
+adorned with colored cloth and feathers.</p>
+
+<p>Pierre Noir was silent; yet, as the captives looked, they needed no
+advice that the sacrificial procession was now forming.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;They said,&quot; began Pierre Noir, at length, with trembling voice, turning
+his eyes aside as he spoke, &quot;that it could not be myself, that it must
+be one of you, and but one. They are going to cast lots for it. It is
+Teganisoris who has proposed that the lots shall be thrown by&mdash;&quot; Pierre
+Noir faltered, unwilling to go on.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And by whom?&quot; asked Law, quietly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;By&mdash;by the woman&mdash;by madame!&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='BOOK_II_CHAPTER_XIII'></a><h3>CHAPTER XIII</h3>
+
+<h4>THE SACRIFICE</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>There was sometimes practised among the Iroquois a game which bore a
+certain resemblance to the casting of dice, as the latter is known among
+civilized peoples. The method of the play was simple. Two oblong
+polished bones, of the bigness of a man's finger, were used as the dice.
+The ends of these were ground thin and were rudely polished. One of the
+dice was stained red, the other left white. The players in the game
+marked out a line on the hard ground, and then each in turn cast up the
+two dice into the air, throwing them from some receptacle. The game was
+determined by the falling of the red bone, he who cast this colored bone
+closer to the line upon the ground being declared the winner. The game
+was simple, and depended much upon chance. If the red die fell flat upon
+its face at a point near to the line, it was apt to lie close to the
+spot where it dropped. On the other hand, did it alight upon either end,
+it might bound back and fall at some little distance upon one side of
+the line.</p>
+
+<p>It was this game which, in horrible fashion, Teganisoris now proposed to
+play. He offered to the clamoring medicine man and his ferocious
+disciples one of these captives, whose death should appease not only the
+offended Great Spirit, but also the unsated vengeance of the tribe. He
+offered, at the same time, the spectacle of a play in which a human life
+should be the stake. He used as practical executioner the woman who was
+possessed by one of them, and who, in the crude notions of the savages,
+was no doubt coveted by both. It must be the hand of this woman that
+should cast the dice, a white one and a red one for each man, and he
+whose red die fell closer to the line was winner in the grim game of
+life and death.</p>
+
+<p>Jean Breboeuf and Pierre Noir stood apart, and tears poured from the
+eyes of both. They were hardened men, well acquainted with Indian
+warfare; they had seen the writhings of tortured victims, and more than
+once had faced such possibilities themselves; yet never had they seen
+sight like this.</p>
+
+<p>Near the two men stood Mary Connynge, the bright blood burning in her
+cheeks, her eyes dry and wide open, looking from one to the other. God,
+who gives to this earth the few Mary Connynges, alone knows the nature
+of those elements which made her, and the character of the conflict
+which now went on within her soul. Tell such a woman as Mary Connynge
+that she has a rival, and she will either love the more madly the man
+whom she demands as her own, or with equal madness and with greater
+intensity will hate her lover with a hatred undying and unappeasable.</p>
+
+<p>Mary Connynge stood, her eyes glancing from one to the other of the men
+before her. She had seen them both proved brave men, strong of arm,
+undaunted of heart, both gallant gentlemen. God, who makes the Mary
+Connynges of this earth, only can tell whether or not there arose in the
+heart of this savage woman, this woman at bay, scorned, rebuked,
+mastered, this one question: Which? If Mary Connynge hated John Law, or
+if she loved him&mdash;ah! how must have pulsed her heart in agony, or in
+bitterness, as she took into her hand those lots which were the arbiters
+of life and death!</p>
+
+<p>Teganisoris looked about him and spoke a few rapid words. He caught Mary
+Connynge roughly by the shoulder and pulled her forward. The two men
+stood with faces set and gray in the pitiless light of morn. Their arms
+were fast bound behind their backs. Eagerly the crowding savages
+pressed up to them, gesticulating wildly, and peering again and again
+into their faces to discover any sign of weakness. They failed. The
+pride of birth, the strength of character, the sheer animal vigor of
+each man stood him in stead at this ultimate trial. Each had made up his
+mind to die. Each proposed, not doubting that he would be the one to
+draw the fatal lot, to die as a man and a gentleman.</p>
+
+<p>Teganisoris would play this game with all possible mystery and
+importance. It should be told generations hence about the council fires,
+how he, Teganisoris, devised this game, how he played it, how he drew it
+out link by link to the last atom of its agony. There was no receptacle
+at hand in which the dice could be placed. Teganisoris stooped, and
+without ceremony wrenched from Mary Connynge's foot the moccasin which
+covered it&mdash;the little shoe&mdash;beaded, beautiful, and now again fateful.
+Sir Arthur smiled as though in actual joy.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;My friend,&quot; said he, &quot;I have won! This might be the very slipper for
+which we played at the Green Lion long ago.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Law turned upon him a face pale and solemn. &quot;Sir,&quot; said he, &quot;I pray God
+that the issue may not be as when we last played. I pray God that the
+dice may elect me and not yourself.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You were ever lucky in the games of chance,&quot; replied Pembroke.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Too lucky,&quot; said Law. &quot;But the winner here is the loser, if it be
+myself.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Teganisoris roughly took from Mary Connynge's hand the little bits of
+bone. He cast them into the hollow of the moccasin and shook them
+dramatically together, holding them high above his head. Then he lowered
+them and took out from the receptacle two of the dice. He placed his
+hand on Law's shoulder, signifying that his was to be the first cast.
+Then he handed back the moccasin to the woman.</p>
+
+<p>Mary Connynge took the shoe in her hand and stepped forward to the line
+which had been drawn upon the ground. The red spots still burned upon
+her cheeks; her eyes, amber, feline, still flamed hard and dry. She
+still glanced rapidly from one to the other, her eye as lightly quick
+and as brilliant as that of the crouched cat about to spring.</p>
+
+<p>Which? Which would it be? Could she control this game? Could she elect
+which man should live and which should die&mdash;this woman, scorned, abased,
+mastered? Neither of these sought to read the riddle of her set face and
+blazing eyes. Each as he might offered his soul to his Creator.</p>
+
+<p>The hand of Mary Connynge was raised above her head. Her face was
+turned once more to John Law, her master, her commander, her repudiator.
+Slowly she turned the moccasin over in her hand. The white bone fell
+first, the red for a moment hanging in the soft folds of the buckskin.
+She shook it out. It fell with its face nearly parallel to the ground
+and alighted not more than a foot from the line, rebounding scarce more
+than an inch or so. Low exclamations arose from all around the thickened
+circle.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;As I said, my friend,&quot; cried Sir Arthur, &quot;I have won! The throw is
+passing close for you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Teganisoris again caught Mary Connynge by the shoulder, and dragged her
+a step or so farther along the line, the two dice being left on the
+ground as they had fallen. Once more, her hand arose, once more it
+turned, once more the dice were cast.</p>
+
+<p>The goddess of fortune still stood faithful to this bold young man who
+had so often confidently assumed her friendship. His life, later to be
+so intimately concerned with this same new savage country, was to be
+preserved for an ultimate opportunity.</p>
+
+<p>The white and the red bone fell together from the moccasin. Had it been
+the white that counted, Sir Arthur had been saved, for the white bone
+lay actually upon the line. The red fell almost as close, but alighted
+on its end. As though impelled by some spirit of evil, it dropped upon
+some little pebble or hard bit of earth, bounded into the air, fell, and
+rolled quite away from the mark!</p>
+
+<p>Even on that crowd of cruel savages there came a silence. Of the whites,
+one scarce dared look at the other. Slowly the faces of Pembroke and Law
+turned one toward the other.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Would God I could shake you by the hand,&quot; said Pembroke. &quot;Good by.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;As for you, dogs and worse than dogs,&quot; he cried, turning toward the red
+faces about him, &quot;mark you! where I stand the feet of the white man
+shall stand forever, and crush your faces into the dirt!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Whether or not the Iroquois understood his defiance could not be
+determined. With a wild shout they pressed upon him. Borne struggling
+and stumbling by the impulse of a dozen hands, Pembroke half walked and
+half was carried over the distance between the village and the brink of
+the chasm of Niagara.</p>
+
+<p>Until then it had not been apparent what was to be the nature of his
+fate, but when he looked upon the sliding floor of waters below him, and
+heard beyond the thunderous voices of the cataract, Pembroke knew what
+was to be his final portion.</p>
+
+<p>There was, at some distance above the great falls, a spot where descent
+was possible to the edge of the water. Pembroke's feet were loosened and
+he was compelled to descend the narrow path. A canoe was tethered at the
+shore, and the face of the young Englishman went pale as he realized
+what was to be the use assigned it. Bound again hand and foot, helpless,
+he was cast into this canoe. A strong arm sent the tiny craft out toward
+midstream.</p>
+
+<p>The hands of the great waters grasped the frail cockleshell, twisted it
+about, tossed it, played with it, and claimed it irrevocably for their
+own. For a few moments it was visible as it passed on down with the
+resistless current of the mighty stream. Almost at the verge of the
+plunge, the eyes watching from the shore saw at a distance the struggle
+made by the victim. He half raised himself in the boat and threw himself
+against its side. It was overset. For one instant the cold sun shone
+glistening on the wet bark of the upturned craft. It was but a moment,
+and then there was no dot upon the solemn flood.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='BOOK_II_CHAPTER_XIV'></a><h3>CHAPTER XIV</h3>
+
+<h4>THE EMBASSY</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>&quot;Monsieur! Madame! Pierre Noir! Listen to me! I have saved you! I, Jean
+Breboeuf, I have rescued you!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>So spoke Jean Breboeuf, thrusting his head within the door of the lodge
+in which were the remaining prisoners of the Iroquois.</p>
+
+<p>It was indeed Jean Breboeuf who, strolling beyond the outer edge of the
+village, had been among the first to espy an approaching party of
+visitors. Of any travelers possible, none could have been more important
+to the prisoners. Too late, yet welcome even now, the embassy from New
+France among the Iroquois had arrived. In an instant the village was in
+an uproar.</p>
+
+<p>The leader of this embassy from Quebec was one Captain Joncaire, at that
+time of the French settlements, but in former years a prisoner among the
+Onondagos, where he was adopted into the tribe and much respected.
+Joncaire was accompanied by a priest of the Jesuit brotherhood, by a
+young officer late of the regiment Carignan, and by two or three petty
+Canadian officials, as well as a struggling retinue of savages picked up
+on the way between Lake George and the Indian villages. He advanced now
+at the head of his little party, bearing in his hand a wampum belt. He
+pushed aside the young men, and demanded that he be brought to the chief
+of the village. Teganisoris himself presently advanced to meet him, and
+of him Joncaire demanded that there should at once be called a full
+council of the tribe; with which request the chief of the Onondagos
+hastened to comply.</p>
+
+<p>Fully accustomed to such ceremonies, Joncaire sat in the council calmly
+listening to the speeches of its orators, and at length arose for his
+own reply. &quot;Brothers,&quot; said he, &quot;I have here&quot;&mdash;and he drew from his
+tunic a copy of the decree of Louis XIV declaring peace between the
+French and the English colonies&mdash;&quot;a talking paper. This is the will of
+Onontio, whom you love and fear, and it is the will of the great father
+across the water, whom Onontio loves and fears. This talking paper says
+that our young men of the French colonies are no longer to go to war
+against Corlaer. The hatchet has been buried by the two great fathers.
+Brothers, I have come to tell you that it is time for the Iroquois also
+to bury the hatchet, and to place upon it heavy stones, so that it
+never again can be dug up.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Brothers, as you know, the great canoes from across the sea are
+bringing more and more white men. Look about you, and tell me where are
+your fathers and your brothers and your sons? Half your fighting men are
+gone; and if you turn to the West to seek out strong young men from the
+other tribes, which of them will come to sit by your fires and be your
+brothers? The war trails of the Nations have gone to the West as far as
+the Great River. All the country has been at war. The friends of Onontio
+beyond Michilimackinac have been so busy fighting that they have
+forgotten to take the beaver, or if they have taken it, they have been
+afraid to bring it down the water trail to us, lest the Iroquois or the
+English should rob them.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Brothers, a great peace is now declared. Onontio, the father of all the
+red men, has taken the promises of his children, the Hurons, the
+Algonquins, the Miamis, the Illini, the Outagamies, the Ojibways, all
+those peoples who live to the west, that they will follow the war trail
+no more. Next summer there will be a great council. Onontio and Corlaer
+have agreed to call the tribes to meet at the Mountain in the St.
+Lawrence. Onontio says to you that he will give you back your prisoners,
+and now he demands that you in return give back those whom you may have
+with you. This is his will; and if you fail him, you know how heavy is
+his hand.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Brothers, I see that you have prisoners here, white prisoners. These
+must be given up to us. I will take them with me when I return. For your
+Indian captives, it is the will of Onontio that you bring them all to
+the Great Peace in the summer, and that you then, all of you, help to
+dig the great hill under which the hatchet is going to be buried. Then
+once more our rivers will not be red, and will look more like water. The
+sun will not shine red, but will look as the sun should look. The sky
+will again be blue. Our women and our children will no longer be afraid,
+and you Iroquois can go to sleep in your houses and not dread the arms
+of the French. Brothers, I have spoken. Peace is good.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Teganisoris replied in the same strain as that chosen by Joncaire,
+assuring him that he was his brother; that his heart went out to him;
+that the Iroquois loved the French; and that if they had gone to war
+with them, it was but because the young men of Corlaer had closed their
+eyes so that they could not see the truth. &quot;As to these prisoners,&quot; said
+he, &quot;take them with you. We do not want them with us, for we fear they
+may bring us harm. Our medicine man counseled us to offer up one of
+these prisoners as a sacrifice to the Great Spirit. We did so. Now our
+medicine man has a bad dream. He says that the white men are going to
+come and tear down our houses and trample our fields. When the time
+comes for the peace, the Iroquois will be at the Mountain. Brother, we
+will bury the hatchet, and bury it so deep that henceforth none may ever
+again dig it up.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It is well,&quot; said Joncaire, abruptly. &quot;My brothers are wise. Now let
+the council end, for my path is long and I must travel back to Onontio
+at once.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Joncaire knew well enough the fickle nature of these savages, who might
+upon the morrow demand another council and perhaps arrive at different
+conclusions. Hearing there were no white prisoners in the villages
+farther to the west, he resolved to set forth at once upon the return
+with those now at hand. Hurrying, therefore, as soon as might be, to
+their leader, he urged him to make ready forthwith for the journey back
+to the St. Lawrence.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Unless I much mistake, Monsieur,&quot; said he to Law, &quot;you are that same
+gentleman who so set all Quebec by the ears last winter. My faith! The
+regiment Carignan had cause to rejoice when you left for up river, even
+though you took with you half the ready coin of the settlement. Yet come
+you once more to meet the gentlemen of France, and I doubt not they
+will be glad as ever to stake you high, as may be in this
+poverty-stricken region. You have been far to the westward, I doubt not.
+You were, perhaps, made prisoner somewhere below the Straits.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Far below; among the tribe of the Illini, in the valley of the
+Messasebe.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You tell me so! I had thought no white man left in that valley for this
+season. And madame&mdash;this child&mdash;surely 'twas the first white infant born
+in the great valley.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And the most unfortunate.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Nay, how can you say that, since you have come more than half a
+thousand miles and are all safe and sound to-day? Glad enough we shall
+be to have you and madame with us for the winter, if, indeed, it be not
+for longer dwelling. I can not take you now to the English settlements,
+since I must back to the governor with the news. Yet dull enough you
+would find these Dutch of the Hudson, and worse yet the blue-nosed
+psalmodists of New England. Much better for you and your good lady are
+the gayer capitals of New France, or <i>la belle France</i> itself, that
+older France. Monsieur, how infinitely more fit for a gentleman of
+spirit is France than your dull England and its Dutch king! Either New
+France or Old France, let me advise you; and as to that new West, let
+me counsel that you wait until after the Big Peace. And, in speaking,
+your friend, Du Mesne, your lieutenant, the <i>coureur</i>&mdash;his fate, I
+suppose, one need not ask. He was killed&mdash;where?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Law recounted the division of his party just previous to the Iroquois
+attack, and added his concern lest Du Mesne should return to the former
+station during the spring and find but its ruins, with no news of the
+fate of his friends.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, as to that&mdash;'twould be but the old story of the <i>voyageurs</i>,&quot; said
+Joncaire. &quot;They are used enough to journeying a thousand miles or so, to
+find the trail end in a heap of ashes, and to the tune of a scalp dance.
+Fear not for your lieutenant, for, believe me, he has fended for himself
+if there has been need. Yet I would warrant you, now that this word for
+the peace has gone out, we shall see your friend Du Mesne as big as life
+at the Mountain next summer, knowing as much of your history as you
+yourself do, and quite counting upon meeting you with us on the St.
+Lawrence, and madame as well. As to that, methinks madame will be better
+with us on the St. Lawrence than on the savage Messasebe. We have none
+too many dames among us, and I need not state, what monsieur's eyes have
+told him every morning&mdash;that a fairer never set foot from ship from
+over seas. Witness my lieutenant yonder, Raoul de Ligny! He is thus soon
+all devotion! Mother of God! but we are well met here, in this
+wilderness, among the savages. <i>Voil&agrave;</i>, Monsieur! We take you again
+captive, and 'tis madame enslaves us all!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>There had indeed ensued conversation between the young French officer
+above named and Mary Connynge; yet prompt as might have been the former
+with gallant attentions to so fair a captive, it could not have been
+said that he was allowed the first advances. Mary Connynge, even after a
+month of starving foot travel and another month of anxiety at the
+Iroquois villages, had lost neither her rounded body, her brilliance of
+eye and color, nor her subtle magnetism of personality. It had taken
+stronger head than that of Raoul de Ligny to withstand even her slight
+request. How, then, as to Mary Connynge supplicating, entreating,
+craving of him protection?</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah, you brave Frenchmen,&quot; said she to De Ligny, advancing to him as he
+stood apart, twisting his mustaches and not unmindful of this very
+possibility of a conversation with the captive. &quot;You brave Frenchmen,
+how can we thank you for our salvation? It was all so horrible!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It is our duty to save all, Madame,&quot; rejoined De Ligny; &quot;our happiness
+unspeakable to save such as Madame. I swear by my sword, I had as soon
+expected to find an angel with the Iroquois as to meet there Madame!
+Quebec&mdash;all Quebec has told me who Madame was and is. And I am your
+slave.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, sir, could you but mean that!&quot; and there was turned upon him the
+full power of a gaze which few men had ever been able to withstand. The
+blood of De Ligny tingled as he bowed and replied.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;If Madame could but demand one proof.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Mary Connynge stepped closer to him. &quot;Hush!&quot; she said. &quot;Speak low! Do
+not let it seem that we are interested. Keep your own counsel. Can you
+do this?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The eyes of the young officer gleamed. He was bold enough to respond.
+This his temptress noted.</p>
+
+<p>He nodded.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You see that man&mdash;the tall one, John Law? Listen! It is from him I ask
+you to save me. Oh, sir, there is my captivity!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What! Your husband?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;He is not my husband.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;<i>Mais</i>&mdash;a thousand pardons. The child&mdash;your pardon.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Pish! 'Tis the child of an Indian woman.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh!&quot; The blood again came to the young gallant's forehead.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Listen, I tell you! I have been scarce better than a prisoner in this
+man's hands. He has abused me, threatened me, would have beaten me&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Madame&mdash;Mademoiselle!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis true. We have been far in the West, and I could not escape. Good
+Providence has now brought my rescue&mdash;and you, Monsieur! Oh! tell me
+that it has brought me safety, and also a friend&mdash;that it has brought me
+you!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>With every pulse a-tingle, every vein afire, what could the young
+gallant do? What but yield, but promise, but swear, but rage?</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Hush!&quot; said Mary Connynge, her own eyes gleaming. &quot;Wait! The time will
+come. So soon as we reach the settlements, I leave him, and forever!
+Then&mdash;&quot; Their hands met swiftly. &quot;He has abandoned me,&quot; murmured Mary
+Connynge. &quot;He has not spoken to me for weeks, other than words of 'Yes,'
+or 'No,' 'Do this,' or 'Do that!' Wait! Wait! How soon shall we be at
+Montr&eacute;al?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Less than a month. 'Twill seem an age, I swear!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Madam,&quot; interrupted Law, &quot;pardon, but Monsieur Joncaire bids us be
+ready. Come, help me arrange the packs for our journey. Perhaps
+Lieutenant de Ligny&mdash;for so I think they name you, sir&mdash;will pardon us,
+and will consent to resume his conversation later.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Assuredly,&quot; said De Ligny. &quot;I shall wait, Monsieur.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;So, Madam,&quot; said Law to Mary Connynge, as they at last found themselves
+alone in the lodge, arranging their few belongings for transport, &quot;we
+are at last to regain the settlements, and for a time, at least, must
+forego our home in the farther West. In time&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, in time! What mean you?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, we may return.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Never! I have had my fill of savaging. That we are left alive is mighty
+merciful. To go thither again&mdash;never!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And if I go?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;As you like.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Meaning, Madam&mdash;?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What you like.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Law seated himself on the corded pack, bringing the tips of his fingers
+together.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then my late sweetheart has somewhat changed her fancy?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I have no fancy left. What I was once to you I shall not recall more
+than I can avoid in my own mind. As to what you heard from that lying
+man, Sir Arthur&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Listen! Stop! Neither must you insult the dead nor the absent. I have
+never told you what I learned from Sir Arthur, though it was enough to
+set me well distraught.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I doubt not that he told you 'twas I who befooled Lady Catharine; that
+'twas I who took the letter which you sent&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Stay! No. He told me not so much as that. But he and you together have
+told me enough to show me that I was the basest wretch on earth, the
+most gullible, the most unspeakably false and cruel. How could I have
+doubted the faith of Lady Catharine&mdash;how, but for you? Oh, Mary
+Connynge, Mary Connynge! Would God a man were so fashioned he might
+better withstand the argument of soft flesh and shining eyes! I admit, I
+believed the disloyal one, and doubted her who was loyalty itself.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And you would go back into the wilderness with one who was as false as
+you say.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Never!&quot; replied John Law, swiftly. &quot;'Tis as you yourself say. 'Tis all
+over. Hell itself hath followed me. Now let it all go, one with the
+other, little with big. I did not forget, nor should I though I tried
+again. Back to Europe, back to the gaming tables, to the wheels and
+cards I go again, and plunge into it madder than ever did man before.
+Let us see if chance can bring John Law anything worse than what he has
+already known. But, Madam, doubt not. So long as you claim my
+protection, here or anywhere on earth&mdash;in the West, in France, in
+England&mdash;it is yours; for I pay for my folly like a man, be assured of
+that. The child is ours, and it must be considered. But once let me find
+you in unfaithfulness&mdash;once let me know that you resign me&mdash;then John
+Law is free! I shall sometime see Catharine Knollys again. I shall give
+her my heart's anguish, and I shall have her heart's scorn in return.
+And then, Mary Connynge, the cards, dice, perhaps drink&mdash;perhaps gold,
+and the end. Madam, remember! And now come!&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='BOOK_II_CHAPTER_XV'></a><h3>CHAPTER XV</h3>
+
+<h4>THE GREAT PEACE</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>Of the long and bitter journey from the Iroquois towns to Lake St.
+George, down the Richelieu and thence through the deep snows of the
+Canadian winter, it boots little to make mention; neither to tell of
+that devotion of Raoul de Ligny to the newly-rescued lady, already
+reputed in camp rumor to be of noble English family.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That <i>sous-lieutenant</i>; he is <i>t&ecirc;te mont&eacute;e</i> regarding madame,&quot; said
+Pierre Noir one evening to Jean Breboeuf. &quot;As to that&mdash;well, you know
+Monsieur L'as. Pouf! So much for yon monkey, <i>par comparaison</i>.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;He is a great <i>capitaine</i>, Monsieur L'as,&quot; said Jean Breboeuf. &quot;Never a
+better went beyond the Straits.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But very sad of late.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, <i>oui</i>, since the death of his friend, Monsieur <i>le Capitaine</i>
+Pembroke&mdash;may Mary aid his spirit!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Monsieur L'as goes not on the trail again,&quot; said Pierre Noir. &quot;At
+least not while this look is in his eye.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The more the loss, Pierre Noir; but some day the woods will call to him
+again. I know not how long it may be, yet some day Mother Messasebe will
+raise her finger and beckon to Monsieur L'as, and say: 'Come, my son!'
+'Tis thus, as you know, Pierre Noir.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Yet at length the straggling settlements at Montr&eacute;al were reached, and
+here, after the fashion of the frontier, some sort of <i>m&eacute;nage</i> was
+inaugurated for Law and his party. Here they lived through the rest of
+the winter and through the long, slow spring.</p>
+
+<p>And then set on again the heats of summer, and there came apace the time
+agreed upon, in the month of August, for the widely heralded assembling
+of the tribes for the Great Peace; one of the most picturesque, as it
+was one of the most remarkable and significant meetings of widely
+diverse human beings, that ever took place within the ken of history.</p>
+
+<p>They came, these savages, now first owning the strength of the invading
+white men, from all the far and unknown corners of the Western
+wilderness. They came afoot, and with little trains of dogs, in single
+canoes, in little groups and growing flotillas and vast fleets of
+canoes, pushing on and on, down stream, following the tide of the furs
+down this pathway of more than a thousand miles. The Iroquois, for once
+mindful of a promise, came in a compact fleet, a hundred canoes strong,
+and they stalked about the island for days, naked, stark, gigantic,
+contemptuous of white and red men, of friend and foe alike. The
+scattered Algonquins, whose villages had been razed by these same savage
+warriors, came down by scores out of the Northern woods, along little,
+unknown streams, and over paths with which none but themselves were
+acquainted. From the North, group joined group, and village added itself
+to village, until a vast body of people had assembled, whose numbers
+would have been hard to estimate, and who proved difficult enough to
+accommodate. Yet from the farther West, adding their numbers to those
+already gathered, came the fleets of the driven Hurons, and the
+Ojibways, and the Miamis, and the Outagamies, and the Ottawas, the
+Menominies and the Mascoutins&mdash;even the Illini, late objects of the
+wrath of the Five Nations. The whole Western wilderness poured forth its
+savage population, till all the shores of the St. Lawrence seemed one
+vast aboriginal encampment. These massed at the rendezvous about the
+puny settlement of Montr&eacute;al in such numbers that, in comparison, the
+white population seemed insignificant. Then, had there been a Pontiac or
+a Tecumseh, had there been one leader of the tribes able to teach the
+strength of unity, the white settlements of upper America had indeed
+been utterly destroyed. Naught but ancient tribal jealousies held the
+savages apart.</p>
+
+<p>With these tribesmen were many prisoners, captives taken in raids all
+along the thin and straggling frontier; farmers and artisans, peasants
+and soldiers, women raped from the farms of the Richelieu <i>censitaires</i>,
+and wood-rangers now grown savage as their captors and loth to leave the
+wild life into which they had so naturally grown. It was the first
+reflex of the wave, and even now the bits of flotsam and jetsam of wild
+life were fain to cling to the Western shore whither they had been
+carried by the advancing flood. This was the meeting of the ebb with the
+sea that sent it forward, the meeting of civilized and savage; and
+strange enough was the nature of those confluent tides. Whether the red
+men were yielding to civilization, or the whites all turning
+savage&mdash;this question might well have arisen to an observer of this
+tremendous spectacle. The wigwams of the different tribes and clans and
+families were grouped apart, scattered along all the narrow shore back
+of the great hill, and over the Convent gardens; and among these
+stalked the native French, clad in coarse cloth of blue, with gaudy belt
+and buckskins, and cap of fur and moccasins of hide, mingling
+fraternally with their tufted and bepainted visitors, as well as with
+those rangers, both envied and hated, the savage <i>coureurs de bois</i> of
+the far Northern fur trade; men bearded, silent, stern, clad in
+breech-clout and leggings like any savage, as silent, as stoical, as
+hardy on the trail as on the narrow thwart of the canoe.</p>
+
+<p>Savage feastings, riotings and drunkenness, and long debaucheries came
+with the Great Peace, when once the word had gone out that the fur trade
+was to be resumed. Henceforth there was to be peace. The French were no
+longer to raid the little cabins along the Kennebec and the Penobscot.
+The river Richelieu was to be no longer a red war trail. The English
+were no longer to offer arms and blankets for the beaver, belonging by
+right of prior discovery to those who offered French brandy and French
+beads. The Iroquois were no longer to pursue a timid foe across the
+great prairies of the valley of the Messasebe. The Ojibways were not to
+ambush the scattered parties of the Iroquois. The unambitious colonists
+of New England and New York were to be left to till their stony farms in
+quiet. Meantime, the fur trade, wasteful, licentious, unprofitable, was
+to extend onward and outward in all the marches of the West. From one
+end of the Great River of the West to the other the insignia of France
+and of France's king were to be erected, and France's posts were to hold
+all the ancient trails. Even at the mouth of the Great River,
+forestalling these sullen English and these sluggish English colonists,
+far to the south in the somber forests and miasmatic marshes, there was
+to be established one more ruling point for the arms of Louis the Grand.
+It was a great game this, for which the continent of America was in
+preparation. It was a mighty thing, this gathering of the Great Peace,
+this time when colonists and their king were seeing the first breaking
+of the wave on the shore of an empire alluring, wonderful, unparalleled.</p>
+
+<p>Into this wild rabble of savages and citizens, of priest and soldier and
+<i>coureur</i>, Law's friends, Pierre Noir and Jean Breboeuf, swiftly
+disappeared, naturally, fitly and unavoidably. &quot;The West is calling to
+us, Monsieur,&quot; said Pierre Noir one morning, as he stood looking out
+across the river. &quot;I hear once more the spirits of the Messasebe.
+Monsieur, will you come?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Law shook his head. Yet two days later, as he stood at that very point,
+there came to him the silent feet of two <i>coureurs</i> instead of one. Once
+more he heard in his ear the question: &quot;Monsieur L'as, will you come?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>At this voice he started. In an instant his arms were about the neck of
+Du Mesne, and tears were falling from the eyes of both in the welcome of
+that brotherhood which is admitted only by those who have known together
+arms and danger and hardship, the touch of the hard ground and the sight
+of the wide blue sky.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Du Mesne, my friend!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Monsieur L'as!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It is as though you came from the depths of the sea, Du Mesne!&quot; said
+Law.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And as though you yourself arose from the grave, Monsieur!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;How did you know&mdash;?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, easily. You do not yet understand the ways of the wilderness,
+where news travels as fast as in the cities. You were hardly below the
+foot of Michiganon before runners from the Illini had spread the news
+along the Chicaqua, where I was then in camp. For the rest, the runners
+brought also news of the Big Peace. I reasoned that the Iroquois would
+not dare to destroy their captives, that in time the agents of the
+Government would receive the captives of the Iroquois&mdash;that these
+captives would naturally come to the settlements on the St. Lawrence,
+since it was the French against whom the Iroquois had been at war; that
+having come to Montr&eacute;al, you would naturally remain here for a time. The
+rest was easy. I fared on to the Straits this spring, and then on down
+the Lakes. I have sold our furs, and am now ready to account to you with
+a sum quite as much as we should have expected.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Now, Monsieur,&quot; and Du Mesne stretched out his arm again, pointing to
+the down-coming flood of the St. Lawrence, &quot;Monsieur, will you come? I
+see not the St. Lawrence, but the Messasebe. I can hear the voices
+calling!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Law dashed his hand across his eyes and turned his head away. &quot;Not yet,
+Du Mesne,&quot; said he. &quot;I do not know. Not yet. I must first go across the
+waters. Perhaps sometime&mdash;I can not tell. But this, my comrades, my
+brothers, I do know; that never, until the last sod lies on my grave,
+will I forget the Messasebe, or forget you. Go back, if you will, my
+brothers; but at night, when you sit by your fireside, think of me, as I
+shall think of you, there in the great valley. My friends, it is the
+heart of the world!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But, Monsieur&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There, Du Mesne&mdash;I would not talk to-day. At another time. Brothers,
+adieu!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Adieu, my brother,&quot; said the <i>coureur</i>, his own emotion showing in his
+eyes; and their hands met again.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Monsieur is cast down,&quot; said Du Mesne to Pierre Noir later, as they
+reached the beach. &quot;Now, what think you?</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Usually, as you know, Pierre, it is a question of some woman. It
+reminds me, Wabana was remiss enough when I left her among the Illini
+with you. Now, God bless my heart, I find her&mdash;how think you? With her
+crucifix lost, cooking for a dirty Ojibway!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Mary Mother!&quot; said Pierre Noir, &quot;if it be a matter of a woman&mdash;well,
+God help us all! At least 'tis something that will take Monsieur L'as
+over seas again.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis mostly a woman,&quot; mused Du Mesne; &quot;but this passeth my wit.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;True, they pass the wit of all. Now, did I ever tell thee about the
+mission girl at Michilimackinac&mdash;but stay! That for another time. They
+tell me that our comrade, Greysolon du L'hut, is expected in to-morrow
+with a party from the far end of Superior. Come, let us have the news.&quot;</p>
+
+<span style='margin-left: 2em;'>&quot;<i>Tous les printemps</i>,</span><br />
+<span style='margin-left: 2.25em;'><i>Tant des nouvelles</i>,&quot;</span><br />
+
+<p>hummed Du Mesne, as he flung his arm above the shoulder of the other;
+and the two so disappeared adown the beach.</p>
+
+<p>Dully, apathetically, Law lived on his life here at Montr&eacute;al for yet a
+time, at the edge of that wilderness which had proved all else but Eden.
+Near to him, though in these guarded times guest by necessity of the
+good sisters of the Convent, dwelt Mary Connynge. And as for these two,
+it might be said that each but bided the time. To her Law might as well
+have been one of the corded Sulpician priests; and she to him, for all
+he liked, one of the nuns of the Convent garden. What did it all mean;
+where was it all to end? he asked himself a thousand times; and a
+thousand times his mind failed him of any answer. He waited, watching
+the great encampment disappear, first slowly, then swiftly and suddenly,
+so that in a night the last of the lodges had gone and the last canoe
+had left the shore. There remained only the hurrying flood of the St.
+Lawrence, coming from the West.</p>
+
+<p>The autumn came on. Early in November the ships would leave for France.
+Yet before the beginning of November there came swiftly and sharply the
+settlement of the questions which racked Law's mind. One morning Mary
+Connynge was missing from the Convent, nor could any of the sisters, nor
+the mother superior, explain how or when she had departed!</p>
+
+<p>Yet, had there been close observers, there might have been seen a boat
+dropping down the river on the early morning of that day. And at Quebec
+there was later reported in the books of the intendant the shipping,
+upon the good bark Dauphine, of Lieutenant Raoul de Ligny, sometime
+officer of the regiment Carignan, formerly stationed in New France; with
+him a lady recently from Montr&eacute;al, known very well to Lieutenant de
+Ligny and his family; and to be in his care <i>en voyage</i> to France; the
+name of said lady illegible upon the records, the spelling apparently
+not having suited the clerk who wrote it, and then forgot it in the
+press of other things.</p>
+
+<p>Certain of the governor's household, as well as two or three <i>habitants</i>
+from the lower town, witnessed the arrival of this lady, who came down
+from Montr&eacute;al. They saw her take boat for the bark Dauphine, one of the
+last ships to go down the river that fall. Yes, it was easily to be
+established. Dark, with singular, brown eyes, <i>petite</i>, yet not over
+small, of good figure&mdash;assuredly so much could be said; for obviously
+the king, kindly as he might feel toward the colony of New France, could
+not send out, among the young women supplied to the colonists as wives,
+very many such demoiselles as this; otherwise assuredly all France
+would have followed the king's ships to the St. Lawrence.</p>
+
+<p>John Law, a grave and saddened man, yet one now no longer lacking in
+decision, stood alone one day at the parapet of the great rock of
+Quebec, gazing down the broad expanse of the stream below. He was alone
+except for a little child, a child too young to know her mother, had
+death or disaster at that time removed the mother. Law took the little
+one up in his arms and gazed hard upon the upturned face.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Catharine!&quot; he said to himself. &quot;Catharine! Catharine!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Pardon, Monsieur,&quot; said a voice at his elbow. &quot;Surely I have seen you
+before this?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Law turned. Joncaire, the ambassador of peace, stood by, smiling and
+extending his hand.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Naturally, I could never forget you,&quot; said Law.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Monsieur looks at the shipping,&quot; said Joncaire, smiling. &quot;Surely he
+would not be leaving New France, after so luckily escaping the worst of
+her dangers?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Life might be the same for me over there as here,&quot; replied Law. &quot;As for
+my luck, I must declare myself the most unfortunate man on earth.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Your wife, perhaps, is ill?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Pardon, I have none.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Pardon, in turn, Monsieur&mdash;but, you see&mdash;the child?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It is the child of a savage woman,&quot; said Law.</p>
+
+<p>Joncaire pulled aside the infant's hood. He gave no sign, and a nice
+indifference sat in his query: &quot;<i>Une belle sauvage?</i>&quot;</p>
+
+<p><i>&quot;Belle sauvage!&quot;</i> </p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='BOOK_III'></a><h2>BOOK III</h2>
+
+<h3>FRANCE </h3>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='BOOK_III_CHAPTER_I'></a><h3>CHAPTER I</h3>
+
+<h4>THE GRAND MONARQUE</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>On a great bed of state, satin draped, flanked with ancient tapestries,
+piled sickeningly soft with heaps of pillows, there lay a thin, withered
+little man&mdash;old, old and very feeble. His face was shrunken and drawn
+with pain; his eyes, once bright, were dulled; his brow, formerly
+imperious, had lost its arrogance. Under the coverings which, in the
+unrest of illness, he now pulled high about his face, now tossed
+restlessly aside, his figure lay, an elongated, shapeless blot, scarce
+showing beneath the silks. One limb, twitched and drawn up convulsively,
+told of a definite seat of pain. The hands, thin and wasted, lay out
+upon the coverlets; and the thumbs were creeping, creeping ever more
+insistently, under the cover of the fingers, telling that the battle for
+life was lost, that the surrender had been made.</p>
+
+<p>It was a death-bed, this great bed of state; a death-bed situated in the
+heart of the greatest temple of desire ever built in all the world. He
+who had been master there, who had set in order those miles of stately
+columns, those seas of glittering gilt and crystal, he who had been
+magician, builder, creator, perverter, debaser&mdash;he, Louis of France, the
+Grand Monarque, now lay suffering like any ordinary human being, like
+any common man.</p>
+
+<p>Last night the four and twenty violins, under the king's command, had
+shrilled their chorus, as had been their wont for years while the master
+dined. This morning the cordon of drums and hautboys had pealed their
+high and martial music. Useless. The one or the other music fell upon
+ears too dull to hear. The formal tribute to the central soul for a time
+continued of its own inertia; for a time royalty had still its worship;
+yet the custom was but a lagging one. The musicians grimaced and made
+what discord they liked, openly, insolently, scorning this weak and
+withered figure on the silken bed. The cordon of the white and blue
+guards of the Household still swept about the vast pleasure grounds of
+this fairy temple; yet the officers left their posts and conversed one
+with the other. Musicians and guards, spectators and populace, all were
+waiting, waiting until the end should come. Farther out and beyond,
+where the peaked roofs of Paris rose, back of that line which this
+imperious mind had decreed should not be passed by the dwellings of
+Paris, which must not come too near this temple of luxury, nor disturb
+the king while he enjoyed himself&mdash;back of the perfunctorily loyal
+guards of the Household, there reached the ragged, shapeless masses of
+the people of Paris and of France, waiting, smiling, as some animal
+licking its chops in expectation of some satisfying thing. They were
+waiting for news of the death of this shrunken man, this creature once
+so full of arrogant lust, then so full of somber repentance, now so full
+of the very taste of death.</p>
+
+<p>On the great tapestry that hung above the head of the curtained bed
+shone the double sun of Louis the Grand, which had meant death and
+devastation to so much of Europe. It blazed, mimicking the glory that
+was gone; but toward it there was raised no sword nor scepter more in
+vow or exaltation. The race was run, the sun was sinking to its setting.
+Nothing but a man&mdash;a weary, worn-out, dying man&mdash;was Louis, the Grand
+Monarque, king for seventy-two years of France, almost king of Europe.
+This death-bed lay in the center of a land oppressed, ground down,
+impoverished. The hearts and lives of thousands were in these
+colonnades. The people had paid for their king. They had fed him fat and
+kept him full of loves. In return, he had trampled the people into the
+very dust. He had robbed even their ancient nobles of honors and
+consideration. Blackened, ruined, a vast graveyard, a monumental
+starving-ground, France lay about his death-bed, and its people were but
+waiting with grim impatience for their king to die. What France might do
+in the future was unknown; yet it was unthinkable that aught could be
+worse than this glorious reign of Louis, the Grand Monarque, this
+crumbling clod, this resolving excrescence, this phosphorescent,
+disintegrating fungus of a diseased life and time.</p>
+
+<p>Seventy-two years a king; thirty years a libertine; twenty years a
+repentant. Son, grandson, great-grandson, all gone, as though to leave
+not one of that once haughty breed. For France no hope at all; and for
+the house of Bourbon, all the hope there might be in the life of a
+little boy, sullen, tiny, timid. Far over in Paris, busy about his games
+and his loves, a jesting, long-curled gallant, the Duke of Orl&eacute;ans,
+nephew of this king, was holding a court of his own. And from this court
+which might be, back to the court which was, but which might not be
+long, swung back and forth the fawning creatures of the former court.
+This was the central picture of France, and Paris, and of the New World
+on this day of the year 1715.</p>
+
+<p>In the room about the bed of state, uncertain groups of watchers
+whispered noisily. The five physicians, who had tried first one remedy
+and then another; the rustic physician whose nostrum had kept life
+within the king for some unexpected days; the ladies who had waited upon
+the relatives of the king; some of the relatives themselves; Villeroy,
+guardian of the young king soon to be; the bastard, and the wife of that
+bastard, who hoped for the king's shoes; the mistress of his earlier
+years, for many years his wife&mdash;Maintenon, that peerless hypocrite of
+all the years&mdash;all these passed, and hesitated, and looked, waiting, as
+did the hungry crowds in Paris toward the Seine, until the double sun
+should set, and the crawling thumbs at last should find their shelter.
+The Grand Monarque was losing the only time in all his life when he
+might have learned human wisdom.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Madame!&quot; whispered the dry lips, faintly.</p>
+
+<p>She who was addressed as madame, this woman Maintenon, pious murderer,
+unrivaled hypocrite, unspeakably self-contained dissembler, the woman
+who lost for France an empire greater than all France, stepped now to
+the bed-side of the dying monarch, inclining her head to hear what he
+might have to say. Was Maintenon, the outcast, the widow, the wife of
+the king, at last to be made ruler of the Church in France? Was she to
+govern in the household of the king even after the king had departed?
+The woman bent over the dying man, the covetousness of her soul showing
+in her eyes, struggle as she might to retain her habitual and
+unparalleled self-control.</p>
+
+<p>The dying man muttered uneasily. His mind was clouded, his eyes saw
+other things. He turned back to earlier days, when life was bright, when
+he, Louis, as a young man, had lived and loved as any other.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Louise,&quot; he murmured. &quot;Louise! Forgive! Meet me&mdash;Louise&mdash;dear one. Meet
+me yonder&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>An icy pallor swept across the face of the arch hypocrite who bent over
+him. Into her soul there sank like a knife this consciousness of the
+undying power of a real love. La Valli&egrave;re, the love of the youth of
+Louis, La Valli&egrave;re, the beautiful, and sweet, and womanly, dead and gone
+these long years since, but still loved and now triumphant&mdash;she it was
+whom Louis now remembered.</p>
+
+<p>Maintenon turned from the bed-side. She stood, an aged and unhappy
+woman, old, gray and haggard, not success but failure written upon every
+lineament. For one instant she stood, her hands clenched, slow anger
+breaking through the mask which, for a quarter of a century, she had so
+successfully worn.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Bah!&quot; she cried. &quot;Bah! 'Tis a pretty rendezvous this king would set
+for me!&quot; And then she swept from the room, raged for a time apart, and
+so took leave of life and of ambition.</p>
+
+<p>At length even the last energies of the once stubborn will gave way. The
+last gasp of the failing breath was drawn. The herald at the window
+announced to the waiting multitude that Louis the Fourteenth was no
+more.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Long live the king!&quot; exclaimed the multitude. They hailed the new
+monarch with mockery; but laughter, and sincere joy and feasting were
+the testimonials of their emotions at the death of the king but now
+departed.</p>
+
+<p>On the next day a cheap, tawdry and unimposing procession wended its way
+through the back streets of Paris, its leader seeking to escape even the
+edges of the mob, lest the people should fall upon the somber little
+pageant and rend it into fragments. This was the funeral cort&egrave;ge of
+Louis, the Grand Monarque, Louis the lustful, Louis the bigot, Louis the
+ignorant, Louis the unhappy. They hurried him to his resting-place,
+these last servitors, and then hastened back to the palaces to join
+their hearts and voices to the rising wave of joy which swept across all
+France at the death of this beloved ruler.</p>
+
+<p>Now it happened that, as the funeral procession of the king was
+hurrying through the side streets near the confines of the old city of
+Paris, there encountered it, entering from the great highway which led
+from the east up to the city gates, the carriage of a gentleman who
+might, apparently with justice, have laid some claim to consequence. It
+had its guards and coachmen, and was attended by two riders in livery,
+who kept it company along the narrow streets. This equipage met the head
+of the hurrying funeral cort&egrave;ge, and found occasion for a moment to
+pause. Thus there passed, the one going to his grave, the other to his
+goal, the two men with whom the France of that day was most intimately
+concerned.</p>
+
+<p>There came from the window of the coach the voice of one inquiring the
+reason of the halt, and there might have been seen through the upper
+portion of the vehicle's door the face of the owner of the carriage. He
+seemed a man of imposing presence, with face open and handsome, and an
+eye bright, bold and full of intelligence. His garb was rich and
+elegant, his air well contained and dignified.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Guillaume,&quot; he called out, &quot;what is it that detains us?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It is nothing, Monsieur L'as,&quot; was the reply, &quot;They tell me it is but
+the funeral of the king.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;<i>Eh bien!</i>&quot; replied Law, turning to one who sat beside him in the
+coach. &quot;Nothing! 'Tis nothing but the funeral of the king!&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='BOOK_III_CHAPTER_II'></a><h3>CHAPTER II</h3>
+
+<h4>EVER SAID SHE NAY</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>The coach proceeded steadily on its way, passing in toward that quarter
+where the high-piled, peaked roofs and jagged spires betokened ancient
+Paris. On every hand arose confused sounds from the streets, now filled
+with a populace merry as though some pleasant carnival were just
+beginning. Shopkeeper called across to his neighbor, tradesman gossiped
+with gallant. Even the stolid faces of the plodding peasants, fresh past
+the gate-tax and bound for the markets to seek what little there
+remained after giving to the king, bore an unwonted look, as though hope
+might yet succeed to their surprise.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh&eacute;! Marie,&quot; called one stout dame to another, who stood smiling in her
+doorway near by. &quot;See the fine coach coming. That is the sort you and I
+shall have one of these days, now that the king is dead. God bless the
+new king, and may he die young! A plague to all kings, Marie. And now
+come and sit with my man and me, for we've a bottle left, and while it
+lasts we drink freedom from all kings!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You speak words of gold, Suzanne,&quot; was the reply. &quot;Surely I will drink
+with you, and wish a pleasant and speedy death to kings.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But now, Marie,&quot; said the other, argumentatively, &quot;as to my good duke
+regent, that is otherwise. It goes about that he will change all things.
+One is to amuse one's self now and then, and not to work forever for the
+taxes and the conscription. Long live the regent, then, say I!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, and let us hope that regents never turn to kings. There are to be
+new days here in France. We people, aye, my faith! We people, so they
+say, are to be considered. True, we shall have carriages one day, Marie,
+like that of my Lord who passes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>John Law and his companions heard broken bits of such speech as this as
+they passed on.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah, they talk,&quot; replied he at last, turning toward his companions, &quot;and
+this is talk which means something. Within the year we shall see Paris
+upside down. These people are ready for any new thing. But&quot;&mdash;and his
+face lost some of its gravity&mdash;&quot;the streets are none too safe to-day, my
+Lady. Therefore you must forgive me if I do not set you down, but keep
+you prisoner until you reach your own gates. 'Tis not your fault that
+your carriage broke down on the road from Marly; and as for my brother
+Will and myself, we can not forego a good fortune which enables us at
+last to destroy a certain long-standing debt of a carriage ride given
+us, once upon a time, by the Lady Catharine Knollys.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;At least, then, we shall be well acquit on both sides,&quot; replied the
+soft voice of the woman. &quot;I may, perhaps, be an unwilling prisoner for
+so short a time.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Madam, I would God it might be forever!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>It was the same John Law of old who made this impetuous reply, and
+indeed he seemed scarce changed by the passing of these few years of
+time. It was the audacious youth of the English highway who now looked
+at her with grave face, yet with eyes that shone.</p>
+
+<p>Some years had indeed passed since Law, turning his back upon the appeal
+of the wide New World, had again set foot upon the shores of England,
+from which his departure had been so singular. Driven by the goads of
+remorse, it had been his first thought to seek out the Lady Catharine
+Knollys; and so intent had he been on this quest, that he learned almost
+without emotion of the king's pardon which had been entered, discharging
+him of further penalty of the law of England. Meeting Lady Catharine, he
+learned, as have others since and before him, that a human soul may
+have laws inflexible; that the iron bars of a woman's resolve may bar
+one out, even as prison doors may bar him in. He found the Lady
+Catharine unshakeable in her resolve not to see him or speak with him.
+Whereat he raged, expostulated by post, waited, waylaid, and so at
+length gained an interview, which taught him many things.</p>
+
+<p>He found the Lady Catharine Knollys changed from a light-hearted girl to
+a maiden tall, grave, reserved and sad, offering no reproaches,
+listening to no protestations. Told of Sir Arthur Pembroke's horrible
+death, she wept with tears which his survivor envied. Told at length of
+the little child, she sat wide-eyed and silent. Approached with words of
+remorse, with expostulations, promises, she shrank back in absolute
+horror, trembling, so that in very pity the wretched young man left her
+and found his way out into a world suddenly grown old and gray.</p>
+
+<p>After this dismissal, Law for many months saw nothing, heard nothing of
+this woman whom he had wronged, even as he received no sign from the
+woman who had forsaken him over seas. He remained away as long as might
+be, until his violent nature, geyser-like, gathered inner storm and fury
+by repression, and broke away in wild eruption.</p>
+
+<p>Once more he sought the presence of the woman whose face haunted his
+soul, and once more he met ice and adamant stronger than his own fires.
+Beaten, he fled from London and from England, seeking still, after the
+ancient and ineffective fashion of man, to forget, though he himself had
+confessed the lesson that man can not escape himself, but takes his own
+hell with him wherever he goes.</p>
+
+<p>Rejected, as he was now, by the new ministry of England, none the less
+every capital of Europe came presently to know John Law, gambler,
+student and financier. Before every ruler on the continent he laid his
+system of financial revolution, and one by one they smiled, or shrugged,
+or scoffed at him. Baffled once more in his dearest purpose, he took
+again to play, play in such colossal and audacious form as never yet had
+been seen even in the gayest courts of a time when gaming was a vice to
+be called national. No hazard was too great for him, no success and no
+reverse sufficiently keen to cause him any apparent concern. There was
+no risk sharp enough to deaden the gnawing in his soul, no excitement
+strong enough to wipe away from his mind the black panorama of his past.</p>
+
+<p>He won princely fortunes and cast them away again. With the figure and
+the air of a prince, he gained greater reputation than any prince of
+Europe. Upon him were spent the blandishments of the fairest women of
+his time. Yet not this, not all this, served to steady his energies, now
+unbalanced, speeding without guidance. The gold, heaped high on the
+tables, was not enough to stupefy his mind, not enough though he doubled
+and trebled it, though he cast great golden markers to spare him trouble
+in the counting of his winnings. Still student, still mathematician, he
+sought at Amsterdam, at Paris, at Vienna, all new theories which offered
+in the science of banking and finance, even as at the same time he
+delved still further into the mysteries of recurrences and chance.</p>
+
+<p>In this latter such was his success that losers made complaint, unjust
+but effectual, to the king, so that Law was obliged to leave Paris for a
+time. He had dwelt long enough in Paris, this double-natured man, this
+student and creator, this gambler and gallant, to win the friendship of
+Philippe of Orl&eacute;ans, later to be regent of France; and gay enough had
+been the life they two had led&mdash;so gay, so intimate, that Philippe gave
+promise that, should he ever hold in his own hands the Government of
+France, he would end Law's banishment and give to him the opportunity he
+sought, of proving those theories of finance which constituted the
+absorbing ambition of his life.</p>
+
+<p>Meantime Law, ever restless, had passed from one capital of Europe to
+another, dragging with him from hotel to hotel the young child whose
+life had been cast in such feverish and unnatural surroundings. He
+continued to challenge every hazard, fearless, reckless, contemptuous,
+and withal wretched, as one must be who, after years of effort, found
+that he could not banish from his mind the pictures of a dark-floored
+prison, and of a knife-stab in the dark, and of raging, awful waters,
+and of a girl beautiful, though with sealed lips and heart of ice. From
+time to time, as was well known, Law returned to England. He heard of
+the Lady Catharine Knollys, as might easily be done in London; heard of
+her as a young woman kind of heart, soft of speech, with tenderness for
+every little suffering thing; a beautiful young woman, whose admirers
+listed scores; but who never yet, even according to the eagerest gossip
+of the capital, had found a suitor to whom she gave word or thought of
+love.</p>
+
+<p>So now at last the arrogant selfishness of his heart began to yield. His
+heart was broken before it might soften, but soften at last it did. And
+so he built up in his soul the image of a grave, sweet saint, kindly and
+gentle-voiced, unapproachable, not to be profaned. To this image&mdash;ah,
+which of us has not had such a shrine!&mdash;he brought in secret the homage
+of his life, his confessions, his despairs, his hopes, his resolutions;
+guiding thereby all his life, as well as poor mortal man may do, failing
+ever of his own standards, as all men do, yet harking ever back to that
+secret sibyl, reckoning all things from her, for her, by her.</p>
+
+<p>There came at length one chastened hour when they met in calmness, when
+there was no longer talk of love between them, when he stood before her
+as though indeed at the altar of some marble deity. Always her answer
+had been that the past had been a mistake; that she had professed to
+love a man, not knowing what that man was; that she had suffered, but
+that it was better so, since it had brought understanding. Now, in this
+calmer time, she begged of him knowledge of this child, regretting the
+wandering life which had been its portion, saying that for Mary Connynge
+she no longer felt horror and hatred. Thus it was that in a hasty moment
+Law had impulsively begged her to assume some sort of tutelage over that
+unfortunate child. It was to his own amazement that he heard Lady
+Catharine Knollys consent, stipulating that the child should be placed
+in a Paris convent for two years, and that for two years John Law should
+see neither his daughter nor herself. Obedient as a child himself he had
+promised.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Now, go away,&quot; she then had said to him. &quot;Go your own way. Drink,
+dice, game, and waste the talents God hath given you. You have made ruin
+enough for all of us. I would only that it may not run so far as to
+another generation.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>So both had kept their promises; and now the two years were done, years
+spent by Law more manfully than any of his life. His fortune he had
+gathered together, amounting to more than a million livres. He had sent
+once more for his brother Will, and thus the two had lived for some time
+in company in lower Europe, the elder brother still curious as ever in
+his abstruse theories of banking and finance&mdash;theories then new, now
+outlived in great part, though fit to be called a portion of the great
+foundation of the commercial system of the world. It was a wiser and
+soberer and riper John Law, this man who had but recently received a
+summons from Philippe of Orl&eacute;ans to be present in Paris, for that the
+king was dying, and that all France, France the bankrupt and distracted,
+was on the brink of sudden and perhaps fateful change.</p>
+
+<p>With a quick revival of all his Highland superstition, Law hailed now as
+happy harbinger the fact that, upon his entry into Paris, the city once
+more of his hopes, he had met in such fashion this lady of his dreams,
+even at such time as the seal of silence was lifted from his lips. It
+was no wonder that his eye gleamed, that his voice took on the old
+vibrant tone, that every gesture, in thought or in spite of thought,
+assumed the tender deference of the lover.</p>
+
+<p>It was a fair woman, this chance guest of the highway whom he now
+accosted&mdash;bronze-haired, blue-eyed, soft of voice, queenly of mien,
+gentle, calm and truly lovable. Oh, what waste that those arms should
+hold nothing, that lips such as those should know no kisses, that eyes
+like those should never swim in love! What robbery! What crime! And this
+man, thief of this woman's life, felt his heart pinch again in the old,
+sharp anguish of remorse, bitterest because unavailing.</p>
+
+<p>For the Lady Catharine herself there had been also many changes. The
+death of her brother, the Earl of Banbury, had wrought many shifts in
+the circumstances of a house apparently pursued by unkind fate. Left
+practically alone and caring little for the life of London, even after
+there had worn away the chill of suspicion which followed upon the
+popular knowledge of her connection with the escape of Law from London,
+Lady Catharine Knollys turned to a life and world suddenly grown vague
+and empty. Travel upon the continent with friends, occasional visits to
+the old family house in England, long sojourns in this or the other
+city&mdash;such had been her life, quiet, sweet, reproachless and
+unreproaching. For the present she had taken an h&ocirc;tel in the older part
+of Paris, in connection with her friend, the Countess of Warrington,
+sometime connected with the embassy of that Lord Stair who was later to
+act as spy for England in Paris, now so soon to know tumultuous scenes.
+With these scenes, as time was soon to prove, there was to be most
+intimately connected this very man who, now bending forward attentively,
+now listening respectfully, and ever gazing directly and ardently, heard
+naught of plots or plans, cared naught for the Paris which lay about,
+saw naught but the beautiful face before him, felt naught but some deep,
+compelling thrill in every heart-string which now reaching sweet accord
+in spite of fate, in spite of the past, in spite of all, went singing on
+in a deep melody of joy. This was she, the idol, the deity. Let the
+world wag. It was a moment yet ere paradise must end!</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Madam, I would God it might be forever!&quot; said Law again. The old
+stubborn nature was showing once more, but under it something deeper,
+softer, tenderer.</p>
+
+<p>A sudden panic fear called at the heart of her to whom he spoke. Two
+rosy spots shone in her cheeks, and as she gazed, her eyes showed the
+veiled softening of woman's gentleness. There fell a silence.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Madam, I could feel that this were Sadler's Wells over again,&quot; said Law
+a moment later.</p>
+
+<p>But now the carriage had arrived at the destination named by Lady
+Catharine. Law sprang out, hat in hand, and assisted Lady Catharine to
+the curb. A passing flower girl, gaily offering her wares, paused as the
+carriage drew up. Law turned quickly and caught from her as many roses
+as his hand could grasp, handing her in return half as much coin as her
+smaller palm could hold. He turned to the Lady Catharine, and bowed with
+that grace which was the talk of a world of gallants. In his hand he
+extended a flower.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Madam, as before!&quot; he said.</p>
+
+<p>There was a sob in his voice. Their eyes met fairly, unmasked as they
+had not been for years. Tears came into the man's eyes, the first that
+had ever sat there; tears for the past, tears for that sweetness which
+once might have been.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis for the king! They weep for the king!&quot; sang out the hard voice of
+the flower girl, ironically, as she skipped away. &quot;Oh&eacute;, for the king,
+for the king!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Nay, for the queen!&quot; said John Law, as he gazed into the eyes of
+Catharine Knollys.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='BOOK_III_CHAPTER_III'></a><h3>CHAPTER III</h3>
+
+<h4>SEARCH THOU MY HEART</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>&quot;Only believe me, Lady Catharine, and I shall do everything I promised
+years ago&mdash;I shall lay all France at your feet. But if you deny me thus
+always, I shall make all France a mockery.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Monsieur is fresh from the South of France,&quot; replied the Lady Catharine
+Knollys. &quot;Has Gascon wine perhaps put Gascon speech into his mouth?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, laugh if you like,&quot; exclaimed Law, rising and pacing across the
+great room in which these two had met. &quot;Laugh and mock, but we shall
+see!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Granted that Mr. Law is well within his customary modesty,&quot; replied
+Lady Catharine, &quot;and granted even that Mr. Law has all France in the
+hollow of his hand to-day, to do with as he likes, I must confess I see
+not why France should suffer because I myself have found it difficult to
+endorse Mr. Law's personal code of morals.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>It was the third day after Law's entry into Paris, and the first time
+for more than two long years that he found himself alone with the Lady
+Catharine Knollys. His eagerness might have excused his impetuous and
+boastful speech.</p>
+
+<p>As for the Lady Catharine, that one swift, electric moment at the street
+curb had well-nigh undone more than two years of resolve. She had heard
+herself, as it were in a dream, promising that this man might come. She
+had found herself later in her own apartments, panting, wide-eyed,
+afraid. Some great hand, unseen, uninvited, mysterious, had swept
+ruthlessly across each chord of womanly reserve and resolution which so
+long she had held well-ordered and absolutely under control. It was
+self-distrust, fear, which now compelled her to take refuge in this
+woman's fence of speech with him. &quot;Surely,&quot; argued she with herself, &quot;if
+love once dies, then it is dead forever, and can never be revived.
+Surely,&quot; she insisted to herself, &quot;my love is dead. Then&mdash;ah, but then
+was it dead? Can my heart grow again?&quot; asked the Lady Catharine of
+herself, tremblingly. This was that which gave her pause. It was this
+also which gave to her cheek its brighter color, to her eye a softer
+gleam; and to her speech this covering shield of badinage.</p>
+
+<p>Yet all her defenses were in a way to be fairly beaten down by the
+intentness of the other. All things he put aside or overrode, and would
+speak but of himself and herself, of his plans, his opportunities, and
+of how these were concerned with himself and with her.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There are those who judge not so harshly as yourself, Madam,&quot; resumed
+Law. &quot;His Grace the regent is good enough to believe that my studies
+have gone deeper than the green cloth of the gaming table. Now, I tell
+you, my time has come&mdash;my day at last is here. I tell you that I shall
+prove to you everything which I said to you long ago, back there in old
+England. I shall prove to you that I have not been altogether an idler
+and a trifler. I shall bring to you, as I promised you long ago, all the
+wealth, all the distinction&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But such speech is needless, Mr. Law,&quot; came the reply. &quot;I have all the
+wealth I need, nor do I crave distinction, save of my own selection.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But you do not dream! This is a day unparalleled. There will be such
+changes here as never yet were known. Within a week you shall hear of my
+name in Paris. Within a month you shall hear of it beyond the gates of
+Paris. Within a year you shall hear nothing else in Europe!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;As I hear nothing else here now, Monsieur?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Like a horse restless under the snaffle, the man shook his head, but
+went on. &quot;If you should be offered wealth more than any woman of Paris,
+if you had precedence over the proudest peers of France&mdash;would these
+things have no weight with you?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You know they would not.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Law cast himself restlessly upon a seat across the room from her. &quot;I
+think I do,&quot; said he, dejectedly. &quot;At times you drive me to my wit's
+end. What then, Madam, would avail?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, nothing, so far as the past is to be reviewed for you and me. Yet,
+I should say that, if there were two here speaking as you and I, and if
+they two had no such past as we&mdash;then I could fancy that woman saying to
+her friend, 'Have you indeed done all that lay within you to do?'&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Is it not enough&mdash;?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There is nothing, sir, that is enough for a woman, but all!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I have given you all.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;All that you have left&mdash;after yourself.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sharp, sharp indeed are your words, my Lady. And they are most sharp
+because they come with justice.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh,&quot; broke out the woman, &quot;one may use sharp words who has been scorned
+for her own false friend! You would give me all, Mr. Law, but you must
+remember that it is only what remains after that&mdash;that&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But would you, could you, have cared had there been no 'that'? Had I
+done all that lay in me to do, could you then have given me your
+confidence, and could you have thought me worthy of it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, 'if!'&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, 'if!' 'If,' and 'as though,' and 'in that case'&mdash;these are all we
+have to console us in this life. But, sweet one&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir, such words I have forbidden,&quot; said Lady Catharine, the blood for
+one cause or another mounting again into her cheek.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You torture me!&quot; broke out Law.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;As much as you have me? Is it so much as that, Mr. Law?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He rose and stood apart, his head falling in despair. &quot;As I have done
+this thing, so may God punish me!&quot; said he. &quot;I was not fit, and am not.
+Yet I was bold enough to hope that there could be some atonement, some
+thing&mdash;if my suffering&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There are things, Mr. Law, for which no suffering atones. But why cause
+suffering longer for us both? You come again and again. Could you not
+leave me for a time untroubled?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;How can I?&quot; blazed the man, his forehead furrowed up into a frown, the
+moist beads on his brow proving his own intentness. &quot;I can not! I can
+not! That is all I know. Ask me not why. I can not; that is all.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir,&quot; said Lady Catharine, &quot;this seems to me no less than terrible.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It is indeed no less than terrible. Yet I must come and come again,
+bound some day to be heard, not for what I am, but for what I might be.
+'Tis not justice I would have, dear heart, but mercy, a woman's mercy!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And you would bully me to agree with you, as I said, in regard to your
+own excellent code of morals, Mr. Law?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You evade, like any woman, but if you will, even have it so. At least
+there is to be this battle between us all our lives. I will be loved,
+Lady Catharine! I must be loved by you! Look in my heart. Search beneath
+this man that you and others see. Find me my own fellow, that other self
+better than I, who cries out always thus. Look! 'Tis not for me as I am.
+No man deserves aught for himself. But find in my heart, Lady Catharine,
+that other self, the man I might have been! Dear heart, I beseech you,
+look!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Impulsively, he even tore apart the front of his coat, as though indeed
+to invite such scrutiny. He stood before her, trembling, choking. The
+passion of his speech caused the color again to rush to the Lady
+Catharine's face. For a moment her bosom rose and fell tumultuously,
+deep answering as of old unto deep, in the ancient, wondrous way.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Is it the part of manhood to persecute a woman, Mr. Law?&quot; she asked,
+her own uncertitude now showing in her tone.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I do not know,&quot; he answered.</p>
+
+<p>Lady Catharine looked at him curiously.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Do you love me, Mr. Law?&quot; she asked, directly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I have no answer.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Did you love that other woman?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>It took all his courage to reply. &quot;I am not fit to answer,&quot; said he.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And you would love me, too, for a time and in a way?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I will not answer. I will not trifle.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And I am to think Mr. Law better than himself, better than other men;
+since you say no man dare ask actual justice?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Worse than other men, and yet a man. A man&mdash;my God! Lady Catharine&mdash;a
+man unworthy, yet a man seized fatally of that love which neither life
+nor death can alter!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>As one fascinated, Lady Catharine sat looking at him. &quot;Then,&quot; said she,
+&quot;any man may say to any woman&mdash;Mr. Law says to me&mdash;'I have cared for
+such, and so many other women to the extent, let us say, of so many
+pounds sterling. But I love you to the extent of twice as many pounds,
+shillings and pence?' Is that the dole we women may expect, Mr. Law?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Have back your own words!&quot; he cried. &quot;Nothing is enough but all! And as
+God witnesseth in this hour, I have loved you with all my heart-beats,
+with all my prayers. I call upon you now, in the name of that love I
+know you once bore me&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Upon the face of the Lady Catharine there blazed the red mark of the
+shame of Knollys. Covering her face with her hands, she suddenly bent
+forward, and from her lips there broke a sob of pain.</p>
+
+<p>In a flash Law was at her side, kneeling, seeking to draw away her
+fingers with hands that trembled as much as her own.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Do not! Do not!&quot; he cried. &quot;I am not worth it! It shall be as you like.
+Let me go away forever. This I can not endure!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah, John Law, John Law!&quot; murmured Catharine Knollys, &quot;why did you break
+my heart!&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='BOOK_III_CHAPTER_IV'></a><h3>CHAPTER IV</h3>
+
+<h4>THE REGENT'S PROMISE</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>&quot;Tell me, then, Monsieur L'as, of this new America. I would fain have
+some information at first hand. There was rumor, I know not how exact,
+that you once traveled in those regions.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Thus spake his Grace Philippe, Duke of Orl&eacute;ans, regent of France, now,
+in effect, ruler of France. It was the audience which had been arranged
+for John Law, that opportunity for which he had waited all his life.
+Before him now, as he stood in the great council chamber, facing this
+man whose ambitions ended where his own began&mdash;at the convivial board
+and at the gaming table&mdash;he saw the path which led to the success that
+he had craved so long. He, Law of Lauriston, sometime adventurer and
+gambler, was now playing his last and greatest game.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Your Grace,&quot; said he, &quot;there be many who might better than I tell you
+of that America.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There are many who should be able, and many who do,&quot; replied the
+regent. &quot;By the body of the Lord! we get nothing but information
+regarding these provinces of New France, and each advice is worse than
+the one preceding it. The gist of it all is that my Lord Governor and my
+very good intendant can never agree, save upon one point or so. They
+want more money, and they want more soldiers&mdash;ah, yes, to be sure, they
+also want more women, though we sent them out a ship load of choice
+beauties not more than a six-month ago. But tell me, Monsieur L'as, is
+it indeed true that you have traveled in America?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;For a short time.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I have heard nothing regarding you from the intendant at Quebec.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Your Grace was not at that time caring for intendants. 'Twas many years
+ago, and I was not well known at Quebec by my own name.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;<i>Eh bien?</i> Some adventure, then, perhaps? A woman at the bottom of it,
+I warrant.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Your Grace is right.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Twas like you, for a fellow of good zest. May God bless all fair
+dames. And as to what you found in thus following&mdash;or was it in
+fleeing&mdash;your divinity?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I found many things. For one, that this America is the greatest country
+of the world. Neither England nor France is to be compared with it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The regent fell back in his chair and laughed heartily.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Monsieur, you are indeed, as I have ever found you, of most excellent
+wit. You please me enormously.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But, your Grace, I am entirely serious.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, come, spoil not so good a jest by qualifying, I beseech you!
+England or France, indeed&mdash;ah, Monsieur L'as, Monsieur L'as!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Your own city of New Orl&eacute;ans, Sire, will lie at the gate of a realm
+greater than all France. Your Grace will hand to the young king, when he
+shall come of age, a realm excellently worth the ownership of any king.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You say rich. In what way?&quot; asked the regent. &quot;We have not had so much
+of returns after all. Look at Crozat? Look at&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh fie, Crozat! Your Grace, he solved not the first problem of real
+commerce. He never dreamed the real richness of America.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Philippe sat thoughtful, his finger tips together. &quot;Why have we not
+heard of these things?&quot; said he.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Because of men like Crozat, of men like your governors and intendants
+at Quebec. Because, your Grace, as you know very well, of the same
+reason which sent me once from Paris, and kept me so long from laying
+before you these very plans of which I now would speak.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And that cause?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Maintenon.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, ah! Indeed&mdash;that is to say&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Louis would hear naught of me, of course. Maintenon took care that he
+should find I was but heretic.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;As for myself,&quot; said Philippe the regent, &quot;heretic or not heretic makes
+but small figure. 'Twill take France a century to overcome her late
+surfeit of religion. For us, 'tis most a question of how to keep the
+king in the saddle and France underneath.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Precisely, your Grace.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Frankly, Monsieur L'as, I take it fittest now not so much to ponder
+over new worlds as over how to keep in touch with this Old World yet
+awhile. France has danced, though for years she danced to the tune of
+Louis clad in black. Now France must pay for the music. My faith, I like
+not the look of things. This joyful France to-day is a hideous thing.
+These people laugh! I had sooner see a lion grin. Now to govern those
+given us by Providence to govern,&quot; and the regent smiled grimly at the
+ancient fiction, &quot;it is most meet that the governed should produce
+somewhat of funds in order that they may be governed.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, and the error has been in going too far,&quot; said Law. &quot;These people
+have been taxed beyond the taxation point. Now they laugh.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes; and by God, Monsieur L'as, when France laughs, beware!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Your Grace admits that France has no further resources.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Assuredly.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then tax New France!&quot; cried Law, his hand coming down hard upon the
+table, his eyes shining. &quot;Mortgage where the security doubles every
+year, where the soil itself is security for wealth greater than all
+Europe ever owned.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, very well, Monsieur; though later I must ask you to explain.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You admit that no more money can be forced from the people of France.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ask the farmers of the taxes. Ask Chamillard of the Treasury. My faith,
+look out of the window! Listen! Do I not tell you that France is
+laughing?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Very well. Let us also laugh. Let us all laugh together. There is money
+in France, more money in Europe. I assure you these people can be
+brought to give you cheerfully all they have.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It sounds well, Monsieur L'as, but let me ask you how?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;France is bankrupt&mdash;this is brutal, but none the less true. France must
+repudiate her obligations unless something be swiftly done. It is not
+noble to repudiate, your Grace. Yet, if we cancel and not repudiate, if
+we can obtain the gold of France, of Europe&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Body of God! but you speak large, my friend.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Not so large. All subjects shrink as we come close to them by study.
+'Tis easy to see that France has not money enough for her own business.
+If we had more money in France, we should have more production, and if
+we had more production, we might have taxes. Thereby we might have
+somewhat in our treasury wherewith to keep the king in the saddle, and
+not under foot.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then, if I follow you,&quot; said Philippe, leaning slightly forward and
+again placing his finger tips judicially together, &quot;you would coin
+greater amounts of money. Then, I would ask you, where would you get
+your gold for the coinage?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It is not gold I would coin,&quot; said Law, &quot;but credit.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The kingdom hath been run on credit for these many years.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No, 'tis not that kind of credit that I mean. I mean the credit which
+comes of confidence. It is fate, necessity, which demands a new system.
+The world has grown too much for every man to put his sixpence into the
+other man's hand, and carry away in a basket what he buys. We are no
+longer savages, to barter beads for hides. Yet we were as savages, did
+we not come to realize that this insufficient coin must be replaced in
+the evolution of affairs, just as barter has long ago been, replaced.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And by what?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;As I said, by credit.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Do not annoy me by things too deep, but rather suggest some definite
+plan, if that may be.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;First of all, then, as I said to you years ago, we need a bank, a bank
+in which all the people of France shall have absolute confidence.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You would, then, wish a charter of some sort?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Only provided your Grace shall please. I have of my own funds a half
+million livres or more. This I would put into a bank of general nature,
+if your Grace shall please. That should be some small guarantee of my
+good faith in these plans.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Monsieur L'as would seem to have followed play to his good fortune.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Never to so good fortune as when first I met your Grace,&quot; replied Law.
+&quot;I have given to games of chance the severest thought and study. Just
+as much more have I given thought and study to this enterprise which I
+propose now to lay before you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And you ask the patent of the Crown for your bank?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It were better if the institution received that open endorsement.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>A slow frown settled upon the face of the other. &quot;That is, at the
+beginning, impossible, Monsieur L'as,&quot; said the regent. &quot;It is you who
+must prove these things which you propose.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Let it be so, then,&quot; said Law, with conviction. &quot;I make no doubt I
+shall obtain subscriptions for the shares. Remember my words. Within a
+few months you shall see trebled the energies of France. Money is the
+only thing which we have not in France. Why, your Grace, suppose the
+collectors of taxes in the South of France succeed in raising the king's
+levies. That specie must come by wheeled vehicle all the way to Paris.
+Consider what loss of time is there, and consider what hindrance to the
+trade of the provinces from which so much specie is taken bodily, and to
+which it can return later only a little at a time. Is it any wonder that
+usury is eating up France? There is not money enough&mdash;it is the one
+priceless thing; by which I mean only that there is not belief, not
+confidence, not credit enough in France. Now, given a bank which holds
+the confidence of the people, and I promise the king his taxes, even as
+I promise to abolish usury. You shall see money at work, money begetting
+money, and that begetting trade, and that producing comfort, and comfort
+making easier the collection of the king's taxes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;By heaven! you begin to make it somewhat more plain to me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;One thing I beg you to observe most carefully, your Grace,&quot; said Law,
+&quot;nor must it ever be forgotten in our understanding. The shares of this
+bank must have a fixed value in regard to the coin of the realm. There
+must be no altering of the value of our coin. Grant that the coin does
+not fluctuate, and I promise you that my bank <i>actions</i>, notes of the
+chief bank of Paris, shall soon be found better than gold or silver in
+the eyes of France. Moreover, given a greater safety to foreign gold,
+and I promise you that too shall pour into Paris in such fashion as has
+never yet been seen. Moreover, the people will follow their coin. Paris
+will be the greatest capital of Europe. This I promise you I can do.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;In effect,&quot; said the regent, smiling, &quot;you promise me that you can
+build a new Paris, a new world! Yet much of this I can in part believe
+and understand. Let that be as it may. The immediate truth is that
+something must be done, and done at once.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Obviously.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Our public debt is twenty-six hundred millions of livres. Its annual
+interest is eighty millions of livres. We can not pay this interest
+alone, not to speak of the principal. Obviously, as you say, the matter
+admits of no delay. Your bank&mdash;why, by heaven, let us have your bank!
+What can we do without your bank? Lastly, how quickly can we have it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sire, you make me the happiest man in all the world!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The advantage is quite otherwise, sir. But my head already swims with
+figures. Now let us set the rest aside until to-morrow. Meantime, I must
+confess to you, my dear friend, there is somewhat else that sits upon my
+mind.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>A change came upon the demeanor of his Grace the regent. Laying aside
+the dignity of the ruler with the questions of state, he became again
+more nearly that Philippe of Orl&eacute;ans, known by his friends as gay, care
+free and full of <i>camaraderie</i>.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Your Grace, could I be of the least personal service, I should be too
+happy,&quot; said Law.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, then, I must admit to you that this is a question of a diamond.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, a diamond?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The greatest diamond in the world. Indeed, there is none other like it,
+and never will be. This Jew hounds me to death, holding up the thing
+before mine eyes. Even Saint Simon, that priggish little duke of ours,
+tells me that France should have this stone, that it is a dignity which
+should not be allowed to pass away from her. But how can France,
+bankrupt as she is, afford a little trifle which costs three million
+francs? Three million francs, when we can not pay eighty millions annual
+interest on our debts!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis as you say, somewhat expensive,&quot; said Law.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Naturally, for I say to you that this stone had never parallel in the
+history of the world. It seems that this overseer in the Golconda mines
+got possession of it in some fashion, and escaped to Europe, hiding the
+stone about his person. It has been shown in different parts of Europe,
+but no one yet has been able to meet the price of this extortioner who
+owns it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And yet, as Saint Simon says, there is no dignity too great for the
+throne of France.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yet, meantime, the king will have no use for it for several years to
+come. There is the Sancy stone&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And, as your Grace remembers, this new stone would look excellent well
+upon a woman?&quot; said Law. He gazed, calm and unsmiling, directly into the
+eyes of Philippe of Orl&eacute;ans.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Monsieur L'as, you have the second sight!&quot; cried the latter,
+unblushingly. &quot;You have genius. May God strike me blind if ever I have
+seen a keener mind than thine!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;All warm blood is akin,&quot; replied John Law. &quot;This stone is perhaps for
+your Grace's best beloved?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Eh&mdash;ah&mdash;which? As you know&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah! Perhaps for La Parab&egrave;re. Richly enough she deserves it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah, Monsieur L'as, even your mind is at fault now,&quot; cried the regent,
+shaking his finger exultingly. &quot;I covet this new stone, not for Parab&egrave;re
+nor for any one of those dear friends whom you might name, and whom you
+may upon occasion have met at some of my little suppers. It is for
+another, whose name or nature you can not guess.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Not that mysterious beauty of whom rumor goes about this week, the
+woman rated surpassing fair, who has lately come into the acquaintance
+of your Grace, and whom your Grace has concealed as jealously as though
+he feared to lose her by some highway robbery?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It is the same, I must admit!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Law remained thoughtful for a time. &quot;I make no doubt that the Hebrew
+would take two million francs for this stone,&quot; said he.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Perhaps, but two millions is the same as three millions,&quot; said
+Philippe. &quot;The question is, where to get two millions.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;As your Grace has said, I have been somewhat fortunate at play,&quot;
+replied Law, &quot;but I must say that this sum is beyond me, and that both
+the diamond and the bank I can not compass. Yet, your Grace has at
+disposal the crown jewels of France. Now, beauty is the sovereign of all
+sovereigns, as Philippe of Orl&eacute;ans must own. To beauty belongs the use
+of these crown jewels. Place them as security, and borrow the two
+millions. For myself, I shall take pride in advancing the interest on
+the sum for a certain time, until such occasion as the treasury may
+afford the price of this trinket. In a short time it will be able to do
+so, I promise your Grace; indeed able to buy a dozen such stones, and
+take no thought of the matter.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Monsieur L'as, do you actually believe these things?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I know them.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And you can secure for me this gem?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Assuredly. We shall have it. Let it be called the 'Regent's Diamond,'
+after your Grace of Orl&eacute;ans. And when the king shall one day wear it,
+let us hope that he will place it as fitly as I am sure your Grace will
+do, on the brow of beauty&mdash;even though it be beauty unknown, and kept
+concealed under princely prerogative!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah! You are too keen, Monsieur L'as, too keen to see my new discovery.
+Not for a little time shall I take the risk of introducing this fair
+friend to one so dangerous as yourself; but one of these times, my very
+good friend, if you can secure for me this diamond, you shall come to a
+very little supper, and see where for a time I shall place this gem, as
+you say, on the brow of beauty. For the sake of Monsieur L'as, head
+magician of France my mysterious alien shall then unmask.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And then I am to have my bank?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Good God, yes, a thousand banks!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It is agreed?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It is agreed.&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='BOOK_III_CHAPTER_V'></a><h3>CHAPTER V</h3>
+
+<h4>A DAY OF MIRACLES</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>The regent of France kept his promise to Law, and the latter in turn
+fulfilled his prophecy to the regent. Moreover, he swiftly went far
+toward verifying his boast to the Lady Catharine Knollys; for in less
+than a month his name was indeed on every tongue in Paris. The Banque
+G&eacute;n&eacute;rale de L'as et Compagnie was seized upon by the public, debtor and
+creditor alike, as the one new thing, and hence as the only salvation.
+As ever, it pleased Paris to be mystified. In some way the rumor spread
+about that Monsieur L'as was <i>philosophique</i>; that the Banque G&eacute;n&eacute;rale
+was founded upon &quot;philosophy.&quot; It was catch-word sufficient for the
+time.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;<i>Vive</i> Jean L'as, <i>le philosophe</i>&mdash;Monsieur L'as, he who has saved
+France!&quot; So rang the cry of the shallow-witted people of an age splendid
+even in its contradictions. And meantime the new bank, crudely
+experimental as it was, flourished as though its master spirit had
+indeed in his possession the philosopher's stone, turning all things to
+gold.</p>
+
+<p>One day, shortly after the beginning of that brilliantly spectacular
+series of events destined so soon to make Paris the Mecca of the world,
+there sat at table, in a little, obscure <i>cabaret</i> of the gay city, a
+group of persons who seemed to have chosen that spot for purposes of
+privacy. Yet privacy was difficult where all the curious passers-by
+stared in amaze at the great coach near the door, half filling the
+narrow and unclean street&mdash;a vehicle bearing the arms of no less a
+person than that august and unscrupulous representative of the French
+nobility, the Prince de Conti. No less a person than the prince himself,
+thin-faced, aquiline and haughty, sat at this table, looking about him
+like any common criminal to note whether his speech might be overheard.
+Next to him sat a hook-nosed Jew from Austria, Fraslin by name, one of
+many of his kind gathered so quickly within the last few weeks in Paris,
+even as the scent of carrion fetches ravens to the feast. Another of the
+party was a man of middle age, of handsome, calm, patrician features and
+an unruffled mien&mdash;that De la Chaise, nephew of the confessor of Louis
+the Grand, who was later to represent the young king in the provinces of
+Louisiana.</p>
+
+<p>Near by the latter, and indeed the central figure of this gathering, was
+one less distinguished than either of the above, evidently neither of
+churchly ancestry nor civic distinction&mdash;Henri Varenne, sometime clerk
+for the noted Paris Fr&egrave;res, farmers of the national revenues. Varenne,
+now serving but as clerk in the new bank of L'as et Compagnie, could
+have been called a man of no great standing; yet it was he whose
+presence had called hither these others to this unusual meeting. In
+point of fact, Varenne was a spy, a spy chosen by the jealous Paris
+Fr&egrave;res, to learn what he might of the internal mechanism of this new and
+startling institution which had sprung into such sudden prominence.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;As to the bank of these brothers L'as,&quot; said the Prince de Conti,
+rapping out emphasis with his sword hilt on the table, &quot;it surely has
+much to commend it. Here is one of its notes, and witness what it says.
+'The bank promises to pay to the bearer at sight the sum of fifty livres
+in coin of the weight and standard of this day.' That is to say, of this
+date which it bears. Following these, are the words 'value received.'
+Now, my notary tells me that these words make this absolutely safe, so
+that I know what it means in coin to me at this day, or a year from now.
+Is it not so, Monsieur Fraslin?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The Jew reached out his hand, took the note, and peered over it in close
+scrutiny.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis no wonder, Monsieur le Prince,&quot; said he, presently, &quot;that orders
+have been given by the Government to receive this note without discount
+for the payment of the general taxes. Upon my reputation, I must say to
+you that these notes will pass current better than your uncertain coin.
+The specie of the king has been changed twice in value by the king's
+orders. Yet this bases itself upon a specie value which is not subject
+to any change. Therein lies its own value.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It is indeed true,&quot; broke in Varenne. &quot;Not a day goes by at this new
+bank but persons come to us and demand our notes rather than coin of the
+realm of France.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, yes,&quot; broke in the prince, &quot;we are agreed as to all this, but
+there is much talk about further plans of this Monsieur L'as. He has the
+ear of his Grace the regent, surely. Now, sir, tell us what you know of
+these future affairs.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The rumor is, as I understand it,&quot; answered Varenne, &quot;that he is to
+take over control of the Company of the West&mdash;to succeed, in short, to
+the shoes of Anthony Crozat. There come curious stories of this province
+of Louisiana.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Of course,&quot; resumed the prince, with easy wisdom, &quot;we all of us know of
+the voyage of L'Huillier, who, with his four ships, went up this great
+river Messasebe, and who, as is well known, found that river of Blue
+Earth, described by early writers as abounding in gold and gems.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Aye, and there comes the strange part of it, and this is what I would
+lay before your Lordships, as bearing upon the value of the shares of
+this new bank, since it is taking over the charter of the Company of the
+West. It is news not yet known upon the street. The story goes that the
+half has not been told of the wealth of these provinces.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Now, as you say, L'Huillier had with him four ships, and it is well
+known that his gentlemen had with them certain ladies of distinction,
+among these a mysterious dame reported to have earlier traveled in
+portions of New France. The name of this mysterious female is not known,
+save that she is reported to have been a good friend of a
+<i>sous-lieutenant</i> of the regiment Carignan, sometime dweller at Quebec
+and Montr&eacute;al, and who later became a lieutenant under L'Huillier. It is
+said that this same mysterious fair, having returned from America and
+having cast aside her lieutenant, has come under protection of no less a
+person than his Grace Philippe of Orl&eacute;ans, the regent. Now, as you know,
+the bank is the best friend of the regent, and this mysterious dame, as
+we are advised by servants of his Grace's household, hath told his Grace
+such stories of the wealth of the Messasebe that he has secretly and
+quickly made over the control of the trade of those provinces to this
+new bank. There is story also that his Grace himself will not lack
+profit in this movement!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The hand of Conti smote hard upon the table. &quot;By heaven! it were strange
+thing,&quot; said he, &quot;if this foreign traveler should prove the same
+mysterious beauty Philippe is reported to have kept in hiding. My faith,
+is it indeed true that we are come upon a time of miracles?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Listen!&quot; broke in again Varenne, his ardor overcoming his
+obsequiousness. &quot;These are some of the tales brought back&mdash;and reported
+privately, I can assure you, gentlemen, now for the first time and to
+yourselves. The people of this country are said to be clad in beauteous
+raiment, made of skins, of grasses, and of the barks of trees. Their
+ornaments are made of pure, yellow gold, and of precious gems which they
+pick up from the banks of the streams, as common as pebbles here in
+France. The climate is such that all things grow in the most unrivaled
+fruitfulness. There is neither too much sun nor too much rain. The lakes
+and rivers are vast and beautiful, and the forests are filled with
+myriads of strange and sweet-voiced birds. 'Tis said that the dream of
+Ponce de Leon hath been realized, and that not only one, but scores of
+fountains of youth have been discovered in this great valley. The people
+are said never to grow old. Their personal beauty is of surpassing
+nature, and their disposition easy and complaisant to the last degree&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;My faith, say on!&quot; broke in De la Chaise. &quot;'Tis surely a story of
+paradise which you recount.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But, listen, gentlemen! The story goes yet farther. As to mines of gold
+and silver, 'twas matter of report that such mines are common in all the
+valley of the Messasebe. Indeed the whole surface of the earth, in some
+parts, is covered with lumps of gold, so that the natives care nothing
+for it. The bottoms of the streams, the beaches of the lakes, carry as
+many particles of gold as they have pebbles and little stones. As for
+silver, none take note of it. 'Tis used as building stone.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;In the name of Jehovah, is there support for these wonders you have
+spoken?&quot; broke in Fraslin the Jew, his eyes shining with suppressed
+excitement.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Assuredly. Yet I am telling not half of the news which came to my
+knowledge this very morning&mdash;the story is said to have emanated from the
+Palais Royal itself, and therefore, no doubt, is to be traced to this
+same unknown queen of the Messasebe. She reports, so it is said, that
+beyond the country where L'Huillier secured his cargo of blue earth,
+there is a land where grows a most peculiar plant. The meadows and
+fields are covered with it, and it is said that the dews of night, which
+gather within the petals of these flowers, become, in the course of a
+single day, nothing less than a solid diamond stone! From this in time
+the leaves drop down, leaving the diamond exposed there, shining and
+radiant.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah, bah!&quot; broke in Fraslin the Jew. &quot;Why believe such babblings? We all
+know that the diamond is a product not of the vegetable but of the
+mineral world!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;So have we known many things,&quot; stoutly replied Varenne, &quot;only to find
+ourselves frequently mistaken. Now for my part, a diamond is a diamond,
+be it born in a flower or broken from a rock. And as for the excellence
+of these stones, 'tis rumored that the lady hath abundant proof. 'Tis no
+wonder that the natives of the valley of the Messasebe robe themselves
+in silks, and that they deck themselves carelessly with precious stones,
+as would a peasant of ours with a chain of daisy blossoms. Now, if there
+be such wealth as this, is it not easy to see the profit of a bank which
+controls the trade with such a province? True, there have been some
+discoveries in this valley, but nothing thorough. 'Tis but recent the
+thing hath been done thorough.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The Prince de Conti sat back in his chair and drew a long breath. &quot;If
+these things be true,&quot; said he, &quot;then this Monsieur L'as is not so bad a
+leader to follow.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But listen!&quot; exclaimed Varenne once more. &quot;I have not even yet told you
+the most important thing, and this is rumor which perhaps your Grace has
+caught. 'Tis whispered that the bank of the brothers L'as is within a
+fortnight to be changed.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What is that?&quot; queried Fraslin quickly. &quot;'Tis not to be abandoned?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;By no means. Abandoned would be quite the improper word. 'Tis to be
+improved, expanded, increased, magnified! My Lords, there is the
+opportunity of a life-time for every one of us here!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Say on, man, say on!&quot; commanded the prince, the covetousness of his
+soul shining in his eyes as he leaned forward.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I mean to say this,&quot; and the spy lowered his voice as he looked
+anxiously about. &quot;The regent hath taken a fancy to be chief owner
+himself of an enterprise so profitable. In fine, the Banque G&eacute;n&eacute;rale is
+to become the Banque Royale. His Majesty of France, represented by his
+Grace the regent, is to become the head banker of France and Europe!
+Monsieur L'as is to be retained as director-general of this Banque
+Royale. There are to be branches fixed in different cities of the realm,
+at Lyons, at Tours, at Amiens, at Rochelle, at Orl&eacute;ans&mdash;in fact, all
+France is to go upon a different footing.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The glances of the Prince de Conti and the Austrian met each other. The
+Jew drew a long breath as he sat back in his chair, his hands grasping
+at the edge of the table. Try as he might, he scarce could keep his chin
+from trembling. He licked out his tongue to moisten his lips.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There is so much,&quot; resumed Varenne, &quot;that 'tis hard to tell it all. But
+you must know that this Banque Royale will be still more powerful than
+the old one. There will be incorporated with it, not only the Company of
+the West, but also the General Company of the Indies, as you know, the
+most considerable mercantile enterprise of France. Now listen! Within
+the first year the Banque Royale will issue one thousand million livres
+in notes. This embodiment of the Compagnie G&eacute;n&eacute;rale of the Indies will
+warrant, as I know by the secret plans of the bank, the issue of notes
+amounting to two billion livres. Therefore, as Monsieur de la Chaise
+signifies, he who is lucky enough to-day to own a few <i>actions</i> of the
+Banque Royale, or even the old <i>actions</i> of Monsieur L'as' bank, which
+will be redeemed by its successor, is in a way to gain greater sums than
+were ever seen on the face of any investment from the beginning of the
+world until to-day! Now, as I was about to ask of you, Monsieur
+Fraslin&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The speaker turned in his chair to where Fraslin had been but a moment
+before. The chair was empty.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Our friend stepped to the door but on the instant,&quot; said De la Chaise.
+&quot;He is perhaps&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That he has,&quot; cried Varenne. &quot;He is the first of us to profit! Monsieur
+le Prince, in virtue of what I have said to you, if you could favor me
+with an advance of a few hundred louis, I could assure my family of
+independence. Monsieur le Prince! Monsieur le Prince&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Monsieur le Prince, however, was not so far behind the Austrian! Varenne
+followed him, tugging at his coat, but Conti shook him off, sprang into
+his carriage and was away.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;To the Place Vend&ocirc;me!&quot; he cried to his coachman, &quot;and hasten!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>De la Chaise, aristocratic, handsome and thick-witted, remained alone at
+the table, wondering what was the cause of this sudden commotion.
+Varenne re-appeared at the door wringing his hands.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What is it, my friend?&quot; asked De la Chaise. &quot;Why all this haste? Why
+this confusion?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Nothing!&quot; exclaimed Varenne, bitterly, &quot;except that every minute of
+this day is worth a million francs. Man, do you know?&quot;&mdash;and in his
+frenzy he caught De la Chaise by the collar and half shook him out of
+his usual calm&mdash;&quot;man, can you not see that Jean L'as has brought
+revolution into Paris? Oh! This L'as, this devil of a L'as! A thousand
+louis, my friend, a hundred, ten&mdash;give me but ten louis, and I will make
+you rich! A day of miracles is here!&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='BOOK_III_CHAPTER_VI'></a><h3>CHAPTER VI</h3>
+
+<h4>THE GREATEST NEED</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>There sprang now with incredible swiftness upward and outward an Aladdin
+edifice of illusion. It was as though indeed this genius who had waved
+his wand and bidden this fairy palace of chimera to arise, had used for
+his material the intangible, iridescent film of bubbles, light as air.
+Wider and wider spread the balloon of phantasm. Higher and higher it
+floated, on it fixed the eyes of France. And France laughed, and asked
+that yet other bubbles should be blown.</p>
+
+<p>All France was mad, and to its madness there was joined that of all
+Europe. The population of Paris doubled. The prices of labor and
+commodities trebled in a day. There was now none willing to be called
+artisan. Every man was broker in stocks. Bubbles, bubbles, dreams,
+fantasies&mdash;these were the things all carried in their hands and in their
+hearts. These made the object of their desire, of their pursuit
+unimaginably passionate and frenzied.</p>
+
+<p>With a leap from the somberness of the reign of Louis, all France went
+to the extreme of levity. Costumes changed. Manners, but late devout,
+grew debonair. Morals, once lax, now grew yet more lax. The blaze and
+tinsel, the music and the rouge, the wine, the flowing, uncounted
+gold&mdash;all Paris might have been called a golden brothel of delirious
+delight, tenanted by a people utterly gone mad.</p>
+
+<p>It was a house made of bubbles. Its domes were of bubbles. Its roof was
+of bubbles, and its walls. Its windows were of that nacreous film. Even
+its foundations had naught in them more substantial than an evanescent
+dream of gauze-like web, frail as the spider's house upon the dew-hung
+grasses.</p>
+
+<p>Yet as to this latter, there should be somewhat of qualification. The
+wizard who created this fairy structure saw it swiftly grow beyond its
+original plan, saw unforeseen results spring from those causes which
+were first well within his comprehension.</p>
+
+<p>Berated by later generations as an adventurer, a schemer, a charlatan,
+Law originally deserved anything but such a verdict of his public.
+Dishonest he was not, insincere he never was; and as a student of
+fundamentals, he was in advance of his age, which is ever to be
+accursed. His method was but the forerunner of the modern commercial
+system, which is of itself to-day but a tougher faith bubble, as may be
+seen in all the changing cycles of finance and trade. His bank was but
+a portion of a nobler dream. His system was but one vast belief, one
+glorious hope.</p>
+
+<p>The Company of the West&mdash;this it was that made John Law's heart throb.
+America&mdash;its trade&mdash;its future! John Law, dead now and gone&mdash;he was the
+colossal pioneer! He saw in his dreams what we see to-day in reality;
+and no bubble of all the frenzied Paris streets equaled this splendid
+dream of a renewed and revived humanity that is a fact to-day.</p>
+
+<p>But there came to this dreamer and doer, at the very door of his
+success, that which arrested him even upon his entering in. There came
+the preliminary blow which in a flash his far-seeing mind knew was to
+mean ultimate ruin. In a word, the loose principles of a dissolute man
+were to ruin France, and with it one who had once saved France from
+ruin.</p>
+
+<p>Philippe of Orl&eacute;ans found it ever difficult to say no to a friend, and
+more so if that friend were a woman; and of the latter sort, none had
+more than he. Men and women alike, these could all see only this
+abundance of money made of paper. What, then, was to prevent the regent,
+all powerful, from printing more and yet more of it, and giving it to
+his friends? The regent did so. Never were mistresses better paid than
+those of Philippe of Orl&eacute;ans, receiving in effect faithlessness in
+return for insincerity.</p>
+
+<p>Philippe of Orl&eacute;ans could not see why, since credit based on specie made
+possible a great volume of accepted notes, a credit based on all France
+might not warrant an indefinite issue of such notes. He offered his
+director-general all the concessions which the crown could give, all the
+revenue-producing elements of France&mdash;in effect, all France itself, as
+security. In return he asked but the small privilege of printing for
+himself as much money as he chose and whenever he saw fit!</p>
+
+<p>The notes of the private bank of Law were an absolute promise to pay a
+certain and definite sum, not a changeable or indefinite sum; and Law
+made it a part of his published creed that any banker was worthy of
+death who issued notes without having the specie wherewith to pay them.
+He insisted that the payment should mean specie in the value of the day
+on which the note was issued. This item the regent liked little, as
+being too irksome for his temper. Was it not of record how Louis, the
+Grand Monarque, had twice made certain millions for himself by the
+simple process of changing the value of the coin? Dicing, drinking,
+amorous Philippe, easy-going, shallow-thinking, truly wert thou better
+fitted for a throne than for a banker's chair!</p>
+
+<p>The royal bank, which the regent himself hastened to foster when he saw
+the profits of the first private bank of circulation and discount France
+had ever known, issued notes against which Law entered immediately his
+firm protest. He saw that their tenor spelled ruin for the whole system
+of finance which, at such labor, he had erected. These notes promised to
+pay, for instance, fifty livres &quot;in silver coin,&quot; not &quot;in coin of the
+weight and standard of this day,&quot; as had the honester notes of Law's
+bank. That is to say, the notes meant nothing sure and nothing definite.
+They might be money for a time, but not forever; and this the
+director-general was too shrewd a man not to know.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But under this issue you shall have all France,&quot; said the regent to him
+one day, as they renewed their discussion yet again upon this scheme.
+&quot;You shall have the farming of the taxes. I will give you all the
+foreign trade as monopoly, if you like&mdash;will give you the mint&mdash;will
+give you, in effect, as I have said, all France. But, Monsieur my
+director-general, I must have money. It is for that purpose that I
+appoint you director-general&mdash;because I find you the most remarkable man
+in all the world.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Your Grace,&quot; said Law, &quot;print your notes thus, and print them to such
+extent as you wish, and France is again worse than bankrupt! Then,
+indeed, you have worse than repudiated the debts of France.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah bah! <i>mon dr&ocirc;le!</i> You are ill to-day. You have a <i>migraine</i>,
+perhaps? What folly for you to speak thus. France hath swiftly grown so
+strong that she can never again be ruined. What ails my magician, my
+Prince of Golconda, this morning? France bankrupt! Even were it so, does
+that relieve me of this begging of De Prie, of Parab&egrave;re, and all the
+others? My God, Monsieur L'as, they are like leeches! They think me made
+of money.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And your Grace thinks France made of money.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Nay; I only think my director-general is made of money, or can make it
+as he likes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>And this was ever the end of Law's reproaches and his expostulations.
+This, then, was to be the end of his glorious enterprises, thought he,
+as he sat one morning, staring out of the window when left alone. This
+sordid love for money for its own sake&mdash;this was to be the limit of an
+ambition which dealt in theories, in men, in nations, and not in livres
+and louis d'or! Law smiled bitterly. For an instant he was not the
+confident man of action and of affairs, not the man claiming with
+assurance the perpetual protection of good fortune. He sat there, alone,
+feeling nothing but the great human craving for sympathy and trust. A
+line of carriages swept back across the street at his window, and
+streams of nobles besought entrance at his door. And the man who had
+called out all these, the man for whose friendship all Europe
+clamored&mdash;that man sat with aching heart, longing, craving, begging now
+of fortune only the one thing&mdash;a friend!</p>
+
+<p>At last he arose, his face showing lean and haggard. He passed into
+another room.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Will,&quot; said he, &quot;I am at a place where I am dizzy and need a hand. You
+know what hand it means for me. Can you go&mdash;will you take her, as you
+did once before for me, a message? I can not go. I can not venture into
+her presence. Will you go? Tell her it is the last time! Tell her it is
+the last!&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='BOOK_III_CHAPTER_VII'></a><h3>CHAPTER VII</h3>
+
+<h4>THE MIRACLE UNWROUGHT</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>&quot;You do not know my brother, Lady Catharine.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Thus spoke Will Law, who had been admitted but a half hour since at the
+great door of the private hotel where dwelt the Lady Catharine Knollys.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Twould seem, then, 'tis by no fault of his,&quot; replied Lady Catharine,
+hotly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And is that not well? There are many in Paris who would fain change
+places with you, Lady Catharine.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Would heaven they might!&quot; exclaimed she. &quot;Would that my various
+friends, or the prefect of police, or heaven knows who that may have
+spread the news of my acquaintance with your brother, would take me out
+of that acquaintance!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;They might hold his friendship a high honor,&quot; said Will.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, an honor! Excellent well comes this distinguished honor. Sirrah,
+carriages block my street, filled with those who beseech my introduction
+to John Law. I am waylaid if I step abroad, by women&mdash;persons of
+quality, ladies of the realm, God knoweth what&mdash;and they beg of me the
+favor of an introduction to John Law! There seems spread, I know not
+how, a silly rumor of the child Kate. And though I did scarce more than
+name a convent for her attendance, there are now out all manner of
+reports of Monsieur John Law's child, and&mdash;what do I say&mdash;'tis
+monstrous! I protest that I have come closer than I care into the public
+thoughts with this prodigy, this John Law, whose favor is sought by
+every one. Honor!&mdash;'tis not less than outrage!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis but argument that my brother is a person not without note.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But granted. 'We have seen his carriage at your curb,' they say. I
+insist that it is a mistake. 'But we saw him come from your door at such
+and such an hour.' If he came, 'twas but for meeting such answer as I
+have always given him. Will they never believe&mdash;will your brother
+himself never believe that, though did he have, as he himself says, all
+France in the hollow of his hand, he could be nothing to me? Now I will
+make an end to this. I will leave Paris.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Madam, you might not be allowed to go.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What! I not allowed to go! And what would hinder a Knollys of Banbury
+from going when the hour shall arrive?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The regent.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And why the regent?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Because of my brother.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Your brother!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Assuredly. My brother is to-day king of Paris. If he liked he could
+keep you prisoner in Paris. My brother does as he chooses. He could
+abolish Parliament to-morrow if he chose. My brother can do all
+things&mdash;except to win from you, Lady Catharine, one word of kindness, of
+respect. Now, then, he has come to the end. He told me to come to you
+and bear his word. He told me to say to you that this is the last time
+he will importune, the last time that he will implore. Oh, Lady
+Catharine! Once before I carried to you a message from John Law&mdash;from
+John Law, not in distress then more than he is now, even in this hour of
+his success.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lady Catharine paled as she sank back into her seat. Her white hand
+caught at the lace at her throat. Her eyes grew dark in their emotion.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, Madam,&quot; went on Will Law, tears shining in his own eyes, &quot;'twas I,
+an unfaithful messenger, who, by an error, wrought ruin for my brother
+and for yourself, even as I did for myself. Madam, hear me! I would be a
+better messenger to-day.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lady Catharine sat still silent, her bosom heaving, her eyes gone wide
+and straining.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I have seen my brother weep,&quot; said Will, going on impulsively. &quot;I have
+seen him walk the floor at night, have heard him cry out to himself.
+They call him crazed. Indeed he is crazed. Yet 'tis but for one word
+from you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir,&quot; said Lady Catharine, struggling to gain self-control, and in
+spite of herself softened by this appeal, &quot;you speak well.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;If I do, 'tis but because I am the mouth-piece of a man who all his
+life has sought to speak the truth; who has sought&mdash;yes, I say to you
+even now, Lady Catharine&mdash;who has sought always to live the truth. This
+I say in spite of all that we both know.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>There came no reply from the woman, who sat still looking at him, not
+yet moved by the voice of the proxy as she might then have been by the
+voice of that proxy's principal. Vehemently the young man, ordinarily so
+timid and diffident, approached her.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Look you!&quot; exclaimed he. &quot;If my brother said he could lay France at
+your feet, by heaven! he can well-nigh do so now. See! Here are some of
+the properties he has lately purchased in the realm of France. The
+Marquisat d'Effiat&mdash;'tis worth eight hundred thousand livres; the estate
+of Rivière&mdash;worth nine hundred thousand livres; the estate of
+Roissy&mdash;worth six hundred and fifty thousand livres; the estates of
+Berville, of Fontaine, of Yville, of Gerponville, of Tancarville, of
+Guermande&mdash;the tale runs near a score! Lately my brother has purchased
+the H&ocirc;tel Mazarin, and the property at Rue Vivienne, paying for them one
+million two hundred thousand livres. He has other city properties,
+houses in Paris, estates here and there, running not into the hundreds
+of thousands, but into the millions of livres in actual value. Among
+these are some of the estates of the greatest nobles of France. Their
+value is more than any man can compute. Is this not something? Moreover,
+there goes with it all the dignity of the most stupendous personal
+success ever made by a single man since the world began. 'Tis all yours,
+Lady Catharine. And unless you share it, it has no value to my brother.
+I know myself that he will fling it all away, calling it worthless,
+since he can not have that greatest fortune which he craves!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sirrah, I have entertained much speech of both yourself and your
+brother, because I would not seem ungracious nor forgetful. Yet this
+paying of court by means of figures, by virtue of lists of estates&mdash;do
+you not know how ineffectual this must seem?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;If you could but understand!&quot; cried Will. &quot;If you could but believe
+that there is none on earth values these less than my brother. Under
+all this he has yet greater dreams. His ambition is to awaken an old
+world and to build a new one. By heaven! Lady Catharine, I am asked to
+speak for my brother, and so I shall! These are his ambitions. First of
+all, Lady Catharine, you. Second, America. Third, a people for
+America&mdash;a people who may hope! Oh, I admit all the folly of his life.
+He played deep, yet 'twas but to forget you. He drank, but 'twas to
+forget you. Foolish he was, as are all men. Now he succeeds, and finds
+he can not forget you. I have told you his ambitions, Madam, and though
+others may never know nor acknowledge them, you, at least, must do so.
+And I beg you to remember, Madam, that of all his ambitions, 'twas you,
+Lady Catharine, your favor, your kindness, your mercy, that made his
+first and chief desire.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;As for that,&quot; said the woman, somewhat scornfully, &quot;if you please, I
+had rather I received my protestations direct; and your brother knows I
+forbid him further protestations. He has, it is true, raised some
+considerable noise by way of enterprises. That I might know, even did I
+not see this horde of dukes and duchesses and princes of the blood,
+clamoring for the recognition of even his remotest friends. I know,
+too, that he is accepted as a hero by the people.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And well he may be. Coachmen and valets have liveries of their own
+these days. Servants now eat from plate, and clerks have their own
+coaches. Paris is packed with people, and, look you, they are people no
+longer clamoring for bread. Who has done this? Why, my brother, John Law
+of Lauriston, Lady Catharine, who loves you, and loves you dearly.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The old wrinkle of perplexity gathered between the brows of the woman
+before him. Her face was clouded, the changeful eyes now deep covered by
+their lids.</p>
+
+<p>Lacking the precise word for that crucial moment, Will Law broke further
+on into material details. &quot;To be explicit, as I have said,&quot; resumed he,
+&quot;everything seems to center about my brother, the director-general of
+finance. He took the old notes of the government, worth not half their
+face, and in a week made them treble their face value. The king owes him
+over one hundred million livres to-day. My brother has taken over the
+farming of the royal taxes. And now he forms a little Company of the
+Indies; and to this he adds the charter of the Senegal Company. Not
+content, he adds the entire trade of the Indies, of China and the South
+Seas. He has been given the privilege of the royal farming of tobacco,
+for which he pays the king the little trifle of two hundred million
+livres, and assures to the king certain interest moneys, which, I need
+not say, the king will actually obtain. In addition to these things, he
+has lately been given the mint of France. The whole coinage of the realm
+has been made over to this Company of the Indies. My brother pays the
+king fifty million livres for this privilege, and this he will do within
+fifteen months. All France is indeed in the hands of my brother. Now,
+call John Law an adventurer, a gambler, if you will, and if you can; but
+at least admit that he has given life and hope to the poor of France,
+that he has given back to the king a people which was despoiled and
+ruined by the former king. He has trebled the trade of France, he has
+saved her honor, and opened to her the avenues of a new world. Are these
+things nothing? They have all been done by my brother, this man whom you
+believe incapable of faith and constancy. Good God! It surely seems that
+he has at least been constant to himself!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, I hear talk of it all. I hear that a share in the new company
+promises dividends of two hundred livres. I hear talk of shares and
+'sub-shares,' called 'mothers,' and 'daughters,' and 'granddaughters,'
+and I know not what. It seems as though half the coin were divided into
+centimes, and as though each centime had been planted by your brother
+and had grown to be worth a thousand pounds. I admit somewhat of
+knowledge of these miracles.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;True, Lady Catharine. Can there not be one miracle more?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lady Catharine Knollys bent her face forward upon her hands, unhappiness
+in every gesture.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir,&quot; said she, &quot;it grieves my heart to say it; yet this answer you
+must take to your brother, John Law. That miracle hath not yet been
+wrought which can give us back the past again.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;This,&quot; said Will Law, sadly, &quot;is this all the message I may take?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It is all.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Though it is the last?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It is the last.&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='BOOK_III_CHAPTER_VIII'></a><h3>CHAPTER VIII</h3>
+
+<h4>THE LITTLE SUPPER OF THE REGENT</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>Paris, city of delights, Paris drunk with gold, mad with the delirium of
+excesses, Paris with no aim except joy, no method but extravagance, held
+within her gilded gates one citadel of sensuality which remained ever an
+object of mystery, a source of curiosity even in that dissipated and
+pleasure-sated city. In the Palais Royal, back of the regally beautiful
+gardens, back of the noble rows of trees, beyond the gates of iron and
+the guards in uniform, lived France's regent, in a city of libertines
+the prince of libertines. In a city where there were more mistresses
+than wives, he it was who led the list of the licentious. In a city of
+unregulated vice and yet of exquisitely ordered taste, he it was who
+accorded to himself daily pleasures which were admittedly beyond
+approach. How unspeakably unbridled, how delightfully wicked, how
+temptingly ingenious in their features the little suppers of the regent
+might be&mdash;these were matters of curious interest to all, of intimate
+knowledge to but few.</p>
+
+<p>It was to one of these famous yet mysterious gatherings that the regent
+of France had invited the master of that great and glittering bubble
+house, wherein dwelt so insecurely the affairs of France. John Law,
+director-general of the finances, controller of the Company of the
+Indies, was chosen by Philippe of Orl&eacute;ans for a position not granted to
+the crafty Dubois or to the shrewd D'Argenson, the last of that strange
+trinity who made his council. John Law, gallant, graceful, owner of a
+reputation as wit and beau scarce behind that of his sudden fame as
+financier, was admitted not only to the business affairs of the gay
+duke, but to his pleasures as well. To him and his brother Will, still
+associated in large measure in the stupendous operations of the
+director-general, there came the invitation of the regent, practically
+the command of the king, to join the regent after the opera for a little
+supper at the Palais Royal.</p>
+
+<p>Law would have excused himself from this unsought honor. &quot;Your Grace
+will observe,&quot; said he, &quot;that my time is occupied to the full. The
+people scarcely suffer me to rest at night. Perhaps your Grace might not
+care for company so dull as mine.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Fie! my friend, my very good friend,&quot; replied Philippe. &quot;Have you
+become <i>d&eacute;vot?</i> Whence this sudden change? Consider; 'tis no hardship to
+meet such ladies as Madame de Sabran, or Madame de Prie&mdash;designer
+though I fear De Prie is for the domestic felicity of the youthful
+king&mdash;nor indeed my good friend, La Parab&egrave;re, somewhat pale and pensive
+though she groweth. And what shall I say for Madame de Tencin, the
+<i>spirituelle</i>, who is to be with us; or Madame de Caylus, niece of
+Maintenon, but the very opposite of Maintenon in every possible way?
+Moreover, we are promised the attendance of Mademoiselle A&iuml;ss&eacute;. She hath
+become devout of late, and thinks it a sin even to powder her hair, but
+A&iuml;ss&eacute; devout is none the less A&iuml;ss&eacute; the beautiful.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Surely your Grace hath never lacked in excellent taste, and that is the
+talk of Paris,&quot; replied Law.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, well, long training bringeth perfection in due time,&quot; replied
+Philippe of Orl&eacute;ans, composedly, it having no ill effect with him to
+call attention to his numerous intrigues. &quot;It should hardly be called a
+poor privilege, after all, to witness the results of that highly
+cultivated taste, as it shall be displayed this evening, not to mention
+the privilege you will have of meeting one or two other gentlemen; and
+lastly, of course, myself, if you be not tired of such company.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Your Grace,&quot; replied Law, &quot;you both honor and flatter me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, sir, you speak as if this were a new experience for you. Now, in
+the days&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis true; but of late years I have grown grave in the cares of state,
+as your Grace may know.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And most efficiently,&quot; replied the regent. &quot;But stay! I have kept until
+the last my main attraction. You shall witness there, I give you my
+word, the making public of the secret of the fair unknown who is reputed
+to have been especially kind to Philippe of Orl&eacute;ans for these some
+months past. Join us at the little enterprise, my friend, and you shall
+see, I promise you, the most beautiful woman in Paris, crowned with the
+greatest gem of all the world. The regent's diamond, that great gem
+which you have made possible for France, shall, for the first time, and
+for one evening at least, adorn the forehead of the regent's queen of
+beauty!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>As the gay words of the regent fell upon his ears, there came into Law's
+heart a curious tension, a presentiment, a feeling as though some great
+and curious thing were about to happen. Yet ever the challenge of danger
+was one to draw him forward, not to hold him back. If for a moment he
+had hesitated, his mind was now suddenly resolved.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Your Grace,&quot; said he, &quot;your wish is for me command, and certainly in
+this instance is peculiarly agreeable.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;As I thought,&quot; replied the regent. &quot;Had you hesitated, I should have
+called your attention to the fact that the table of the Palais Royal is
+considered to possess somewhat of character. The Vicomte de B&eacute;chamel is
+at the very zenith of his genius, and he daily produces dishes such as
+all Paris has not ever dreamed. Moreover, we have been fortunate in some
+recent additions of most excellent <i>vin d'Ai</i>. I make no doubt, upon the
+whole, we shall find somewhat with which to occupy ourselves.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Thus it came about that, upon that evening, there gathered at the
+entrance of the Palais Royal, after an evening with Lecouvreur at the
+Th&eacute;&acirc;tre Fran&ccedil;ais, some scattered groups of persons evidently possessing
+consequence. The chairs of others, from more distant locations,
+threading their way through the narrow, dark and unlighted streets of
+the old, crude capital of France, brought their passengers in time to a
+scene far different from that of the gloomy streets.</p>
+
+<p>The little supper of the regent, arranged in the private <i>salle</i>, whose
+decorations had been devised for the special purpose, was more
+entrancing than even the glitter of the mimic world of the Th&eacute;&acirc;tre
+Fran&ccedil;ais. There extended down the center of the room, though filling but
+a small portion of its vast extent, the grand table provided for the
+banquet, a reach of snowy linen, broken at the upper end by the arm of
+an abbreviated cross. At each end of this cross-arm stood magnificent
+candelabra, repeated at intervals along the greater extension of the
+board. Noble epergnes, filled with the choicest plants, found their
+reflections in plates of glass cunningly inlaid here and there upon the
+surface of the table. Vast mirrors, framed in wreaths of roses and
+surmounted by little laughing cupids, gleamed in the walls of the room,
+and in the faces of these mirrors were reflected the beams of the
+many-colored tapers, carried in brackets of engraved gold and silver and
+many-colored glasses. The ceiling of the room was a soft mass of silken
+draperies, depending edgewise from above, thousands of yards of the most
+expensive fabrics of the world. From these, as they were gently swayed
+by the breath of invisible fans, there floated delicious, languorous
+perfumes, intoxicating to the senses. On any hand within the great room,
+removed at some distance from the table, were rich, luxurious couches
+and divans.</p>
+
+<p>As one trod within the door of this temple of the senses, surely it must
+have seemed to him that he had come into another world, which at first
+glance might have appeared to be one of an unrighteous ease, an
+unprincipled enjoyment and an unmanly abandonment to embowered vice.
+Yet here it was that Philippe of Orl&eacute;ans, ruler of France, spent those
+hours most dear to him. If he gave thought to affairs of state during
+the day it was but that these affairs of state might give to him the
+means to indulge fancies of his own. Alike shrewd and easy, alike
+haughty and sensuous, here it was that Philippe held his real court.</p>
+
+<p>These young gentlemen of France, these <i>rou&eacute;s</i> who have come to meet
+Philippe at his little supper&mdash;how different from the same beings under
+the rule of the Grand Monarque. Their coats are no longer dark in hue.
+Their silks and velvets have blossomed out, even as Paris has blossomed
+since the death of Louis the Grand. Jabots of lace are shown in full
+abundance, and so far from the abolishment of jewels from their garb,
+rubies, sapphires, diamonds sparkle everywhere, from the clasp of the
+high ruffles of the neck to the buckles of the red-heeled shoes. Powder
+sparkles on the head coverings of these new gallants of France. They
+step daintily, yet not ungracefully, into this brilliantly-lighted room,
+these creatures, gracious and resplendent, sparkling, painted,
+ephemeral, not unsuited to the place and hour.</p>
+
+<p>For the ladies, witness the attire, for instance, of that Madame de
+Tencin, the wonder of the wits of Paris. A full blue costume, with
+pannier more than five yards in circumference, under a skirt of silver
+gauze, trimmed with golden gauze and pink crape, and a train lying six
+yards upon the floor, showing silver embroideries with white roses. The
+sleeves are half-draped, as is the skirt, and each caught up with
+diamonds, showing folds lying above and below the silk underneath.
+Madame wears a necklace of rubies and of diamonds, and above the pannier
+a belt of diamonds and rubies. Her hair is dressed, following the mental
+habit of madame, in the Greek style, and abundantly trimmed with roses
+and gems and bits of silver gauze. There is a little crown upon the top
+of madame's coiffure. Her bodice, cut sufficiently low, is seen to be of
+light silken weave. From her hair depends a veil of light gauze covered
+with gold spangles, and it is secured upon the left side by a hand's
+grasp of pink and white feathers, surmounted by a magnificent heron
+plume of long and silken whiteness. The gloves of madame are white silk,
+and so also, as she is not reluctant to advise, are her stockings,
+picked out with pink and silver clocks. Her shoes, made by the
+celebrated <i>cordonnier</i>, Raveneau, show heels three inches in height. As
+madame enters she casts aside the camlet coat which has covered her
+costume. She sweeps back the veil, endangering its confining clasp of
+plumes. Madame makes a deliberate and open inspection of her face in her
+little looking-glass to discover whether her <i>mouches</i> are well placed.
+She carefully arranges the patch upon the middle of her cheek. She would
+be &quot;gallant&quot; to-night, would lay aside things <i>spirituelle</i>. She twirls
+carelessly her fan, a creation of ivory and mother of pearl, elaborately
+carved, tipped with gold and silver and set with precious stones.</p>
+
+<p>Close at the elbow of Madame de Tencin steps a figure of different type,
+a woman not accustomed to please by brilliance of mind or vivacity of
+speech, but by sheer femininity of face and form. Tall, slender, yet
+with figure divinely proportioned, this beautiful girl, Haide&eacute;, or
+Mademoiselle A&iuml;ss&eacute;, reputed to be of Turkish or Circassian birth, and
+possessed of a history as strange as her own personality is attractive,
+would seem certainly as pure as angel of the skies. Not so would say the
+gossips of Paris, who whisper that mademoiselle is not happy from her
+<i>chevalier</i>&mdash;who speak of a certain visit to England, and a little child
+born across seas and not acknowledged by its parent. A&iuml;ss&eacute;, the devout,
+the beautiful, is no better than others of her sex in this gay city.
+True, she has abandoned all artificial aids to the complexion and
+appears distinct among her flattering rivals, the clear olive of her
+skin showing in strange contrast to the heightened colors of her
+sisters. Yet A&iuml;ss&eacute;, the toast of Europe and the text of poets, proves
+herself not behind the others in the loose gaiety of this occasion.</p>
+
+<p>And there came others: Madame de Prie, later to hold such intimate
+relations with the fortunes of France in the selection of a future queen
+for the boy king; De Sabran, plain, gracious and good-natured; Parab&egrave;re,
+of delicately oval face, of tiny mouth, of thin high nose and large
+expressive eyes, her soft hair twined with a deep flushed rose, and over
+her corsage drooping a continuous garland of magnificent flowers. Also
+Caylus the wit, Caylus the friend of Peter the Great, by duty and by
+devotion a <i>religieuse</i>, but by thought and training a gay woman of the
+world&mdash;all these butterflies of the bubble house of Paris came swimming
+in as by right upon this exotic air.</p>
+
+<p>And all of these, as they advanced into the room, paused as they met,
+coming from the head of the apartment, the imposing figure of their
+host. Philippe of Orl&eacute;ans, his powdered wig drawn closely into a
+half-bag at the nape of the neck, his full eye shining with merriment
+and good nature, his soft, yet not unmanly figure appearing to good
+advantage in his well-chosen garments, advances with a certain dignity
+to meet his guests. He is garbed in a coat made of watered silk, its
+straight collar faced with dark-green material edged with gold. A green
+and gold shoulder knot sets off the garment, which is provided with
+large opal buttons set in brilliants, this same adornment appearing on
+the hilt of his sword, which he lays aside as he approaches. From the
+sides of his wig depend two carefully-arranged locks, dusted with a
+tan-colored powder. His small-clothes, of lighter hue than the coat,
+display fitly the proportions of his lower limbs. The high-heeled shoes
+blaze with the glare of reflected lights as the diamonds change their
+angles during the calm advance down the room.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Welcome, my very dear ladies,&quot; exclaimed Philippe, advancing to the
+head of the board and at once setting all at ease, if any there needed
+such encouragement, by the grace and good feeling of his air. &quot;You do me
+much honor, ladies. If I be not careful, the fair Adrienne will become
+jealous, since I fear you have deserted the pomp of the play full early
+for the table of Philippe. Ladies, as you know, I am your devoted slave.
+Myself and the Vicomte de B&eacute;chamel have labored, seriously labored, for
+your welfare this day. I promise you something of the results of those
+painstaking efforts, which we both hope will not disappoint you.
+Meantime, that the moments may not lag, let me recommend, if I am
+allowed, this new vintage of Ai, which B&eacute;chamel advises me we have
+never yet surpassed in all our efforts. Madame de Tencin, let me beg of
+you to be seated close to my arm. Not upon this side, Mademoiselle
+Haid&eacute;e, if you please, for I have been wheedled into promising that
+station this night to another. Who is it to be, my dear Caylus? Ah, that
+is my secret! Presently we shall see. Have I not promised you an
+occasion this evening? And did Philippe ever fail in his endeavors to
+please? At least, did he ever cease to strive to please his angels? Now,
+my children, accept the blessing of your father Philippe, your friend,
+who, though years may multiply upon him, retains in his heart, none the
+less, for each and all of you, those sentiments of passion and of
+admiration which constitute for him his dearest memories! Ladies, I pray
+you be seated. I pray you tarry not too long before proving the judgment
+of B&eacute;chamel in regard to this new vintage of Ai.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah, your Grace,&quot; exclaimed De Tencin, &quot;were it not Philippe of Orl&eacute;ans,
+we women might not be apt to sit in peace together. Yet, as we have
+earlier proved your hospitality, we may perhaps not scruple to
+continue.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Philippe smiled blandly. The remark was not ill-fitted to the actual
+case. Though the regent counted his sweethearts by scores, he dismissed
+the one with the same air of interest as he welcomed the other, and
+indeed ended by retaining all as his friends.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Madame de Tencin, in admiration there can be no degrees,&quot; said he. &quot;In
+love there can be no rank.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, then, do you place as your chief guest this other, this unknown?&quot;
+pouted Mademoiselle A&iuml;ss&eacute;, as she seated herself, turning upon her host
+the radiance of her large, dark eyes. &quot;Is this stranger, then, so
+passing fair?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Not so fair as you, my lovely Haid&eacute;e, that I may swear, and safely,
+since she is not yet present. Yet I announce to you that she is <i>tr&egrave;s
+int&eacute;ressante</i>, my unknown queen of beauty, my <i>belle sauvage</i> from
+America. But see! Here she comes. 'Tis time for her to appear, and not
+keep our guests in waiting.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>There sounded at the back of the great hall the tinkle of a little bell
+of some soft metal. It approached, and with it the sweeping stir of
+heavy silken garb. The door opened, admitting a still greater blaze of
+light, and there swept into the hall, as though swimming upon the flood
+of this added brilliance, a figure striking enough to arouse attention
+even at that time and place, even among the beauties of the court of
+France. There advanced, calm and stately, with the gliding ease of a
+perfect carriage, the figure of a woman, slender, with full bright eyes
+and somber hair&mdash;so much might be seen at a glance. Yet the newcomer
+left somewhat of query in the mind of womankind accustomed to view in
+detail any costume.</p>
+
+<p>The stranger was enveloped in a wide and undefining garment, a sweeping
+robe fit for any duchess of the realm, whose flowing folds showed a
+magnificent tissue of silver embroidery covered with golden flowers,
+below the plum-color and green. The high corsage of the white robe
+covered the bosom fully, and was caught at the throat with a bunch of
+blazing jewels. Under these soft draperies, tinkling in time with the
+movements of an otherwise noiseless tread, there sounded ever the faint
+note of the little bell. At the toe of shoes otherwise silent, there
+peeped in and out the flash of diamonds, and in the dark masses of her
+hair, shifting as she trod beneath each new sconce in turn, and catching
+more and more brilliance as she advanced, there smoldered the flame of a
+mass of scintillating gems. A queen's raiment was that of this unknown
+beauty, and she herself might have been a queen as she swept down the
+great hall, scornfully careless of the eyes of those other beauties.</p>
+
+<p>She stepped to the place at the regent's right hand, with head high and
+eyes undrooping. For a dramatic instant she paused, as though in the
+rehearsal of a part&mdash;a part of which it might be said that the regent
+was not alone the author. This triumph of woman over other women, this
+triumph of vice over other vice, of effrontery over effrontery
+akin&mdash;this could not have been so planned and executed by any but a
+woman. One another these beauties might tolerate, knowing one another's
+frailties as they did; yet the elegance, the disdain, the indifference
+of this newcomer&mdash;this they could not support. Hatred sat in the bosom
+of each woman there as she swept her courtesy to the new guest of the
+regent, who took her place as of right at the head of the board and near
+the regent's arm.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Our gentlemen are somewhat late this evening,&quot; exclaimed Philippe.
+&quot;'Tis too bad the Abb&eacute; Dubois could not be with us to-night to
+administer clerical consolation.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah! <i>le dr&ocirc;le</i> Dubois!&quot; exclaimed Madame de Tencin.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And that vagabond, the Due de Richelieu&mdash;but we may not wait. Again
+ladies, the glasses, or B&eacute;chamel will be aggrieved. And finally, though
+I perceive most of you have graciously unmasked, let me say that the
+moment has now arrived when we make plain all secrets.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He turned his gaze upon the woman at his right. As though at a signal,
+she half rose, unclasped the circlet of gems at her throat, and swept
+back across the arm of her chair the soft garment which enveloped her.</p>
+
+<p>A sigh, a long breath of amazement broke from those other dames of
+Paris. Not one of them but was sated with the blaze of diamonds, the
+rich, red light of rubies and the fathomless radiance of sapphires.
+Silks and satins and cloth of gold and silver had few novelties for
+them. The costumers of Paris, center of the world of art, even in those
+times of unrivaled extravagance and unbridled self-gratification, held
+no new surprise for these beauties, possessed so long of all that their
+imagination required or that princely liberality could supply. Yet here
+indeed was a surprise.</p>
+
+<p>As she stood at the regent's right, calmly and composedly looking down
+the long board as she arranged her drapery before reseating herself,
+this new favorite of the regent appeared in the full costume of the
+American native! A long soft tunic of exquisitely dressed white leather
+fell below her hips, intricately embroidered in the native bead work of
+America, and stained with great blotches of colors done in the quills of
+the porcupine&mdash;heavy reds, sprightly yellows, and deep blues. Down the
+seams of this loose-fitting tunic depended little waving fringes. The
+belt which caught it at the waist was wrought likewise in beads. Beneath
+the level of the table, as she stood, the inquiring eyes might not so
+clearly see; yet the white leggings, fringed and beaded, and covered by
+a sweeping blanket of snowy buckskin, might have been seen to finish at
+the ankle and blend in texture and ornamentation with tiny shoes, which
+covered the smallest foot yet seen in Paris&mdash;shoes at the side of which
+there dangled the little bells of metal whose tones had told her coming.</p>
+
+<p>Here and there upon the bead work of the native artist, who had made
+this attire at the expense of so much patient effort, there blazed the
+changing rays of real gems, diamonds, rubies, emeralds&mdash;every stone
+known as precious. As the full bosom of the scornful beauty rose and
+fell there were cast about in sprays of light the reflections of these
+gems. Bracelets of dull, beaten metal hung about her wrists. In her hair
+were ornaments of some dull blue stone. Barbaric, beautiful,
+fascinating, savage she surely seemed as she met unruffled the startled
+gaze of these beautiful women of the court, who never, at even the most
+fanciful <i>bal masque</i> in all Paris, had seen costume like to this.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ladies, <i>la voil&agrave;!</i>&quot; spoke the regent. &quot;<i>Ma belle sauvage!</i>&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The newcomer swept a careless courtesy as she took her seat. As yet she
+had spoken no word. The door at the lower end of the hall opened.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;His Grace le Duc de Richelieu,&quot; announced the attendant, who stood
+beneath the board.</p>
+
+<p>There advanced into the room, with slouchy, ill-bred carriage, a young
+man whose sole reputation was that of being the greatest rake in Paris,
+the Duc de Richelieu, half-gamin, half-nobleman, who counted more
+victims among titled ladies than he had fingers on his hands, whose sole
+concern of living was to plan some new impassioned avowal, some new and
+pitiless abandonment. This creature, meeting the salute of the regent,
+and catching at the same moment a view of the regent's guest, found eyes
+for nothing else, and stood boldly gazing at the face of her whom Paris
+knew for the first time and under no more definite title than that of
+&quot;<i>Belle Sauvage</i>.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Pray you, be seated, Monsieur le Duc,&quot; said the regent, calmly, and the
+latter was wise enough to comply.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Your Grace,&quot; said Madame de Sabran, &quot;was it not understood that we were
+to meet to-night none less than the wizard, Monsieur L'as?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Monsieur L'as will be with us, and his brother,&quot; replied Philippe.
+&quot;But now I ask you to bear witness to the shrewdness of your friend
+Philippe in entertainment. I bethought me that, as we were to have with
+us the master of the Messasebe, it were well to have with us also the
+typified genius of that same Messasebe. 'Twas but a little conceit of my
+own. And why&mdash;<i>mon enfant</i>, what is it to you? What do you know of our
+controller of finance?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The face of the woman at his right had suddenly gone white with a pallor
+visible even beneath its rouge and patches. She half turned, as though
+to push back her chair from the board, would have arisen, would have
+spoken perhaps; yet act and gesture were at the time unnoticed.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;His Excellency, Monsieur Jean L'as, <i>le contr&ocirc;leur-g&eacute;n&eacute;ral</i>,&quot; came the
+soft tones of the attendant near the door. &quot;Monsieur Guillaume L'as,
+brother of the <i>contr&ocirc;leur-g&eacute;n&eacute;ral</i>.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The eyes of all were turned toward the door. Every petted belle of
+Paris there assembled shifted bodily in her seat, turning her gaze upon
+that man whose reputation was the talk of all the realm of France.</p>
+
+<p>There appeared now the tall, erect and vigorous form of a man owning a
+superb physical beauty. Powerful, yet not too heavy for ease, his figure
+retained that elasticity and grace which had won him favor in more than
+one court of Europe. He himself might have been king as he advanced
+steadily up the brilliantly-illuminated room. His costume, simply made,
+yet of the richest materials of the time; his wig, highly powdered
+though of modest proportions; his every item of apparel appeared alike
+of great simplicity and barren of pretentiousness. As much might be said
+for the garb of his brother, who stepped close behind him, a figure less
+self-contained than that of the man who now occupied the absorbed
+attention of the public mind, even as he now filled the eager eyes of
+those who turned to greet his entrance.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah, Monsieur L'as, Monsieur L'as!&quot; exclaimed Philippe of Orl&eacute;ans,
+stepping forward to welcome him and taking the hand of Law in both his
+own. &quot;You are welcome, you are very welcome indeed. The soup will be
+with us presently, and the wine of Ai is with us now. You and your
+brother are with us; so all at last is well. These ladies are, as I
+believe, all within your acquaintance. You have been present at the
+<i>salon</i> of Madame de Tencin. You know her Grace the Duchesse de Falari,
+recently Madame d'Artague? Mademoiselle de Caylus you know very well,
+and of course also Mademoiselle A&iuml;ss&eacute;, <i>la belle Circassienne</i>&mdash;But
+what? <i>Diable!</i> Have you too gone mad? Come, is the sight of my guest
+too much for you also, Monsieur L'as?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>There was irritation in the tone with which the regent uttered this
+protest, yet he continued.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Monsieur L'as, 'tis but a little surprise I had planned for you.
+Mademoiselle, my princess of the Messasebe, let me present Monsieur Jean
+L'as, king of the Messasebe, and hence your sovereign! This is my fair
+unknown, whose face I have promised you should see to-night&mdash;this,
+Monsieur L'as, is my princess, the one whom I have seen fit to honor
+this evening by the wearing of the chief gem of France.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The regent fumbled for an instant at his fob. He stepped to the side of
+the faltering figure which stood arrayed in all its savage finery. One
+movement, and upon the dark locks which fell about her brow there blazed
+the unspeakable fires of a stone whose magnificence brought forth
+exclamations of awe from every person present.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;See!&quot; cried Philippe of Orl&eacute;ans. &quot;'Twas on the advice and by the aid of
+Monsieur L'as that I secured the gem, whose like is not known in all the
+world. 'Tis chief of the crown jewels of the realm of France, this
+stone, now to be known as the regent's diamond. And now, as regent of
+France and master for a day of her jewels, I place this gem upon the
+brow of her who for this night is to be your queen of beauty!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The wine of Ai had already done part of its work. There were brightened
+eyes, easy gestures and ready compliance as the guests arose to quaff
+the toast to this new queen.</p>
+
+<p>As for the queen herself, she stood faltering, her eyes averted, her
+limbs trembling. John Law, tall, calm, self-possessed, did not take his
+seat, but stood with set, fixed face, gazing at the woman who held the
+place of honor at the table of the regent.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Come! Come!&quot; cried the latter, testily, his wine working in his brain.
+&quot;Why stand you there, Monsieur L'as, gazing as though spellbound?
+Salute, sir, as I do, the chief gem of France, and her who is most fit
+to wear it!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>John Law stood, as though he had not heard him speak. There swept
+through the softly brilliant air, over the flash and glitter of the
+great banquet board, across the little group which stood about it, a
+sudden sense of a strange, tense, unfamiliar situation. There came to
+all a presentiment of some unusual thing about to happen. Instinctively
+the hands paused, even as they raised the bright and brimming glasses.
+The eyes of all turned from one to the other, from the stern-faced man
+to the woman decked in barbaric finery, who now stood trembling,
+drooping, at the head of the table.</p>
+
+<p>Law for a moment removed his gaze from the face of the regent's guest.
+He flicked lightly at the deep cuff of lace which hung about his hands.
+&quot;Your Grace is not far wrong,&quot; said he. &quot;I regret that you do not have
+your way in planning for me a surprise. Yet I must say to you, that I
+have already met this lady.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What?&quot; cried the regent. &quot;You have met her? Impossible! Incredible!
+How, Monsieur L'as? We will admit you wizard enough, and owner of the
+philosopher's stone&mdash;owner of anything you like, except this secret of
+mine own. According to mademoiselle's own words, it would have been
+impossible.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;None the less, what I have said is true,&quot; said John Law, calmly, his
+voice even and well-modulated, vibrating a little, yet showing no trace
+of anger nor of emotional uncontrol.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But I tell you it could not be!&quot; again exclaimed the regent.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No, it is impossible,&quot; broke in the young Duc de Richelieu. &quot;I would
+swear that had such beauty ever set foot in Paris before now, the news
+would so have spread that all France had been at her feet.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Law looked at the impudent youth with a gaze that seemed to pass
+through him, seeing him not. Then suddenly this scene and its
+significance, its ultimate meaning seemed to take instant hold upon him.
+He could feel rising within his soul a flood of irresistible emotions.
+All at once his anger, heritage of an impetuous youth, blazed up hot and
+furious. He trod a step farther forward, after his fashion advancing
+close to that which threatened him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;This lady, your Grace,&quot; said he, &quot;has been known to me for years. Mary
+Connynge, what do you masquerading here?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>A sudden silence fell, a silence broken at length by the voice of the
+regent himself.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Surely, Monsieur L'as,&quot; said Philippe, &quot;surely we must accept your
+statements. But Monsieur must remember that this is the table of the
+regent, that these are the friends of the regent. We bring no
+recollections here which shall cut short the joy of any person. Sir, I
+would not reprimand you, but I must beg that you be seated and be calm!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Yet the imperious nature of the other brooked not even so pointed a
+rebuke. As though he had not heard, Law stepped yet a pace nearer to the
+woman, upon whom he now bent the blaze of his angered eyes. He looked
+neither to right nor left, but visually commanded the woman until in
+turn her eyes sought his own.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;This woman, your Grace,&quot; said Law, at length, &quot;was for some time in
+effect my wife. This I do not offer as matter of interest. What I would
+say to your Grace is this&mdash;she was also my slave!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sirrah!&quot; cried the regent.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah, Dame!&quot; exclaimed the Duc de Richelieu. And even from the women
+about there came little murmurs of expostulation. Indeed there might
+have been pity, even in this assemblage, for the agony now visible upon
+the brow of Mary Connynge.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Monsieur, the wine has turned your head,&quot; said the regent scornfully.
+&quot;You boast!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I boast of nothing,&quot; cried Law, savagely, his voice now ringing with a
+tone none present had ever known it to assume. &quot;I say to you again, this
+woman was my slave, and that she will again do as I shall choose. Your
+Grace, she would come and wipe the dust from my shoes if I should
+command it! She would kneel at my feet, and beg of me, if I should
+command it! Shall I prove this, your Grace?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, assuredly!&quot; replied the regent, with a sarcasm which now seemed his
+only relief. &quot;Assuredly, if Monsieur L'as should please. We here in
+Paris are quite his humble servants.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Law said nothing. He stood with his biting blue eyes still fixed upon
+Mary Connynge, whose own eyes faltered, trying their utmost to escape
+from his; whose fingers, resting just lightly on the snowy Hollands of
+the table cloth, moved tremulously; whose limbs appeared ready to sink
+beneath her.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Come, then, Mary Connynge!&quot; cried Law at last, his teeth setting
+savagely together. &quot;Come, then, traitress and slave, and kneel before
+me, as you did once before!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Then there ensued a strange and horrible spectacle. A hush as of death
+fell upon the group. Mary Connynge, trembling, halting, yet always
+advancing, did indeed as her master had bidden! She passed from the head
+of the table, back of the chair of the regent, who stood gazing with
+horror in his eyes; she passed the chair of A&iuml;ss&eacute;, near which Law now
+stood; she paused in front of him, and stood as though in a dream. Her
+knees would have indeed sunk beneath her. She drew from her bosom a
+silken kerchief, as though she would indeed have performed the ignoble
+service which had been threatened for her. There came neither voice nor
+motion to those who saw this thing. The sheer force of one strong
+nature, terrible in the intensity of one supreme moment&mdash;this might have
+been the spell which commanded at the table of the regent. Yet this did
+occur.</p>
+
+<p>There came a sound which broke the silence, which caused all to start as
+with swift relief. A sob, short, dry, hard, as from one whose heart is
+broken, came from beyond the place where Law stood facing the trembling
+woman. The eyes of all turned upon Will Law, from whom had burst this
+irrepressible exclamation of agony. Will Law, as one grown swiftly old,
+haggard, broken-down, stood gazing in wide-eyed horror at this woman, so
+humiliated in the presence of all in this brilliantly-lighted hall;
+before the blazing mirrors which should have reflected back naught but
+beauty and joy; under the twining roses, which should have been the
+signs manual of undying love; under the smiling cherubs, which should
+have typified the deities of happy love. Will Law, too, had loved.
+Perhaps still he loved.</p>
+
+<p>This sharp sound served to break also the spell under which Law himself
+seemed held. He cast aloft his arms, as in remorse or in despair. Then
+he extended a hand to the woman who would have sunk before him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;God forgive me! Madam,&quot; he cried. &quot;I had forgot. Savage indeed you are
+and have been, but 'tis not for me to treat you brutally.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Your Grace,&quot; said he, turning toward the regent, &quot;I crave your
+pardon. Our explanations shall reach you on the morrow.&quot;</p>
+
+<center>
+<img src="images/img4.jpg" height="384" width="300"
+alt="Illustration">
+</center>
+
+<p>He turned, and taking his brother by the arm, advanced toward the door
+at which he had recently entered, pausing not to look behind him. Had
+his eye been more curious as he and his half-fainting brother bowed
+before passing through the door, it might have seen that which he must
+long have borne in memory.</p>
+
+<p>Mary Connynge, trembling, pallid, utterly broken, never found her way
+back to the right hand of the regent. She half stumbled into a chair
+near the foot of the table. Her bosom fluttered at the base of the
+throat. Half blindly she reached out her hand toward a glass of wine
+which stood near by, foaming and sparkling, its gem-like drops of keen
+pungency swimming continuously up to the surface. Her hand caught at the
+slender stem of the glass. Leaning upon her left arm, she half rose as
+though to put it to her lips. Her head moved, as though she would follow
+the retreating figure of the man who had thus scornfully used her. All
+at once, slowly, and then with a sudden crash, she sank down upon her
+seat and fell forward across the table. The fragile glass snapped in her
+fingers. The amber wine rushed in swift flood across the linen. In the
+broadening stain there fell and lay blazing the great gem of France.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='BOOK_III_CHAPTER_IX'></a><h3>CHAPTER IX</h3>
+
+<h4>THE NEWS</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>&quot;Lady Kitty! Lady Kitty! Have you heard the news?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Thus, breathless, the Countess of Warrington, Lady Catharine's English
+neighbor in exile, who burst into the drawing-room early in the morning,
+not waiting for announcement of her presence.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Nay, not yet, my dear,&quot; said Lady Catharine, advancing and embracing
+her. &quot;What is it, pray? Has the poodle swallowed a bone, or the baby
+perhaps cut another tooth? And, forsooth, how is the little one?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lady Emily Warrington, slender, elegant, well clad, and for the most
+part languorously calm, was in a state of excitement quite without her
+customary <i>aplomb</i>. She sank into a seat, fanning herself with a vigor
+which threatened ruin to the precious slats of a fan which bore the
+handiwork of Watteau.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The streets are full of it,&quot; said she. &quot;Have you not heard, really?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I must say, not yet. But what is it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, the quarrel between the regent and his director-general, Mr.
+Law.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No, I have not heard of it.&quot; Lady Catharine sought refuge behind her
+own fan. &quot;But tell me&quot; she continued.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But that is not all. 'Twas the reason for the quarrel. Paris is all
+agog. 'Twas about a woman!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You mean&mdash;there was&mdash;a woman?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, it all happened last night, at the Palais Royal. The woman is
+dead&mdash;died last night. 'Tis said she fell in a fit at the very
+table&mdash;'twas at a little supper given by the regent&mdash;and that when they
+came to her she was quite dead.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But Mr. Law&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Twas he that killed her!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Good God! What mean you?&quot; cried Lady Catharine, her own face blanching
+behind her protecting fan. The blood swept back upon her heart, leaving
+her cold as a statue.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why,&quot; continued the caller, in her own excitement to tell the news
+scarce noting what went on before her, &quot;it seems that this mysterious
+beauty of the regent's, of whom there has been so much talk, proved to
+be none other than a former mistress of this same Mr. Law, who is
+reputed to have been somewhat given to that sort of thing, though of
+late monstrous virtuous, for some cause or other. Mr. Law came suddenly
+upon her at the table of the regent, arrayed in some kind of savage
+finery&mdash;for 'twas in fashion a mask that evening, as you must know. And
+what doth my director-general do, so high and mighty? Why, in spite of
+the regent and in spite of all those present, he upbraids her, taunts
+her, reviles her, demanding that she fall on her knees before him, as it
+seems indeed she would have done&mdash;as, forsooth, half the dames of Paris
+would do to-day! Then, all of a sudden, my Lord Director changes, and he
+craves pardon of the woman and of the regent, and so stalks off and
+leaves the room! And now then the poor creature walks to the table,
+would lift a glass of wine, and so&mdash;'tis over! 'Twas like a play! Indeed
+all Paris is like a play nowadays. Of course you know the rest.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>A gesture of negative came from the hand that lay in Lady Catharine's
+lap. The busy gossip went on.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The regent, be sure, was angry enough at this cheapening of his own
+wares before all, and perhaps 'tis true he had a fancy for the woman. At
+any rate, 'tis said that this very morning he quarreled hotly with Mr.
+Law. The latter gave back words hot as he received, and so they had it
+violent enough. 'Tis stated on the Quinquempoix that another must take
+Mr. Law's place. But if Mr. Law goes, what will become of the System?
+And what would the System be without Mr. Law? And what would Paris be
+without the System? Why, listen, Lady Catharine! I gained fifty thousand
+livres yesterday, and my coachman, the rascal, in some manner seems to
+have done quite as well for himself. I doubt not he will yet build a
+mansion of his own, and perhaps my husband may drive for him! These be
+strange days indeed. I only hope they may continue, in spite of what my
+husband says.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And what says he?&quot; asked Lady Catharine, her own voice sounding to her
+unfamiliar and far away.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, that the city is mad, and that this soon must end&mdash;this
+Mississippi bubble, as my Lord Stair calls it at the embassy.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yet I have heard all France is prosperous.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, yes indeed. 'Tis said that but yesterday the kingdom paid four
+millions of its debt to Bavaria, three millions of its debt to
+Sweden&mdash;yet these are not the most pressing debts of France.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Meaning&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, the debts of the regent to his friends&mdash;those are the important
+things. But the other day he gave eighty thousand livres to Madame
+Ch&acirc;teauthiers, as a little present. He gave two hundred thousand livres
+to the Abb&eacute; Something-or-other, who asked for it, and another thousand
+livres to that rat Dubois. The thief D'Argenson ever counsels him to
+give in abundance now that he hath abundance, and the regent is ready
+with a vengeance with his compliance. Saint Simon, that priggish duke,
+has had a million given him to repay a debt his father took on for the
+king a generation ago. To the captain of the guard the regent gives six
+hundred thousand livres, for carrying the fan of the regent's forgotten
+wife; to the Prince Courtenay, two hundred thousand, most like because
+the prince said he had need of it; a pension of two hundred thousand
+annually to the Marquise de Bellefonte, the second such sum, because
+perhaps she once made eyes at him; a pension of sixty thousand livres to
+a three-year-old relative to the Prince de Conti, because Conti cried
+for it; one hundred thousand livres to Mademoiselle Haid&eacute;e, because she
+has a consumption; and as much more to the Duchesse de Falari, because
+she has not a consumption. Bah! The credit of France might indeed, as my
+husband says, be called leaking through the slats of fans.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But, look you!&quot; she went on, &quot;how Mr. Law feathers his own nest. He
+bought lately, for a half million livres, the house of the Comte de
+Tesse; and on the same day, as you know, the H&ocirc;tel Mazarin. There is no
+limit to his buying of estates. This, so says my husband, is the great
+proof of his honesty. He puts his money here in France, and does not
+send it over seas. He seems to have no doubt, and indeed no fear, of
+anything.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lady Warrington paused, half for want of breath. Silence fell in the
+great room. A big and busy fly, deep down in the crystal <i>cylindre</i>
+which sheltered a taper on a near-by table, buzzed out a droning
+protest. The face of Lady Catharine was averted.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You did not tell me, Lady Emily,&quot; said she, with woman's feigned
+indifference, &quot;what was the name of this poor woman of the other
+evening.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, so I had forgot&mdash;and 'tis said that Mr. Law, after all, comported
+himself something of the gentleman. No one knows how far back the affair
+runs, nor how serious it was. And indeed I have seen no one who ever
+heard of the woman before.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And the name?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Twas said Mr. Law called her Mary Connynge.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The big fly, deep down in the crystal cage, buzzed on audibly; and to
+one who heard it, the drone of the lazy wings seemed like the roars of a
+thousand tempests.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='BOOK_III_CHAPTER_X'></a><h3>CHAPTER X</h3>
+
+<h4>MASTER AND MAN</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>John Law, idle, preoccupied, sat gazing out at the busy scenes of the
+street before him. The room in which he found himself was one of a suite
+in that magnificent H&ocirc;tel de Soisson, bought but recently of the Prince
+de Carignan for the sum of one million four hundred thousand livres,
+which had of late been chosen as the temple of Fortuna. The great
+gardens of this distinguished site were now filled with hundreds of
+tents and kiosks, which offered quarters for the wild mob of speculators
+which surged and swirled and fought throughout the narrow avenues,
+contending for the privilege of buying the latest issue of the priceless
+shares of the Company of the Indies.</p>
+
+<p>The System was at its height. The bubble was blown to its last limit.
+The popular delirium had grown to its last possible degree.</p>
+
+<p>From the window these mad mobs of infuriated human beings might have
+seemed so many little ants, running about as though their home had been
+destroyed above their heads. They hastened as though fleeing from the
+breath of some devouring flame. Surely the point of flame was there, at
+that focus of Paris, this focus of all Europe; and thrice refined was
+the quality of this heat, burning out the hearts of those distracted
+ones.</p>
+
+<p>Yet it was a scene not altogether without its fascinations. Hither came
+titled beauties of Paris, peers of the realm, statesmen, high officials,
+princes of the blood; all these animated but by one purpose&mdash;to bid and
+outbid for these bits of paper, which for the moment meant wealth,
+luxury, ease, every imaginable desire. It seemed indeed that the world
+was mad. Tradesmen, artisans, laborers, peasants, jostled the princes
+and nobility, nor met reproof. Rank was forgotten. Democracy, for the
+first time on earth, had arrived. All were equal who held equal numbers
+of these shares. The mind of each was blank to all but one absorbing
+theme.</p>
+
+<p>Law looked over this familiar scene, indifferent, calm, almost moody,
+his cheek against his hand, his elbow on his chair. &quot;What was the call,
+Henri,&quot; asked he, at length, of the old Swiss who had, during these
+stormy times, been so long his faithful attendant. &quot;What was the last
+quotation that you heard?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Your Honor, there are no quotations,&quot; replied the attendant. &quot;'Tis
+only as one is able to buy. The <i>actions</i> of the last issue, three
+hundred thousand in all, were swept away at a breath at fifteen thousand
+livres the share.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ninety times what their face demands,&quot; said Law, impassively.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;True, some ninety times,&quot; said the Swiss. &quot;'Tis said that of this issue
+the regent has taken over one-third, or one hundred thousand, himself.
+'Tis this that makes the price of the other two-thirds run the higher,
+since 'tis all that the public has to buy.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lucky regent,&quot; said Law, sententiously. &quot;Plenty would seem to have been
+his fortune!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He grimly turned again to his study of the crowds which swarmed among
+the pavilions before his window. Outside his door he heard knockings and
+cries, and impatient footfalls, but neither he nor the impassive Swiss
+paid to these the least attention. It was to them an old experience.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Your Honor, the Prince de Conti is in the antechamber and would see
+you,&quot; at length ventured the attendant, after listening for some time
+with his ear at an aperture in the door.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Let the Prince de Conti wait,&quot; said Law, &quot;and a plague take him for a
+grasping miser! He has gained enough. Time was when I waited at his
+door.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The Abb&eacute; Dubois&mdash;here is his message pushed beneath the door.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;My dearest enemy,&quot; replied Law, calmly. &quot;The old rat may seek another
+burrow.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The Duchesse de la Rochefoucauld.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah, then, she hath overcome her husband's righteousness of resolution,
+and would beg a share or so? Let her wait. I find these duchesses the
+most tiresome animals in the world.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The Madame de Tencin.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I can not see the Madame de Tencin.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;A score of dukes and foreign princes. My faith! master, we have never
+had so large a line of guests as come this morning.&quot; The stolid
+impassiveness of the Swiss seemed on the point of giving way.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Let them wait,&quot; replied Law, evenly as before. &quot;Not one of them would
+listen to me five years ago. Now I shall listen to them&mdash;shall listen to
+them knocking at my door, as I have knocked at theirs. To-day I am
+aweary, and not of mind to see any one. Let them wait.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But what shall I say? What shall I tell them, my master?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Tell them nothing. Let them wait.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Thus the crowd of notables packed into the anterooms waited at the
+door, fuming and execrating, yet not departing. They all awaited the
+magician, each with the same plea&mdash;some hope of favor, of advancement,
+or of gain.</p>
+
+<p>At last there arose yet a greater tumult in the hall which led to the
+door. A squad of guardsmen pushed through the packed ranks with the cry:
+&quot;For the king!&quot; The regent of France stood at the closed door of the man
+who was still the real ruler of France.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Open, open, in the name of the king!&quot; cried one, as he beat loudly on
+the panels.</p>
+
+<p>Law turned languidly toward the attendant. &quot;Henri,&quot; said he, &quot;tell them
+to be more quiet.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;My master, 'tis the regent!&quot; expostulated the other, with somewhat of
+anxiety in his tones.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Let him wait,&quot; replied Law, coolly. &quot;I have waited for him.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But, my master, they protest, they clamor&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Very well. Let them do so&mdash;but stay. If it is indeed the regent, I may
+as well meet him now and say that which is in my mind. Open the door.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The door swung open and there entered the form of Philippe of Orl&eacute;ans,
+preceded by his halberdiers and followed close by a rush of humanity
+which the guards and the Swiss together had much pains to force back
+into the anteroom.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;How now, Monsieur L'as, how now?&quot; fumed the regent, his heavy face
+glowing a dull red, his prominent eyes still more protruding, his
+forehead bent into a heavy frown. &quot;You deny entrance to our person, who
+are next to the body of his Majesty?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Did you have delay?&quot; asked Law, sweetly. &quot;'Twas unfortunate.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Twas execrable!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;True. I myself find these crowds execrable.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Nay, execrable to suffer this annoyance of delay!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Your Grace's pardon,&quot; said Law, coolly. &quot;You should have made an
+appointment a few days in advance.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What! The regent of France need to arrange a day when he would see a
+servant!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Your Grace is unfortunate in his choice of words,&quot; replied Law,
+blandly. &quot;I am not your servant. I am your master.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The regent sank back into a chair, gasping, his hand clutching at the
+hilt of his sword.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Seize him! Seize him! To the Bastille with him! The presumer! The
+impostor!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Yet even the guards hesitated before the commanding presence of that man
+whom all had been so long accustomed to obey. With hand upraised, Law
+gazed at them for one instant, and then gave them no further attention.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yet these words I must hasten to qualify,&quot; resumed he. &quot;True, I am at
+this moment your master, your Grace, but two minutes hence, and for all
+time thereafter, I shall no longer be your master. Your Grace was once
+so good as to make me head of certain financial matters, and to give me
+control of them. The fabric of this Messasebe, which you see without,
+was all my own. It was this which made me master of Paris, and of every
+man within the gates of Paris. So far, very well. My plans were honest,
+and the growth of France&mdash;nay, let us say the resurrection of
+France&mdash;the new life of France&mdash;shows how my own plans were made and how
+well I knew that which was to happen. I made you rich, your Grace. I
+gave you funds to pay off millions of your private debts, millions to
+gratify your fancies. I gave you more millions to pay the debts of
+France. France and her regent have again taken a position of honor in
+the eyes of the world. You may well call me master of your fate, who
+have been able to accomplish these things. So long as you knew your
+master, you did well. Now your Grace has seen fit to change masters. He
+would be his own master again. There can not be two in control of a
+concern like this. Sir, the two minutes have elapsed. I am your very
+humble servant!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The regent still sat staring from his chair, and speech was yet denied
+him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There are your people. There is your France,&quot; said Law, beckoning as he
+turned toward the window and pointing to the crowd without. &quot;There is
+your France. Now handle it, my master! Here are the reins! Now drive;
+but see that you be careful how you drive. Come, your Grace,&quot; said he,
+mockingly, over his shoulder. &quot;Come, and see your France!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The audacity of John Law was a thing without parallel, as had been
+proved a hundred times in his strange life and in a hundred places. His
+sheer contemptuous daring brought Philippe of Orl&eacute;ans to his senses. He
+relaxed now in his purpose, changeable as was his wont, and advanced
+towards Law with hand outstretched.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There, there, Monsieur L'as, I did you wrong, perhaps,&quot; said he. &quot;But
+as to these hasty words, pray reconsider them at once. 'Twill have a bad
+effect should a breath of this get afloat. Indeed, 'twas because of some
+such thing that I came to see you this morning. A most unspeakable, a
+most incredible thing hath occurred. It comes to me with certain
+confirmation that there have been shares sold upon the street at twelve
+thousand livres to the <i>action</i>, whereas, as you very well know,
+fifteen thousand should be the lowest price to-day.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And what of that, your Grace?&quot; said Law, calmly. &quot;Is it not what you
+planned? Is it not what you have been expecting?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;How, sirrah! What do you mean?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, I mean this, your Grace,&quot; said Law, calmly, &quot;that since you have
+taken the reins, it is you who must drive the chariot. I shall suggest
+no plans, shall offer no remedy. But, if you still lack ability to see
+how and why this thing has attained this situation, I will take so much
+trouble as to make it plain.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Go on, then, sir,&quot; said the regent. &quot;Is not all well? Is there any
+danger?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;As to danger,&quot; said Law, &quot;we can not call it a time of danger after the
+worst has happened.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What do you mean?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, that the worst has happened. But, as I was about to say, I shall
+tell you how it happened.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The gaze of the regent fell. His hand trembled as he fumbled at his
+sword hilt.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Your Grace,&quot; said Law, calmly, &quot;will do me the kindness to remember
+that when I first asked of you the charter of the Banque G&eacute;n&eacute;rale, to be
+taken privately in the name of myself and my brother, I told you that
+any banker merited the punishment of death if he issued notes or bills
+of exchange without having their effective value safe in his own strong
+boxes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, what of that?&quot; queried the regent, weakly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Nothing, your Grace, except that your Grace deserves the punishment of
+death.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;How, sir! Good God!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;If the truth of this matter should ever become known, those people out
+there, that France yonder, would tear your Grace limb from limb, and
+trample you in the dust!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The livid face of the regent went paler as the other spoke. There was
+conviction in those tones which could not fail to reach even his heavy
+wits.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Let me explain,&quot; went on Law. &quot;I beg your Grace to remember again, that
+when your Grace was good enough to take out of the hands of my brother
+and myself our little bank&mdash;which we had run honorably and
+successfully&mdash;you changed at one sweep the whole principle of honest
+banking. You promised to pay something which was unstipulated. You
+issued a note back of which there was no value, no fixed limit of
+measurement. Twice you have changed the coinage of the realm, and twice
+assigned a new value to your specie. No one can tell what one of your
+shares in the stock of the Indies means in actual coin. It means
+nothing, stands for nothing, is good for nothing. Now, think you, when
+these people, when this France shall discover these facts, that they
+will be lenient with those who have thus deceived them?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yet your theory always was that we had too great a scarcity of money
+here in France,&quot; expostulated the regent.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;True, so I did. We had not enough of good money. We can not have too
+little of false money, of money such as your Grace&mdash;as you thought
+without my knowledge&mdash;has been so eager to issue from the presses of our
+Company. It had been an easy thing for the regent of France to pay off
+all the debts of the world from now until the verge of eternity, had not
+his presses given out. Money of that sort, your Grace, is such as any
+man could print for himself, did he but have the linen and the ink.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The regent again dropped to his chair, his head falling forward upon his
+breast.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But what does it all mean? What shall be done? What will be the
+result?&quot; he asked, his voice showing well enough the anxiety which had
+swiftly fallen upon his soul.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;As to that,&quot; replied Law, laconically, &quot;I am no longer master here. I
+am not controller of finance. Appoint Dubois, appoint D'Argenson. Send
+for the Brothers Paris. Take them to this window, your Grace, and show
+them your people, show them your France, and then ask them to tell you
+what shall be done. Cry out to all the world, as I know you will, that
+this was the fault of an unknown adventurer, of a Scotch gambler, of one
+John Law, who brought forth some pretentious schemes to the detriment of
+the realm. Saddle upon me the blame for all this ruin which is coming.
+Malign me, misrepresent me, imprison me, exile me, behead me if you
+like, and blame John Law for the discomfiture of France! But when you
+come to seek your remedies, why, ask no more of John Law. Ask of Dubois,
+ask of D'Argenson, ask of the Paris Fr&egrave;res; or, since your Grace has
+seen fit to override me and to take these matters in his own hands, let
+your Grace ask of himself! Tell me, as regent of France, as master of
+Paris, as guardian of the rights of this young king, as controller of
+the finances of France, as savior or destroyer of the welfare of these
+people of France and of that America which is greater than this
+France&mdash;tell me, what will you do, your Grace? What do you suggest as
+remedy?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You devil! you arch fiend!&quot; exclaimed the regent, starting up and
+laying his hand on his sword. &quot;There is no punishment you do not
+deserve! You will leave me in this plight&mdash;you&mdash;you, who have supplanted
+me at every turn; you who made that horrible scene but last night at my
+own table, within the very gates of the Palais Royal; you, the murderer
+of the woman I adored! And now, you mocker and flouter of what may be my
+bitterest misfortune&mdash;why, sir, no punishment is sharp enough for you!
+Why do you stand there, sir? Do you dare to mock me&mdash;to mock us, the
+person of the king?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I mock not in the least, your Grace,&quot; said John Law, &quot;nor do aught else
+that ill beseems a gentleman. I should have been proud to be known as
+the friend of Philippe of Orl&eacute;ans, yet I stand before that Philippe of
+Orl&eacute;ans and tell him that that man doth not live, nor that set of
+terrors exist, which can frighten John Law, nor cause him to depart from
+that stand which he once has taken. Sir, if you seek to frighten me, you
+fail.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But, look you&mdash;consider,&quot; said the regent. &quot;Something must be done.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;As I said,&quot; replied Law.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But what is going to happen? What will the people do?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;First,&quot; said Law, judicially, flicking at the deep lace of his cuff as
+though he were taking into consideration the price of a wig or cane,
+&quot;first, the price of a share having gone to twelve thousand livres this
+morning, by two o'clock will be so low as ten thousand. By three
+o'clock this afternoon it will be six thousand. Then, your Grace, there
+will be panic. Then the spell will be broken. France will rub her eyes
+and begin to awaken. Then, since the king can do no wrong, and since the
+regent is the king, your Grace can do one of two things. He can send a
+body-guard to watch my door, or he can see John Law torn into fragments,
+as these people would tear the real author of their undoing, did they
+but recognize him.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But can nothing be done to stop this? Can it not be accommodated?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ask yourself. But I must go on to say what these people will do. All at
+once they will demand specie for their notes. The Prince de Conti will
+drive his coaches to the door of your bank, and demand that they be
+loaded with gold. Jacques and Raoul and Pierre, and every peasant and
+pavior in Paris will come with boxes and panniers, and each of them will
+also demand his gold. Make edicts, your Grace. Publish broadcast and
+force out into publicity, on every highway of France, your decree that
+gold and silver are not so good as your bank notes; that no one must
+have gold or silver; that no one must send his gold and silver out of
+France, but that all must bring it to the king and take for it in
+exchange these notes of yours. Try that. It ought to succeed, ought it
+not, your Grace?&quot; His bantering tone sank into one of half plausibility.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, surely. That would be the solution.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, think you so? Your Grace is wondrous keen as a financier! Now take
+the counsel of Dubois, of D'Argenson, my very good friends. This is what
+they will counsel you to do. And I will counsel you at the same time to
+avail yourself of their advice. Tell all France to bring in its gold, to
+enable you to put something essential under the value of all this paper
+money which you have been sending out so lavishly, so unthinkingly, so
+without stint or measure.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes. And then?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, then, your Grace,&quot; said Law, &quot;then we shall see what we shall
+see!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The regent again choked with anger. Law continued. &quot;Go on. Smooth down
+the back of this animal. Continue to reduce these taxes. The specie of
+the realm of France, as I am banker enough to know, is not more than
+thirteen hundred millions of livres, allowing sixty-five livres to the
+marc. Yet long before this your Grace has crowded the issue of our
+<i>actions</i> until there are out not less than twenty-six hundred millions
+of livres in the stock of our Company. Your Brothers Paris, your
+D'Argenson, your Dubois will tell you how you can make the people of
+France continue to believe that twice two is not four, that twice
+thirteen is not twenty-six!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But this they are doing,&quot; broke in the regent, with a ray of hope in
+his face. &quot;This they are doing. We have provided for that. In the
+council not an hour ago the Abb&eacute; Dubois and Monsieur d'Argenson decided
+that the time had come to make some fixed proportion between the specie
+and these notes. We have to-day framed an edict, which the Parliament
+will register, stating that the interests of the subjects of the king
+require that the price of these bank notes should be lessened, so that
+there may be some sort of accommodation between them and the coin of the
+realm. We have ordered that the shares shall, within thirty days, drop
+to seventy-five hundred livres, in another thirty days to seven thousand
+livres, and so on, at five hundred livres a month, until at last they
+shall have a value of one-half what they were to-day. Then, tell me, my
+wise Monsieur L'as, would not the issue of our notes and the total of
+our specie be equal, one with the other? The only wrong thing is this
+insulting presumption of these people, who have sold <i>actions</i> at a
+price lower than we have decreed.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Law smiled as he replied. &quot;You say excellently well, my master. These
+plans surely show that you and your able counselors have studied deeply
+the questions of finance! I have told you what would happen to-day
+without any decree of the king. Now go you on, and make your decrees.
+You will find that the people are much more eager for values which are
+going up than values which are going down. Start your shares down hill,
+and you will see all France scramble for such coin, such plate, such
+jewels as may be within the ability of France to lay her hands upon.
+Tell me, your Grace, did Monsieur d'Argenson advise you this morning as
+to the total issue of the <i>actions</i> of this Company?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Surely he did, and here I have it in memorandum, for I was to have
+taken it up with yourself,&quot; replied the regent.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;So,&quot; exclaimed Law, a look of surprise passing over his countenance,
+until now rigidly controlled, as he gazed at the little slip of paper.
+&quot;Your Grace advises me that there are issued at this time in the shares
+of the Company no less than two billion, two hundred and thirty-five
+million, eighty-five thousand, five hundred and ninety livres in notes!
+Against this, as your Grace is good enough to agree with me, we have
+thirteen hundred millions of specie. Your Grace, yourself and I have
+seen some pretty games in our day. Look you, the merriest game of all
+your life is now but just before you!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And you would go and leave me at this time?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Never in my life have I forsaken a friend at the time of distress,&quot;
+replied Law. &quot;But your Grace absolved me when you forsook me, when you
+doubted and hesitated regarding me, and believed the protestations of
+those not so able as myself to judge of what was best. And now it is too
+late. Will your Grace allow me to suggest that a place behind stout
+gates and barred doors, deep within the interior of the Palais Royal,
+will be the best residence for him to-night&mdash;perhaps for several nights
+to come?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And yourself?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;As for myself, it does not matter,&quot; replied Law, slowly and
+deliberately. &quot;I have lived, and I thought I had succeeded. Indeed,
+success was mine for some short months, though now I must meet failure.
+I have this to console me&mdash;that 'twas failure not of my own fault. As
+for France, I loved her. As for America, I believe in her to-day, this
+very hour. As for your Grace in person, I was your friend, nor was I
+ever disloyal to you. But it sometimes doth seem that, no matter how
+sincere be one in one's endeavors, no matter how cherished, no matter
+how successful for a time may be his ambitions, there is ever some
+little blight to eat the face of the full fruit of his happiness.
+To-morrow I shall perhaps not be alive. It is very well. There is
+nothing I could desire, and it is as well to-morrow as at any time.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But surely, Monsieur L'as,&quot; interrupted the regent, with a trace of his
+old generosity, &quot;if there should be outbreak, as you fear, I shall, of
+course, give you a guard. I shall indeed see you safe out of the city,
+if you so prefer, though I had much liefer you would remain and try to
+help us undo this coil, wherein I much misdoubt myself.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Your Grace, I am a disappointed man, a man with nothing in the world to
+comfort him. I have said that I would not help you, since 'twas yourself
+brought ruin on my plans, and cast down that work which I had labored
+all my life to finish. Yet I will advise this, as being your most
+immediate plan. Smooth down this France as best you may. Remit more
+taxes, as I said. Depreciate the value of these shares gently, but
+rapidly as you can. Institute great numbers of perpetual annuities.
+Juggle, temporize, postpone, get for yourself all the time you can.
+Trade for the people's shares all you have that they will take. You can
+never strike a balance, and can never atone for the egregious error of
+this over-issue of stock which has no intrinsic value. Eventually you
+may have to declare void many of these shares and withdraw from the
+currency these <i>actions</i> for which so recently the people have been
+clamoring.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That means repudiation!&quot; broke in the regent.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Certainly, your Grace, and in so far your Grace has my extremest
+sympathy. I know it was your resolve not to repudiate the debts of
+France, as those debts stood when I first met you some years ago. That
+was honorable. Yet now the debts of France are immeasurably greater,
+rich as France thinks herself to be. Not all France, were the people and
+the produce of the commerce counted in the coin, could pay the debt of
+France as it now exists. Hence, honorable or not, there is nothing
+else&mdash;it is repudiation which now confronts you. France is worse than
+bankrupt. And now it would seem wise if your Grace took immediate steps,
+not only for the safety of his person, but for the safety of the
+Government.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir, do you mean that the people would dare, that they would presume&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The people are not what they were. There hath come into Europe the
+leaven of the New World. I had looked there to see a nobler and a better
+France. It is too late for that, and surely it is too late for the old
+ways of this France which we see about us. You can not presume now upon
+the temper of these folk as you might have done fifty years ago. The
+Messasebe, that noble stream, it hath swept its purifying flood
+throughout the world! Look you, at this moment there is tumbling this
+house which we have built of bubbles, one bubble upon another, blowing
+each bubble bigger and thinner than the last. Mine is not the only
+fault, nor yet the greatest fault. I was sincere, where others cared
+naught for sincerity. Another day, another people, may yet say the world
+was better for my effort, and that therefore at the last I have not
+failed.&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='BOOK_III_CHAPTER_XI'></a><h3>CHAPTER XI</h3>
+
+<h4>THE BREAKING OF THE BUBBLE</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>It was the evening of the day following that on which John Law and the
+regent of France had met in their stormy interview. During the morning
+but little had transpired regarding the significant events of the
+previous day. In these vast and excited crowds, divided into groups and
+cliques and factions, aided by no bulletins, counseled by no printed
+page, there was but little cohesion of purpose, since there was little
+unity of understanding. The price of shares at one kiosk might be
+certain thousands of livres, whereas a square away, the price might vary
+by half as many livres; so impetuous was the advance of these
+continually rising prices, and so frenzied and careless the temper of
+those who bargained for them.</p>
+
+<p>Yet before noon of the day following the decree of the regent, which
+fixed the value of <i>actions</i> upon a descending scale, the news, after a
+fashion of its own, spread rapidly abroad, and all too swiftly the truth
+was generally known. The story started in a rumor that shares had been
+offered and declined at a price which had been current but a few moments
+before. This was something which had not been known in all these
+feverish months of the Messasebe. Then came the story that shares could
+not be counted upon to realize over eight thousand livres. At that the
+price of all the <i>actions</i> dropped in a flash, as Law had prophesied. A
+sudden wave of sanity, a panic chill of sober understanding swept over
+this vast multitude of still unreasoning souls who had traded so long
+upon this impossible supposition of an ever-advancing market. Reason
+still lacked among them, yet fear and sudden suspicion were not wanting.
+Man after man hastened swiftly away to sell privately his shares before
+greater drop in the price might come. He met others upon the same
+errand.</p>
+
+<p>Precisely the reverse of the old situation now obtained. As all Paris
+had fought to buy, so now all Paris fought to sell. The streets were
+filled with clamoring mobs. If earlier there had been confusion, now
+there was pandemonium. Never was such a scene witnessed. Never was there
+chronicled so swift and utter reversion of emotion in the minds of a
+great concourse of people. Bitter indeed was the wave of agony that
+swept over Paris. It began at the Messasebe, in the gardens of the H&ocirc;tel
+de Soisson, at that focus hard by the temple of Fortuna. It spread and
+spread, edging out into all the remoter portions of the walled city. It
+reached ultimately the extreme confines of Paris. Into the crowded
+square which had been decreed as the trading-place of the Messasebe
+System, there crowded from the outer purlieus yet other thousands of
+excited human beings. The end had come. The bubble had burst. There was
+no longer any System of the Messasebe!</p>
+
+<p>It was late in the day, in fact well on toward night, when the knowledge
+of the crash came into the neighborhood where dwelt the Lady Catharine
+Knollys. To her the news was brought by a servant, who excitedly burst
+unannounced into her mistress's presence.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Madame! Madame!&quot; she cried. &quot;Prepare! 'Tis horrible! 'Tis impossible!
+All is at an end!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What mean you, girl!&quot; cried Lady Catharine, displeased at the
+disrespect. &quot;What is happening? Is there fire? And even if there were,
+could you not remember your duty more seemly than this?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Worse, worse than fire, Madame! Worse than anything! The bank has
+failed! The shares of the System are going down! 'Tis said that we can
+get but three thousand livres the share, perhaps less&mdash;perhaps they will
+go down to nothing. I am ruined, ruined! We are all ruined! And within
+the month I was to have been married to the footman of the Marquis
+d'Allouez, who has bought himself a title this very week!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And if it has fallen so ill,&quot; said Lady Catharine, &quot;since I have not
+speculated in these things like most folk, I shall be none the worse for
+it, and shall still have money to pay your wages. So perhaps you can
+marry your marquis after all.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But we shall not be rich, Madame! We are ruined, ruined! <i>Mon Dieu!</i> we
+poor folk! We had the hope to be persons of quality. 'Tis all the work
+of this villain Jean L'as. May the Bastille get him, or the people, and
+make him pay for this!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Stop! Enough of this, Marie!&quot; said the Lady Catharine, sternly. &quot;After
+this have better wisdom, and do not meddle in things which you do not
+understand.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Yet scarce had the girl departed before there appeared again the sound
+of running steps, and presently there broke, equally unannounced, into
+the presence of his mistress, the coachman, fresh from his stables and
+none too careful of his garb. Tears ran down his cheeks. He flung out
+his hands with gestures as of one demented.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The news!&quot; cried he. &quot;The news, my Lady! The horrible news! The System
+has vanished, the shares are going down!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Fellow, what do you here?&quot; said Lady Catharine. &quot;Why do you come with
+this same story which Marie has just brought to me? Can you not learn
+your place?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But, my Lady, you do not understand!&quot; reiterated the man, blankly.
+&quot;'Tis all over. There is no Messasebe; there is no longer any System, no
+longer any Company of the Indies. There is no longer wealth for the
+stretching out of the hand. 'Tis all over. I must go back to horses&mdash;I,
+Madame, who should presently have associated with the nobility!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, and if so,&quot; replied his mistress, &quot;I can say to you, as I have to
+Marie, that there will still be money for your wages.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Wages! My faith, what trifles, my Lady! This Monsieur L'as, the
+director-general, he it is who has ruined us! Well enough it is that the
+square in front of his hotel is filled with people! Presently they will
+break down his doors. And then, pray God they punish him for this that
+he has done!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The cheek of Lady Catharine paled and a sudden flood of contending
+emotions crossed her mind. &quot;You do not tell me that Monsieur L'as is in
+danger, Pierre?&quot; said she.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Assuredly. Perhaps within the very hour they will tear down his doors
+and rend him limb from limb. There is no punishment which can serve him
+right&mdash;him who has ruined our pretty, pretty System. <i>Mon Dieu!</i> It was
+so beautiful!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Is this news certain?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Assuredly, most certain. Why should it not be? The entire square in
+front of the H&ocirc;tel de Soisson is packed. Unless my Lady needs me, I
+myself must hasten thither to aid in the punishment of this Jean L'as!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You will stay here,&quot; said Lady Catharine. &quot;Wait! There may be need! For
+the present, go!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Left alone, Lady Catharine stood for a moment pale and motionless, in
+the center of the room. She strode then to the window and stood looking
+fixedly out. Her whole figure was tense, rigid. Yonder, over there,
+across the gabled roofs of Paris, they were clamoring at the door of him
+who had given back Paris to the king, and France again to its people.
+They were assailing him&mdash;this man so long unfaltering, so insistent on
+his ambitions, so&mdash;so steadfast! Could she call him steadfast? And they
+would seize him in spite of the courage which she knew would never fail.
+They would kill, they would rend, they would trample him! They would
+crush that glorious body, abase the lips that had spoke so well of love!</p>
+
+<p>The clenched fingers of Lady Catharine broke apart, her arms were flung
+wide in a gesture of resolution. She turned from the window, looking
+here and there about the room. Unconsciously she stopped before the
+great cheval-glass that hung against the wall. She stood there, looking
+at her own image, keenly, deeply.</p>
+
+<p>She saw indeed a woman fit for sweet usages of love, comely and rounded,
+deep-bosomed, her oval face framed in the piled masses of glorious
+red-brown hair. But her wide, blue eyes, scarce seeing this outward
+form, stared into the soul of that other whom she witnessed.</p>
+
+<p>It was as though the Lady Catharine Knollys at last saw another self and
+recognized it! A quick, hard sob broke from her throat. In haste she
+flew, now to one part of the room, now to another, picking up first this
+article and then that which seemed of need. And so at last she hurried
+to the bell-cord.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Quick,&quot; cried she, as the servant at length appeared. &quot;Quick! Do not
+delay an instant! My carriage at once!&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='BOOK_III_CHAPTER_XII'></a><h3>CHAPTER XII</h3>
+
+<h4>THAT WHICH REMAINED</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>As for John Law, all through that fatal day which meant for him the ruin
+of his ambitions, he continued in the icy calm which, for days past, had
+distinguished him. He discontinued his ordinary employments, and spent
+some hours in sorting and destroying numbers of papers and documents.
+His faithful servant, the Swiss, Henri, he commanded to make ready his
+apparel for a journey.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;At six this evening,&quot; said he, &quot;Henri, we shall be ready to depart. Let
+us be quite ready well before that time.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Monsieur is leaving Paris?&quot; asked the Swiss, respectfully.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Quite so.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Perhaps for a stay of some duration?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Quite so, indeed, Henri.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then, sir,&quot; expostulated the Swiss, &quot;it would require a day or so for
+me to properly arrange your luggage.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Not at all,&quot; replied Law. &quot;Two valises will suffice, not more, and I
+shall perhaps not need even these.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Not all the apparel, the many coats, the jewels&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Do not trouble over them.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But what disposition shall I make&mdash;?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;None at all. Leave all these things as they are. But stay&mdash;this package
+which I shall prepare for you&mdash;take it to the regent, and have it marked
+in his care and for the Parliament of France.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Law raised in his hands a bundle of parchments, which one by one he tore
+across, throwing the fragments into a basket as he did so.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The seat of Tancarville,&quot; he said. &quot;The estate of Berville; the H&ocirc;tel
+Mazarin; the lands of Bourget; the Marquisat of Charleville; the lands
+of Orcher; the estate of Roissy&mdash;Gad! what a number of them I find.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But, Monsieur,&quot; expostulated the Swiss, &quot;what is that you do? Are these
+not your possessions?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Not so, <i>mon ami</i>&quot; replied Law. &quot;They once were mine. They are estates
+in France. Take back these deeds. Dead Sully may have his own again, and
+each of these late owners of the lands. I wished them for a purpose.
+That purpose is no longer possible, and now I wish them no more. Take
+back your deeds, my friends, and bear in your minds that John Law tore
+them in two, and thus canceled the obligation.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But the moneys you have paid&mdash;they are enormous. Surely you will exact
+restitution?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sirrah, could I not afford these moneys?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Admirably at the time,&quot; replied the Swiss, with the freedom of long
+service. &quot;But for the future, what do we know? Besides, it is a matter
+of right and justice.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah, <i>mon ami</i>&quot; said Law, &quot;right and justice are no more. But since you
+speak of money, let us take precautions as to that. We shall need some
+money for our journey. See, Henri! Take this note and get the money
+which it calls for. But no! The crowd may be too great. Look in the
+drawer of my desk yonder, and take out what you find.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The Swiss did as he was bidden, but at length returned with troubled
+face.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Monsieur,&quot; said he, &quot;I can find but a hundred louis.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Put half of it back,&quot; said Law. &quot;We shall not need so much.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But, Monsieur, I do not understand.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;We shall not need more than fifty louis. That is enough. Leave the
+rest,&quot; said Law. &quot;Leave it where you found it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But for whom? Does Monsieur soon return?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No. Leave it for him who may be first to find it. These dear people
+without, these same people whom I have enriched, and who now will claim
+that I have impoverished them&mdash;these people will demand of me everything
+that I have. As a man of honor I can not deny them. They shall have
+every jot and stiver of the property of John Law, even the million or so
+of good coin which he brought here to Paris with him. The coat on my
+back, the wheels beneath me, gold enough to pay for the charges of the
+inns through France&mdash;that is all that John Law will take away with him.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The arms of the old servant fell helpless at his side. &quot;Sir, this is
+madness,&quot; he expostulated.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Not so, Henri,&quot; replied Law, leniently. &quot;Madness enough there has been
+in Paris, it is true, but madness not mine nor of my making. For
+madness, look you yonder.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He pointed a finger through the window where the stately edifice of the
+Palais Royal rose.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;My good friend the regent&mdash;it is he who hath been mad,&quot; continued Law.
+&quot;He, holding France in trust, has ruined France forever.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Monsieur, I grieve for you,&quot; said the Swiss. &quot;I have seen your success
+in these years and, as you may imagine, have understood something of
+your affairs as time went on.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And have you not profited by your knowledge in these times?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I have had the salary your Honor has agreed to pay me,&quot; replied the
+Swiss.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And no more?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No more.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, there are serving folk in France by the hundreds who have grown
+millionaires by the knowledge of their employers' affairs these last two
+years in Paris. Never was such a time in all the world for making money.
+Have you been more blind than they? Why did you not tell me? Why did you
+not ask?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I was content with your employment. Monsieur L'as. I would ask no
+better master.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It is not so with certain others. They think me a hard master enough,
+and having displaced me, will do all they can to punish me. But now,
+Henri, you will perhaps need to look elsewhere for a master. I am going
+far away&mdash;perhaps across the seas. It may be&mdash;but I know not where and
+care not where my foot may wander hereafter, nor will I seek now to plan
+for it. As for you, Henri, since you admit you have been thus blind to
+your own interests, let us look to that. Go to the desk again. Take out
+the drawer&mdash;that one on the left hand. So&mdash;bring it to me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The servant obeyed. Law took from his hand the receptacle, and with a
+sweep of his hand poured out on the table its contents. A mass of
+glittering gems, diamonds, sapphires, pearls, emeralds, fell and spread
+over the table top. The light cast out by their thousand facets lit up
+the surroundings with shimmering, many-colored gleams. The wealth of a
+kingdom might have been here in the careless possession of this man,
+whose resources had been absolutely without measure.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Help yourself, Henri,&quot; said Law, calmly, and turned about to his
+employment among the papers. A moment later he turned again to see his
+servant still standing motionless.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well?&quot; said Law.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I do not understand,&quot; said the Swiss.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Take what you like,&quot; said Law. &quot;I have said it, and I mean it. It is
+for your pay, because you have been honest, because I understand you as
+a faithful man.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But, Monsieur, these things have very great value,&quot; said the Swiss.
+&quot;Let me ask how is it that you yourself take so little gold along? Does
+Monsieur purpose to take with him his fortune in gems and jewels
+instead?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;By no means. I purpose taking but fifty louis, as I have said.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Monsieur would have me replace the drawer?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;How do you mean?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, I want none of them.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Because Monsieur wants none of them.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Fie! Your case is quite different from mine.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Perhaps, but I want none of them.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Are you afraid?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Monsieur!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Do you not think them genuine stones?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Assuredly,&quot; said the Swiss, &quot;else why should we have cared for them
+among our gems?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, then, I command you as your master, to take forth some of these
+jewels and keep them for your own.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But no,&quot; replied the Swiss. &quot;It is only after Monsieur.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What? Myself?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Assuredly.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then, for the sake of precedent,&quot; said Law, &quot;let me see. Well, then, I
+will take one gem, only one. Here, Henri, is the diamond which I brought
+with me when I came to Paris years ago. It was the sole jewel owned then
+by my brother and myself, though we had somewhat of gold between us,
+thanks to this same diamond. It was once my sole capital, in years gone
+by. Perhaps we may need a carriage through France, and this may serve to
+pay the hire of a vehicle from one of my late dukes or marquises. Or
+perhaps at best I may send this same stone across the channel to my
+brother Will, who has wisely gone to Scotland, or should have departed
+before this. So, very well, Henri, to oblige you I will take this single
+stone. Now, do you help yourself.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Since Monsieur limits himself to so little,&quot; said the Swiss, sturdily,
+&quot;I shall not want more. This little pin will serve me, and I shall wear
+it long in memory of your many kindnesses.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Law rose to his feet and caught the good fellow by the hand.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;By heaven, I find you of good blood!&quot; said he. &quot;My friend, I thank you.
+And now put up the box. I shall not counsel you to take more than this.
+We shall leave the rest for those who will presently come to claim it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>For some time silence reigned in the great room, as Law, deeply engaged
+in the affairs before him, buried himself in the mass of scattered books
+and papers. Hour after hour wore on, and at last he turned from his
+employment. His face showed calm, pale, and furrowed with a sadness
+which till now had been foreign to it. He arose at last, and with a
+sweep of his arm pushed back the papers which lay before him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There,&quot; said he. &quot;This should conclude it all. It should all be plain
+enough now to those who follow.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Monsieur is weary,&quot; mentioned the faithful attendant. &quot;He would have
+some refreshment.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Presently, but I think not here, Henri. My household is not all so
+faithful as yourself, and I question if we could find cook or servants
+for the table below. No, we are to leave Paris to-night, Henri, and it
+is well the journey should begin. Get you down to the stables, and, if
+you can, have my best coach brought to the front door.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It may not be quite safe, if Monsieur will permit me to suggest.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Perhaps not. These fools are so deep in their folly that they do not
+know their friends. But safe or not, that is the way I shall go. We
+might slip out through the back door, but 'tis not thus John Law will go
+from Paris.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The servant departed, and Law, left alone, sat silent and motionless,
+buried in thought. Now and again his head sank forward, like that of one
+who has received a deep hurt. But again he drew himself up sternly, and
+so remained, not leaving his seat nor turning toward the window, beyond
+which could now be heard the sound of shouting, and cries whose confused
+and threatening tones might have given ground for the gravest
+apprehension. At length the Swiss again reported, much agitated and
+shaken from his ordinary self-control.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Monsieur,&quot; said he, &quot;come. I have at last the coach at the door.
+Hasten, Monsieur; a crowd is gathering. Indeed, we may meet violence.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Law seemed not to hear him, but sat for a time, his head still bowed,
+his eyes gazing straight before him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But, Monsieur,&quot; again broke in the Swiss, anxiously, &quot;if I may
+interrupt, there is need to hasten. There will be a mob. Our guard is
+gone.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;So,&quot; said Law. &quot;They were afraid?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Surely. They fled forthwith when they heard the people below crying out
+at the house. They are indeed threatening death to yourself. They cry
+that they will burn the house&mdash;that should you appear, they will have
+your blood at once.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And are you not afraid?&quot; asked Law.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I am here. Does not Monsieur fear for himself?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Law shrugged his shoulders. &quot;There are many of them, and we are but
+two,&quot; said he. &quot;For yourself, go you down the back way and care for your
+own safety. I will go out the front and meet these good people. Are we
+quite ready for the journey?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Quite ready, as you have directed.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Have you the two valises, with the one change of clothing?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;They are here.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And have you the fifty louis, as I stated?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Here in the purse.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And I think you have also the single diamond.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It is here.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then,&quot; said Law, &quot;let us go.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He rose, and scarce looking behind him, even to see that his orders to
+the servant had been obeyed, he strode down the vast stairway of the
+great h&ocirc;tel, past many precious works of art, between walls hung with
+richest tapestries and noble paintings. The click of his heel on a
+chance bit of exposed marble here and there echoed hollow, as though
+indeed the master of the palace had been abandoned by all his people.
+The great building was silent, empty.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What! Are you, then, here?&quot; he said, seeing the servant had disobeyed
+his instructions and was following close behind him. He alone out of
+those scores of servants, those hundreds of fawning nobles, those
+thousands of sycophant souls who had but lately cringed before him, now
+accompanied the late master of France as he turned to leave the house
+in which he no longer held authority.</p>
+
+<p>Without, but the door's thickness from where he stood, there arose a
+tumult of sound, shouts, cries, imprecations, entreaties, as though the
+walls of some asylum for the unfortunate had broken away and allowed its
+inmates to escape unrestrained, irreclaimable, impossible to control.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Down with Jean L'as! Down with Jean L'as!&quot; rose a cadenced, rhythmic
+shout, the accord of a mob of Paris beating into its tones. And this
+steady burden was broken by the cries of &quot;Enter! Enter! Break down the
+door! Kill the monster! Assassin! Thief! Traitor!&quot; No word of the
+vocabulary of scorn and loathing was wanting in their cries.</p>
+
+<p>Hearing these cries, the face of this fighting man now grew hot with
+anger, and now it paled with grief and sorrow. Yet he faltered not, but
+stepped on, confidently. The Swiss opened the door and stood at the head
+of the flight of stairs. Tall, calm, pale, fearless, John Law stood
+facing the angry mob, his eyes shining brightly. He laid his hand for an
+instant upon his sword, yet it was but to unbuckle the belt. The weapon
+he left leaning against the wall, and so stepped on down toward the
+crowd.</p>
+
+<p>He was met by a rush of excited men and women, screaming, cursing,
+giving vent to inarticulate and indistinguishable speech. A man laid his
+hand upon his shoulder. Law caught the hand, and with a swift wrench of
+the wrist, threw the owner of it to the ground. At this the others gave
+back, and for half a moment silence ensued. The mob lacked just the
+touch of rage to hurl themselves upon him. He raised his hand and
+motioned them aside.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Are you not Jean L'as?&quot; cried one dame, excitedly, waving in his face a
+handful of the paper shares of the latest issue in the Company of the
+Indies. &quot;Are you not Jean L'as? Tell me, then, where is my money for
+these things? What shall I get for this rotten paper?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You are Jean L'as, the director-general!&quot; cried a man, pushing up to
+his side. &quot;'Twas you that ruined the Company. See! Here is all that I
+have!&quot; He wept as he shook his bunch of paper in John Law's face. &quot;Last
+week I was worth half a million!&quot; He wept, and tore across, with
+impotent rage, the bundle of worthless paper.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Down with Jean L'as! Down with Jean L'as!&quot; came the recurrent cry. A
+rush followed. The carriage, towering above the ring of the surrounding
+crowd, showed its coat of arms, and thus was recognized. A paving-stone
+crashed through its heavy window. A knife ripped up the velvets of the
+cushions.</p>
+
+<p>The coachman was pulled from his box. The horses, plunging with terror,
+were cut loose from the pole and led away. With shouts and cries of rage
+and busy zeal, one madman vied with another in tearing, cutting and
+destroying the vehicle, until it stood there ruined, without means of
+locomotion, defaced and useless. And still the ring of desperate
+humanity closed around him who had late been master of all France.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What do you want, my friends?&quot; asked he, calmly, as for an instant
+there came a lull in the tumult. He stood looking at them curiously now,
+his dulling eyes regarding them as though they presented some new and
+interesting study. &quot;What is it that you desire?&quot; he repeated.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;We want our money,&quot; cried a score of voices. &quot;We want back that which
+you have stolen.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You are not exact,&quot; replied Law, calmly. &quot;I have not your money, nor
+yet have I stolen it. If you have suffered by this foolish panic, you do
+not mend matters by thus treating me. By heaven, you go the wrong way to
+get anything from me! Out of the way, you <i>canaille!</i> Do you think to
+frighten me? I made your city. I made you all. Now, do you think to
+frighten me, John Law?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh! You would go away, you want to escape!&quot; cried the voices of those
+near at hand. &quot;We will see as to that!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Again they fell upon the carriage, and still they hemmed him in the
+closer.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;True, I am going away,&quot; said Law. &quot;But you can not say that I tried to
+steal away without your knowing it. There, up the stairs, are my papers.
+You will see in time that I have concealed nothing. Now I am going to
+leave Paris, it is true; but not because I am afraid to stay here. 'Tis
+for other reason, and reason of mine own.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Twas you who ruined Paris&mdash;this city which you now seek to leave!&quot;
+shrieked the dame who had spoken before, still shaking her useless
+bank-notes in her hand.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, very well, my friend. For the argument, let us agree upon that,&quot;
+said Law.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You ruined our Company, our beautiful Company!&quot; cried another.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Certainly. Since I was the originator of it, that follows as matter of
+reason,&quot; replied Law.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah, he admits it! He admits it!&quot; cried yet another. &quot;Don't let him
+escape. Kill him! Down with Jean L'as!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;We are going to kill you precisely here!&quot; cried a huge fellow,
+brandishing a paving-stone before his eyes. &quot;You are not fit to live.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;As to that,&quot; said Law, &quot;I agree with you perfectly. My hand upon it; I
+am not fit to live. I have found that I made mistakes. I have found that
+there is nothing left to desire. I have found out that all this money is
+not worth the having. I have found out so many things, my very dear
+friends, that I quite agree with you. For if one must want to live
+before he is fit to live, then indeed I am not fit. But what then?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Kill him! Kill him! Strike him down!&quot; cried out a voice back of the
+giant with the menacing paving-stone.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, very well, my friends,&quot; resumed the object of their fury, flicking
+again with his old, careless gesture at the deep cuff of his wrist. &quot;As
+you like in regard to that. More than one man has offered me that
+happiness in the past, yet it was many a long year since, any man could
+trouble me by announcing that he was about to kill me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Something in the attitude of the man stayed the hands of the most
+dangerous members of the mob. Yet ever there came the cry from back of
+them. &quot;Down with Jean L'as! He has ruined everything!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Friends,&quot; responded Law to this cry, bitterly, &quot;you little know how
+true you speak. It was indeed John Law who brought ruin to everything.
+It was indeed he who threw away what was worth more than all the gold in
+France. It is indeed he who has failed, and failed most utterly. You can
+not frighten John Law, but you may do as you like with him, for surely
+he has failed!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The bitterness of despair was in his tones. Then, perhaps, the sullen,
+savage crowd had wrought their last act of anger and revenge on him, had
+it not been for a sudden change in that tide of ill fortune that now
+seemed to carry him forward to his doom. There came a sound of far-off
+cries, a distant clacking of hoofs, the clatter of steel, many shouts,
+entreaties and commands. The close-packed crowd which filled the open
+space in front of the h&ocirc;tel writhed, twisted, turned and would have
+sought to resolve itself into groups and individuals. Some cried out
+that the troops were coming. A detachment of the king's household, sent
+out to disperse these dangerous gatherings, came full front down the
+street, as had so often come the arm of the military in this turbulent
+old city of Paris. Remorselessly they rode over and through the mob,
+driving them, dispersing them. A moment later, and Law stood almost
+alone at the steps of his own house. The squadron wheeled, headed by an
+officer, who rode upon him with sword uplifted as though to cut him
+down. Law raised his hand at this new menace.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Stop!&quot; he cried. &quot;I am the cause of this rioting. I am John Law.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What! Monsieur L'as?&quot; cried the lieutenant. &quot;So the people have found
+you, have they?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It would so seem. They have destroyed my carriage, and they would have
+killed me,&quot; replied Law. &quot;But I perceive it is Captain Mirabec. 'Twas I
+who got you your commission, as you may remember.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Is it so?&quot; replied the other, with a grin. &quot;I have no recollection.
+Since you are Jean L'as, the late director-general, the pity is I did
+not let the people kill you. You are the cause of the ruin of us all,
+the cause of my own ruin. Three days more, and I had been a
+major-general. I had nearly the sum in <i>actions</i> ready to pay over at
+the right place. By our Lady of Grace, I am minded to run you through
+myself, for a greater villain never set foot in France!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Monsieur, I am about to leave France,&quot; said Law.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, you would leave us? You would run away?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;As you like. But most of all, I am now very weary. I would not remain
+here longer talking. Henri, where are you?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The faithful Swiss, who had remained close to his employer all the time,
+and who had been not far from his side during the scenes just concluded,
+was in a moment at his side. He hardly reached his master too soon, for
+as he passed his arm about him, the head of Law sank wearily forward. He
+might, perhaps, have sunk to the ground had he lacked a supporting arm.</p>
+
+<p>At this moment there came again the sound of hoofs upon the pavement.
+There was the rush of a mounted outrider, and hard after him sped the
+horses of a carriage, whose driver pulled up close at the curb and
+scarce clear of the little group gathered there. The door of the coach
+was opened, and at it appeared the figure of a woman, who quickly
+descended from the step.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What is it?&quot; she cried. &quot;Is not this the residence of Monsieur Law?&quot;
+The officer saluted, and the few loiterers gave back and made room, as
+she stepped fully into the street and advanced with decision towards
+those whom she saw.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Madam,&quot; replied the Swiss, &quot;this is the residence of Monsieur L'as, and
+this is Monsieur L'as himself. I fear he is taken suddenly ill.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The lady stepped quickly to his side. As she did so, Law, as one not
+fully hearing, half raised his head. He looked full into her face, and
+releasing himself from the arms of his servant, stood thus, staring
+directly at the visitor, his face haggard, his fixed eyes bearing no
+sign of actual recognition.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Catharine! Catharine!&quot; he exclaimed. &quot;Oh God, how cruel of you too to
+mock me! Catharine!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The unspeakable yearning of the cry went to the heart of her who heard
+it. She put out a hand and laid it on his forehead. The Swiss motioned
+toward the house. And even as the officer wheeled his troop to depart,
+these two again ascended the steps, half carrying between them a
+stumbling man, who but repeated mumblingly to himself the same words:</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Mockery! Mockery!&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='BOOK_III_CHAPTER_XIII'></a><h3>CHAPTER XIII</h3>
+
+<h4>THE QUALITY OF MERCY</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>Within the great house there was silence, for the vistas of the wide
+interior led far back from the street and its tumult; nor did there
+arise within the walls any sound of voice or footfall. Of the entire
+household there was but one left to do the master service.</p>
+
+<p>They entered the great hall, passed the foot of the wide stairway, and
+turned at the first <i>entresol</i>, where were seats and couches. The
+servant paused for a moment and looked inquiringly at the lady with whom
+he now found himself in company.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The times are serious,&quot; he began. &quot;I would not intrude, Madame, yet
+perhaps you are aware&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I am a friend of monsieur,&quot; replied Lady Catharine. &quot;He is ill. See, he
+is not himself. Tell me, what is this illness?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Madame,&quot; said the Swiss, gravely, &quot;his illness is that of grief.
+Monsieur's failure sits heavily upon him.&quot;</p>
+
+<center>
+<img src="images/img5.jpg" height="358" width="300"
+alt="Illustration">
+</center>
+
+<p>&quot;How long is it since he slept?&quot; asked the lady, for she noted the
+drooping head of the man now reclining upon the couch.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Not for many days and nights,&quot; replied the Swiss. &quot;He has for the last
+few days been under much strain. But shall I not assist you, Madame? You
+are, perhaps&mdash;pardon me, since I do not know your relationship with
+monsieur&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;A friend of years ago. I knew Mr. Law when he lived in England.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I perceive. Perhaps Madame would be alone for a time? If you please, I
+will seek aid.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>They approached the side of the couch. Law's head lay back upon the
+cushions. His breath came deeply and slowly, not stertorously nor
+labored.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;How strange,&quot; whispered the Swiss, &quot;he sleeps!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Such was indeed the truth. The iron nature, so long overwrought, now
+utterly unstrung, had yielded for the first time to the stress of nature
+and of events. The relief from what he had taken to be death had come
+swiftly, and the reaction brought a lethal calm of its own. If he had
+indeed recognized the face of the woman who had touched him with her
+hand, it was as though he had witnessed her in a vision, a dream bitter
+and troubled, since it was a dream impossible to be true.</p>
+
+<p>The Swiss looked still hesitatingly at the lady who had thus strangely
+come upon the scene, noticing her sweet and tender mouth, her cheeks
+just faintly tinged with pink, her eyes shining with a soft, mysterious
+radiance. She approached the couch and laid both her hands upon the face
+of the unconscious man. Tears sprang within her eyes and fell from her
+dark lashes. The old servant looked up at her, simply.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Madame would be alone with monsieur?&quot; asked he. &quot;It will be better.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lady Catharine Knollys, left alone, gazed upon the sleeper. John Law,
+the failure, lay there, supine, abased, cast-down, undone, shorn utterly
+of his old arrogance of mind and mien. Fortune, wealth, even the boon of
+physical well-being&mdash;all had fled from him. The pride of a superb
+manhood had departed from the lines of this limp figure. The cheeks were
+lined and sunken, the eye, even had the lid not covered it, lacked the
+late convincing fire. No longer commanding, no longer strong, no longer
+gay and debonair, he lay, a man whose fate was failure, as he himself
+had said.</p>
+
+<p>The woman who stood with clasped hands, gazing at him, tears welling in
+her eyes&mdash;she, so closely linked to his every thought for these many
+years&mdash;well enough she knew the story of his boundless ambitions, now so
+swiftly ended. Well enough, too, she knew the shortcomings of this
+mortal man before her. Even as she had in her mirror looked into her own
+soul, so now she saw deep into his heart as he lay there, helpless,
+making no further plea for himself, urging no claim, making no
+explanations nor denials, no asseverations, no promises. Did she indeed
+see and recognize again, as sometimes gloriously happens in this poor
+life of ours, that other and inner man, the only one fit to touch a
+woman's hand&mdash;the man who might have been? Did she see this, and greet
+again the friend of long ago? God, who hath given mercy, remedy alone
+sufficing for the ill that men may do, He alone may know these things.</p>
+
+<p>Could John Law failing be John Law succeeding, and in his most sublime
+success? Upon the wreck and ruin of the old nature could there grow
+another and a better man? Mayhap the answer to this was what the eye of
+woman saw. How else could there have come into this great room, so late
+the scene of turbulent activities, this vast and soothing calm? How else
+could this man's breath come now so deep and regular and content? The
+angels of God may know, they who drop down the gentle dew of heaven.</p>
+
+<p>An hour passed by. A soft tread came to the door, but Henri heard no
+sound, and saw only the prone figure of the sleeper, and beside it the
+form of the woman, who still held his hand in her own. Still the hours
+wore on, and still the watch continued, there under the mysteries of
+Life and of Love, of Mercy and of Forgiveness. And so at last the gray
+dawn broke again. The panes of the high mullioned windows were tinged
+with splashes of color. The pale light crept into the room, slowly
+revealing and lighting up its splendors.</p>
+
+<p>With the dawn there came into the heart of Catharine Knollys a flood of
+light and joy. Why, she knew not; how, she cared not; yet she knew that
+the shadows were gone. The same tide of peace and calm might have swept
+into the bosom of the man before her. He stirred, moved. His eyes opened
+wide, in their gaze wonder and disbelief, yet hope and longing.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Catharine,&quot; he murmured, &quot;Catharine! Is it you? Catharine! Dear Kate!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>She bent over and softly kissed his face. &quot;Dear heart,&quot; she whispered,
+&quot;I have loved you always. Awake. The day has come. There is another
+world before us. See, I have come to you, dear heart, for Faith, and for
+Love, and for Hope!&quot;</p>
+<br />
+
+<br />
+<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 14001 ***</div>
+</body>
+</html>
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+in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES.
+
+Procedures for determining public domain status are described in
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+
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+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for
+eBook #14001 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/14001)
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+The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Mississippi Bubble, by Emerson Hough,
+Illustrated by Henry Hutt
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+
+
+
+Title: The Mississippi Bubble
+
+Author: Emerson Hough
+
+Release Date: November 10, 2004  [eBook #14001]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE***
+
+
+E-text prepared by Rick Niles, John Hagerson, Jon King, and the Project
+Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team
+
+
+
+Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
+      file which includes the original illustrations.
+      See 14001-h.htm or 14001-h.zip:
+      (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/4/0/0/14001/14001-h/14001-h.htm)
+      or
+      (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/4/0/0/14001/14001-h.zip)
+
+
+
+
+
+THE MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE
+
+How the Star of Good Fortune Rose and Set and Rose Again, by a Woman's
+Grace, for One John Law of Lauriston
+
+A Novel by
+
+EMERSON HOUGH
+
+The Illustrations by Henry Hutt
+
+1902
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: (Frontispiece)]
+
+
+
+
+TO
+L.C.H.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+BOOK I
+
+CHAPTER
+
+   I THE RETURNED TRAVELER
+  II AT SADLER'S WELLS
+ III JOHN LAW OF LAURISTON
+  IV THE POINT OF HONOR
+   V DIVERS EMPLOYMENTS OF JOHN LAW
+  VI THE RESOLUTION OF MR. LAW
+ VII TWO MAIDS A-BROIDERING
+VIII CATHARINE KNOLLYS
+  IX IN SEARCH OF THE QUARREL
+   X THE RUMOR OF THE QUARREL
+  XI AS CHANCE DECREED
+ XII FOR FELONY
+XIII THE MESSAGE
+ XIV PRISONERS
+  XV IF THERE WERE NEED
+ XVI THE ESCAPE
+XVII WHITHER
+
+
+BOOK II
+
+ I THE DOOR OF THE WEST
+  II THE STORM
+ III AU LARGE
+  IV THE PATHWAY OF THE WATERS
+   V MESSASEBE
+  VI MAIZE
+ VII THE BRINK OF CHANGE
+VIII TOUS SAUVAGES
+  IX THE DREAM
+   X BY THE HILT OF THE SWORD
+  XI THE IROQUOIS
+ XII PRISONERS OF THE IROQUOIS
+XIII THE SACRIFICE
+ XIV THE EMBASSY
+  XV THE GREAT PEACE
+
+
+BOOK III
+
+   I THE GRAND MONARQUE
+  II EVER SAID SHE NAY
+ III SEARCH THOU MY HEART
+  IV THE REGENT'S PROMISE
+   V A DAY OF MIRACLES
+  VI THE GREATEST NEED
+ VII THE MIRACLE UNWROUGHT
+VIII THE LITTLE SUPPER OF THE REGENT
+  IX THE NEWS
+   X MASTER AND MAN
+  XI THE BREAKING OF THE BUBBLE
+ XII THAT WHICH REMAINED
+XIII THE QUALITY OF MERCY
+
+
+
+
+BOOK I
+
+ENGLAND
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+THE RETURNED TRAVELER
+
+
+"Gentlemen, this is America!"
+
+The speaker cast upon the cloth-covered table a singular object, whose
+like none of those present had ever seen. They gathered about and bent
+over it curiously.
+
+"This is that America," the speaker repeated. "Here you have it,
+barbaric, wonderful, abounding!"
+
+With sudden gesture he swept his hand among the gold coin that lay on
+the gaming table. He thrust into the mouth of the object before him a
+handful of louis d'or and English sovereigns. "There is your America,"
+said he. "It runs over with gold. No man may tell its richness. Its
+beauty you can not imagine."
+
+"Faith," said Sir Arthur Pembroke, bending over the table with glass in
+eye, "if the ladies of that land have feet for this sort of shoon,
+methinks we might well emigrate. Take you the money of it. For me, I
+would see the dame could wear such shoe as this."
+
+One after another this company of young Englishmen, hard players, hard
+drinkers, gathered about the table and bent over to examine the little
+shoe. It was an Indian moccasin, cut after the fashion of the Abenakis,
+from the skin of the wild buck, fashioned large and full for the spread
+of the foot, covered deep with the stained quills of the porcupine, and
+dotted here and there with the precious beads which, to the maker, had
+more worth than any gold. A little flap came up for cover to the ankle,
+and a thong fell from its upper edge. It was the ancient foot-covering
+of the red race of America, made for the slight but effectual protection
+of the foot, while giving perfect freedom to the tread of the wearer.
+Light, dainty and graceful, its size was much less than that of the
+average woman's shoe of that time and place.
+
+"Bah! Pembroke," said Castleton, pushing up the shade above his eyes
+till it rested on his forehead, "'tis a child's shoe."
+
+"Not so," said the first speaker. "I give you my word 'tis the moccasin
+of my sweetheart, a princess in her own right, who waits my coming on
+the Ottawa. And so far from the shoe being too small, I say as a
+gentleman that she not only wore it so, but in addition used somewhat
+of grass therein in place of hose."
+
+The earnestness of this speech in no wise prevented the peal of laughter
+that followed.
+
+"There you have it, Pembroke," cried Castleton. "Would you move to a
+land where princesses use hay for hosiery?"
+
+"'Tis curious done," said Pembroke, musingly, "none the less."
+
+"And done by her own hand," said the owner of the shoe, with a certain
+proprietary pride.
+
+Again the laughter broke out. "Do your princesses engage in shoemaking?"
+asked a third gamester as he pushed into the ring. "Sure it must be a
+rare land. Prithee, what doth the king in handicraft? Doth he take to
+saddlery, or, perhaps, smithing?"
+
+"Have done thy jests, Wilson," cried Pembroke. "Mayhap there is somewhat
+to be learned here of this New World and of our dear cousins, the
+French. Go on, tell us, Monsieur du Mesne--as I think you call yourself,
+sir?--tell us more of your new country of ice and snow, of princesses
+and little shoes."
+
+The original speaker went a bit sullen, what with his wine and the jests
+of his companions. "I'll tell ye naught," said he. "Go see for
+yourselves, by leave of Louis."
+
+"Come now," said Pembroke, conciliatingly. "We'll all admit our
+ignorance. 'Tis little we know of our own province of Virginia, save
+that Virginia is a land of poverty and tobacco. Wealth--faith, if ye
+have wealth in your end of the continent, 'tis time we English fought ye
+for it."
+
+"Methinks you English are having enough to do here close at home,"
+sneered Du Mesne. "I have heard somewhat of Steinkirk, and how ye ran
+from the half-dressed gentlemen of France."
+
+Dark looks followed this bold speech, which cut but too closely to the
+quick of English pride. Pembroke quelled the incipient outcry with
+calmer speech.
+
+"Peace, friends," said he. "'Tis not arms we argue here, after all. We
+are but students at the feet of Monsieur du Mesne, who hath returned
+from foreign parts. Prithee, sir, tell us more."
+
+"Tell ye more--and if I did, would ye believe it? What if I tell ye of
+great rivers far to the west of the Ottawa; of races as strange to my
+princess's people as we are to them; of streams whose sands run in gold,
+where diamonds and sapphires are to be picked up as ye like? If I told
+ye, would ye believe?"
+
+The martial hearts and adventurous souls of the circle about him began
+to show in the heightened color and closer crowding of the young men to
+the table. Silence fell upon the group.
+
+"Ye know nothing, in this old rotten world, of what there is yet to be
+found in America," cried Du Mesne. "For myself, I have been no farther
+than the great falls of the Ontoneagrea--a mere trifle of a cataract,
+gentlemen, into which ye might pitch your tallest English cathedral and
+sink it beyond its pinnacle with ease. Yet I have spoke with the holy
+fathers who have journeyed far to the westward, even to the vast
+Messasebe, which is well known to run into the China sea upon some
+far-off coast not yet well charted. I have also read the story of
+Sagean, who was far to the west of that mighty river. Did not the latter
+see and pursue and kill in fair fight the giant unicorn, fabled of
+Scripture? Is not that animal known to be a creature of the East, and
+may we not, therefore, be advised that this new country takes hold upon
+the storied lands of the East? Why, this holy friar with whom I spoke,
+fresh back from his voyaging to the cold upper ways of the Northern
+tribes, who live beyond the far-off channel at Michilimackinac--did he
+not tell of a river of the name of the Blue Earth, and did he not
+himself see turquoises and diamonds and emeralds taken in handfuls from
+this same blue earth? Ah, bah! gentlemen, Europe for you if ye like, but
+for me, back I go, so soon as I may get proper passage and a connection
+which will warrant me the voyage. Back I go to Canada, to America, to
+the woods and streams. I would see again my ancient Du L'hut, and my
+comrade Pierre Noir, and Tête Gris, the trapper from the Mistasing--free
+traders all. Life is there for the living, my comrades. This Old World,
+small and outworn, no more of it for me."
+
+"And why came you back to this little Old World of ours, an you loved
+the New World so much?" asked the cynical voice of him who had been
+called Wilson.
+
+"By the body of God!" cried Du Mesne, "think ye I came of my own free
+will? Look here, and find your reason." He stripped back the opening of
+his doublet and under waistcoat, and showed upon his broad shoulder the
+scar of a red tri-point, deep and livid upon his flesh. "Look! There is
+the fleur-de-lis of France. That is why I came. I have rowed in the
+galleys, me--me a free man, a man of the woods of New France!"
+
+Murmurs of concern passed among the little group. Castleton rose from
+his chair and leaned with his hands upon the table, gazing now at the
+face and now at the bared shoulder of this stranger, who had by chance
+become a member of their nightly party.
+
+"I have not been in London a fortnight since my escape," said the man
+with the brand. "I was none the less once a good servant of Louis in New
+France, for that I found many a new tribe and many a bale of furs that
+else had never come to the Mountain for the robbery of the lying
+officers who claim the robe of Louis. I was a soldier for the king as
+well as a traveler of the forest. Was I not with the Le Moynes and the
+band that crossed the icy North and destroyed your robbing English fur
+posts on the Bay of Hudson? I fought there and helped blow down your
+barriers. I packed my own robe on my back, and walked for the king, till
+the _raquette_ thongs cut my ankles to the bone. For what? When I came
+back to the settlements at Quebec I was seized for a _coureur de bois_,
+a free trader. I was herded like a criminal into a French ship, sent
+over seas to a French prison, branded with a French iron, and set like a
+brute to pull without reason at a bar of wood in the king's galleys--the
+king's hell!"
+
+"And yet you are a Frenchman," sneered Wilson.
+
+"Yet am I not a Frenchman," cried the other. "Nor am I an Englishman. I
+am no man of a world of galleys and brands. I am a man of America!"
+
+"'Tis true what he says," spoke Pembroke. "'Tis said the minister of
+Louis was feared to keep these men in the galleys, lest their fellows in
+New France should become too bitter, and should join the savages in
+their inroads on the starving settlements of Quebec and Montréal."
+
+"True," exclaimed Du Mesne. "The _coureurs_ care naught for the law and
+little for the king. As for a ruler, we have discovered that a man makes
+a most excellent sovereign for himself."
+
+"And excellent said," cried Castleton.
+
+"None of ye know the West," went on the _coureur_. "Your Virginia, we
+know well of it--a collection of beggars, prostitutes and thieves. Your
+New England--a lot of cod-fishing, starving snivelers, who are most
+concerned how to keep life in their bodies from year to year. New France
+herself, sitting ever on the edge of an icy death, with naught but
+bickerings at Quebec and naught but reluctant compliance from
+Paris--what hath she to hope? I tell ye, gentlemen, 'tis beyond, in the
+land of the Messasebe, where I shall for my part seek out my home; and
+no man shall set iron on my soul again."
+
+He spoke bitterly. The group about him, half amused, half cynical and
+all ignorant, as were their kind at this time of the reign of William,
+were none the less impressed and thoughtful. Yet once more the sneering
+voice of Wilson broke in.
+
+"A strange land, my friend," said he, "monstrous strange. Your unicorns
+are great, and your women are little. Methinks to give thy tale
+proportion thou shouldst have shown shoon somewhat larger."
+
+"Peace! Beau," said Castleton, quickly. "As for the size of the human
+foot--gad! I'll lay a roll of louis d'or that there's one dame here in
+London town can wear this slipper of New France."
+
+"Done!" cried Wilson. "Name the one."
+
+"None other than the pretty Lawrence whom thou hast had under thine
+ancient wing for the past two seasons."
+
+The face of Wilson gathered into a sudden frown at this speech. "What
+doth it matter"--he began.
+
+"Have done, fellows!" cried Pembroke with some asperity. "Lay wagers
+more fit at best, and let us have no more of this thumb-biting. Gad! the
+first we know, we'll be up for fighting among ourselves, and we all know
+how the new court doth look on that."
+
+"Come away," laughed Castleton, gaily. "I'm for a pint of ale and an
+apple; and then beware! 'Tis always my fortune, when I come to this
+country drink, to win like a very countryman. I need revenge upon Lady
+Betty and her lap-dog. I've lost since ever I saw them last."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+AT SADLER'S WELLS
+
+
+Sadler's Wells, on this mild and cheery spring morning, was a scene of
+fashion and of folly. Hither came the élite of London, after the custom
+of the day, to seek remedy in the reputed qualities of the springs for
+the weariness and lassitude resultant upon the long season of polite
+dissipations which society demanded of her votaries. Bewigged dandies,
+their long coats of colors well displayed as they strutted about in the
+open, paid court there, as they did within the city gates, to the
+powdered and painted beauties who sat in their couches waiting for their
+servants to bring out to them the draft of which they craved healing for
+crow's-feet and hollow eyes. Here and there traveling merchants called
+their wares, jugglers spread their carpets, bear dancers gave their
+little spectacles, and jockeys conferred as to the merits of horse or
+hound. Hawk-nosed Jews passed among the vehicles, cursed or kicked by
+the young gallants who stood about, hat in hand, at the steps of their
+idols' carriages.
+
+"Buy my silks, pretty lady, buy my silks! Fresh from the Turkey walk on
+the Exchange, and cheaper than you can buy their like in all the
+city--buy my silks, lady!" Thus the peddler with his little pack of
+finery.
+
+"My philter, lady," cried the gipsy woman, who had left her donkey cart
+outside the line. "My philter! 'Twill keep-a your eyes bright and your
+cheeks red for ay. Secret of the Pharaohs, lady; and but a shilling!"
+
+"Have ye a parrot, ma'am? Have ye never a parrot to keep ye free and
+give ye laughter every hour? Buy my parrot, lady. Just from the Gold
+Coast. He'll talk ye Spanish, Flemish or good city tongue. Buy my parrot
+at ten crowns, and so cheap, lady!" So spoke the ear-ringed sailor, who
+might never have seen a salter water than the Thames.
+
+"Powder-puffs for the face, lady," whispered a lean and weazen-faced
+hawker, slipping among the crowd with secrecy. "See my puff, made from
+the foot of English hares. Rubs out all wrinkles, lady, and keeps ye
+young as when ye were a lass. But a shilling, a shilling. See!" And with
+the pretense of secrecy the seller would sidle up to a carriage of some
+dame, slip to her the hare's foot and take the shilling with an air as
+though no one could see what none could fail to notice.
+
+Above these mingled cries of the hangers-on of this crowd of nobility
+and gentles rose the blare of crude music, and cries far off and
+confused. Above it all shone the May sun, brighter here than lower
+toward the Thames. In the edge of London town it was, all this little
+pageant, and from the residence squares below and far to the westward
+came the carriages and the riders, gathering at the spot which for the
+hour was the designated rendezvous of capricious fashion. No matter if
+the tower at the drinking curb was crowded, so that inmates of the
+coaches could not find way among the others. There was at least magic in
+the morning, even if one might not drink at the chalybeate spring.
+Cheeks did indeed grow rosy, and eyes brightened under the challenge not
+only of the dawn but of the ardent eyes that gazed impertinently bold or
+reproachfully imploring.
+
+Far-reaching was the line of the gentility, to whose flanks clung the
+rabble of trade. Back upon the white road came yet other carriages,
+saluted by those departing. Low hedges of English green reached out into
+the distance, blending ultimately at the edge of the pleasant sky. Merry
+enough it was, and gladsome, this spring day; for be sure the really ill
+did not brave the long morning ride to test the virtue of the waters of
+Sadler's Wells. It was for the most part the young, the lively, the
+full-blooded, perhaps the wearied, but none the less the vital and
+stirring natures which met in the decreed assemblage.
+
+Back of Sadler's little court the country came creeping close up to the
+town. There were fields not so far away on these long highways.
+Wandering and rambling roads ran off to the westward and to the north,
+leading toward the straight old Roman road which once upon a time ran
+down to London town. Ill-kept enough were some of the lanes, with their
+hedges and shrubs overhanging the highways, if such the paths could be
+called which came braiding down toward the south. One needed not to go
+far outward beyond Sadler's Wells of a night-time to find adventure, or
+to lose a purse.
+
+It was on one of these less crowded highways that there was this morning
+enacted a curious little drama. The sun was still young and not too
+strong for comfort, and as it rose back of the square of Sadler's it
+cast a shadow from a hedge which ran angling toward the southeast. Its
+rays, therefore, did not disturb the slumbers of two young men who were
+lying beneath the shelter of the hedge. Strange enough must have been
+the conclusions of the sun could it have looked over the barrier and
+peered into the faces of these youths. Evidently they were of good
+breeding and some station, albeit their garb was not of the latest
+fashion. The gray hose and the clumsy shoes plainly bespoke some
+northern residence. The wig of each lacked the latest turn, perhaps the
+collar of the coat was not all it should have been. There was but one
+coat visible, for the other, rolled up as a pillow, served to support
+the heads of both. The elder of the two was the one who had sacrificed
+his covering. The other was more restless in his attitude, and though
+thus the warmer for a coat, was more in need of comfort. A white bandage
+covered his wrist, and the linen was stained red. Yet the two slept on,
+well into the morn, well into the rout of Sadler's Wells. Evidently they
+were weary.
+
+The elder man was the taller of the two; as he lay on the bank beneath
+the hedge, he might even in that posture have been seen to own a figure
+of great strength and beauty. His face, bold of outline, with well
+curved, wide jaw and strong cheek bones, was shaded by the tangled mat
+of his wig, tousled in his sleep. His hands, long and graceful, lay idly
+at his side, though one rested lightly on the hilt of the sword which
+lay near him. The ruffles of his shirt were torn, and, indeed, had
+almost disappeared. By study one might have recognized them in the
+bandage about the hand of the other. Somewhat disheveled was this
+youth, yet his young, strong body, slender and shapely, seemed even in
+its rest strangely full of power and confidence.
+
+The younger man was in some fashion an epitome of the other, and it had
+needed little argument to show the two were brothers. But why should two
+brothers, well-clad and apparently well-to-do, probably brothers from a
+country far to the north, be thus lying like common vagabonds beneath an
+English hedge?
+
+Far down the roadway there rose a cloud of dust, which came steadily
+nearer, following the only vehicle in sight, probably the only one which
+had passed that morning. As this little dust-cloud came slowly nearer it
+might have been seen to rise from the wheels of a richly-built and
+well-appointed coach. Four dark horses obeyed the reins handled by a
+solemn-visaged lackey on the box, and there was a goodly footman at the
+back. Within the coach were two passengers such as might have set
+Sadler's Wells by the ears. They sat on the same seat, as equals, and
+their heads lay close together, as confidantes. The tongues of both ran
+fast and free. Long gloves covered the arms of these beauties, and their
+costumes showed them to be of station. The crinoline of the two filled
+all the body of the ample coach from seat to seat, and the folds of
+their figured muslins, flowing out over this ample outline, gave to the
+face of each a daintiness of contour and feature which was not ill
+relieved by the high head-dress of ribbons and bepowdered hair. Of the
+two ladies, one, even in despite of her crinoline, might have been seen
+to be of noble and queenly figure; the towering head-dress did not fully
+disguise the wealth of red-bronze hair. Tall and well-rounded, vigorous
+and young, not yet twenty, adored by many suitors, the Lady Catharine
+Knollys had rarely looked better than she did this morning as she drove
+out to Sadler's, for Providence alone knew what fault of a superb vital
+energy. Her eyes sparkled as she spoke, and every gesture betokened
+rather the grand young creature that she was than the valetudinarian
+going forth for healing. Her cheek, turned now and again, showed a
+clear-cut and untouched soundness that meant naught but health. It
+showed also the one blemish upon a beauty which was toasted in the court
+as faultless. Upon the left cheek there was a _mouche_, excessive in its
+size. Strangers might have commented on it. Really it covered a
+deep-stained birth-mark, the one blur upon a peerless beauty. Yet even
+this might be forgotten, as it was now.
+
+The companion of the Lady Catharine in her coach was a young woman,
+scarce so tall and more slender. The heavy hoop concealed much of the
+grace of figure which was her portion, but the poise of the upper body,
+free from the seat-back and erect with youthful strength as yet
+unspared, showed easily that here, too, was but an indifferent subject
+for Sadler's. Dark, where her companion was fair, and with the glossy
+texture of her own somber locks showing in the individual roll which ran
+back into the absurd _fontange_ of false hair and falser powder, Mary
+Connynge made good foil for her bosom friend; though honesty must admit
+that neither had yet much concern for foils, since both had their full
+meed of gallants. Much seen together, they were commonly known, as the
+Morning and Eve, sometimes as Aurora and Eve. Never did daughter of the
+original Eve have deeper feminine guile than Mary Connynge. Soft of
+speech--as her friend, the Lady Catharine, was impulsive,--slow, suave,
+amber-eyed and innocent of visage, this young English woman, with no
+dower save that of beauty and of wit, had not failed of a sensation at
+the capital whither she had come as guest of the Lady Catharine. Three
+captains and a squire, to say nothing of a gouty colonel, had already
+fallen victims, and had heard their fate in her low, soft tones, which
+could whisper a fashionable oath in the accent of a hymn, and say "no"
+so sweetly that one could only beg to hear the word again. It was
+perhaps of some such incident that these two young maids of old London
+conversed as they trundled slowly out toward the suburb of the city.
+
+"'Twould have killed you, Lady Kitty; sure 'twould have been your end to
+hear him speak! He walked the floor upon his knees, and clasped his
+hands, and followed me about like a dog in a spectacle. Lord! but I
+feared he would have thrown over the tabouret with his great feet. And
+help me, if I think not he had tears in his eyes!"
+
+"My friend," said Lady Kitty, solemnly, "you must have better care of
+your conduct. I'll not have my father's old friend abused in his own
+house." At which they both burst into laughter. Youth, the blithely
+cruel, had its own way in this old coach upon the ancient dusty road, as
+it has ever had.
+
+But now serious affairs gained the attention of these two fairs. "Tell
+me, sweetheart," said Lady Catharine, "what think you of the fancy of my
+new dresser? He insists ever that the mode in Paris favors a deep bow,
+placed high upon the left side of the 'tower.' Montespan, of the French
+court, is said to have given the fashion. She hurried at her toilet, and
+placed the bow there for fault of better care. Hence, so must we if we
+are to live in town. So says my new hair-dresser from Paris. 'Tis to
+Paris we must go for the modes."
+
+"I am not so sure," began Mary Connynge, "as to this arrangement. Now I
+am much disposed to believe--" but what she was disposed to believe at
+that time was not said, then or ever afterward, for at that moment there
+happened matters which ended their little talk; matters which divided
+their two lives, and which, in the end, drove them as far apart as two
+continents could carry them.
+
+"O Gemini!" called out Mary Connynge, as the coachman for a moment
+slackened his pace. "Look! We shall be robbed!"
+
+The driver irresolutely pulled up his horses. From under the shade of
+the hedge there arose two men, of whom the taller now stood erect and
+came toward the carriage.
+
+"'Tis no robber," said Lady Catharine Knollys, her eyes fastened on the
+tall figure which came forward.
+
+"Save us," said Mary Connynge, "what a pretty man!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+JOHN LAW OF LAURISTON
+
+
+Unconsciously the coachman obeyed the unvoiced command of this man, who
+stepped out from the shelter of the hedge. Travel-stained, just awakened
+from sleep, disheveled, with dress disordered, there was none the less
+abundant boldness in his mien as he came forward, yet withal the grace
+and deference of the courtier. It was a good figure he made as he
+stepped down from the bank and came forward, hat in hand, the sun, now
+rising to the top of the hedge, lighting up his face and showing his
+bold profile, his open and straight blue eye.
+
+"Ladies," he said, as he reached the road, "I crave your pardon humbly.
+This, I think, is the coach of my Lord, the Earl of Banbury. Mayhap this
+is the Lady Catharine Knollys to whom I speak?"
+
+The lady addressed still gazed at him, though she drew up with dignity.
+
+"You have quite the advantage of us," said she. She glanced uneasily at
+the coachman, but the order to go forward did not quite leave her lips.
+
+"I am not aware--I do not know--," she began, afraid of her adventure
+now it had come, after the way of all dreaming maids who prate of men
+and conquests.
+
+"I should be dull of eye did I not see the Knollys arms," said the
+stranger, smiling and bowing low. "And I should be ill advised of the
+families of England did I not know that the daughter of Knollys, the
+sister of the Earl of Banbury, is the Lady Catharine, and most charming
+also. This I might say, though 'tis true I never was in London or in
+England until now."
+
+The speech, given with all respectfulness, did not fail of flattery.
+Again the order to drive on remained unspoken. This speaker, whose foot
+was now close to the carriage step, and whose head, gravely bowed as he
+saluted the occupants of the vehicle, presented so striking a type of
+manly attractiveness, even that first moment cast some spell upon the
+woman whom he sought to interest. The eyes of the Lady Catharine Knollys
+did not turn from him. As though it were another person, she heard
+herself murmur, "And you, sir?"
+
+"I am John Law of Lauriston, Scotland, Madam, and entirely at your
+service. That is my brother Will, yonder by the bank." He smiled, and
+the younger man came forward, hesitatingly, and not with the address of
+his brother, though yet with the breeding of a gentleman.
+
+The eyes of Mary Connynge took in both men with the same look, but her
+eyes, as did those of the Lady Catharine, became most concerned with the
+first speaker.
+
+"My brother and I are on our first journey to London," continued he,
+with a gay laugh which did not consort fully with the plight in which he
+showed. "We started by coach, as gentlemen; and now we come on foot,
+like laborers or thieves. 'Twas my own fault. Yesterday I must needs
+quit the Edinboro' stage. Last night our chaise was stopped, and we were
+asked to hand our money to a pair of evil fellows who had made prey of
+us. In short--you see--we fared ill enough. Lost in the dark, we made
+what shift we could along this road, where we both are strangers. At
+last, not able to pay for better quarters even had we found them, we lay
+down to sleep. I have slept far worse. And 'tis a lovely morning. Madam,
+I thank you for this happy beginning of the day."
+
+Mary Connynge pointed to the bandage on the younger man's arm, speaking
+a low word to her companion.
+
+"True," said the Lady Catharine, "you are injured, sir; you did not come
+off whole."
+
+"Oh, we would hardly suffer the fellows to rob us without making some
+argument over it," said the first speaker. "Indeed, I think we are the
+better off hereabouts for a brace of footpads gone to their account. I
+made them my duties as we came away. Will, here, was pricked a trifle,
+but you see we have done very well."
+
+The face of Will Law hardly offered complete proof of this assertion. He
+had slept ill enough, and in the morning light his face showed gaunt and
+pale. Here, then, was a situation most inopportune; the coach of two
+ladies, unattended, stopped by two strangers, who certainly could not
+claim introduction by either friend or reputation.
+
+"I did but wish to ask some advice of the roads hereabout," said the
+elder brother, turning his eyes full upon those of the Lady Catharine.
+"As you see, we are in ill plight to get forward to the city. If you
+will be so good as to tell me which way to take, I shall remember it
+most gratefully. Once in the city, we should do better, for the rascals
+have not taken certain papers, letters which I bear to gentlemen in the
+city--Sir Arthur Pembroke I may name as one--a friend of my father's,
+who hath had some dealings with him in the handling of moneys. I have
+also word for others, and make sure that, once we have got into town, we
+shall soon mend our fortune."
+
+Lady Catharine looked at Mary Connynge and the latter in turn gazed at
+her. "There could be no harm," said each to the other with her eyes.
+"Surely it is our duty to take them in with us; at least the one who is
+wounded."
+
+Will Law had said nothing, though he had come forward to the road, and,
+bowing, stood uncovered. Now he leaned against the flank of one of the
+horses, in a tremor of vertigo which seized him as he stood. It was
+perhaps the paleness of his face that gave determination to the issue.
+
+"William," called the Lady Catharine Knollys, "open the door for Mr. Law
+of Lauriston!"
+
+The footman sprang to the ground and held open the door. Therefore, into
+the coach stepped John Law and his brother, late of Edinboro', sometime
+robbed and afoot, but now to come into London in circumstances which
+surely might have been far worse.
+
+John Law entered the coach with the dignity and grace of a gentleman
+born. He bowed gravely as he took his seat beside his brother, facing
+the ladies. Will Law sank back into the corner, not averse to rest. The
+eyes of the two young women did not linger more upon the wounded man
+than upon his brother. He, in turn, looked straight into their eyes,
+courteously, respectfully, gravely, yet fearlessly and calmly, as
+though he knew what power and possibilities were his. Enigma and
+autocrat alike, Beau Law of Edinboro', one of the handsomest and
+properest men ever bred on any soil, was surely a picture of vigorous
+young manhood, as he rode toward Sadler's Wells, with two of the
+beauties of the hour, and in a coach and four which might have been his
+own.
+
+Now all the sweet spring morning came on apace, and from the fields and
+little gardens came the breath of flowers. The sky was blue. The languor
+of springtime pulsed through the veins of those young creatures, those
+engines of life, of passion and desire. Neither of the two women saw the
+torn garb of the man before them. They saw but the curve of the strong
+chest beneath. They heard, and the one heard and felt as keenly as the
+other, the voice of the young man, musical and rich, touching some
+deep-seated and vibrating heart-string. So in the merry month of May,
+with the birds singing in the trees, and the scent of the flowers wafted
+coolly to their senses, they came on apace to the throng at Sadler's
+Wells. There it was that John Law, finding in a pocket a coin that had
+been overlooked, reached out to a vender and bought a rose. He offered
+his flower with a deep inclination of the body to the Lady Catharine.
+
+It was at this moment that Mary Connynge first began to hate her friend,
+the Lady Catharine Knollys.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+THE POINT OF HONOR
+
+
+"Tell me, friend Castleton," said Pembroke, banteringly, "art still
+adhering to thy country drink of lamb's-wool? Methinks burnt ale and
+toasted apple might better be replaced in thy case by a beaker of
+stronger waters. You lose, and still you lose."
+
+"May a plague take it!" cried Castleton. "I've had no luck these four
+days. 'Tis that cursed lap-dog of the duchess. Ugh! I saw it in my
+dreams last night."
+
+"Gad! your own fortune in love must be ill enough, Sir Arthur," said
+Beau Wilson, as he pushed back his chair during this little lull in the
+play of the evening.
+
+"And tell me why, Beau?"
+
+"Because of us all who have met here at the Green Lion these last
+months, not one hath ever had so steady a run of luck. Sure some fairy
+hath befriended thee. _Sept et le va, sept et le va_--I'll hear it in my
+ears to-night, even as Castleton sees the lap-dog. Man, you play as
+though you read the pack quite through."
+
+"Ah, then, you admit that there is some such thing as a talisman. I'll
+not deny that I have had one these last three evenings, but I feared to
+tell ye all, lest I might be waylaid and robbed of my good-luck charm."
+
+"Tell us, tell us, man, what it is!" cried Castleton. "_Sept et le va_
+has not been made in this room before for many a month, yet here thou
+comest with the run of _sept et le va_ thrice in as many hours."
+
+"Well, then," continued Pembroke, still smiling, "I'll make a small
+confession. Here is my charm. Salute it!"
+
+He cast on the table the Indian moccasin which had been shown the same
+party at the Green Lion a few evenings before. Eager hands reached for
+it.
+
+"Treachery!" cried Castleton. "I bid Du Mesne four pounds for the shoe
+myself."
+
+"Oh ho!" said Pembroke, "so you too were after it. Well, the long purse
+won, as it doth ever. I secretly gave our wandering wood ranger,
+ex-galley slave of France, the neat sum of twenty-five pounds for this
+little shoe. Poor fellow, he liked ill enough to part with it; but he
+said, very sensibly, that the twenty-five pounds would take him back to
+Canada, and once there, he could not only get many such shoes, but see
+the maid who made this one for him, or, rather, made it for herself. As
+for me, the price was cheap. You could not replace it in all the
+Exchange for any money. Moreover, to show my canniness, I've won back
+its cost a score of times this very night."
+
+He laughingly extended his hand for the moccasin, which Wilson was
+examining closely.
+
+"'Tis clever made," said the latter. "And what a tale the owner of it
+carried. If half he says be true, we do ill to bide here in old England.
+Let us take ship and follow Monsieur du Mesne."
+
+"'Twould be a long chase, mayhap," said Pembroke, reflectively. Yet each
+of the men at that little table in the gaming room of the Green Lion
+coffee-house ceased in his fingering the cards, and gazed upon this
+product of another world.
+
+Pembroke was first to break the silence, and as he heard a footfall at
+the door, he called out:
+
+"Ho, fellow! Go fetch me another bottle of Spanish, and do not forget
+this time the brandy and water which I told thee to bring half an hour
+ago."
+
+The step came nearer, and as it did not retreat, but entered the room,
+Pembroke called out again: "Make haste, man, and go on!"
+
+The footsteps paused, and Pembroke looked up, as one does when a strange
+presence comes into the room. He saw, standing near the door, a tall and
+comely young man, whose carriage betokened him not ill-born. The
+stranger advanced and bowed gravely. "Pardon me, sir," he said, "but I
+fear I am awkward in thus intruding. The man showed me up the stair and
+bade me enter. He said that I should find here Sir Arthur Pembroke, upon
+whom I bear letters from friends of his in the North."
+
+"Sir," said Pembroke, rising and advancing, "you are very welcome, and I
+ask pardon for my unwitting speech."
+
+"I come at this hour and at this place," said the newcomer, "for reasons
+which may seem good a little later. My name is John Law, of Edinboro',
+sir."
+
+All those present arose.
+
+"Sir," responded Pembroke, "I am delighted to have your name. I know of
+the acquaintance between your father and my own. These are friends of
+mine, and I am delighted to name ye to each other. Mr. Charles
+Castleton; Mr. Edward Wilson. We are all here to kill the ancient enemy,
+Time. 'Tis an hour of night when one gains an appetite for one thing or
+another, cards or cold joint. I know not why we should not have a bit of
+both?"
+
+"With your permission, I shall be glad to join ye at either," said John
+Law. "I have still the appetite of a traveler--in faith, rather a better
+appetite than most travelers may claim, for I swear I've had no more to
+eat the last day and night than could be purchased for a pair of
+shillings."
+
+Pembroke raised his eyebrows, scarce knowing whether to be amused at
+this speech or nettled by its cool assurance.
+
+"Some ill fortune?"--he began politely.
+
+"There is no such thing as ill fortune," quoth John Law. "We fail always
+of our own fault. Forsooth I must explore Roman roads by night. England
+hath builded better, and the footpads have the Roman ways. My brother
+Will--he waiteth below, if ye please, good friends, and is quite as
+hungry as myself, besides having a pricked finger to boot--and I lost
+what little we had about us, and we came through with scarce a good
+shirt between the two."
+
+A peal of laughter greeted him as he pulled apart the lapels of his coat
+and showed ruffles torn and disfigured. The speaker smiled gravely.
+
+"To-morrow," said he, "I must seek me out a goldsmith and a haberdasher,
+if you will be so good as to name such to me."
+
+"Sir," said Sir Arthur Pembroke, "in this plight you must allow me." He
+extended a purse which he drew from his pocket. "I beg you, help
+yourself."
+
+"Thank you, no," replied John Law. "I shall ask you only to show me the
+goldsmith in the morning, him upon whom I hold certain credits. I make
+no doubt that then I shall be quite fit again. I have never in my life
+borrowed a coin. Besides, I should feel that I had offended my good
+angel did I ask it to help me out of mine own folly. If we have but a
+bit of this cold joint, and a place for my brother Will to sit in
+comfort as we play, I shall beg to hope, my friends, that I shall be
+allowed to stake this trifle against a little of the money that I see
+here; which, I take it, is subject to the fortunes of war."
+
+He tossed on the board a ring, which carried in its setting a diamond of
+size and brilliance.
+
+"This fellow hath a cool assurance enough," muttered Beau Wilson to his
+neighbor as he leaned toward him at the table.
+
+Pembroke, always good-natured, laughed at the effrontery of the
+newcomer.
+
+"You say very well; it is there for the fortune of war," said he. "It is
+all yours, if you can win it; but I warn you, beware, for I shall have
+your jewel and your letters of credit too, if ye keep not sharp watch."
+
+"Yes," said Castleton, "Pembroke hath warrant for such speech. The man
+who can make _sept et le va_ thrice in one evening is hard company for
+his friends."
+
+John Law leaned back comfortably in his chair.
+
+"I make no doubt," said he, "that I shall make _trente et le va_, here
+at this table, this very evening."
+
+Smiles and good-natured sneerings met this calm speech.
+
+"_Trente et le va_--it hath not come out in the history of London play
+for the past four seasons!" cried Wilson. "I'll lay you any odds that
+you're not within eye-sight of _trente et le va_ these next five
+evenings, if you favor us with your company."
+
+"Be easy with me, good friends," said John. Law, calmly. "I am not yet
+in condition for individual wagers, as my jewel is my fortune, till
+to-morrow at least. But if ye choose to make the play at Lands-knecht, I
+will plunge at the bank to the best of my capital. Then, if I win, I
+shall be blithe to lay ye what ye like."
+
+The young Englishmen sat looking at their guest with some curiosity. His
+strange assurance daunted them.
+
+"Surely this is a week of wonders," said Beau Wilson, with scarce
+covered sarcasm in his tone. "First we have a wild man from Canada, with
+his fairy stories of gold and gems, and now we have another gentleman
+who apparently hath fathomed as well how to gain sudden wealth at will,
+and yet keep closer home."
+
+Law took snuff calmly. "I am not romancing, gentlemen," said he. "With
+me play is not a hazard, but a science. I ought really not to lay on
+even terms with you. As I have said, there is no such thing as chance.
+There are such things as recurrences, such things as laws that govern
+all happenings."
+
+Laughter arose again at this, though it did not disturb the newcomer,
+nor did the cries of derision which followed his announcement of his
+system.
+
+"Many a man hath come to London town with a system of play," cried
+Pembroke. "Tell us, Mr. Law, what and where shall we send thee when we
+have won thy last sixpence?"
+
+"Good sir," said Law, "let us first of all have the joint."
+
+"I humbly crave a pardon, sir," said Pembroke. "In this new sort of
+discourse I had forgot thine appetite. We shall mend that at once. Here,
+Simon! Go fetch up Mr. Law's brother, who waits below, and fetch two
+covers and a bit to eat. Some of thy new Java berry, too, and make
+haste! We have much yet to do."
+
+"That have ye, if ye are to see the bottom of my purse more than once,"
+said Law gaily. "See! 'tis quite empty now. I make ye all my solemn
+promise that 'twill not be empty again for twenty years. After
+that--well, the old Highland soothsayer, who dreamed for me, always told
+me to forswear play after I was forty, and never to go too near running
+water. Of the latter I was born with a horror. For play, I was born with
+a gift. Thus I foresee that this little feat which you mention is sure
+to be mine this very night. You all say that _trente_ has not come up
+for many months. Well, 'tis due, and due to-night. The cards never fail
+me when I need."
+
+"By my faith," cried Wilson, "ye have a pretty way about you up in
+Scotland!"
+
+John Law saw the veiled ill feeling, and replied at once:
+
+"True, we have a pretty way. We had it at Killiecrankie not so long ago;
+and when the clans fight among themselves, we need still prettier ways."
+
+"Now, gentlemen," said Pembroke, "none of this talk, by your leave. The
+odds are fairer here than they were at Killiecrankie's battle, and 'tis
+all of us against the Scotch again. We English stand together, but we
+stand to-night only against this threat of the ultimate fortune of the
+cards. Moreover, here comes the supper, and if I mistake not, also the
+brother of our friend."
+
+Will bowed to one and the other gentlemen, unconsciously drifting toward
+his brother's chair.
+
+"Now we must to business," cried Castleton, as the dishes were at last
+cleared away. "Show him thy talisman, Pem, and let him kiss his jewel
+good by."
+
+Pembroke threw upon the table once more the moccasin of the Indian girl.
+John Law picked it up and examined it long and curiously, asking again
+and again searching questions regarding its origin.
+
+"I have read of this new land of America," said he. "Some day it will be
+more prominent in all plans."
+
+He laid down the slipper and mused for a moment, apparently forgetful of
+the scene about him.
+
+"Perhaps," cried Castleton, the zeal of the gambler now showing in his
+eye. "But let us make play here to-night. Let Pembroke bank. His luck is
+best to win this vaunter's stake."
+
+Pembroke dealt the cards about for the first round. The queen fell. John
+Law won. "_Deux_," he said calmly, and turned away as though it were a
+matter of course. The cards went round again. "_Trois_," he said, as he
+glanced at his stakes, now doubled again.
+
+Wilson murmured. "Luck's with him for a start," said he, "but 'tis a
+long road." He himself had lost at the second turn. "_Quint_!" "_Seix_!"
+"_Sept et le va_!" in turn called Law, still coolly, still regarding with
+little interest the growing heap of coin upon the board opposite the
+glittering ring which he had left lying on the table.
+
+"_Vingt-un, et le va_!"
+
+"Good God!" cried Castleton, the sweat breaking out upon his forehead.
+"See the fellow's luck!--Pembroke, sure he hath stole thy slipper. Such
+a run of cards was never seen in this room since Rigby, of the Tenth,
+made his great game four years ago."
+
+"_Vingt-cinq; et le va_!" said John Law, calmly.
+
+Will touched his sleeve. The stake had now grown till the money on the
+hoard meant a matter of hundreds of pounds, which might he removed at
+any turn the winner chose. It was there but for the stretching out of
+the hand. Yet this strange genius sat there, scarce deigning to smile at
+the excited faces of those about him.
+
+"I'll lay thee fifty to one that the next turn sees thee lose!" cried
+Castleton.
+
+"Done," said John Law.
+
+The iciness in the air seemed now an actual thing. There was, in the
+nature of this play, something which no man at that board, hardened
+gamesters as they all were, had ever met before. It was indeed as though
+Fate were there, with her hand upon the shoulder of a favored son.
+
+"You lose, Mr. Castleton," said Law, calmly, as the cards came again his
+way. He swept his winnings from the coin pushed out to him.
+
+"Now we have thee, Mr. Law!" cried Pembroke. "One more turn, and I hope
+your very good nerve will leave the stake on the board, for so we'll see
+it all come back to the bank, even as the sheep come home at eventide.
+Here your lane turns. And 'tis at the last stage, for the next is the
+limit of the rules of the game. But you'll not win it."
+
+"Anything you like for a little personal wager," said the other, with no
+excitement in his voice.
+
+"Why, then, anything you like yourself, sir," said Pembroke.
+
+"Your little slipper against fifty pounds?" asked John Law.
+
+"Why--yes--," hesitated Pembroke, for the moment feeling a doubt of the
+luck that had favored him so long that evening. "I'd rather make it
+sovereigns, but since you name the slipper, I even make it so, for I
+know there is but one chance in hundreds that you win."
+
+The players leaned over the table as the deal went on. Once, twice,
+thrice, the cards went round. A sigh, a groan, a long breath broke from
+those who looked at the deal. Neither groan nor sigh came from John Law.
+He gazed indifferently at the heap of coin and paper that lay on the
+table, and which, by the law of play, was now his own.
+
+"_Trente et le va_," he said. "I knew that it would come. Sir Arthur, I
+half regret to rob thee thus, but I shall ask my slipper in hand paid.
+Pardon me, too, if I chide thee for risking it in play. Gentlemen, there
+is much in this little shoe, empty as it is."
+
+He dandled it upon his finger, hardly looking at the winnings that lay
+before him. "'Tis monstrous pretty, this little shoe," he said, rousing
+himself from his half reverie.
+
+"Confound thee, man!" cried Castleton, "that is the only thing we
+grudge. Of sovereigns there are plenty at the coinage--but of a shoe
+like this, there is not the equal this day in England!"
+
+"So?" laughed Law. "Well, consider, 'tis none too easy to make the run
+of _trente_. Risk hath its gains, you know, by all the original laws of
+earth and nature."
+
+"But heard you not the wager which was proposed over the little shoe?"
+broke in Castleton. "Wilson, here, was angered when I laid him odds that
+there was but one woman in London could wear this shoe. I offered him
+odds that his good friend, Kittie Lawrence--"
+
+"Nor had ye the right to offer such bet!" cried Wilson, ruffled by the
+doings of the evening.
+
+"I'll lay you myself there's no woman in England whom you know with foot
+small enough to wear it," cried Castleton.
+
+"Meaning to me?" asked Law, politely.
+
+"To any one," cried Castleton, quickly, "but most to thee, I fancy,
+since 'tis now thy shoe!"
+
+"I'll lay you forty crowns, then, that I know a smaller foot than that
+of Madam Lawrence," said Law, suavely. "I'll lay you another forty
+crowns that I'll try it on for the test, though I first saw the lady
+this very morning. I'll lay you another forty crowns that Madam Lawrence
+can not wear this shoe, though her I have never seen."
+
+These words rankled, though they were said offhand and with the license
+of coffee-house talk at so late an hour. Beau Wilson rose, in a somewhat
+unsteady attitude, and, turning towards Law, addressed him with a tone
+which left small option as to its meaning.
+
+"Sirrah!" cried he, "I know not who you are, but I would have a word or
+two of good advice for you!"
+
+"Sir, I thank you," said John Law, "but perhaps I do not need advice."
+He did not rise from his seat.
+
+"Have it then at any rate, and be civil!" cried the older man. "You seem
+a swaggering sort, with your talk of love and luck, and such are sure to
+get their combs cut early enough here among Englishmen. I'll not
+tolerate your allusion to a lady you have never met, and one I honor
+deeply, sir, deeply!"
+
+"I am but a young man started out to seek his fortune," said John Law,
+his eye kindling now for the first time, "and I should do very ill if I
+evaded that fortune, whatsoever it may be."
+
+"Then you'll take back that talk of Mrs. Lawrence!"
+
+"I have made no talk of Mrs. Lawrence, sir," said Law, "and even had I,
+I should take back nothing for a demand like yours. 'Tis not meet, sir,
+where no offense was meant, to crowd in an offensive remark."
+
+Pembroke said nothing. The situation was ominous enough at this point. A
+sudden gravity and dignity fell upon the young men who sat there,
+schooled in an etiquette whose first lesson was that of personal
+courage.
+
+"Sirrah!" cried Beau Wilson, "I perceive your purpose. If you prove good
+enough to name lodgings where you may he found by my friends, I shall
+ask leave to bid you a very good night."
+
+So speaking, Wilson flung out of the room. A silence fell upon those
+left within.
+
+"Sirs," said Law, a moment later, "I beg you to bear witness that this
+is no matter of my seeking or accepting. This gentleman is a stranger to
+me. I hardly got his name fair."
+
+"Wilson is his name, sir," said Pembroke, "a very good friend of us all.
+He is of good family, and doth keep his coach-and-four like any
+gentleman. For him we may vouch very well."
+
+"Wilson!" cried Law, springing now to his feet. "'Tis not him known as
+Beau Wilson? Why, my dear sirs, his father was friend to many of my kin
+long ago. Why, sir, this is one of those to whom my mother bade me look
+to get my first ways of London well laid out."
+
+"These are some of the ways of London," said Pembroke, grimly.
+
+"But is there no fashion in which this matter can be accommodated?"
+
+Pembroke and Castleton looked at each other, rose and passed him, each
+raising his hat and bowing courteously.
+
+"Your servant, sir," said the one; and, "Your servant, sir," said the
+other.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+DIVERS EMPLOYMENTS OF JOHN LAW
+
+
+"And when shall I send these garments to your Lordship?" asked the
+haberdasher, with whom Law was having speech on the morning following
+the first night in London.
+
+"Two weeks from to-day," said Law, "in the afternoon, and not later than
+four o'clock. I shall have need for them."
+
+"Impossible!" said the tradesman, hitherto obsequious, but now smitten
+with the conviction regarding the limits of human possibilities.
+
+"At that hour, or not at all," said John Law, calmly. "At that time I
+shall perhaps be at my lodgings, 59 Bradwell Street, West. As I have
+said to you, I am not clad as I could wish. It is not a matter of your
+convenience, but of mine own."
+
+"But, sir," expostulated the other, "you order of the best. Nothing, I
+am sure, save the utmost of good workmanship would please you. I should
+like a month of time upon these garments, in order to make them worthy
+of yourself. Moreover, there are orders of the nobility already in our
+hands will occupy us more than past the time you name. Make it three
+weeks, sir, and I promise--"
+
+His customer only shook his head and reiterated, "You heard me well."
+
+The tailor, sore puzzled, not wishing to lose a customer who came so
+well recommended, and yet hesitating at the exactions of that customer,
+sat with perplexity written upon his brow.
+
+"So!" exclaimed Law. "Sir Arthur Pembroke told me that you were a clever
+fellow and could execute exact any order I might give you. Now it
+appears to me you are like everybody else. You prate only of hardships
+and of impossibilities."
+
+The perspiration fairly stood out on the forehead of the man of trade.
+
+"Sir," said he, "I should be glad to please not only a friend of Sir
+Arthur Pembroke, but also a gentleman of such parts as yourself. I
+hesitate to promise--"
+
+"But you must promise," said John Law.
+
+"Well, then, I do promise! I will have this apparel at your place on the
+day which you name. 'Tis most extraordinary, but the order shall be
+executed."
+
+"As I thought," said John Law.
+
+"But I must thank you besides," resumed the tradesman. "In good truth I
+must say that of all the young gentlemen who come hither--and I may show
+the names of the best nobility of London and of some ports beyond
+seas--there hath never stepped within these doors a better figure than
+yourself--nay, not so good. And I am a judge of men."
+
+Law looked at him carelessly.
+
+"You shall make me none the easier, nor yourself the easier, by soft
+speech," said he, "if you have not these garments ready by the time
+appointed. Send them, and you shall have back the fifty sovereigns by
+the messenger, with perhaps a coin or so in addition if all be well."
+
+"The air of this nobility!" said the tailor, but smiling with pleasure
+none the less. "This is, perhaps, some affair with a lady?" he added.
+
+"'Tis an affair with a lady, and also with certain gentlemen."
+
+"Oh, so," said the tailor. "If it he, forsooth, an enterprise with a
+lady, methinks I know the outcome now." He gazed with professional pride
+upon the symmetrical figure before him. "You shall be all the better
+armed when well fitted in my garments. Not all London shall furnish a
+properer figure of a man, nor one better clad, when I shall have done
+with you, sir."
+
+Law but half heard him, for he was already turning toward the door,
+where he beckoned again for his waiting chair.
+
+"To the offices of the Bank of England," he directed. And forthwith he
+was again jogging through the crowded streets of London.
+
+The offices of the Bank of England, to which this young adventurer now
+so nonchalantly directed his course, were then not housed in any such
+stately edifice as that which now covers the heart of the financial
+world, nor did the location of the young and struggling institution, in
+a by-street of the great city, tend to give dignity to a concern which
+still lacked importance and assuredness. Thither, then, might have gone
+almost any young traveler who needed a letter of credit cashed, or a
+bill changed after the fashion of the passing goldsmiths.
+
+Yet it was not as mere transient customer of a money-changer that young
+Law now sought the Bank of England, nor was it as a commercial house
+that the bank then commanded attention. That bank, young as it was, had
+already become a pillar of the throne of England. William, distracted by
+wars abroad and factions at home, found his demands for funds ever in
+excess of the supply. More than that, the people of England discovered
+themselves in possession of a currency fluctuating, mutilated, and
+unstable, so that no man knew what was his actual fortune. The shrewd
+young financier, Montague, chancellor of the exchequer, who either by
+wisdom or good fortune had sanctioned the founding of the Bank of
+England, was at this very time addressing himself to the question of a
+recoinage of the specie of the realm of England. He needed help, he
+demanded ideas; nor was he too particular whence he obtained either the
+one or the other.
+
+John Law was in London on no such blind quest as he had himself
+declared. He was here by the invitation, secret yet none the less
+obligatory, of Montague, controller of the financial policy of England.
+And he was to meet, here upon this fair morning, none less than my Lord
+Somers, keeper of the seals; none less than Sir Isaac Newton, the
+greatest mathematician of his time; none less than John Locke, the most
+learned philosopher of the day. Strong company this, for a young and
+unknown man, yet in the belief of Montague, himself a young man and a
+gambler by instinct, not too strong for this young Scotchman who had
+startled the Parliament of his own land by some of the most remarkable
+theories of finance which had ever been proposed in any country or to
+any government. As Law had himself arrogantly announced, he was indeed a
+philosopher and a mathematician, young as he was; and these things
+Montague was himself keen enough to know.
+
+It promised, then, to be a strange and interesting council, this which
+was to meet to-day at the Bank of England, to adjust the value of
+England's coinage; two philosophers, one pompous trimmer, and two
+gamblers; the younger and more daring of whom was now calmly threading
+the streets of London on his way to a meeting which might mean much to
+him.
+
+To John Law, adventurer, mathematician, philosopher, gambler, it seemed
+a natural enough thing that he should be asked to sit at the council
+table with the ablest minds of the day and pass upon questions the most
+important. This was not what gave him trouble. This matter of the
+coinage, these questions of finance--they were easy. But how to win the
+interest of the tall and gracious English girl whom he had met by chance
+that other morn, who had left no way open for a further meeting; how to
+gain access to the presence of that fair one--these were the questions
+which to John Law seemed of greater importance, and of greater
+difficulty in the answering.
+
+The chair drew up at the somber quarters where the meeting had been set.
+Law knew the place by instinct, even without seeing the double row of
+heavy-visaged London constabulary which guarded the entrance. Here and
+there along the street were carriages and chairs, and multiplied
+conveyances of persons of consequence. Upon the narrow pavement, and
+within the little entrance-way that led to the inner room, there bustled
+about important-looking men, some with hooked noses, most with florid
+faces and well-fed bodies, but all with a certain dignity and sobriety
+of expression.
+
+Montague himself, young, smooth-faced, dark-eyed, of active frame, of
+mobile and pleasing features, sat at the head of a long table. The
+high-strung quality of his nervous system was evidenced in his restless
+hands, his attitude frequently changed.
+
+At the left of Montague sat Somers, lord keeper; older, of more steady
+demeanor, of fuller figure, of bold face and full light eye, a
+politician, not a ponderer. At the right of Montague, grave, silent,
+impassive, now and again turning a contemplative eye about him, sat that
+great man. Sir Isaac Newton, known then to every nobleman, and now to
+every schoolboy, of the world. A gem-like mind, keen, clear, hard and
+brilliant, exact in every facet, and forsooth held in the setting of an
+iron body. Gentle, unmoved, self-assured, Sir Issac Newton was calm as
+morn itself as he sat in readiness to give England the benefit of his
+wisdom.
+
+Beyond sat John Locke, abstruse philosopher, a man thinner and darker
+than his _confrère_, with large full orb, with the brow of the student
+and the man of thought. In dignity he shared with the learned gentleman
+sitting near him.
+
+All those at the board looked with some intentness at the figure of the
+young man from the North, who came as the guest of Montague. With small
+formality, the latter rose and advanced to meet Law with an eager grasp
+of the hand. He made him known to the others present promptly, but with
+a half apology.
+
+"Gentlemen," said he, "I have made bold to ask the presence with us of a
+young man who has much concerned himself with problems such as those
+which we have now in hand. Sir Isaac Newton, this is Mr. Law of
+Edinboro'. Mr. Law, the fame of John Locke I need not lay before you,
+and of my Lord Somers you need no advice. Mr. Law, I shall pray you to
+be seated.
+
+"I shall but serve as your mouthpiece to the Court, gentlemen," resumed
+Montague, seating himself and turning at once to the business of the
+day. "We are all agreed as to the urgency of the case. The king needs
+behind him in these times a contented people. You have already seen the
+imminence of a popular discontent which may shake the throne of England,
+none too safe in these days of change. That we must reorganize the
+coinage is understood and agreed. The question is, how best to do this
+without further unsettling the times. My Lord Keeper, I must beg you for
+your suggestions."
+
+"Sir," said Somers, shifting and coughing, "it is as you say. The
+question is of great moment. I should suggest a decree that the old coin
+shall pass by weight alone and not by its face value. Call in all the
+coin and have it weighed, the government to make future payment to the
+owner of the coin of the difference between its nominal and its real
+value. The coin itself should be restored forthwith to its owner. Hence
+the trade and the credit of the realm would not suffer. The money of the
+country would be withdrawn from the use of the country only that short
+time wherein it was in process of counting. This, it occurs to me, would
+surely be a practical method, and could work harm to none." My Lord
+Somers sat back, puffing out his chest complacently.
+
+"Sir Isaac," said Montague, "and Mr. Locke, we must beg you to find such
+fault as you may with this plan which my Lord Keeper hath suggested."
+
+Sir Isaac made no immediate reply. John Locke stirred gently in his
+chair. "There seemeth much to commend in this plan of my Lord Keeper,"
+said he, leaning slightly forward, "but in pondering my Lord Keeper's
+suggestion for the bringing in of this older coin, I must ask you if
+this plan can escape that selfish impulse of the human mind which
+seeketh for personal gain? For, look you, short as would be the time
+proposed, it taketh but still shorter time to mutilate a coin; and it
+doth seem to me that, under the plan of my Lord Keeper, we should see
+the old currency of England mutilated in a night. Sir, I should opine in
+the contrary of this plan, and would base my decision upon certain
+principles which I believe to be ever present in the human soul."
+
+Montague cast down his eye for a moment. "Sir Isaac," at length he
+began, "we are relying very much upon you. Is there no suggestion which
+you can offer on this ticklish theme?"
+
+The large, full face of the great man was turned calmly and slowly upon
+the speaker. His deep and serene eye apparently saw not so much the man
+before him as the problem which lay on that man's mind.
+
+"Sir," said Sir Isaac, "as John Locke hath said, this is after all much
+a matter of clear reasoning. There come into this problem two chief
+questions: First, who shall pay the expense of the recoinage? Shall the
+Government pay the expense, or shall the owner of the coin, who is to
+obtain good coin for evil?
+
+"Again, this matter applieth not to one man but to many men. Now if one
+half the tradesmen of England rush to us with their coin for reminting,
+surely the trade of the country will have left not sufficient medium
+with which to prosper. This I take to be the second part of this
+problem.
+
+"There be certain persons of the realm who claim that we may keep our
+present money as it is, but mark from its face a certain amount of
+value. Look you, now, this were a small thing; yet, in my mind, it
+clearly seemeth dishonesty. For, if I owe my neighbor a debt, let us say
+for an hundred sovereigns, shall I not be committing injustice upon my
+neighbor if I pay him an hundred sovereigns less that deduction which
+the realm may see fit thus to impose upon the face of my sovereign?
+This, in justice, sirs, I hold it to be not the part of science, nor the
+part of honesty, neither of statesmanship, to endorse."
+
+"Sir Isaac," cried Montague, striking his nervous hands upon the table,
+"recoin we must. But how, and, as you say, at whose expense? We are as
+far now from a plan as when we started. We but multiply difficulties.
+What we need now is not so much negative measures as positive ones. We
+must do this thing, and we must do it promptly. The question is still
+of how it may best be done. Mr. Law, by your leave and by the leave of
+these gentlemen here present, I shall take the liberty of asking you if
+there doth occur to your mind any plan by which we may be relieved of
+certain of these difficulties. I am aware, sir, that you are much a
+student in these matters."
+
+A grave silence fell upon all. John Law, young, confident and arrogant
+in many ways as he was, none the less possessed sobriety and depth of
+thought, just as he possessed the external dignity to give it fitting
+vehicle. He gazed now at the men before him, not with timorousness or
+trepidation. His face was grave, and he returned their glances calmly as
+he rose and made the speech which, unknown to himself, was presently to
+prove so important in his life.
+
+"My Lords," said he, "and gentlemen of this council, I am ill-fitted to
+be present here, and ill-fitted to add my advice to that which has been
+given. It is not for me to go beyond the purpose of this meeting, or to
+lay before you certain plans of my own regarding the credit of nations.
+I may start, as does our learned friend, simply from established
+principles of human nature.
+
+"It is true that the coinage is a creature of the government. Yet I
+believe it to be true that the government lives purely upon credit;
+which is to say, the confidence of the people in that government.
+
+"Now, we may reason in this matter perhaps from the lesser relations of
+our daily life. What manner of man do we most trust among those whom we
+meet? Surely, the honest man, the plain man, the one whose directness
+and integrity we do not doubt. Truly you may witness the nature of such
+a man in the manner of his speech, in his mien, in his conduct.
+Therefore, my Lords and gentlemen, it seems to me plain that we shall
+best gain confidence for ourselves if we act in the most simple fashion.
+
+"Let us take up this matter directly with Parliament, not seeking to
+evade the knowledge of Parliament in any fashion; for, as we know, the
+Parliament and the king are not the best bed-fellows these days, and the
+one is ready enough to suspect the other. Let us have a bill framed for
+Parliament--such bill made upon the decisions of these learned gentlemen
+present. Above all things, let us act with perfect openness.
+
+"As to the plan itself, it seems that a few things may be held safe and
+sure. Since we can not use the old coin, then surely we must have new
+coin, milled coin, which Charles, the earlier king of England, has
+decreed. Surely, too, as our learned friend has wisely stated, the loss
+in any recoinage ought, in full justice and honesty, to fall not upon
+the people of England, but upon the government of England. It seems
+equally plain to me there must be a day set after which the old coin may
+no longer be used. Set it some months ahead, not, as my Lord Keeper
+suggests, but a few days; so that full notice may be given to all. Make
+your campaign free and plain, and place it so that it may be known, not
+only of Parliament, but of all the world. Thus you establish yourselves
+in the confidence of Parliament and in the good graces of this people,
+from whom the taxes must ultimately come."
+
+Montague's hands smote again upon the table with a gesture of
+conviction. John Locke shifted again in his chair. Sir Isaac and the
+lord keeper gazed steadfastly at this young man who stood before them,
+calmly, assuredly, and yet with no assumption in his mien.
+
+"Moreover," went on John Law, calmly, "there is this further benefit to
+be gained, as I am sure my countryman, Mr. Paterson, has long ago made
+plain. It is not a question of the wealth of England, but a question of
+the confidence of the people in the throne. There is money in abundance
+in England. It is the province of my Lord Chancellor to wheedle it out
+of those coffers where it is concealed and place it before the uses of
+the king. Gentlemen, it is confidence that we need. There will be no
+trouble to secure loans of money in this rich land, but the taxes must
+be the pledge to your bankers. This new Bank of England will furnish you
+what moneys you may need. Secure them only by the pledge of such taxes
+as you feel the people may not resent; give the people, free of cost, a
+coinage which they can trust; and then, it seems to me, my Lords and
+gentlemen, the problem of the revenue may be thought solved simply and
+easily--solved, too, without irritating either the people or the
+Parliament, or endangering the relations of Parliament and the throne."
+
+The conviction which fell upon all found its best expression in the face
+of Montague. The youth and nervousness of the man passed away upon the
+instant. He sat there sober and thoughtful, quiet and resolved.
+
+"Gentlemen," said he at last, slowly, "my course is plain from this
+instant. I shall draw the bill and it shall go to Parliament. The
+expense of this recoinage I am sure we can find maintained by the
+stockholders of the Bank of England, and for their pay we shall propose
+a new tax upon the people of England. We shall tax the windows of the
+houses of England, and hence tax not only the poor but the rich of
+England, and that proportionately with their wealth. As for the coin of
+England, it shall be honest coin, made honest and kept honest, at no
+cost to the people of old England. Sirs, my heart is lighter than it has
+been for many days."
+
+The last trace of formality in the meeting having at length vanished,
+Montague made his way rapidly to the foot of the table. He caught Law by
+both his hands.
+
+"Sir," said he, "you helped us at the last stage of our ascent. A
+mistake here had been ruinous, not only to myself and friends, but to
+the safety of the whole Government. You spoke wisely and practically.
+Sir, if I can ever in all my life serve you, command me, and at whatever
+price you name. I am not yet done with you, sir," resumed Montague,
+casting his arm boyishly about the other's shoulder as they walked out.
+"We must meet again to discuss certain problems of the currency which, I
+bethink me, you have studied deeply. Keep you here in London, for I
+shall have need of you. Within the month, perhaps within the week, I
+shall require you. England needs men who can do more than dawdle. Pray
+you, keep me advised where you may be found."
+
+There was ill omen in the light reply. "Why, as to that, my Lord," said
+Law, "if you should think my poor service useful, your servants might
+get trace of me at the Green Lion--unless I should be in prison! No man
+knoweth what may come."
+
+Montague laughed lightly. "At the Green Lion, or in Newgate itself,"
+said he. "Be ready, for I have not yet done with you."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+THE RESOLUTION OF MR. LAW
+
+
+The problems of England's troubled finances, the questions of the
+coinage, the gossip of the king's embroilments with the
+Parliament--these things, it may again be said, occupied Law's mind far
+less than the question of gaining audience with his fair rescuer of the
+morn at Sadler's Wells. This was the puzzle which, revolve it as he
+might, not even his audacious wit was able to provide with plausible
+solution. He pondered the matter in a hundred different pleasing phases
+as he passed from the Bank of England through the crowded streets of
+London, and so at length found himself at the shabby little lodgings in
+Bradwell Street, where he and his brother had, for the time, taken up
+their quarters.
+
+"It starteth well, my boy," cried he, gaily, to his brother, when at
+length he had found his way up the narrow stair into the little room,
+and discovered Will patiently awaiting his return. "Already two of my
+errands are well acquit."
+
+"You have, then, sent the letters to our goldsmith here?" said Will.
+
+"Now, to say truth, I had not thought of that. But letters of
+credit--why need we trouble over such matters? These English are but
+babes. Give me a night or so in the week at the Green Lion, and we'll
+need no letters of credit, Will. Look at your purse, boy--since you are
+the thrifty cashier of our firm!"
+
+"I like not this sort of gold," said Will Law, setting his lips
+judicially.
+
+"Yet it seems to purchase well as any," said the other, indifferently.
+"At least, such is my hope, for I have made debt against our purse of
+some fifty sovereigns--some little apparel which I have ordered. For,
+look you, Will, I must be clothed proper. In these days, as I may tell
+you, I am to meet such men as Montague, chancellor of the exchequer--my
+Lord Keeper Somers--Sir Isaac Newton--Mr. John Locke--gentry of that
+sort. It is fitting I should have better garb than this which we have
+brought with us."
+
+"You are ever free with some mad jest or other, Jack; but what is this
+new madness of which you speak?"
+
+"No madness at all, my dear boy; for in fact I have but come from the
+council chamber, where I have met these very gentlemen whom I have
+named to you. But pray you note, my dear brother, there are those who
+hold John Law, and his studies, not so light as doth his own brother.
+For myself, the matter furnishes no surprise at all. As for you, you had
+never confidence in me, nor in yourself. Gad! Will, hadst but the
+courage of a flea, what days we two might have together here in this old
+town!"
+
+"I want none of such days, Jack," said Will Law, soberly. "I care most
+to see you settled in some decent way of living. What will your mother
+say, if we but go on gaming and roistering, with dangers of some sudden
+quarrel--as this which has already sprung up--with no given aim in life,
+with nothing certain for an ambition--"
+
+"Now, Will," began his brother, yet with no petulance in his tone, "pray
+go not too hard with me at the start. I thought I had done fairly well,
+to sit at the table of the council of coinage on my first day in London.
+'Tis not every young man gets so far as that. Come, now, Will!"
+
+"But after all, there must be serious purpose."
+
+"Know then," cried the elder man, suddenly, "that I have found such
+serious purpose!"
+
+The speaker stood looking out of the window, his eye fixed out across
+the roofs of London. There had now fallen from his face all trace of
+levity, and into his eye and mouth there came reflex of the decision of
+his speech. Will stirred in his chair, and at length the two faced each
+other.
+
+"And pray, what is this sudden resolution, Jack?" said Will Law.
+
+"If I must tell you, it is simply this: I am resolved to marry the girl
+we met at Sadler's Wells."
+
+"How--what--?"
+
+"Yes, how--what--?" repeated his brother, mockingly.
+
+"But I would ask, which?"
+
+"There was but one," said John Law. "The tall one, with the
+brassy-brown, copper-red hair, the bright blue eye, and the figure of a
+queen. Her like is not in all the world!"
+
+"Methought 'twas more like to be the other," replied Will. "Yet you--how
+dare you think thus of that lady? Why, Jack, 'twas the Lady Catharine
+Knollys, sister to the Earl of Banbury!"
+
+Law did not at once make any answer. He turned to the dressing-table and
+began making such shift as he could to better his appearance.
+
+"Will," said he, at length, "you are, as ever, a babe and a suckling. I
+quite despair of you. 'Twould serve no purpose to explain anything to so
+faint a heart as yours. But you may come with me."
+
+"And whither?"
+
+"Whither? Where else, than to the residence of this same lady! Look
+you, I have learned this. She is, as you say, the sister of the Earl of
+Banbury, and is for the time at the town house in Knightwell Terrace.
+Moreover, if that news be worth while to so white-feathered a swain as
+yourself, the other, damsel, the dark one--the one with the mighty
+pretty little foot--lives there for the time as the guest of Lady
+Catharine. They are rated thick as peas in a pod. True, we are
+strangers, yet I venture we have made a beginning, and if we venture
+more we may better that beginning. Should I falter, when luck gave me
+the run of _trente et le va_ but yesterday? Nay, ever follow fortune
+hard, and she waits for you."
+
+"Yes," said Will, scornfully. "You would get the name of gambler, and
+add to it the name of fortune-hunting, heiress-seeking adventurer."
+
+"Not so," replied John Law, taking snuff calmly and still keeping the
+evenness of his temper. "My own fortune, as I admit, I keep safe at the
+Green Lion. For the rest, I seek at the start only respectful footing
+with this maid herself. When first I saw her, I knew well enough how the
+end would be. We were made for each other. This whole world was made for
+us both. Will, boy, I could not live without the Lady Catharine
+Knollys!"
+
+"Oh, cease such talk, Jack! 'Tis ill-mannered, such presumption
+regarding a lady, even had you known her long. Besides, 'tis but another
+of your fancies, Jack," said Will. "Wilt never make an end of such
+follies?"
+
+"Yes, my boy," said his brother, gravely. "I have made an end. Indeed, I
+made it the other morning at Sadler's Wells."
+
+"Methinks," said Will, dryly, "that it might be well first to be sure
+that you can win past the front door of the house of Knollys."
+
+John Law still kept both his temper and his confidence.
+
+"Come with me," said he, blithely, "and I will show you how that thing
+may be done."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+TWO MAIDS A-BROIDERING
+
+
+"Now a plague take all created things, Lady Kitty!" cried Mary Connynge,
+petulantly flinging down a silken pattern over which she had pretended
+to be engaged. "There are devils in the skeins to-day. I'll try no more
+with't."
+
+"Fie! For shame, Mary Connynge," replied Lady Catharine Knollys,
+reprovingly. "So far from better temperance of speech, didst ever hear
+of the virtue of perseverance? Now, for my own part--"
+
+"And what, for your own part? Have I no eyes to see that thou'rt
+puttering over the same corner this last half hour? What is it thou art
+making to-day?"
+
+The Lady Catharine paused for a moment and held her embroidery frame
+away from her at arm's length, looking at it with brow puckering into a
+perplexed frown.
+
+"I was working a knight," said she. "A tall one--"
+
+"Yes, a tall one, with yellow hair, I warrant."
+
+"Why, so it was. I was but seeking floss of the right hue, and found it
+difficult."
+
+"And with blue eyes?"
+
+"True; or perhaps gray. I could not state which. I had naught in my box
+would serve to suit me for the eyes. But how know you this, Mary
+Connynge?" asked the Lady Catharine.
+
+"Because I was making some such knight for myself," replied the other.
+"See! He was to have been tall, of good figure, wearing a wide hat and
+plume withal. But lest I spoil him, my knight--now a plague take me
+indeed if I do not ruin him complete!" So saying, she drew with vengeful
+fingers at the intricately woven silks until she had indeed undone all
+that had gone before.
+
+"Nay, nay! Mary Connynge! Do not so!" replied Lady Catharine in
+expostulation. "The poor knight, how could he help himself? Why, as for
+mine, though I find him not all I could wish, I'll e'en be patient as I
+may, and seek if I may not mend him. These knights, you know, are most
+difficult. 'Tis hard to make them perfect."
+
+Mary Connynge sat with her hands in her lap, looking idly out of the
+window and scarce heeding the despoiled fabric which lay on her lap.
+"Come, confess, Lady Kitty," said she at length, turning toward her
+friend. "Wert not trying to copy a knight of a hedge-row after all? Did
+not a certain tall young knight, with eyes of blue, or gray, or the
+like, give pattern for your sampler while you were broidering to-day?"
+
+"Fie! For shame!" again replied Lady Catharine, flushing none the less.
+"Rather ask, does not such a thought come over thine own broidering? But
+as to the hedge-row, surely the gentleman explained it all proper
+enough; and I am sure--yes, I am very sure--that my brother Charles had
+quite approved of my giving the injured young man the lift in the
+coach--"
+
+"Provided that your Brother Charles had ever heard of such a thing!"
+
+"Well, of that, to be sure, why trouble my brother over such a trifle,
+when 'twas so obviously proper?" argued Lady Catharine, bravely. "And
+certainly, if we come to knights and the like, good chivalry has ever
+demanded succor for those in distress; and if, forsooth, it was two
+damsels in a comfortable coach, who rescued two knights from underneath
+a hedge-row, why, such is but the way of these modern days, when knights
+go seeking no more for adventures and ladies fair; as you very well
+know."
+
+"As I do not know, Lady Catharine," replied Mary Connynge. "To the
+contrary, 'twould not surprise me to learn that he would not shrink
+from any adventure which might offer."
+
+"You mean--that is--you mean the tall one, him who said he was Mr. Law
+of Lauriston?"
+
+"Well, perhaps. Though I must say," replied Mary Connynge, with
+indirection, "that I fancy the other far more, he being not so forward,
+nor so full of pure conceit. I like not a man so confident." This with
+an eye cast down, as much as though there were present in the room some
+man subject to her coquetry.
+
+"Why, I had not found him offering such an air," replied Lady Catharine,
+judicially. "I had but thought him frank enough, and truly most
+courteous."
+
+"Why, truly," replied Mary Connynge. "But saw you naught in his eye?"
+
+"Why, but that it was blue, or gray," replied Lady Catharine.
+
+"Oh, ho! then my lady did look a bit, after all! And so this is why the
+knight flourisheth so bravely in silks to-day--Fie! but a mere
+adventurer, Lady Kitty. He says he is Law of Lauriston; but what proof
+doth he offer? And did he find such proof, it is proof of what? For my
+part, I did never hear of Lauriston nor its owner."
+
+"Ah, but that I have, to the contrary," said Lady Catharine. "John
+Law's father was a goldsmith, and it was he who bought the properties of
+Lauriston and Randleston. And so far from John Law being ill-born, why,
+his mother was Jean Campbell, kinswoman of the Campbell, Duke of Argyll;
+and a mighty important man is the Duke of Argyll these days, I may tell
+you, as the king's army hath discovered before this. You see, I have not
+talked with my brother about these things for naught."
+
+"So you make excuse for this Mr. Law of Lauriston," said Mary Connynge.
+"Well, I like better a knight who comes on his own horse, or in his own
+chariot, and who rescues me when I am in trouble, rather than asks me to
+give him aid. But, as to that, what matter? We set those highway
+travelers down, and there was an end of it. We shall never see either of
+them again."
+
+"Of course not," said Lady Catharine.
+
+"It were impossible."
+
+"Oh, quite impossible!"
+
+Both the young women sighed, and both looked out of the window.
+
+"Because," said Mary Connynge, "they are but strangers. That talk of
+having letters may be but deceit. They themselves may be coiners. I have
+heard it said that coiners are monstrous bold."
+
+"To be sure, he mentioned Sir Arthur Pembroke," ventured Lady
+Catharine.
+
+"Oh! And be sure Sir Arthur Pembroke will take pains enough that no tall
+young man, who offers roses to ladies on first acquaintance, shall ever
+have opportunity to present himself to Lady Catharine Knollys. Nay, nay!
+There will be no introduction from that source, of that be sure. Sir
+Arthur is jealous as a wolf of thee already, Lady Kitty. See! He hath
+followed thee about like a dog for three years. And after all, why not
+reward him, Lady Kitty? Indeed, but the other day thou wert upon the
+very point of giving him his answer, for thou saidst to me that he sure
+had the prettiest eyes of any man in London. Pray, are Sir Arthur's eyes
+blue, or gray--or what? And can you match his eyes among the color of
+your flosses?"
+
+"It might be," said Lady Catharine, musingly, "that he would some day
+find means to send us word."
+
+"Who? Sir Arthur?"
+
+"No. The young man, Mr. Law of Lauriston."
+
+"Yes; or he might come himself," replied Mary Connynge.
+
+"Fie! He dare not!"
+
+"Oh, but be not too sure. Now suppose he did come--'twill do no harm for
+us to suppose so much as that. Suppose he stood there at your very
+door, Lady Kitty. Then what would you do?"
+
+"Do! Why, tell James that we were not in, and never should be, and
+request the young man to leave at once."
+
+"And never let him pass the door again."
+
+"Certainly not! 'Twould be presumption. But then"--this with a gentle
+sigh--"we need not trouble ourselves with this. I doubt not he hath
+forgot us long ago, just as indeed we have forgotten him--though I would
+say--. But I half believe he hit thee, girl, with his boldness and his
+bow, and his fearlessness withal."
+
+"Who, I? Why, heavens! Lady Kitty! The idea never came to my mind.
+Indeed no, not for an instant. Of course, as you say, 'twas but a
+passing occurrence, and 'twas all forgot. But, by the way, Lady Kitty,
+go we to Sadler's Wells to-morrow morn?"
+
+"I see no reason for not going," replied Lady Catharine. "And we may
+drive about, the same way we took the other morn. I will show you the
+same spot where he stood and bowed so handsomely, and made so little of
+the fight with the robbers the night before, as though 'twere trifling
+enough; and made so little of his poverty, as though he were owner of
+the king's coin."
+
+"But we shall never see him more," said Mary Connynge.
+
+"To be sure not. But just to show you--see! He stood thus, his hat off,
+his eye laughing, I pledge you, as though for some good jest he had. And
+'twas 'your pardon, ladies!' he said, as though he were indeed nobleman
+himself. See! 'Twas thus."
+
+What pantomime might have followed did not appear, for at that moment
+the butler appeared at the door with an admonitory cough. "If you
+please, your Ladyship," said he, "there are two persons waiting.
+They--that is to say, he--one of them, asks for admission to your
+Ladyship."
+
+"What name does he offer, James?"
+
+"Mr. John Law of Lauriston, your Ladyship, is the name he sends. He
+says, if your Ladyship please, that he has brought with him something
+which your Ladyship left behind, if your Ladyship please."
+
+Lady Catharine and Mary Connynge had both arisen and drawn together, and
+they now turned each a swift half glance upon the other.
+
+"Are these gentlemen waiting without the street door?" asked Lady
+Catharine.
+
+"No, your Ladyship. That is to say, before I thought, I allowed the tall
+one to come within."
+
+"Oh, well then, you see, Mary Connynge," replied Lady Catharine, with
+the pink flush rising in her cheek, "it were rude to turn them now from
+our door, since they have already been admitted."
+
+"Yes, we will send to the library for your brother," said Mary Connynge,
+dimpling at the corners of her mouth.
+
+"No, I think it not needful to do that," replied Lady Catharine, "but we
+should perhaps learn what this young man brings, and then we'll see to
+it that we chide him so that he'll no more presume upon our kindness. My
+brother need not know, and we ourselves will end this forwardness at
+once, Mary Connynge, you and I. James, you may bring the gentlemen in."
+
+Enter, therefore, John Law and his brother Will, the former seeming thus
+with ease to have made good his promise to win past the door of the Earl
+of Banbury.
+
+John Law, as on the morning of the roadside meeting, approached in
+advance of his more timid brother, though both bowed deeply as they
+entered. He bowed again respectfully, his eyes not wandering hither and
+yon upon the splendors of this great room in an ancestral home of
+England. His gaze was fixed rather upon the beauty of the tall girl
+before him, whose eyes, now round and startled, were not quite able to
+be cold nor yet to be quite cast down; whose white throat throbbed a bit
+under its golden chain; whose bosom rose and fell perceptibly beneath
+its falls of snowy laces.
+
+"Lady Catharine Knollys," said John Law, his voice deep and even, and
+showing no false note of embarrassment, "we come, as you may see, to
+make our respects to yourself and your friend, and to thank you for your
+kindness to two strangers."
+
+"To two strangers, Mr. Law," said Lady Catharine, pointedly.
+
+"Yes"--and the answering smile was hard to be denied--"to two strangers
+who are still strangers. I did but bethink me it was sweet to have such
+kindness. We were advised that London was cruel cold, and that all folk
+of this city hated their fellow-men. So, since 'twas welcome to be thus
+kindly entreated, I believed it but the act of courtesy to express our
+thanks more seeming than we might as that we were two beggars by the
+wayside. Therefore, I pay the first flower of my perpetual tribute." He
+bowed and extended, as he spoke, a deep red rose. His eye, though still
+direct, was as much imploring as it was bold.
+
+Instinctively Mary Connynge and Lady Catharine had drawn together,
+retreating somewhat from this intrusion. They were now standing, like
+any school girls, looking timidly over their shoulders, as he advanced.
+Lady Catharine hesitated, and yet she moved forward a half pace, as
+though bidden by some unheard voice. "'Twas nothing, what we did for you
+and your brother," said she. She extended her hand as she spoke. "As for
+the flower, I think--I think a rose is a sweet-pretty thing."
+
+She bent her cheek above the blossom, and whether the cheek or the petal
+were the redder, who should say? If there were any ill at ease in that
+room, it was not Law of Lauriston. He stood calm as though there by
+right. It was an escapade, an adventure, without doubt, as both these
+young women saw plainly enough. And now, what to do with this adventure
+since it had arrived?
+
+"Sir," said Lady Catharine at length, "I am sure you must be wearied
+with the heavy heats of the town. Your brother must still be weak from
+his hurt. Pray you, be seated." She placed the rose upon the tabouret as
+she passed, and presently pulled at the bell cord.
+
+"James," said she, standing very erect and full of dignity, "go to the
+library and see if Sir Charles be within."
+
+When the butler's solemn cough again gave warning, it was to bring
+information which may or may not have been news to Lady Catharine. "Your
+Ladyship," said he, "Sir Charles is said to have taken carriage an hour
+ago, and left no word."
+
+"Send me Cecile, James," said Lady Catharine, and again the butler
+vanished.
+
+"Cecile," said she, as the maid at length appeared, "you may serve us
+with tea."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+CATHARINE KNOLLYS
+
+
+"You mistake, sir! I am no light o' love, John Law!"
+
+Thus spoke Catharine Knollys. She stood near the door of the great
+drawing-room of the Knollys mansion, her figure beseeming well its
+framing of deep hangings and rich tapestries. Her eyes were wide and
+flashing, her cheeks deeply pink, the sweet bow of her lips half
+a-quiver in her vehemence. Her surpassing personal beauty, rich, ripe,
+enticing, gave more than sufficient challenge for the fiery blood of the
+young man before her.
+
+It was less than two weeks since these two had met. Surely the flood of
+time had run swiftly in those few days. Not a day had passed that Law
+had not met Catharine Knollys, nor had yet one meeting been such as the
+girl in her own conscience dared call better than clandestine, even
+though they met, as now, under her own roof. Yet, reason as she liked,
+struggle as she could, Catharine Knollys had not yet been quite able to
+end this swift voyaging on the flood of fate. It was so strange, so new,
+so sweet withal, this coming of her suitor, as from the darkness of some
+unknown star, so bold, so strong, so confident, and yet so humble! All
+the old song of the ages thrilled within her soul, and each day its
+compelling melody had accession. That this delirious softening of all
+her senses meant danger, the Lady Catharine could not deny. Yet could
+aught of earth be wrong when it spelled such happiness, such
+sweetness--when the sound of a footfall sent her blood going the faster,
+when the sight of a tall form, the ring of a vibrant tone, caused her
+limbs to weaken, her throat to choke?
+
+But ah! whence and why this spell, this sorcery--why this sweetness
+filling all her being, when, after all, duty and seemliness bade it all
+to end, as end it must, to-day? Thus had the Lady Catharine reflected
+but the hour before John Law came; her knight of dreams--tall,
+yellow-haired, blue-eyed, bold and tender, and surely speaking truth if
+truth dwelt beneath the stars. Now he would come--now he had come again.
+Here was his red, red rose once more. Here, burning in her ears, singing
+in her heart, were his avowing, pleading words. And this must end!
+
+John Law looked at her calmly, but said nothing. One hand, in a gesture
+customary with him, flicked lightly at the deep cuff of the other
+wrist, and this nervous movement was the sole betrayal of his
+uneasiness.
+
+"You come to this house time and again," resumed Catharine Knollys, "as
+though it were an ancient right on your part, as though you had always
+been a friend of this family. And yet--"
+
+"And so I have been," broke in her suitor. "My people were friends of
+yours before we two were born. Why, then, should you advise your
+servant, as you have, fairly to deny me admission at the door?"
+
+"I have done ill enough to admit you. Had I dreamed of this last
+presumption on your part I should never have seen your face again."
+
+"'Tis not presumption," said the young man, his voice low and even,
+though ringing with the feeling to which even he dared not give full
+expression. "I myself might call this presumption in another, but with
+myself 'tis otherwise."
+
+"Sir," said Lady Catharine Knollys, "you speak as one not of good mind."
+
+"Not of good mind!" broke out John Law. "Say rather of mind too good to
+doubt, or dally, or temporize. Why, 'tis plain as the plan of fate! It
+was in the stars that I should come to you. This face, this form, this
+heart, this soul--I shall see nothing else so long as I live! Oh, I
+feel myself unworthy; you have right to think me of no station. Yet some
+day I shall bring to you all that wealth can buy, all that station can
+mean. Catharine--dear Lady Kitty--dear Kate--"
+
+"I like not so fast a soothsaying in any suitor of mine," replied Lady
+Catharine, hotly, "and this shall go no further." Her hand restrained
+him.
+
+"Then you find me distasteful? You would banish me? I could not learn to
+endure it!"
+
+Lady Catharine looked at him curiously. "Actually, sir," said she, "you
+cause me to chill. I could half fear you. What is in your heart? Surely,
+this is a strange love-making."
+
+"And by that," cried John Law, "know, then the better of the truth.
+Listen! I know! And this is what I know--that I shall succeed, and that
+I shall love you always!"
+
+"'Tis what one hears often from men, in one form or another," said the
+girl, coolly, seating herself as she spoke.
+
+"Talk not to me of other men--I'll not brook it!" cried he, advancing
+toward her a few rapid paces. "Think you I have no heart?" His eye
+gleamed, and he came on yet a step in his strange wooing. "Your face is
+here, here," he cried, "deep in my heart! I must always look upon it, or
+I am a lost man!"
+
+"'Tis a face not so fair as that," said the Lady Catharine, demurely.
+
+"'Tis the fairest face in England, or in the world!" cried her lover;
+and now he was close at her side. Her hand, she knew not how, rested in
+his own. Something of the honesty and freedom from coquetry of the young
+woman's nature showed in her next speech, inconsequent, illogical,
+almost unmaidenly in its swift sincerity and candor.
+
+"'Tis a face but blemished," said she, slowly, the color rising to her
+cheek. "See! Here is the birth-mark of the house of Knollys. They tell
+me--my very good friends tell me, that this is the mark of shame, the
+bar sinister of the hand of justice. You know the story of our house."
+
+"Somewhat of it," said Law.
+
+"My brother is not served of the writ when Parliament is called. This
+you know. Tell me why?"
+
+"I know the so-called reason," replied John Law. "'Twas brought out in
+his late case at the King's Bench."
+
+"True. 'Twas said that my grandfather, past eighty, was not the father
+of those children of his second wife. There is talk that--"
+
+"'Twas three generations ago, this talk of the Knollys shortcoming. I am
+not eighty. I am twenty-four, and I love you, Catharine Knollys."
+
+"It was three generations ago," said the Lady Catharine, slowly and
+musingly, as though she had not heard the speech of her suitor. "Three
+generations ago. Yet never since then hath there been clean name for the
+Banbury estate. Never yet hath its peer sat in his rightful place in
+Parliament. And never yet hath eldest daughter of this house failed to
+show this mark of shame, this unpurged contempt for that which is
+ordained. Surely it would seem fate holds us in its hands."
+
+"You tell me these things," said John Law, "because you feel it is right
+to tell them. And I tell you of my future, as you tell me of your past.
+Why? Because, Lady Catharine Knollys, it has already come to matter of
+faith between us."
+
+The girl leaned back against the wall near which she had seated herself.
+The young man bent forward, taking both her hands quietly in his own
+now, and gazing steadily into her eyes. There was no triumph in his
+gaze. Perhaps John Law had prescience of the future.
+
+"Oh, sir, I had far liefer I had never seen you," cried Catharine
+Knollys, bending a head from whose eyes there dropped sudden tears.
+
+"Ah, dear heart, say anything but that!"
+
+"'Tis a hard way a woman must travel at best in this world," murmured
+the Lady Catharine, with wisdom all unsuited to her youth. "But I can
+not understand. I had thought that the coming of a lover was a joyous
+thing, a time of happiness alone."
+
+"Ah, now, in the hour of mist can you not foresee the time of sunshine?
+All life is before us, my sweet, all life. There is much for us to do,
+there are so many, many days of love and happiness."
+
+But now the Lady Catharine Knollys veered again, with some sudden change
+of the inner currents of the feminine soul.
+
+"I have gone far with you, Mr. Law," said she, suddenly disengaging her
+hand. "Yet I did but give you insight of things which any man coming as
+you have come should have well within his knowledge. Think not, sir,
+that I am easy to be won. I must know you equally honest with myself.
+And if you come to my regard, it must be step by step and stair by
+stair. This is to be remembered."
+
+"I shall remember."
+
+"Go, then, and leave me for this time," she besought him. But still he
+could not go, and still the Lady Catharine could not bid him more
+sternly to depart. Youth--youth, and love, and fate were in that room;
+and these would have their way.
+
+The beseeching gaze of an eye singular in its power rested on the girl,
+a gaze filled with all the strange, half mandatory pleading of youth and
+yearning. Once more there came a shift in the tidal currents of the
+woman's heart. The Lady Catharine slowly became conscious of a delicious
+helplessness, of a sinking and yielding which she could not resist. Her
+head lost power to be erect. It slipped forward on a shoulder waiting as
+by right. Her breath came in soft measure, and unconsciously a hand was
+raised to touch the cheek pressed down to hers. John Law kissed her once
+upon the lips. Suddenly, without plan--in spite of all plan--the seal of
+a strange fate was set forever on her life!
+
+For a long moment they stood thus, until at length she raised a face
+pale and sharp, and pushed back against his breast a hand that trembled.
+
+"'Tis wondrous strange," she whispered.
+
+"Ask nothing," said John Law, "fear nothing. Only believe, as I
+believe."
+
+Neither John Law nor the Lady Catharine Knollys saw what was passing
+just without the room. They did not see the set face which looked down
+from the stairway. Through the open door Mary Connynge could see the
+young man as he stepped out of the door, could see the conduct of the
+girl now left alone in the drawing-room. She saw the Lady Catharine sink
+down upon the seat, her head drooped in thought, her hand lying
+languidly out before her. Pale now and distraught, the Lady Catharine
+Knollys wist little of what went on before her. She had full concern
+with the tumult which waged riot in her soul.
+
+Mary Connynge turned, and started back up the stair unseen. She paused,
+her yellow eyes gone narrow, her little hand clutched tight upon the
+rail.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+IN SEARCH OF THE QUARREL
+
+
+As Law turned away from the door of the Knollys mansion, he walked with
+head bent forward, not looking upon the one hand or the other. He raised
+his eyes only when a passing horseman had called thrice to him.
+
+"What!" cried Sir Arthur Pembroke. "I little looked to see you here, Mr.
+Law. I thought it more likely you were engaged in other business--"
+
+"Meaning by that--?"
+
+"What should I mean, except that I supposed you preparing for your
+little affair with Wilson?"
+
+"My little affair?"
+
+"Certainly, with Wilson, as I said. I saw our friend Castleton but now,
+and he advised me of your promptness. He had searched for you for days,
+he being chosen by Wilson for his friend--and said he had at last found
+you in your lodgings. Egad! I have mistook your kidney completely. Never
+in London was a duel brought on so swift. 'Fight? This afternoon!' said
+you. Jove! but the young bloods laughed when they heard of it. 'Bloody
+Scotland' is what they have christened you at the Green Lion. 'He said
+to me,' said Charlie, 'that he was slow to find a quarrel, but since
+this quarrel was brought home to him, 'twere meet 'twere soon finished.
+He thought, forsooth, that four o'clock of the afternoon were late
+enough.' Gad! But you might have given Wilson time at least for one more
+dinner."
+
+"What do you mean?" exclaimed Law, mystified still.
+
+"Mean! Why, I mean that I've been scouring London to find you. My faith,
+man, but thou'rt a sudden actor! Where caught you this unseemly haste?"
+
+"Sir Arthur," said the other, slowly, "you do me too much justice. I
+have made no arrangement to meet Mr. Wilson, nor have I any wish to do
+so."
+
+"Pish, man! You must not jest with me in such a case as this. 'Tis no
+masquerading. Let me tell you, Wilson has a vicious sword, and a temper
+no less vicious. You have touched him on his very sorest spot. He has
+gone to meet you this very hour. His coach will be at Bloomsbury Square
+this afternoon, and there he will await you. I promise you he is eager
+as yourself. 'Tis too late now to accommodate this matter, even had you
+not sent back so prompt and bold an answer."
+
+"I have sent him no answer at all!" cried Law. "I have not seen
+Castleton at all."
+
+"Oh, come!" expostulated Sir Arthur, his face showing a flush of
+annoyance.
+
+"Sir Arthur," continued Law, as he raised his head, "I am of the
+misfortune to be but young in London, and I am in need of your
+friendship. I find myself pressed for rapid transportation. Pray you,
+give me your mount, for I must have speed. I shall not need the service
+of your seconding. Indulge me now by asking no more, and wait until we
+meet again. Give me the horse, and quickly."
+
+"But you must be seconded!" cried the other. "This is too unusual.
+Consider!" Yet all the time he was giving a hand at the stirrup of Law,
+who sprang up and was off before he had time to formulate his own
+wonder.
+
+"Who and what is he?" muttered the young nobleman to himself as he gazed
+after the retreating form. "He rides well, at least, as he does
+everything else well. 'Till I return,' forsooth, 'till I return!' Gad! I
+half wish you had never come in the first place, my Bloody Scotland!"
+
+As for Law, he rode swiftly, asking at times his way, losing time here,
+gaining it again there, creating much hatred among foot folk by his
+tempestuous speed, but giving little heed to aught save his own purpose.
+In time he reached Bradwell Street and flung himself from his panting
+horse in front of the dingy door of the lodging house. He rushed up the
+stairs at speed and threw open the door of the little room. It was
+empty.
+
+There was no word to show what his brother had done, whither he had
+gone, when he would return. Around the lodgings in Bradwell Street lay a
+great and unknown London, with its own secrets, its own hatreds, its own
+crimes. A strange feeling of oncoming ill seized upon the heart of Law,
+as he stood in the center of the dull little room, now suddenly grown
+hateful to him. He dashed his hand upon the table, and stood so, scarce
+knowing which way to turn. A foot sounded in the hallway, and he went to
+the door. The ancient landlady confronted him. "Where has my brother
+gone?" he demanded, fiercely, as she came into view along the
+ill-lighted passage-way.
+
+"Gone, good sir?" said she, quaveringly. "Why, how should I know where
+he has gone? More quality has been here this morning than ever I saw in
+Bradwell Street in all my life. First comes a coach this morning, with
+four horses as fine as the king's, and a man atop would turn your
+blood, he was that solemn-like, sir. Then your brother was up here
+alone, sir, and very still. I will swear he was never out of this room.
+Then, but an hour ago, here comes another coach, as big as the first,
+and yellower. And out of it steps another fine lord, and he bows to your
+brother, and in they get, and off goes the coach. But, God help me, sir!
+How should I know which way they went, or what should be their errand?
+Methinks it must be some servant come from the royal palace. Sir, be you
+two of the nobility? And if you be, why come you here to Bradwell
+Street? Sir, I am but a poor woman. If you be not of the nobility, then
+you must be either coiners or smugglers. Sir, I am bethought that you
+are dangerous guests in my house. I am a poor woman, as you know."
+
+Law flung a coin at her as he sped through the hall and down the stair.
+"'Twas to Bloomsbury Square," he said, as he sprang into saddle and set
+heel to the flank of the good horse. "To Bloomsbury Square, then, and
+fast!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+THE RUMOR OF THE QUARREL
+
+
+Meantime, at the Knollys mansion, there were forthcoming other parts of
+the drama of the day. The butler announced to Lady Catharine, still
+sitting dreaming by the window, Sir Arthur Pembroke, now late arrived on
+foot. Lady Catharine hesitated. "Show the gentleman to this room," she
+said at length.
+
+Pembroke came forward eagerly as he entered. "Such a day of it, Lady
+Kitty!" he exclaimed, impulsively. "You will pardon me for coming thus,
+when I say I have just been robbed of my horse. 'Twas at your very door,
+and methinks you must know the highwayman. I have come to tell you of
+the news."
+
+"You don't mean--"
+
+"Yes, but I do! 'Twas no less than Mr. Law, of Scotland. He hath taken
+my horse and gone off like a whirlwind, leaving me afoot and friendless,
+save for your good self. I am begging a taste of tea and a little
+biscuit, for I vow I am half famished."
+
+The Lady Catharine Knollys, in sheer reaction from the strain, broke out
+into a peal of laughter.
+
+"Sure, he has strange ways about him, this same Mr. Law," said she.
+"That young man would have come here direct, and would have made himself
+quite at home, methinks, had he had but the first encouragement."
+
+"Gad! Lady Catharine, but he has a conceit of himself. Think you of what
+he has done in his short stay here in town! First, as you know, he sat
+at cards with two or three of us the other evening--Charlie Castleton,
+Beau Wilson, myself and one or two besides. And what doth he do but
+stake a bauble against good gold that he would make _sept et le va_."
+
+"And did it?"
+
+"And did it. Yes, faith, as though he saw it coming. Yet 'twas I who cut
+and dealt the cards. Nor was that the half of it," he went on. "He let
+the play run on till 'twas _seize et le va_, then _vingt-un et le va_,
+then twenty-five. And, strike me! Lady Catharine, if he sat not there
+cool as my Lord Speaker in the Parliament, and saw the cards run to
+_trente et le va_, as though 'twere no more to him than the eating of an
+orange!"
+
+"And showed no anxiety at all?"
+
+"None, as I tell you, and he proved to us plain that he had not
+two-pence to his name, for that he had been robbed the night before
+while on his way to town. He staked a diamond, a stone of worth. I must
+say, his like was never seen at cards."
+
+"He hath strange quality."
+
+"That you may say. Now read me some farther riddles of this same young
+man. He managed to win from me a little shoe of an American savage,
+which I had bought at a good price but the day before. It came to idle
+talk of ladies' shoes, and wagers--well, no matter; and so Mr. Law
+brought on a sudden quarrel with Beau Wilson. Then, though he seemed not
+wanting courage, he half declined to face Wilson on the field. Sudden
+to change as ever, this very morning he sent word to Wilson by Mr.
+Castleton that he was ready to meet him at four this afternoon. God save
+us! what a haste was there! And now, to cap it all, he hath taken my
+horse from me and ridden off to keep an appointment which he says he
+never made! Gad! These he odd ways enough, and almost too keen for me to
+credit. Why, 'twould not surprise me to hear that he had been here to
+make love to the Lady Catharine Knollys, and to offer her the proceeds
+of his luck at faro. And, strike me! if that same luck holds, he'll
+have all the money in London in another fortnight! I wish him joy of
+Wilson."
+
+"He may be hurt!" exclaimed the Lady Catharine, starting up.
+
+"Who? Beau Wilson?" exclaimed Sir Arthur. "Take no fear. He carries a
+good blade."
+
+"Sir Arthur," said the girl, "is there no way to stop this foolish
+matter? Is there not yet time?"
+
+"Why, as to that," said Sir Arthur, "it all depends upon the speed of my
+own horse. I should think myself e'en let off cheaply if he took the
+horse and rode on out of London, and never turned up again. Yet, I
+bethink me, he has a way of turning up. If so, then we are too late. Let
+him go. For me, I'd liefer sit me here with Lady Catharine, who, I
+perceive, is about now to save my death of hunger, since now I see the
+tea tray coming. Thank thee prettily."
+
+Lady Catharine poured for him with a hand none too steady. "Sir Arthur,"
+said she, "you know why I have this concern over such a quarrel. You
+know well enough what the duello has cost the house of Knollys. Of my
+uncles, four were killed upon this so-called field of honor. My
+grandfather met his death in that same way. Another relative, before my
+time, is reputed to have slain a friend in this same manner. As you
+know, but three years ago, my brother, the living representative of our
+family, had the misfortune to slay his kinsman in a duel which sprang
+out of some little jest. I say to you, Sir Arthur, that this quarrel
+must be stopped, and we must do thus much for our friends forthwith. It
+must not go on."
+
+"For our friends! Our friends!" cried Sir Arthur. "Ah, ha! so you mean
+that the old beau hath hit thee, too, with his ardent eye. Or--hang!
+What--you mean not that this stranger, this Scotchman, is a friend of
+yours?"
+
+"I speak but confusedly," said the Lady Catharine. "'Tis my prejudice
+against such fighting, as you know. Can we not make haste, and so
+prevent this meeting?"
+
+"Oh, I doubt if there be much need of haste," said Sir Arthur, balancing
+his cup in his hand judicially. "This matter will fall through at most
+for the day. They assuredly can not meet until to-morrow. This will be
+the talk of London, if it goes on in this pell-mell, hurly-burly
+fashion. As to the stopping of it--well now, the law under William and
+Mary saith that one who slays another in a duel of premeditation is
+nothing but a murderer, and may be hanged like any felon; hanged by the
+neck, till he be dead. Alas, what a fate for this pretty Scotchman!"
+
+Sir Arthur paused. A look of wonder swept across his face. "Open the
+window, Annie!" he cried suddenly to the servant. "Your mistress is
+ill."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+AS CHANCE DECREED
+
+
+Mischance delayed the carriage of Beau Wilson in its journeying to
+Bloomsbury Square. It had not appeared at that moment, far toward
+evening, when John Law, riding a trembling and dripping steed, came upon
+one side of this little open common and gazed anxiously across the
+space. He saw standing across from him a carriage, toward which he
+dashed. He flung open the carriage door, crying out, even before he saw
+the face within.
+
+"Will! Will Law, I say, come out!" called he. "What mad trick is this?
+What--"
+
+He saw indeed the face of Will Law inside the carriage, a face pale,
+melancholy, and yet firm.
+
+"Get you back into the city!" cried Will Law. "This is no place for you,
+Jack."
+
+"Boy! Are you mad, entirely mad?" cried Law, pushing his way directly
+into the carriage and reaching out with an arm of authority for the
+sword which he saw resting beside his brother against the seat. "No
+place for me! 'Tis no place for you, for either of us. Turn back. This
+foolishness must go no further!"
+
+"It must go on now to the end," said Will Law, wearily. "Mr. Wilson's
+carriage is long past due."
+
+"But you--what do you mean? You've had no hand in this. Even had
+you--why, boy, you would be spitted in an instant by this fellow."
+
+"And would not that teach you to cease your mad pranks, and use to
+better purpose the talents God hath given you? Yours is the better
+chance, Jack."
+
+"Peace!" cried John Law, tears starting to his eyes. "I'll not argue
+that. Driver, turn back for home!"
+
+The coachman at the box touched his hat with a puzzled air. "I beg
+pardon, sir," said he, "but I was under orders of the gentleman inside."
+
+"You were sent for Mr. John Law."
+
+"For Mr. Law--"
+
+"But I am John Law, sirrah!"
+
+"You are both Mr. Law? Well, sir, I scarce know which of you is the
+proper Mr. Law. But I must say that here comes a coach drove fast
+enough, and perhaps this is the gentleman I was to wait for, according
+to the first Mr. Law, sir."
+
+"He is coming, then," cried John Law, angrily. "I'll see into this
+pretty meeting. If this devil's own fool is to have a crossing of steel,
+I'll fair accommodate him, and we'll look into the reasons for it later.
+Sit ye down! Be quiet, Will, boy, I say!"
+
+Law was a powerful man, over six feet in height. The sports of the
+Highlands, combined with much fencing and continuous play in the tennis
+court, indeed his ardent love for every hardy exercise, had given his
+form alike solid strength and great activity. "Jessamy Law," they called
+him at home, in compliment of his slender though full and manly form.
+Cool and skilful in all the games of his youth, as John Law himself had
+often calmly stated, in fence he had a knowledge amounting to science, a
+knowledge based upon the study of first principles. The intricacies of
+the Italian school were to him an old story. With the single blade he
+had never yet met his master. Indeed, the thought of successful
+opposition seemed never to occur to him at all. Certainly at this
+moment, angered at the impatient insolence of his adversary, the thought
+of danger was farthest from his mind. Stronger than his brother, he
+pushed the latter back with one hand, grasping as he did so the
+small-sword with which the latter was provided. With one leap he sprang
+from the carriage, leaving Will half dazed and limp within.
+
+Even as he left the carriage step, he found himself confronted with an
+adversary eager as himself; for at that instant Beau Wilson was
+hastening from his coach. Vain, weak and pompous in a way, yet lacking
+not in a certain personal valor, Beau Wilson stopped not for his
+seconds, tarried not to catch the other's speech, but himself strode
+madly onward, his point raised slightly, as though he had lost all care
+and dignity and desired nothing so much as to stab his enemy as swiftly
+as might be.
+
+It would have mattered nothing now to this Highlander, this fighting
+Argyll, what had been the reason animating his opponent. It was enough
+that he saw a weapon bared. Too late, then, to reason with John Law,
+"Beau" Law of Edinboro', "Jessamy" Law, the best blade and the coolest
+head in all the schools of arms that taught him fence.
+
+For a moment Law paused and raised his point, whether in query or in
+salute the onlookers scarce could tell. Sure it was that Wilson was the
+first to fall into the assault. Scarce pausing in his stride, he came on
+blindly, and, raising his own point, lunged straight for his opponent's
+breast. Sad enough was the fate which impelled him to do this thing.
+
+It was over in an instant. It could not be said that there was an
+actual encounter. The side step of the young Highlander was soft as that
+of a panther, as quick, and yet as full of savagery. The whipping over
+of his wrist, the gliding, twining, clinging of his blade against that
+of his enemy was so swift that eye could scarce have followed it. The
+eye of Beau Wilson was too slow to catch it or to guard. He never
+stopped the _riposte_, and indeed was too late to attempt any guard.
+Pierced through the body, Wilson staggered back, clapping his hands
+against his chest. Over his face there swept a swift series of changes.
+Anger faded to chagrin, that to surprise, surprise to fright, and that
+to gentleness.
+
+"Sir," said he, "you've hit me fair, and very hard. I pray you, some
+friend, give me an arm."
+
+And so they led him to his carriage, and took him home a corpse. Once
+more the code of the time had found its victim.
+
+Law turned away from the coach of his smitten opponent, turned away with
+a face stern and full of trouble. Many things revolved themselves in his
+mind as he stepped slowly towards the carriage, in which his brother
+still sat wringing his hands in an agony of perturbation.
+
+"Jack, Jack!" cried Will Law, "Oh, heavens! You have killed him! You
+have killed a man! What shall we do?"
+
+Law raised his head and looked his brother in the face, but seemed
+scarce to hear him. Half mechanically he was fumbling in the side pocket
+of his coat. He drew forth from it now a peculiar object, at which he
+gazed intently and half in curiosity, It was the little beaded shoe of
+the Indian woman, the very object over which this ill-fated quarrel had
+arisen, and which now seemed so curiously to intermingle itself with his
+affairs.
+
+"'Twas a slight shield enough," he said slowly to himself, "yet it
+served. But for this little piece of hide, methinks there might be two
+of us going home to-day to take somewhat of rest."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+FOR FELONY
+
+
+Late in the afternoon of the day following the encounter in Bloomsbury
+Square, a little group of excited loiterers filled the entrance and
+passage way at 59 Bradwell Street, the former lodgings of the two young
+gentlemen from Scotland. The motley assemblage seemed for the most part
+to make merry at the expense of a certain messenger boy, who bore a long
+wicker box, which presently he shifted from his shoulder to a more
+convenient resting place on the curb.
+
+"Do 'ee but look at un," said one ancient dame. "He! he! Hath a parcel
+of fine clothes for the tall gentleman was up in third floor! He! he!
+Clothes for Mr. Law, indeed!"
+
+"Fine clothes, eh?" cried another, a portly dame of certain years. "Much
+fine clothes he'll need where he'm gone."
+
+"Yes, indeed, that he will na. Bad luck 'twas to Mary Cullen as took un
+into her house. Now she's no lodging money for her rooms, and her
+lodgers be both in Newgate; least ways, one of un."
+
+"Ah now, 'tis a pity for Mary Cullen, she do need the money so much--"
+
+"Shut ye all your mouths, the lot o' you," cried Mary Cullen herself,
+appearing at the door. "'Tis not she is needing the little money, for
+she has it right here in the corner of her apron. Every stiver Mary
+Cullen's young men said they'd pay they paid, like the gentlemen they
+were. I'll warrant the raggle of ye would do well to make out fine as
+Mary Cullen hath."
+
+"Oh now, is that true, Mary Cullen?" said a voice. "'Twas said that
+these two were noble folk come here for the sport of it."
+
+"What else but true? Do you never know the look of gentry? My fakes,
+I'll warrant the young gentleman is back within a fortnight. His
+brother, the younger one, said to me hisself but this very morn, his
+brother was hinnocent as a child; that he was obliged to strike the
+other man for fear of his own life. Now, what can judge do but turn un
+loose? Four sovereigns he gave me this very morn. What else can judge do
+but turn un free? Tell me that, now!"
+
+"Let's see the fine clothes," said the first old lady to the apprentice
+boy, reaching out a hand and pulling at the corner of the box-lid. The
+youth was nothing loath to show, with professional pride, the quality of
+his burden, and so raised the lid.
+
+"Land save us! 'Tis gentry sure enough they are," cried the inquisitive
+one. "Do-a look in there! Such clothes and laces, such a brand new wig,
+such silken hose! Law o' land! Must have cost all of forty crowns. Mary
+Cullen, right ye are; 'twas quality ye had with ye, even if 'twas but
+for little while."
+
+"And them gone to prison, him on trial for his life! I saw un ride out
+this very yesterday, fast as though the devil was behind un, and a finer
+body of a man never did I look at in my life. What pity 'tis, what pity
+'tis!"
+
+"Well," said the apprentice, with a certain superiority in his air. "I
+dare wait no longer. My master said the gentleman was to have the
+clothes this very afternoon. So if to prison he be gone, to prison must
+I go too." Upon which he set off doggedly, and so removed one of the
+main causes for the assemblage at the curb.
+
+The apprentice was hungry and weary enough before he reached the somber
+portals, yet his insistence won past gate-keeper and turnkey, one after
+another, till at length he reached the jailer who adjudged himself fit
+to pass upon the stolid demand that the messenger be admitted with the
+parcel for John Law, Esquire, late of Bradwell Street, marked urgent,
+and collect fifty sovereigns. The humor of all this appealed to the
+jailer mightily.
+
+"Send him along," he said. And the boy came in, much dismayed but still
+faithful to his trust.
+
+"Please, sir," said the youth, "I would know if ye have John Law,
+Esquire, in this place; and if so, I would see him. Master said I was
+not to bring back this parcel till that I had seen John Law, Esquire,
+and got from him fifty sovereigns. 'Tis for his wedding, sir, and the
+clothes are of the finest."
+
+The jailer smiled grimly. "Mr. Law gets presents passing soon," said he.
+"Set down your box. It might be weapons or the like."
+
+"Some clothes," said the apprentice. "Some very fine clothes. They are
+of our best."
+
+"Ha! ha!" roared the jailer. "Here indeed be a pretty jest. Much need
+he'll have of fine clothes here. He'll soon take his coat off the rack
+like the rest, and happen it fits him, very well. Take back your box,
+boy--or stay, let's have a look in't."
+
+The jailer was a man not devoid of wisdom. Fine clothes sometimes went
+with a long purse, and a long purse might do wonders to help the comfort
+of any prisoner in London, as well as the comfort of his keeper. Truly
+his eyes opened wide as he saw the contents of the box. He felt the
+lapel of the coat, passing it approvingly between his thumb and finger.
+"Well, e'en set ye down the box, lad," said he, "and wait till I see
+where Mr. Law has gone. Hum, hum! What saith the record? Charged that
+said prisoner did kill--hum, hum! Taken of said John Law six sovereigns,
+three shillings and sixpence. Item, one snuff-box, gilt. Hour of
+admission, five o'clock of the afternoon. We shall see, we shall see."
+
+"Sir," said the jailer, approaching the prisoner and his brother, who
+both remained in the detention room, "a lad hath arrived bearing a
+parcel for John Law, Esquire. 'Tis not within possibility that you have
+these goods, but we would know what disposition we shall make of them."
+
+"By my faith!" cried Law, "I had entirely forgot my haberdasher."
+
+The jailer stood on one foot and gave a cough, unnecessarily loud but
+sufficiently significant. It was enough for the quick wit of Law.
+
+"There was fifty sovereigns on the charge list," said the jailer.
+
+"Sixty sovereigns, I heard you say distinctly," replied Law. "Will, give
+me thy purse, man!"
+
+Will Law obeyed automatically.
+
+"There," said John Law to the jailer. "I am sure the garments will be
+very proper. Is it not all very proper?"
+
+The turnkey looked calmly into the face of his prisoner and as calmly
+replied: "It is, sir, as you say, very proper."
+
+"It would be much relief," said John Law, as the turnkey again appeared,
+bearing the box in his own hands, "if I might don my new garments. I
+would liefer make a good showing for thy house, friend, and can not, in
+this garb."
+
+"Sirrah," said the jailer, "there be rules of this place, as you very
+well know. Your little chamber was to have been in corridor number four,
+number twelve of the left aisle. But, sir, as perhaps you know, there be
+rules which are rules, and rules which are not so much--that is to
+say--rules, as you might put it, sir. The main thing is that I produce
+your body on the day of the hearing, which cometh soon. Meantime, since
+you seem a gentleman, and are in for no common felony, but charged, as I
+might say, with a light offense, why, sir, in such a case, I might say
+that a gentleman like yourself, if he cared to wear a bit of good
+clothes and wear it here in the parlor like, why, sir, I can see no harm
+in it. And that's competent to prove, as the judge says."
+
+"Very well, then," said Law, "I'll e'en deck out with the gear I should
+have had to-night had I been free; though I fear my employment this
+evening will scarce be pleasing as that which I had planned. Will, had I
+had but one more night at the Green Lion, we'd e'en have needed a
+special chair to carry home my winnings of their English gold."
+
+Enter then, a few moments later, "Beau" Law, "Jessamy" Law, late of
+Edinboro', gentleman, and a right gallant figure of a man. Tall he was
+indeed, and, so clad, making a picture of superb manhood. Ease and grace
+he showed in every movement. His long fingers closed lightly at top of a
+lacquered cane which he had found within the box. Deep ruffles of white
+hung down from his wrists, and a fall of wide lace drooped from the
+bosom of his ruffled shirt. His wig, deep curled and well whitened, gave
+a certain austerity to his mien. At his instep sparkled new buckles of
+brilliants, rising above which sprang a graceful ankle, a straight and
+well-rounded leg. The long lapels of his rich coat hung deep, and the
+rich waistcoat of plum-colored satin added slimness to a torso not too
+bulky in itself. Neat, dainty, fastidious, "Jessamy" Law, late of
+Edinboro', for some weeks of London, and now of a London prison, scarce
+seemed a man about to be put on trial for his life.
+
+He advanced from the door of the side room with ease and dignity.
+Reaching out a snuff-box which he had found in the silken pocket of his
+new garment, he extended it to the turnkey with an indifferent gesture.
+
+"Kindly have it filled with maccaboy," he said. "See, 'tis quite empty,
+and as such, 'tis useless."
+
+"Certainly, Captain Law," said the turnkey. "I am a man as knows what a
+gentleman likes, and many a one I've had here in my day, sir. As it
+chances, I've a bit of the best in my own quarters, and I'll see that
+you have what you like."
+
+"Will," said Law to his brother, who had scarce moved during all this,
+"come, cheer up! One would think 'twas thyself was to be inmate here,
+and not another."
+
+Will Law burst into tears.
+
+"God knows, 'twere better myself, and not thee, Jack," he said.
+
+"Pish! boy, no more of that! 'Twas as chance would have it. I'm never
+meant for staying here. Come, take this letter, as I said, and make
+haste to carry it. 'Twill serve nothing to have you moping here. Fare
+you well, and see that you sleep sound."
+
+Will Law turned, obedient as ever to the commands of the superior mind.
+He passed out through the heavily-guarded door as the turnkey swung it
+for him; passed out, turned and looked back. He saw his brother standing
+there, easy, calm, indifferent, a splendid figure of a man.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+THE MESSAGE
+
+
+To Will Law, as he turned away from the prison gate upon the errand
+assigned to him, the vast and shapeless shadows of the night-covered
+city took the form of appalling monsters, relentless, remorseless,
+savage of purpose. He passed, as one in some hideous dream, along
+streets that wound and wound until his brain lost distance and
+direction. It might have been an hour, two hours, and the clock might
+have registered after midnight, when at last he discovered himself in
+front of the dark gray mass of stone which the chairmen assured him was
+his destination. It was with trepidation that he stepped to the
+half-lighted door and fumbled for the knocker. The door slowly swung
+open, and he was confronted by the portly presence of a lackey who stood
+in silence waiting for his word.
+
+"A message for Lady Catharine Knollys," said Will, with what courage he
+could summon. "'Tis of importance, I make no doubt." For it was to the
+Lady Catharine that John Law had first turned. His heart craved one
+more sight of the face so beloved, one more word from the voice which so
+late had thrilled his soul. Away from these--ah! that was the prison for
+him, these were the bars which to him seemed imperatively needful to be
+broken. Aid he did not think of asking. Only, across London, in the
+night, he had sent the cry of his heart: "Come to me!"
+
+"The Lady Catharine is not in at this hour," said the butler, with, some
+asperity, closing the door again in part.
+
+"But 'tis important. I doubt if 'twill bear the delay of a night."
+Indeed, Will Law had hitherto hardly paused to reflect how unusual was
+this message, from such a person, to such address, and at such an hour.
+
+The butler hesitated, and so did the unbidden guest at the door. Neither
+heard at first the light rustle of garments at the head of the stair,
+nor saw the face bent over the balustrade in the shadows of the hall.
+
+"What is it, James?" asked a voice from above.
+
+"A message for the Lady Catharine," replied the servant. "Said to be
+important. What should I do?"
+
+"Lady Catharine Knollys is away," said the soft voice of Mary Connynge,
+speaking from the stair. Her voice came nearer as she now descended and
+appeared at the first landing.
+
+"We may crave your pardon, sir," said she, "that we receive you so ill,
+but the hour is very late. Lady Catharine is away, and Sir Charles is
+forth also, as usual, at this time. I am left proxy for my entertainers,
+and perhaps I may serve you in this case. Therefore pray step within."
+
+Reluctantly the butler swung open the door and admitted the visitor.
+Will Law stood face to face with Mary Connynge, just from her boudoir,
+and with time for but half care as to the details of her toilet; yet
+none the less Mary Connynge, Eve-like, bewitching, endowed with all the
+ancient wiles of womankind. Will Law gazed, since this was his fate.
+Unconsciously the sorcery of the sight enfolded the youth as he stood
+there uncertainly. He saw the round throat, the heavy masses of the dark
+hair, the full round form. He noted, though he could not define; felt,
+though he could not classify. He was young. Utterly helpless might have
+been even an older man in the hands of Mary Connynge at a time like
+this, Mary Connynge deliberately seeking to ensnare.
+
+"Pardon this robe, but half concealing," said her drooping eye and her
+half uplifted hands which caught the defining folds yet closer to her
+bosom. "'Tis in your chivalry I trust. I would not so with others." This
+to the beholder meant that he was the one man on earth to whom so much
+could be conceded.
+
+Therefore, following to his own undoing, as though led by some actual
+command, while but bidden gently by the softest voice in all the
+kingdom, the young man entered the great drawing-room and waited as the
+butler lessened the shadows by the aid of candles. He saw the smallest
+foot in London just peep in and out, suddenly withdrawn as Mary Connynge
+sat her down.
+
+She held the message now in her hand. In her soul sat burning
+impatience, in her heart contempt for the callow youth before her. Yet
+to that youth her attitude seemed to speak naught but deference for
+himself and doubt for this unusual situation.
+
+"Sir, I am in some hesitation," said Mary Connynge. "There is indeed
+none in the house except the servants. You say your message is of
+importance--"
+
+"It has indeed importance," responded Will. "It comes from my brother."
+
+"Your brother, Mr. Law?"
+
+"From my brother, John Law. He is in trouble. I make no doubt the
+message will set all plain."
+
+"'Tis most grievous that Lady Catharine return not till to-morrow."
+
+Mary Connynge shifted herself upon her seat, caught once more with swift
+modesty at the robe which fell from her throat. She raised her eyes and
+turned them full upon the visitor. Never had the spell of curve and
+color, never had the language of sex addressed this youth as it did now.
+Intoxicating enough was this vague, mysterious speech even at this
+inappropriate time. The girl knew that the mesh had fallen well. She but
+caught again at her robe, and cast down again her eyes, and voiced again
+her assumed anxiety. "I scarce know what to do," she murmured.
+
+"My brother did not explain--" said Will.
+
+"In that case," said Mary Connynge, her voice cool, though her soul was
+hot with impatience, "it might perhaps be well if I took the liberty of
+reading the message in Lady Catharine's absence. You say your brother is
+in trouble?"
+
+"Of the worst. Madam, to make plain with you, he is in prison, charged
+with the crime of murder."
+
+Mary Connynge sank back into her chair. The blood fled from her cheek.
+Her hands caught each other in a genuine gesture of distress.
+
+"In prison! John Law! Oh heaven! tell me how?" Her voice was trembling
+now.
+
+"My brother slew Mr. Wilson in a duel not of his own seeking. It
+happened yesterday, and so swift I scarce can tell you. He took up a
+quarrel which I had fixed to settle with Mr. Wilson myself. We all met
+at Bloomsbury Square, my brother coming in great haste. Of a sudden,
+after his fashion, he became enraged. He sprang from the carriage and
+met Mr. Wilson. And so--they passed a time or so, and 'twas done. Mr.
+Wilson died a few moments later. My brother was taken and lodged in
+jail. There is said to be bitter feeling at the court over this custom
+of dueling, and it has long been thought that an example would be made."
+
+"And this letter without doubt bears upon all this? Perhaps it might be
+well if I made both of us owners of its contents."
+
+"Assuredly, I should say," replied Will, too distracted to take full
+heed.
+
+The girl tore open the inclosure. She saw but three words, written
+boldly, firmly, addressed to no one, and signed by no one.
+
+"Come to me!" Thus spoke the message. This was the summons that had
+crossed black London town that night.
+
+Mary Connynge rose quickly to her feet, forgetting for the time the man
+who stood before her. The instant demanded all the resources of her
+soul. She fought to remain mistress of herself. A moment, and she
+passed Will Law with swift foot, and gained again the stairway in the
+hall, the letter still fast within her hand. Will Law had not time to
+ask its contents.
+
+"There is need of haste," said she. "James, have up the calash at once.
+Mr. Law, I crave your excuse for a time. In a moment I shall be ready to
+go with you."
+
+In two minutes she was sobbing alone, her face down upon the bed. In
+five, she was at the door, dressed, cloaked, smiling sweetly and ready
+for the journey. And thus it was that, of two women who loved John Law,
+that one fared on to see him for whom he had not sent.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+PRISONERS
+
+
+The turnkey at the inner door was slothful, sleepy and ill disposed to
+listen when he heard that certain callers would be admitted to the
+prisoner John Law.
+
+"Tis late," said he, "and besides, 'tis contrary to the rules. Must not
+a prison have rules? Tell me that!"
+
+"We have come to arrange for certain matters regarding Mr. Law's
+defense," said Mary Connynge, as she threw back her cloak and bent upon
+the turnkey the full glance of her dark eye. "Surely you would not deny
+us."
+
+The turnkey looked at Will Law with a hesitation in his attitude. "Why,
+this gentleman I know," he began.
+
+"Yes; let us in," cried Will Law, with sudden energy. "'Tis time that we
+took steps to set my brother free."
+
+"True, so say they all, young master," replied the turnkey, grinning.
+"'Tis easy to get ye in, but passing hard to get ye out again. Yet,
+since the young man ye wish to see is a very decent gentleman, and
+knoweth well the needs of a poor working body like myself, we will take
+the matter under advisement, as the court saith, forsooth."
+
+They passed through the heavy gates, down a narrow and heavy-aired
+passage, and finally into a naked room. It was here, in such somber
+surroundings, that Mary Connynge saw again the man whose image had been
+graven on her heart ever since that morn at Sadler's Wells. How her
+heart coveted him, how her blood leaped for him--these things the Mary
+Connynges of the world can tell, they who own the primeval heart of
+womankind.
+
+When John Law himself at length entered the room, he stepped forward at
+first confidently, eagerly, though with surprise upon his face. Then,
+with a sudden hesitation, he looked sharply at the figure which he saw
+awaiting him in the dingy room. His breath came sharp, and ended in a
+sigh. For a half moment his face flushed, his brow showed question and
+annoyance. Yet rapidly, after his fashion, he mastered himself.
+
+"Will," said he, calmly, to his brother, "kindly ask the coachman to
+wait for this lady."
+
+He stood for a moment gazing after the form of his brother as it
+disappeared in the outer shadows. For this half-moment he took swift
+counsel of himself. It was a face calm and noncommittal that he turned
+toward the girl who sat now in the darkest corner of the room, her head
+cast down, her foot beating a signal of perturbation upon the floor.
+From the corner of her eye Mary Connynge saw him, a tall and manly man,
+superbly clad, faultless in physique and raiment from top to toe. He
+stood as though ready to step into his carriage for some voyage to rout
+or ball. Youth, vigor, self-reliance, confidence, this was the whole
+message of the splendid figure. The blood of Mary Connynge, this
+survival, this half-savage woman, unregulated, unsubdued, leaped high
+within her bosom, fled to her face, gave color to her cheek and
+brightness to her eye. Her breath shortened after feline fashion. Deep
+was calling unto deep, ancient unto ancient, primitive unto primitive.
+Without the gate of London prison there was one abject prisoner. Within
+its gates there were two prisoners, and one of them was slave for life!
+
+"Madam," said John Law, in deep and vibrant tone, "you will pardon me if
+I say that it gives me surprise to see you here."
+
+"Yes; I have come," said the girl, not logically.
+
+"You bring, perhaps, some message?"
+
+"I--I brought a message."
+
+"It is from the Lady Catharine?"
+
+Mary Connynge was silent for a moment. It was necessary that, at least
+for a moment, the poison of some æons should distil. There was need of
+savagery to say what she proposed to say. The voice of training, of
+civilization, of unselfishness, of friendship raised a protest. Wait
+then for a moment. Wait until the bitterness of an ambitious and
+unrounded life could formulate this evil impulse. Wait, till Mary
+Connynge could summon treachery enough to slay her friend. And yet, wait
+only until the primitive soul of Mary Connynge should become altogether
+imperative in its demands! For after all, was not this friend a woman,
+and is not the earth builded as it is? And hath not God made male and
+female its inhabitants; and as there is war of male and male, is there
+not war of female and female, until the end of time?
+
+"I came from the Lady Catharine," said Mary Connynge, slowly, "but I
+bring no message from her of the sort which perhaps you wished." It was
+a desperate, reckless lie, a lie almost certain of detection yet it was
+the only resource of the moment, and a moment later it was too late to
+recall. One lie must now follow another, and all must make a deadly
+coil.
+
+"Madam, I am sorry," said John Law, quietly, yet his face twitched
+sharply at the impact of these cutting words. "Did you know of my letter
+to her?"
+
+"Am I not here?" said Mary Connynge.
+
+"True, and I thank you deeply. But how, why-pray you, understand that I
+would be set right. I would not undergo more than is necessary. Will you
+not explain?"
+
+"There is but little to explain--little, though it may mean much. It
+must be private. Your brother--he must never know. Promise me not to
+speak to him of this."
+
+"This means much to me, I doubt not, my dear lady," said John Law. "I
+trust I may keep my counsel in a matter which comes so close to me."
+
+"Yes, truly," replied Mary Connynge, "if you had set your heart upon a
+kindly answer."
+
+"What! You mean, then, that she--"
+
+"Do you promise?"
+
+The brows of Law settled deeper and deeper into the frown which marked
+him when he was perturbed. The blood, settled back, now slowly mounted
+again into his face, the resentful, fighting blood of the Highlander.
+
+"I promise," he cried. "And now, tell me what answer had the Lady
+Catharine Knollys."
+
+"She declined to answer," said Mary Connynge, slowly and evenly.
+"Declined to come. She said that she was ill enough pleased to hear of
+your brawling. Said that she doubted not the law would punish you, nor
+doubted that the law was just."
+
+John Law half whirled upon his heel, smote his hands together and
+laughed loud and bitterly.
+
+"Madam," said he, "I had never thought to say it to a woman, but in very
+justice I must tell you that I see quite through this shallow
+falsehood."
+
+"Sir," said Mary Connynge, her hands clutching at the arms of her chair,
+"this is unusual speech to a lady!"
+
+"But your story, Madam, is most unusual."
+
+"Tell me, then, why should I be here?" burst out the girl. "What is it
+to me? Why should I care what the Lady Catharine says or does? Why
+should I risk my own name to come of this errand in the night? Now let
+me pass, for I shall leave you."
+
+Tho swift jealous rage of Mary Connynge was unpremeditated, yet nothing
+had better served her real purpose. The stubborn nature of Law was ever
+ready for a challenge. He caught her arm, and placed her not unkindly
+upon the chair.
+
+"By heaven, I half believe what you say is true!" said he, as though to
+himself.
+
+"Yet you just said 'twas false," said the girl, her eyes flashing.
+
+"I meant that what you add is true, and hence the first also must be
+believed. Then you saw my message?"
+
+"I did, since it so fell out."
+
+"But you did not read the real message. I asked no aid of any one for my
+escape. I but asked her to come. In sheer truth, I wished but to see
+her."
+
+"And by what right could you expect that?"
+
+"I asked her as my affianced wife," replied John Law.
+
+Mary Connynge stood an inch taller, as she sprang to her feet in sudden
+scorn and bitterness.
+
+"Your affianced wife!" cried she. "What! So soon! Oh, rare indeed must
+be my opinion of this Lady Catharine!"
+
+"It was never my way to waste time on a journey," said John Law, coolly.
+
+"Your wife, your affianced wife?"
+
+"As I said."
+
+"Yes," cried Mary Connynge, bitterly, and again, unconsciously and in
+sheer anger, falling upon that course which best served her purpose.
+"And what manner of affianced wife is it would forsake her lover at the
+first breath of trouble? My God! 'tis then, it seems to me, a woman
+would most swiftly fly to the man she loved."
+
+John Law turned slowly toward her, his eyes scanning her closely from
+top to toe, noting the heaving of her bosom, the sparkling of her
+gold-colored eye, now darkened and half ready to dissolve in tears. He
+stood as though he were a judge, weighing the evidence before him,
+calmly, dispassionately.
+
+"Would you do so much as that, Mary Connynge?" asked John Law.
+
+"I, sir?" she replied. "Then why am I here to-night myself? But, God pity
+me, what have I said? There is nothing but misfortune in all my life!"
+
+It was one rebellious, unsubdued nature speaking to another, and of the
+two each was now having its own sharp suffering. The instant of doubt is
+the time of danger. Then comes revulsion, bitterness, despair, folly.
+John Law trod a step nearer.
+
+"By God! Madam," cried he, "I would I might believe you. I would I might
+believe that you, that any woman, would come to me at such a time! But
+tell me--and I bethink me my message was not addressed, was even
+unsigned--whom then may I trust? If this woman scorns my call at such a
+time, tell me, whom shall I hold faithful? Who would come to me at any
+time, in any case, in my trouble? Suppose my message were to you?"
+
+Mary Connynge stirred softly under her deep cloak. Her head was lifted
+slightly, the curve of cheek and chin showing in the light that fell
+from the little lamp. The masses of her dark hair lay piled about her
+face, tumbled by the sweeping of her hood. Her eyes showed tremulously
+soft and deep now as he looked into them. Her little hands half twitched
+a trifle from her lap and reached forward and upward. Primitive she
+might have been, wicked she was, sinfully sweet; and yet she was woman.
+It was with the voice of tears that she spoke, if one might claim
+vocalization for her speech.
+
+"Have I not come?" whispered she.
+
+"By God! Mary Connynge, yes, you have come!" cried Law. And though there
+was heartbreak in his voice, it sounded sweet to the ear of her who
+heard it, and who now reached up her arms about his neck.
+
+"Ah, John Law," said Mary Connynge, "when a woman loves--when a woman
+loves, she stops at nothing!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+IF THERE WERE NEED
+
+
+Time wore on in the ancient capital of England. The tramp of troops
+echoed in the streets, and the fleets of Britain made ready to carry her
+sons over seas for wars and for adventures. The intrigues of party
+against party, of church against church, of Parliament against king; the
+loves, the hates, the ambitions, the desires of all the city's hurrying
+thousands went on as ever. Who, then, should remember a single prisoner,
+waiting within the walls of England's jail? The hours wore on slowly
+enough for that prisoner. He had faced a jury of his peers and was
+condemned to face the gallows. Meantime he had said farewell to love and
+hope and faithfulness, even as he bade farewell to life. "Since she has
+forsaken me whom I thought faithful," said he to himself, "why, let it
+end, for life is a mockery I would not live out." And thenceforth,
+haggard but laughing, pale but with unbroken courage, he trod on his way
+through his few remaining days, the wonder of those who saw him.
+
+As for Mary Connynge, surely she had matters enough which were best kept
+secret in her own soul. While Lady Catharine was hoping, and praying,
+and dreaming and believing, even as the roses left her cheek and the
+hollows fell beneath her eyes, she saw about her in the daily walks of
+life Mary Connynge, sleek and rounded as ever. They sat at table
+together, and neither did the one make sign to the other of her own
+anxiety, nor did that other give sign of her own treachery. Mary
+Connynge, false guest, false friend, false woman, deceived so perfectly
+that she left no indication of deceit. She herself knew, and blindly
+satisfied herself with the knowledge, that she alone now came close into
+the life of "Beau" Law, the convict; "Jessamy" Law, the student, the
+financier, the thinker; John Law, her lord and master. Herein she found
+the sole compensation possible in her savage nature. She had found the
+master whom she sought!
+
+Cynically mirthful or irreverently indifferent, yet never did her
+master's strength forsake him, never did his heart lose its
+undauntedness. And when he bade Mary Connynge do this or that she obeyed
+him; when he bade her arise she arose; at his word she came or departed.
+A dozen nights in the month she was absent from the house of Knollys. A
+dozen nights Will Law was cozened into frenzy, alternating between a
+heaven of delight and a hell of despair, and ignorant of her twofold
+duplicity. A dozen nights John Law knew well enough where Mary Connynge
+was, though no one else might know. There was feminine triumph now in
+full in the heart of this Mary Connynge, who had gone white with rage at
+the sight of a rose offered across her face to another woman. Had she
+not her master? Was he not hers, all hers, belonging in no wise to any
+other?
+
+For the future, Mary Connynge did not ponder it. An ephemera, once
+buried generations deep in the mire and slime of lower conditions, and
+now craving blindly but the sunlight of the day, she would have sought
+the deadly caress of life even though at that moment it had sealed her
+doom. Foolish or wise, she was as she was; since, under our frail
+society, life is as it is.
+
+Only at night, on those nights when she was sleepless on her own couch
+beneath the roof of Catharine Knollys, did Mary Connynge allow herself
+to think. Tell, then, ye who may, whether or not she was a mere survival
+of some forgotten day of the forest and the glade, as she lay with her
+hands clasped in brief moments of emotion. Surely she hoped, as all
+women hope who love, that this might endure for her forever. Yet the
+next moment there came the thought that inevitably it all must end, and
+soon. Then her hand clenched, her eyes grew dry and brilliant. She said
+to herself: "There is no hope. He can not be saved! For this short
+period of his life he shall be mine, all mine! He shall not be set free!
+He shall not go away, to belong, at any time, in any part, to any other
+woman! Though he die, yet shall he love me to the end; me, Mary
+Connynge, and no other woman!"
+
+Now, under this same roof of Knollys, separated by but a few yards of
+space, there lay another woman, thinking also of this convict behind the
+prison bars. But this was a woman of another and a nobler mold. Into the
+heart of Catharine Knollys there came no mere mad selfishness of desire,
+yearn though she did in every fiber of her being since that first time
+she felt the mastering kiss of love. There was born in her soul emotion
+of a higher sort. The Lady Catharine Knollys prayed, and her prayer was
+not that her lover should die, but that he might live; that he might be
+free.
+
+Nor was this hope left to wither unnourished in the mind of the
+high-bred and courageous English girl. Alone, without confidant to
+counsel her, with no woman friend to aid her, the Lady Catharine
+Knollys backed her own hopes and wishes with resource and energy. There
+came a time, perilously late, when a faint rose showed once more in her
+cheek, long so worn, a faintly brighter light glowed in her deep eye.
+
+When Sir Arthur Pembroke received a message from the Lady Catharine
+Knollys advising him that the latter would receive him at her home, it
+was left for the impulses, the hopes, the imaginings of that modest
+young nobleman to establish a reason for the message. Puzzling all along
+his rapid way in answer to the summons, Sir Arthur found the answer
+which best suited his hopes in the faint flush, the brightened eye of
+the young woman who received him.
+
+"Lady Catharine," he began, impetuously, "I have come, and let me hope
+that 'tis at last to have my answer. I have waited--each moment has been
+a year that I have spent away from you."
+
+"Now, that is very pretty said."
+
+"But I am serious."
+
+"And that is why I do not like you."
+
+"But, Lady Catharine!"
+
+"I should like it better did you but continue as in the past. We have
+met on the Row, at the routs and drums, in the country; and always I
+have felt free to ask any favor of Sir Arthur Pembroke. Why could it not
+be always thus?"
+
+"You might ask my very life, Lady Catharine."
+
+"Ah, there it is! When a man offers his life, 'tis time for a woman to
+ask nothing."
+
+She turned from the open window, her attitude showing an unwonted
+weakness and dejection. Sir Arthur still stood near by, his own face
+frowning and uncertain.
+
+"Lady Catharine," he broke out at length, "for years, as you know, I
+have sought your favor. I have dared think that sometime the day would
+come when--my faith! Lady Catharine, the day has come now when I feel it
+my right to demand the cause of anything which troubles you. And that
+you are troubled is plain enough. Ever since this man Law----"
+
+"There," cried Lady Catharine, raising her hand. "I beg you to say no
+more."
+
+"But I will say more! There must be a reason for this."
+
+The face of the young woman flushed in spite of herself, as Pembroke
+strode closer and gazed at her with sternness.
+
+"Lady Catharine," said he, slowly, "I am a friend of your family.
+Perhaps now I may be of aid to you. Prove me, and at the last, ask who
+was indeed your friend."
+
+"We have had misfortunes, we of the family of the Knollys," said Lady
+Catharine. "This is, perhaps, but the fate of the house of Knollys. It
+is my fate."
+
+"Your fate!" said Sir Arthur, slowly. "Your fate! Lady Catharine, I
+thank you. It is at least as well to know the truth."
+
+"Pick out the truth, then, Sir Arthur, as you like it. I am not on the
+witness stand before you, and you are not my judge. There has been
+forsworn testimony enough already in this town. Were it not for that,
+Mr. Law would at this moment be free as you or I."
+
+Sir Arthur struck his hands together in despair, and turning away,
+strode down the room.
+
+"Oh, I see it all well enough," cried he. "You are mad as any who have
+hitherto had dealings with this madman from the North."
+
+The girl rose to her full height and stood before him.
+
+"It may be I am mad," said she. "It may be the old Knollys madness. If
+so, why should I struggle against it? It may be that I am mad. But I
+venture to say to you that Mr. Law is not born to die in Newgate yards.
+My life! sir, if I love him, who should say me nay? Now, say to
+yourself, and to your friends--to all London, if you like, since you
+have touched me to this point--that Catharine Knollys is friend to Mr.
+Law, and believes in him, and declares that he shall be freed from his
+prison, and that within short space! Say that, Sir Arthur; tell them
+that! And if they argue somewhat from it, why, let them reason it as
+best they may."
+
+The young man stood, his lips close together, his head still turned
+away. The girl continued with growing energy.
+
+"I have sent for you to tell you that Mr. Law's life has a value in my
+eyes. And now, I say to you, Sir Arthur, that you must aid me in his
+escape."
+
+A beautiful picture she made, tearful, pleading, a lock of her soft
+red-brown hair falling unnoticed across her tear-wet cheek. It had been
+ill task, indeed, to make refusal of any sort to a woman so gloriously
+feminine, so noble, now so beseeching.
+
+"Lady Catharine," said the young man, turning toward her, "this illness,
+this anxiety--"
+
+"No, I know perfectly well whereof I speak! Listen, and I'll tell you
+somewhat of news. Montague, chancellor of the exchequer, is my warrant
+for what I say to you when I tell you that Mr. Law is to be free.
+Montague himself has said to me, in this very room, that Mr. Law was
+like to be half the salvation of England in these uncertain times. I
+could tell you more, but may not. Only look you, Sir Arthur, John Law
+does not rest in Newgate more than one week from this time!"
+
+Sir Arthur took snuff, his voice at length regaining that composure for
+which he had sought.
+
+"'Tis very excellent," he said. "For myself, two centuries have been
+spent in my family to teach me to love like a gentleman, and to deserve
+you like a man. What does this young man need? A few days of bluster, of
+assertion! A few weeks of gaming and of roistering, of self-asserted
+claims! Gad! Lady Catharine, this is passing bitter! And now you ask me
+to help him."
+
+"I wish you to help him," said Lady Catharine, slowly, "only in that I
+ask you to help me."
+
+"And if I did?"
+
+"And if you did, you should dwell in a part of my heart forever! Let it
+be as you like."
+
+"Then," cried the young man, flushing suddenly and hotly as he strode
+toward her, "do with me as you like! Let me be fool unspeakable!"
+
+"And do you promise?" said Lady Catharine, rising and advancing toward
+him. Her face was sad and appealing. Her eyes swam in tears, her lips
+were trembling.
+
+Sir Arthur held out his hand. The Lady Catharine extended both her own,
+and he bent and kissed them, tears springing in his eyes. For a time the
+room was silent. Then the girl turned, her own lashes wet. She stepped
+at length to a cabinet and took from an inner drawer a paper.
+
+"Sir Arthur, look at this," she Said.
+
+He took it from her and scrutinized it carefully.
+
+"Why, this seems to be a street bill, a placard for posting upon the
+walls," said he.
+
+"Read it."
+
+"Yes, well--so, so. 'Five hundred pounds reward for information
+regarding the escaped felon, Captain John Law, convicted of murder and
+under sentence of death of the King's Bench. The same Law escaped from
+Newgate prison on the night of'--hum--well--well--'May be known by this
+description: Is tall, of dark complexion, spare of build, raw-boned,
+face hath deep pock-marks. Eyes dark; hair dark and scanty. Speaketh
+broad and loud.' How--how, why my dear Lady Catharine, this is the last
+proof that thou'rt stark, staring mad! This no more tallies with the
+true John Law than it does with my hunting horse!"
+
+"And but few would know him by this description?"
+
+"None, absolutely none."
+
+"None could tell 'twas he, even did they meet him full face to face--no
+one would know it was Mr. Law?"
+
+"Why, assuredly not. 'Tis as unlike him as it could be."
+
+"Then it is well!" said Lady Catharine.
+
+"Well? Very badly done, I should say."
+
+"Oh, my poor Sir Arthur, where are your wits? 'Tis very well because
+'tis very ill, this same description."
+
+"Ah, ha!" said he, a sudden light dawning upon him. "Then you mean to
+tell me that this description was misconceived deliberately?"
+
+"What would you think?"
+
+"Did you do this work yourself?"
+
+"Guess for yourself. Montague, as you know, was once of a pretty
+imagination, ere he took to finance. If he and the poet Prior could
+write such conceits as they have created, could not perhaps Montague--or
+Prior--or some one else--have conceived this description of Mr. Law?"
+
+The young man threw himself into a seat, his head between his hands.
+"'Tis like a play," said he. "And surely the play of fortune ever runs
+well enough for Mr. Law."
+
+"Sir Arthur," said Lady Catharine, rising uneasily and standing before
+him, "I must confess to you that I bear a certain active part in private
+plans looking to the escape of Mr. Law. I have come to you for aid. Sir
+Arthur, I pray God that we may be successful."
+
+The young man also rose and began to pace the floor.
+
+"Even did Law escape," he began, "it would mean only his flight from
+England."
+
+"True," said the Lady Catharine, "that is all planned. The ship even now
+awaits him in the Pool. He is to take ship at once upon leaving prison,
+and he sails at once from England. He goes to France."
+
+"But, my dear Lady Catharine, this means that he must part from you."
+
+"Of course, it means our parting."
+
+"Oh, but you said--but I thought--"
+
+"But I said--but you thought--Sir Arthur, do not stand there prating
+like a little boy!"
+
+"You do not, then, keep your prisoner bound by other fetters after he
+escapes from Newgate?"
+
+"I do nothing unwomanly, and I do nothing, I trust, ignoble. I go to
+meet the Knollys fate, whatever it may be."
+
+"Lady Catharine," cried Pembroke, passionately, "I have said I loved
+you. Never in my life did I love you as I do now!"
+
+"I like to hear your words," said the girl, frankly. "There shall always
+be your corner in my heart--"
+
+"Yet you will do this thing?"
+
+"I will do this thing. I shall not whimper nor repine. I am sending him
+away forever, but 'tis needful for his sake. I shall be ready for
+whatever fate hath for me."
+
+"Tell me, then," said Pembroke, his face haggard and unhappy, "how am I
+to serve you in this matter."
+
+"In this way: To-morrow night call here with your coach. My household,
+if they note it, may take your coach for my own, and may perhaps
+understand that I go to the rout of my Lady Swearingsham. We shall go,
+instead, to Newgate. For the night, Sir Arthur Pembroke shall serve as
+coachman. You must drive the carriage to Newgate jail."
+
+"And 'tis there," said Pembroke, slowly, "that the Lady Catharine
+Knollys, the dearest woman of all England, would take the man who
+honorably loves her--to Newgate, to feloniously set free a felon? Is it
+there, then, Lady Catharine, you would go to meet your lover?"
+
+The tall figure of the girl straightened up to its full height. A shade
+of color came to her cheeks, but her voice was firm, though tears came
+to her eyes as she answered:
+
+"Aye, sir, I would go to Newgate if there were need!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+THE ESCAPE
+
+
+On a certain morning a messenger rode in hot haste up to the prison
+gate. He bore the livery of Montague. Turnkey after turnkey admitted
+him, until finally he stood before the cell of John Law and delivered
+into his hand, as he had been commanded, the message that he bore. That
+afternoon this same messenger paused at the gate of the house of
+Knollys. Here, too, he was admitted promptly. He delivered into the
+hands of the Lady Catharine Knollys a certain message. This was of a
+Wednesday. On the following Friday it was decreed that the gallows
+should do its work. Two more days and there would be an end of "Jessamy"
+Law.
+
+That Wednesday night a covered carriage came to the door of the house of
+Knollys. Its driver was muffled in such fashion that he could hardly
+have been known. There stepped from the house the cloaked figure of a
+woman, who entered the carriage and herself pulled shut the door. The
+vehicle was soon lost among the darkling streets.
+
+Catharine Knollys had heard the summons of her fate. She now sat
+trembling in the carriage.
+
+When finally the vehicle stopped at the curb of the walk which led to
+the prison gate, a second carriage, as mysterious as the first, came
+down the street and stopped at a little distance, but close to the curb
+on the side nearest to the gate. The driver of the first carriage,
+evidently not liking the close neighborhood at the time, edged a trifle
+farther down the way. The second carriage thereupon drew up into the
+spot just vacated, and the two, not easily distinguishable at the hour
+and in the dark and unlighted street, stood so, each apparently watchful
+of the other, each seemingly without an occupant.
+
+Lady Catharine had left her carriage before this interchange, and had
+passed the prison gate alone. Her steps faltered. It was hardly
+consciously that she finally found her way into the court, through the
+gate, down the evil-smelling corridors, past the sodden and leering
+constables, up to the last gate which separated her from him whom she
+had come to see.
+
+She had been admitted without demur as far as this point, and even now
+her coming seemed not altogether a matter of surprise. The burly turnkey
+at the last door stood ready to meet her. With loud commands, he drove
+out of the corridor the crowd of prison attendants. He approached Lady
+Catharine, hat in hand and bowing deeply.
+
+"I presume you are the man whom I would see," said she, faintly, almost
+unequal to the task imposed upon her.
+
+"Aye, Madam, I doubt not, with my best worship for you."
+
+"I was to come"--said Lady Catharine. "I was to speak to you--"
+
+"Aye," replied the turnkey. "You were to come, and you were to speak.
+And now, what were you to say to me? Was there no given word?"
+
+"There was such a word," she said. "You will understand. It is in the
+matter of Mr. Law."
+
+"True," said the turnkey. "But I must have the countersign. There are
+heads to lose in this, yours and mine, if there be mistake."
+
+Lady Catharine raised her head proudly. "It was for Faith," said she,
+"for Love, and for Hope! These were the words."
+
+Saying which, as though she had called to her aid the last atom of her
+strength, she staggered back and half fell against the wall near the
+inner gate. The rude jailer sprang forward to steady her.
+
+"Yes, yes," he whispered, eagerly. "'Tis all proper. Those be the
+words. Pray you, have courage, lady."
+
+There came into the corridor a murmur of voices, and there was audible
+also the sound of a man's footfalls approaching along the flags.
+Catharine Knollys looked through the bars of the gate which the turnkey
+was already beginning to throw open for her. She looked, and there
+appeared upon her vision, a sight which caused her heart to stop, which
+confounded all her reason. From a side door there advanced John Law,
+magnificently clad, walking now as though he trod the floor of some
+great hall or banquet room.
+
+The woman waiting without the gate reached out her arms. She would have
+cried aloud. Then she fell back against the wall, whereat had she not
+grasped she must have sunk down to the floor.
+
+Upon the arm of John Law, and looking up to him as she walked, there
+hung the clinging figure of a woman, half-hidden by the flickering
+shadows of the torches. A deep cloak fell back from her shoulders. It
+might have been the light fabric of the aborigine. Upon the foot of Mary
+Connynge, twinkling in and out as she walked, showed the crudely
+garnished little shoe of the Indian princess over seas, dainty, bizarre,
+singular, covering the smallest foot in all London town.
+
+"By all the saints!" Law was saying, "you might be the very maker of
+this little slipper yourself. I have won the forty crowns, I swear!
+Perforce, I'll leave them to you in my will."
+
+The shock of the light speech made even Mary Connynge wince. For the
+moment she averted her eyes from the handsome face above her. She
+looked, and saw what gave her greater shock. Law, too, stared, as her
+own startled gaze grew fixed. He advanced close to the gate, only to
+start back in a horror of surprise which racked even his steeled
+composure.
+
+"Madam!" he cried; and then, "Catharine!"
+
+Catharine Knollys made no answer to him, though she looked straight and
+calmly into his face, seeming not in the least to see the woman near
+him. Her eyes were wide and shining. "Sir," said she, "keep fast to
+Hope! This was for Faith, and for Love!"
+
+The jailer with one quick gesture swung wide the gate. "Haste, haste!"
+he cried. "Quick and begone! This night may mean my ruin! Get ye gone,
+all of ye, and give me time to think. Out with ye all, for I must lock
+the gate!"
+
+John Law passed as one stupefied, the slender form of Mary Connynge
+still upon his arm. Hands of men hurried them. "Quick! Into the
+carriage!" one cried.
+
+And now the sounds of feet and voices approaching along the corridor
+were heard. The jailer swiftly swung the heavy gate to and locked it.
+Catharine Knollys caught his last gesture, which bade her begone as fast
+as might be. Her feet were strangely heavy, in spite of her. She reached
+the curb in time to hear only the whir of wheels as a carriage sped away
+over the stones of the street. She stood alone, irresolute for half an
+instant as the crunch of wheels spun up to the curb again. A hand
+reached out and beckoned; involuntarily she obeyed the summons. Her
+wrist was seized, and she was half pulled through the door of the
+carriage.
+
+"What!" cried a voice. "You, Lady Catharine! Why, how is this?"
+
+It was the voice of Will Law, whom she knew, but who certainly was not
+the one who had brought her hither. The Lady Catharine accepted this
+last situation as one no longer able to reason. She sank down in the
+carriage seat, shivering.
+
+"Is all well?" asked Will Law, eagerly.
+
+"He is safe," said Lady Catharine Knollys. "It is done. It is finished."
+
+"What does this mean?" exclaimed Will.
+
+"His carriage--there it is. It goes to the ship--to the Pool. He and
+Mary Connynge are only just ahead of us. You may hear the wheels. Do you
+not hear them?" She spoke with leaden voice, and her head sank heavily.
+
+"What! My brother--Mary Connynge--in that carriage--what can you mean?
+My God! Lady Catharine, tell me, what do you mean?"
+
+"I do not know," said Catharine Knollys. All things now seemed very far
+away from her. Her head sank gently forward, and she heard not the words
+of the man who frantically sought to awaken her to speech.
+
+From the prison to London Pool was a journey of some distance across the
+streets of London. Will Law called out to the driver with savagery in
+his voice. He shouted, cursed, implored, promised, and betimes held one
+hand under the soft, heavy tresses of the head now sunk so humbly
+forward.
+
+The mad ride ended at the quay on Thames side, where the shadows of the
+tall buildings lay rank and thick upon the earth, where tarry smells and
+evil odors filled the heavy air, penetrated none the less by the savor
+of the keen salt air. More than one giant form was outlined in the broad
+stream, vessels tall and ghost-like in the gloom, shadowy, suggestive,
+bearing imprint and promise of far lands across the sea.
+
+Here was the initial point of England's greatness. Here on this heavy
+stream had her captains taken ship. Thence had sailed her admirals to
+encompass all the world. In these dark massed shadows, how much might
+there not be of fate and mystery! Whither might not these vessels carry
+one! To France, to the far-off Indies, to the new-owned islands, to
+America with its little half-grown ports. Whence and whither? What might
+not one do, here at this gateway of the world?
+
+"To the brigantine beyond!" cried Will Law to the wherryman who came up.
+"We want Captain McMasters, of the Polly Perkins. For God's sake, quick!
+There's that afoot must be caught up within the moment, do you hear!"
+
+The wherryman touched his cap and quickly made ready his boat. Will Law,
+understanding naught of this swift coil of events, and not daring to
+leave Lady Catharine behind him at the carriage, made down the stairway,
+half carrying the drooping figure which now leaned weakly upon his
+shoulder.
+
+"Pull now, man! Pull as you never did before!" cried he, and the
+wherryman bent hard to his oars.
+
+Yet great as was the haste of those who put forth into the foggy
+Thames, it was more than equalled by that of one who appeared upon the
+dock, even as the creak of the oars grew fainter in the gloom. There
+came the rattle of wheels upon the quay, and the sound of a driver
+lashing his horses. A carriage rolled up, and there sprang from the box
+a muffled figure which resolved itself into the very embodiment of
+haste.
+
+"Hold the horses, man!" he cried to the nearest by-stander, and sprang
+swiftly to the head of the stairs, where a loiterer or two stood idly
+gazing out into the mist which overhung the water.
+
+"Saw you aught of a man," he demanded hastily, "a man and a woman, a
+tall young woman--you could not mistake her? 'Twas the Polly Greenway
+they should have found. Tell me, for God's sake, has any boat put out
+from this stair?"
+
+"Why, sir," replied one of the wherrymen who stood near by, pipe in
+mouth and hand in pocket, "since you mention it, there was a boat
+started but this instant for midstream. They sought McMaster's
+brigantine, the Polly Perkins, that lies waiting for the tide. 'Twas, as
+you say, a young gentleman, and with him was a young woman. I misdoubt
+the lady was ill."
+
+"Get me a boat!" cried the new-comer. "A sovereign, five sovereigns, ten
+sovereigns, a hundred--but that ship must not weigh anchor until I
+board her, do you hear!"
+
+The ring of the imperative voice, and moreover the ring of good English
+coin, set all the dock astir. Straightway there came up another wherry
+with two lusty fellows, who laid her at the stair where stood the
+impatient stranger.
+
+"Hurry, men!" he cried. "'Tis life and death--'tis more than life and
+death!"
+
+And such fortune attended Sir Arthur Pembroke that forsooth he went over
+the side of the Polly Perkins, even as the gray dawn began to break over
+the narrow Thames, and even as the anchor-song of the crew struck up.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+WHITHER
+
+
+A few hours later a coppery sun slowly dispersed the morning mists above
+the Thames. The same sun warmed the court-yards of the London jail,
+which lately had confined John Law, convicted of the murder of Beau
+Wilson, gentleman. It was discovered that the said John Law had, in some
+superhuman fashion, climbed the spiked walls of the inner yard. The
+jailer pointed out the very spot where this act had been done. It was
+not so plain how he had passed the outer gates of the prison, yet those
+were not wanting who said that he had overpowered the turnkey at the
+gate, taken from him his keys, and so forced his way out into London
+city.
+
+Far and wide went forth the proclamation of reward for the apprehension
+of this escaped convict. The streets of London were placarded broadcast
+with bills bearing this description of the escaped prisoner:
+
+"Five hundred pounds reward for information regarding the escaped
+felon, John Law, convicted in the King's Bench of murder and under
+sentence of death. The same Law escaped from prison on the night of 20
+July. May be known by the following description: Is tall, of dark
+complexion, spare of build, raw-boned, face hath deep pock-marks. Eyes
+dark, hair dark and scanty. Speaks broad and loud. Carries his shoulders
+stooped, and is of mean appearance.
+
+                         "WESTON, High Sheriff.
+                         Done at Newgate prison, this 21 July."
+
+Yet though the authorities of the law made full search in London, and
+indeed in other of the principal cities of England, they got no word of
+the escaped prisoner.
+
+The clouded dawn which broke over the Thames below the Pool might have
+told its own story. There sat upon the deck of the good ship Polly
+Greenway, outbound from Thames' mouth, this same John Law. He regarded
+idly the busy scenes of the shipping about him. His gaze, dull and
+listless, looked without joy upon the dawn, without inquiry upon the far
+horizon. For the first time in all his life John Law dropped his head
+between his hands.
+
+Not so Mary Connynge. "Good sir," cried she, merrily, "'tis morning.
+Let's break our fast, and so set forth proper on our voyage."
+
+"So now we are free," said Law, dully. "I could swear there were
+shackles on me."
+
+"Yes, we are free," said Mary Connynge, "and all the world is before us.
+But saw you ever in all your life a man so dumfounded as was Sir Arthur
+when he discovered 'twas I, and not the Lady Catharine, had stepped into
+the carriage? That confusion of the carriages was like to have cost us
+everything. I know not how your brother made such mistake. He said he
+would fetch me home the night. Gemini! It sure seems a long way about!
+And where may be your brother now, or Sir Arthur, or the Lady
+Catharine--why, 'tis as much confused as though 'twere all in a play!"
+
+"But Sir Arthur cried that my ship was for France. Yet here they tell me
+that this brigantine is bound for the mouth of the St. Lawrence, in
+America! What then of this other, and what of my brother--what of
+us--what of--?"
+
+"Why, I think this," said Mary Connynge, calmly. "That you do very well
+to be rid of London jail; and for my own part, 'tis a rare appetite the
+salt air ever gives me!"
+
+Upon the same morning tide there was at this very moment just setting
+aloft her sails for the first high airs of dawn the ship of McMasters,
+the Polly Perkins, bound for the port of Brest.
+
+She came down scarce a half-dozen cable lengths behind the craft which
+bore the fugitives now beginning their journey toward another land. Upon
+the deck of this ship, even as upon the other, there were those who
+waited eagerly for the dawn. There were two men here, Will Law and Sir
+Arthur Pembroke, and whether their conversation had been more eager or
+more angry, were hard to tell. Will Law, broken and dejected, his heart
+torn by a thousand doubts and a thousand pains, sat listening, though
+but half comprehending.
+
+"Every plan gone wrong!" cried Sir Arthur. "Every plan gone wrong, and
+out of it all we can only say that he has escaped from prison for whom
+no prison could be enough of hell! Though he be your brother, I tell it
+to your face, the gallows had been too good for John Law! Look you
+below. See that girl, pure as an angel, as noble and generous a soul us
+ever breathed--what hath she done to deserve this fate? You have brought
+her from her home, and to that home she can not now return unsmirched.
+And all this for a man who is at this moment fleeing with the woman whom
+she deemed her friend! What is there left in life for her?"
+
+Will Law groaned and buried his own head deeper in his hands. "What is
+there left for any of us?" said he. "What is there left for me?"
+
+"For you?" said Sir Arthur, questioningly. "Why, the next ship back from
+Brest, or from any other port of France. 'Tis somewhat different with a
+woman."
+
+"You do not understand," said Will Law. "The separation means somewhat
+for me."
+
+"Surely you do not mean--you have no reference to Mary Connynge?" cried
+Sir Arthur.
+
+Will bowed his head abjectly and left the other to guess that which sat
+upon his mind. Sir Arthur drew a long breath and stopped his angry
+pacing up and down.
+
+"It ran on for weeks," said Will Law. "We were to have been married. I
+had no thought of this. 'Twas I who took her to and from the prison
+regularly, and 'twas thus that we met. She told me she was but the
+messenger of the Lady Catharine."
+
+Sir Arthur drew a long, slow breath. "Then I may say to you," said he,
+"that your brother, John Law, is a hundred times more traitor and felon
+than even now I thought him. Yonder he goes"--and he shook his fist into
+the enveloping mist which hung above the waters. "Yonder he goes,
+somewhere, I give you warning, where he deems no trail shall be left
+behind him. But I promise you, whatever be your own wish, I shall follow
+him into the last corner of the earth, but he shall see me and give
+account for this! There is none of us he has not deceived, utterly, and
+like a black-hearted villain. He shall account for it, though it be
+years from now."
+
+So now, inch by inch, fathom after fathom, cable length after cable
+length, soon knot after knot, there sped two English ships out into the
+open seaway. Before long they began to toss restlessly and to pull
+eagerly at the helm as the scent of the salt seas came in. Yet neither
+knew fully the destination of the other, and neither knew that upon the
+deck of that other there was full solution of those questions which now
+sat so heavily upon these human hearts. Thus, silently, slowly,
+steadily, the two drew outward and apart, and before that morn was done,
+both were tossing widely upon the swell of that sea beyond which there
+lay so much of fate and mystery.
+
+
+
+
+BOOK II
+
+AMERICA
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+THE DOOR OF THE WEST
+
+
+"Nearly a league farther, Du Mesne, and the sun but an hour high. Come,
+let us hasten!"
+
+"You are right, Monsieur L'as," replied the one addressed, as the first
+speaker seated himself on the thwart of the boat in whose bow he had
+been standing. "Bend to it, _mes amis_!"
+
+John Law turned about on the seat, gazing back over the length of the
+little ship which had brought him and his comrades thus far on the
+wildest journey he had ever undertaken. Six paddlers there were for this
+great _canot du Nord_, and steadily enough they sent the thin-shelled
+craft along over the curling blue waves of the great inland sea. And now
+their voices in one accord fell into the cadences of an ancient
+boat-song of New France:
+
+
+    "_En roulant ma boule, roulant,
+     Roulant, rouler, ma boule roulant_."
+
+
+The ictus of the measure marked time for the sweeping paddles, and
+under the added impetus the paper shell, reinforced as it was by
+close-laid splints of cedar, and braced by the fiber-fastened thwarts,
+fairly yielded to the rush of the waves as the stalwart paddlers sent it
+flying forward. A tiny blur of white showed about the bows, and now and
+again a splash of spray came inboard, as some little curling white cap
+was divided by the rush of the swiftly moving prow.
+
+"We shall not arrive too soon, my friend," rejoined the captain of the
+_voyageurs_, casting an eye back across the great lake, which lay black
+and ominous under a threatening sky, the sweep and swirl of its white
+caps ever racing hard after the frail craft, as though eager to break
+through its paper sides and tear away the human beings who thus fled on
+so lightly.
+
+This boat, mysteriously appearing as though it were some spirit craft
+railed from the ancient deeps, was far from the beginning of its wild
+journey. Wide as the eye might reach, there arose no fleck of snowy
+canvas, nor showed the dark line of any similar craft propelled by oar
+or paddle. They were alone, these travelers. Before them, at the
+entrance of the wide arm of the great lake Michiganon, lay the point
+even at that early day known as the Door of the West, the beginning of
+the winding water-way which led on into the interior of that West, then
+so alluring and unknown. The eyes of all were fixed on the low,
+white-fronted bluffs, crowned by dark forest growth, which guarded the
+bay at either hand. This spot, so wild, so remote, so significant--it
+was home for these _voyageurs_ as much as any; as much, too, for Law and
+the woman who lay back, pale-faced and wide-eyed, among the bales in the
+great canoe.
+
+In time the graceful craft approached the beach, on which the long waves
+rolled and curled, now gently, now with imposing force. With the water
+yet half-leg deep, Du Mesne and two of the paddlers sprang bodily
+overboard and held the boat back from the pebbles, so that its tender
+shell might not be damaged. Law himself was as soon as they in the
+water, and he waded back along the gunwale until he reached the stern,
+the water nearly up to his hips. Reaching out his arms, he picked up
+Mary Connynge from her seat and carried her dry-shod ashore, bending
+down to catch some whispered word. Not so gallant was Du Mesne, the
+leader of the _voyageurs_. He uttered a few short words of semi-command
+to the Indian woman, who had been seated on the floor of the canoe, and
+she, without protest, crawled forward over the thwarts and the heaped
+bundles until she reached the bow, and then went ankle deep into the
+creaming flood. The great canoe, left empty and anchored safe from the
+pebbles of the beach, tossed light as a cork on the incoming waves.
+
+A little open space was quickly found at the edge of the cove in which
+the disembarkation was made, and here Du Mesne and his followers soon
+kicked away the twigs and leveled out a smooth place upon the grass.
+Each man produced from his belt a broad-bladed knife, and for the moment
+disappeared in the deep fringe of evergreens which lined the shore.
+Fairly in the twinkling of an eye a rude frame of bent poles was made,
+above which were spread strips of unrolled birch bark from the cargo of
+the canoe. Over the spaces left uncovered by the supply of bark sheets
+there were laid down long mats made by Indian hands from dried reeds and
+bulrushes, affording no inconsiderable protection against the weather.
+Inside the lodge, bales of goods and packages of provisions were quickly
+arranged in comfortable fashion. Gaudy blankets were spread upon layers
+of soft skins of the buffalo. The Indian woman had meantime struck a
+fire, whose faint blue smoke curled lakeward in the soft evening air.
+Quickly, and with the system of experienced campaigners, the evening
+bivouac had been prepared; and wildly picturesque it must have seemed
+to a bystander, had there been indeed any possible spectator within many
+leagues.
+
+Far enough was this from the turmoil of London, which Law and his
+companion had left nearly a year before; far enough still from the wild
+capital of New France, where they had spent the winter, after landing,
+as much by chance as through any plan, at the port of the St. Lawrence.
+Ever a demon of unrest drove Law forward; ever there beckoned to him
+that irresistible West, of which he was one of the earliest to feel the
+charm. Farther and farther westward, swift and swifter than ever the
+boats of the fur traders had made the journey before, he and his party,
+led by Du Mesne, the ex-galley-slave and wanderer whom Law had by chance
+met again, and gladly, at Montréal, had made the long and dangerous run
+up the lakes, past Michilimackinac, down the lake of Michiganon, headed
+toward the interior of a new continent which was then, as for
+generations after then, the land of wondrous distances, of grand
+enterprises, of magnificent promises and immense fulfilments. The bales
+and bundles of this bivouac belonged to John Law, bought by gold from
+the gaming tables of Montréal and Quebec, and ventured in the one great
+hazard which appealed to him most irresistibly, the hazard of life and
+fortune in a far land, where he might live unneighbored, and where he
+might forget. Gambler in England, gambler again in New France, now
+trading fur-merchant and _voyageur_, he was, as always, an adventurer.
+Du Mesne and his hardy crew hailed him already as a new captain of the
+trails, a new _coureur_, won from the Old World by the savage witchery
+of the New. He was their brother; and had he indeed owned longer years
+of training, his keenness of eye, his strength of arm, his tirelessness
+of limb could hardly have been greater than they seemed in his first
+voyage to the West.
+
+
+    "_Tous les printemps,
+     Tant des nouvelles_"
+
+hummed Du Mesne, as he busied himself about the camp, casting the while
+a cautious eye to note the progress of the threatening storm.
+
+
+    "_Tous les amants
+     Changent des maîtresses.
+     Jamais le bon vin n'endort--
+     L'amour me réveille_!"
+
+"The best is before us now, Monsieur L'as," said Du Mesne, joining Law,
+at length. "Assuredly the best is always that which is ahead and which
+is unknown; but in point of fact the hardest of our journey is over,
+for henceforth we may stretch our legs ashore, and hunt and fish, and
+make good camps for madame, who, as we both perceive, is much in need of
+ease and care. We shall make all safe and comfortable for this night,
+doubt not.
+
+"Meantime," continued he, "let us see that all is well with our men and
+arms, for henceforth we must put out guards. Attention, comrades!
+Present your pieces and answer the roll-call! Pierre Berthier!"
+
+"_Ici_! Monsieur," replied the one better known as Pierre Noir, a tall
+and dark-visaged Canadian, clad in the common costume, half-Indian and
+half-civilized, which marked his class. A shirt of soft dressed buckskin
+fell about his thighs; his legs were encased in moose-skin leggings,
+deeply fringed at the seams. About his middle was a broad sash, once
+red, and upon his head a scanty cap of similar color was pushed back. At
+his belt hung the great hunting knife of the _voyageur_, balanced by a
+keen steel tomahawk such as was in common use among the Indians. In his
+hand he supported a long-barreled musket, which he now examined
+carefully in the presence of the captain of the _voyageurs_.
+
+"Robert Challon!" next commanded Du Mesne, and in turn the one addressed
+looked over his piece, the captain also scrutinizing the flint and
+priming with careful eye.
+
+"Naturally, _mes enfants_," said he, "your weapons are perfect, as ever.
+Kataikini, and you, Kabayan, my brothers, let me see," said he to the
+two Indians, the former a Huron and the latter an Ojibway, both from the
+shores of Superior. The Indians arose silently, and without protest
+submitted to the scrutiny which ever seemed to them unnecessary.
+
+"Jean Breboeuf!" called Du Mesne; and in response there arose from the
+shadows a wiry little Frenchman, who might have been of any age from
+twenty to forty-five, so sun-burnt and wrinkled, yet so active and
+vigorous did he seem.
+
+"_Mon ami_," said Du Mesne to him, chidingly, "see now, here is your
+flint all but out of its engagement. Pray you, have better care of your
+piece. For this you shall stand the long watch of the night. And now let
+us all to bed."
+
+One by one the little party was lost to view within the dark interior of
+the hut which they had arranged for themselves. Du Mesne retired a
+distance from the fire and seated himself upon a fallen log, his pipe
+glowing like a coal in the enveloping darkness.
+
+Law himself did not so soon leave the outer air. He remained gazing out
+at the wild scene about him, at the rolling waves dashing on the shore,
+their crests whitening in the glare of the lightning, now approaching
+more closely. He harkened to the roll of the far-off thunder reënforced
+by the thunder of the waves upon the shore, and noted the sweep of the
+black forest about, of the black sky overhead, unlit save for one
+far-off, faint and feeble star.
+
+It was a new world, this that lay around him, a new and savage world. If
+there were a world behind him, a world which once held sunlight and
+flowers, and love and hope--why then, it was a world lost and gone
+forever, and it was very well that this new world should be so different
+and so stern.
+
+In the darkness John Law heard a voice, the voice of a woman in terror.
+Swiftly he stepped to the door of the rude lodge.
+
+"Don't let them sing it again--never any more--that song."
+
+"And what, Madam?"
+
+"That one--'_us les amants changent des maîtresses_!'"
+
+A moment later she whispered, "I am afraid."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+THE STORM
+
+
+Marshaling to the imperious orders of the tempest, and crowding close
+upon the flaming standards of the lightning, the armies of the clouds
+came on. The sea-wide surface of the lake went dull, and above it bent a
+sky appalling in its blackness. The wind at first was light, then fitful
+and gusty, like the rising choler of a man affronted and nursing his own
+anger. It gained in volume and swept on across the tops of the forest
+trees, as though with a hand contemptuous in its strength, forbearing
+only by reason of its own whimsy. Now and again the cohorts of the
+clouds just hinted at parting, letting through a pale radiance from the
+western sky, where lingered the departing day. This light, as did the
+illuminating glare of the forked flames above, disclosed the white
+helmets of the trooping waters, rushing on with thunderous unison of
+tread; and the rattling thunder-shocks, intermittent, though coming
+steadily nearer, served but to emphasize these foot strokes of the
+waves. The heavens above and the waters under the earth--these
+conspired, these marched together, to assail, to overwhelm, to utterly
+destroy.
+
+To destroy what? Why this wild protest of the wilderness? Was it this
+wide-blown, scattered fire, whose sparks and ashes were sown broadcast,
+till but stubborn remnants clung under the sheltering back-log of the
+bivouac hearth? Was it this frail lodge, built upon pliant, yielding
+poles, covered cunningly with mats and bark, carpeted with robe of elk
+and buffalo? Yet why should the elements rage at a tiny fire, and why
+should they tear at a little house of nomad man, since these things were
+old upon the earth? Was it somewhat else that incited this elemental
+rage? This might have been; for surely, builder of this hearth-fire
+which would not quench, master of this house which would not yield,
+there was now come up to the door of the wilderness the white man, risen
+from the sea, heralding the day which the tribes had for generations
+blindly prophesied! The white man, stern, stubborn, fruitful, had come
+to despoil the West of its secrets!
+
+Let all the elements therefore join in riotous revolt! Let earth and sea
+and sky make common cause! Rage, waves, and blaze, ye fiery tongues,
+and threaten, forests, with all your ominous voices! Smite, destroy, or
+terrify into swift retreat this little band! Crush out their tenement!
+Loosen and brush off this feeble finger-grasp at the ancient threshold!
+With banners of flame, with armies of darkness, with shoutings of the
+captains of the storms, assail, denude, destroy, if even by the agony of
+their terrors, these feeble folk now come hither! And by this more
+especially, since they would set the seal of fruitfulness upon the land,
+and bring upon the earth a generation yet to follow. Hover about this
+bed in the frail and swaying lodge of bark and boughs, all ye most
+terrifying spirits! Let not this thing be!
+
+"Mother of God!" cried Jean Breboeuf, bending low and pulling his tunic
+tighter by the belt, as he came gasping into the faint circle of light
+which still remained at the fire log. "'Tis murderous, this storm! Ah,
+Monsieur du Mesne, we are dead men! But what matter? 'Tis as well now as
+later. Said I not so to you all the way down Michiganon from the
+Straits? A rabbit crossed my path at the last camp before
+Michilimackinac, and when we took boat to leave the mission at the
+Straits, three crows flew directly across our way. Did I not beseech you
+to turn back? Did I not tell you, most of all, that we had no right,
+honest _voyageurs_ that we are, to leave for the woods without
+confessing to the good father? 'Tis two years now since I have been
+proper shriven, and two years is too long for a _voyageur_ to remain
+unabsolved. Mother of God! When I see the lightnings and listen to that
+wind, I bethink me of my sins--my sins! I vow a bale of beaver--"
+
+"Pish! Jean," responded Du Mesne, who had come in from the cover of the
+wood and was casting about in the darkness as best he might to see that
+all was made secure. "Thou'lt feel better when the sun shines again.
+Call Pierre Noir, and hurry, or our canoe will pound to bits upon the
+beach. Come!"
+
+All three went now knee-deep in the surf, and Du Mesne, clinging to the
+gunwale as he passed out, was soon waist deep, and time and again lost
+his footing in the flood.
+
+"Pull!" he cried at last. "Now, _en avant_!" He had flung himself over
+the stern, and with his knife cut the hide rope of the anchor-stone.
+Overboard again in an instant, he joined the others in their rush up the
+beach, and the three bore their ship upon their shoulders above the
+reach of the waves.
+
+"Myself," said Pierre Noir, "shall sleep beneath the boat to-night, for
+since she sheds water from below, she may do as well from above."
+
+"Even so, Pierre Noir," said Du Mesne, "but get you the boat farther
+toward your own camp to-night. Do you not see that Monsieur L'as is not
+with us?"
+
+"_Eh bien_?"
+
+"And were he not surely with us at such time, unless--?"
+
+"Oh, _assurément_!" replied Pierre Noir. "Jean Breboeuf, aid me in
+taking the boat back to our camp in the woods."
+
+Now came the rain. Not in steady and even downpour, not with
+intermittent showers, but in a sidelong, terrifying torrent, drenching,
+biting, cutting in its violence. The swift weight of the rain gave to
+the trees more burden than they could bear. As before the storm, when
+all was still, there had come time and again the warning boom of a
+falling tree, stricken with mysterious mortal dread of that which was to
+come, so now, in the riot of that arrived danger, first one and then
+another wide-armed monarch of the wood crashed down, adding with its
+downfall to the testimony of the assailing tempest's strength and fury.
+The lightning now came not only in ragged blazes and long ripping lines
+of light, but in bursts and shocks, and in bomb-like balls, exploding
+with elemental detonations. Balls of this tense surcharged essence
+rolled out over the comb of the bluff, fell upon the shadows of the
+water, and seemed to bound from crest to white-capped crest, till at
+last they split and burst asunder like some ominous missiles from
+engines of wrath and destruction.
+
+And now, suddenly, all grew still again. The sky took on a lighter,
+livid tone, one of pure venom. There came a whisper, a murmur, a rush as
+of mighty waters, a sighing as of an army of the condemned, a shrieking
+as of legions of the lost, a roaring as of all the soul-felt tortures of
+a world. From the forest rose a continuous rending crash. The whiplash
+of the tempest cracked the tree trunks as a child beheads a row of
+daisies. Piled up, falling, riven asunder, torn out by the wind, the
+giant trees joined the toys which the cynic storm gathered in its hands
+and bore along until such time as it should please to crush and drop
+them.
+
+There passed out over the black sea of Michiganon a vast black wraith; a
+thing horrible, tremendous, titanic in organic power. It howled,
+execrated, menaced; missed its aim, and passed. The little swaying house
+still stood! Under the sheltered log some tiny sparks of fire still
+burned, omen of the unquenchable hearthstones which the land was yet to
+know!
+
+"Holy God! what was it? What was that which passed?" cried Jean
+Breboeuf, crawling out from beneath his shelter. "Saint Mary defend us
+all this night! 'Twas the great Canoe of the Damned, running _au large_
+across the sky! Mary, Mother of God, hear my vow! From this time Jean
+Breboeuf shall lead a better life!"
+
+The storm, baffled, passed on. The rain, unsatisfied, sullenly ceased in
+its attack. The waves, hopeless but still vindictive, began to call back
+their legions from the narrow shore. The lightnings, unsated in their
+wrath, flared and flickered on and out across the eastward sea. With
+wild laughter and shrieks and imprecations, the spirit of the tempest
+wailed on its furious way. The red West had raised its hand to smite,
+but it had not smitten sure.
+
+In the silence of the night, in the hush following the uproar of the
+storm, there came a little wailing cry; so faint, so feeble, yet so
+mighty, so conquering, this sign of the coming generation, the voice of
+the new-born babe. At this little human voice, born of sorrow and sin,
+born to suffering and to knowledge, born to life in all its wonders and
+to death in all its mystery--the elements perchance relented and averted
+their fury. Not yet was there to be punished sin, or wrong, or doubt, or
+weakness. Not at once would justice punish the parents of this babe and
+blot out at once the record of their fault. Storm and lightning,
+darkness and the night yielded to the voice of the infant and allowed
+the old story of humanity and sin, and hope and mercy to run on.
+
+The babe wailed faintly in the silence of the night. Under the
+hearth-log there still endured the fire. And then the red West, seeing
+itself conquered, smiled and flung wide its arms, and greeted them with
+the burgeoning dawn, and the voices of birds, with a sky blue and
+repentant, a sun smiling and not unkind.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+AU LARGE
+
+
+It was weeks after the night of the great storm, and the camp of the
+_voyageurs_ still held its place on the shore of the great Green Bay.
+The wild game and the abundant fishes of the lake gave ample provender
+for the party, and the little bivouac had been rendered more comfortable
+in many ways best known to those dwellers of the forest. The light jest,
+the burst of laughter, the careless ease of attitude showed the
+light-hearted _voyageurs_ content with this, their last abode, nor for
+the time did any word issue which threatened to end their tarrying.
+
+Law one morning strolled out from the lodge and seated himself on a bit
+of driftwood at the edge of the forest's fringe of cedars, where,
+seemingly half forgetting himself in the witchery of the scene, he gazed
+out idly over the wide prospect which lay before him. He was the same
+young man as ever. Surely, this increased gauntness was but the result
+of long hours at the paddle, the hollow cheeks but betokened hard fare
+and the defining winds of the outdoor air. If the eye were a trace more
+dim, that could be due but to the reflectiveness induced by the quiet
+scene and hour. Yet why should John Law, young and refreshed, drop chin
+in hand and sit there moodily looking ahead of him, comprehending not at
+all that which he beheld?
+
+Indeed there appeared now to the eye of this young man not the white
+shores and black crowned bluffs and distant islands, not the sweep of
+broad-winged birds circling near the waters, nor the shadow of the
+high-poised eagle drifting far above. He felt not the soft wind upon his
+cheek, nor noted the warmth of the oncoming sun. In truth, even here,
+on the very threshold of a new world and a new life, he was going back,
+pausing uncertainly at the door of that life and of that world which he
+had left behind. There appeared to him not the rolling undulations of
+the black-topped forest, not the tossing surface of the inland sea, nor
+the white-pebbled beach laved by its pulsing waters. He saw instead a
+white and dusty road, lined by green English hedge-rows. Back, over
+there, beyond these rolling blue waves, back of the long water trail
+over which he had come, there were chapel and bell and robed priest, and
+the word which made all fast forever. But back of the wilderness
+mission, back of the straggling settlements of Montréal and Quebec, back
+of the blue waters of the ocean, there, too, were church and minister;
+and there dwelt a woman whose figure stood now before his eyes, part of
+this mental picture of the white road lined with the hedges of green.
+
+A hand was laid on his shoulder, and he half started up in sudden
+surprise. Before him, the sun shining through her hair, her eyes dark in
+the shadow, stood Mary Connynge. A fair woman indeed, comely, round of
+form, soft-eyed, and light of touch, she might none the less have been a
+very savage as she stood there, clad no longer in the dress of
+civilization, but in the soft native garb of skins, ornamented with the
+stained quills of the porcupine and the bizarre adornments of the native
+bead work; in her hair dull metal bands, like any Indian woman, upon her
+feet little beaded moccasins--the very moccasin, it might have been,
+which Law had first seen in ancient London town and which had played so
+strange a part in his life since then.
+
+"You startled me," said Law, simply. "I was thinking."
+
+A sudden jealous wave of woman's divining intuition came upon the woman
+at his side. "I doubt not," said she, bitterly, "that I could name the
+subject of your thought! Why? Why sit here and dream of her, when here
+am I, who deserve everything that you can give?"
+
+She stood erect, her eyes flashing, her arms outstretched, her bosom
+panting under the fringed garments, her voice ringing as it might have
+been with the very essence of truth and passion. Law looked at her
+steadily. But the shadow did not lift from his brow, though he looked
+long and pondered.
+
+"Come," said he, at length, gently. "None the less we are as we are. In
+every game we take our chances, and in every game we pay our debts. Let
+us go back to the camp."
+
+As they turned back down the beach Law saw standing at a little distance
+his lieutenant, Du Mesne, who hesitated as though he would speak.
+
+"What is it, Du Mesne?" asked Law, excusing himself with a gesture and
+joining the _voyageur_ where he stood.
+
+"Why, Monsieur L'as," said Du Mesne, "I am making bold to mention it,
+but in good truth there was some question in my mind as to what might be
+our plans. The spring, as you know, is now well advanced. It was your
+first design to go far into the West, and there to set up your station
+for the trading in furs. Now there have come these little incidents
+which have occasioned us some delay. While I have not doubted your
+enterprise, Monsieur, I bethought me perhaps it might be within your
+plans now to go but little farther on--perhaps, indeed, to turn back--"
+
+"To go back?" said Law.
+
+"Well, yes; that is to say, Monsieur L'as, back again down the Great
+Lakes."
+
+"Have you then known me so ill as this, Du Mesne?" said Law. "It has not
+been my custom to set backward foot on any sort of trail."
+
+"Oh, well, to be sure, Monsieur, that I know quite well," replied Du
+Mesne, apologetically. "I would only say that, if you do go forward, you
+will do more than most men accomplish on their first voyage _au large_
+in the wilderness. There comes to many a certain shrinking of the heart
+which leads them to find excuse for not faring farther on. Yonder, as
+you know, Monsieur, lie Quebec and Montréal, somewhat better fitted for
+the abode of monsieur and madame than the tents of the wilderness. Back
+of that, too, as we both very well know, Monsieur, lie London and old
+England; and I had been dull of eye indeed did I not recognize the
+opportunities of a young gallant like yourself. Now, while I know
+yourself to be a man of spirit, Monsieur L'as, and while I should
+welcome you gladly as a brother of the trail, I had only thought that
+perhaps you would pardon me if I did but ask your purpose at this time."
+
+Law bent his head in silence for a moment. "What know you of this
+forward trail, Du Mesne?" said he. "Have you ever gone beyond this point
+in your own journeyings?"
+
+"Never beyond this," replied Du Mesne, "and indeed not so far by many
+hundred miles. For my own part I rely chiefly upon the story of my
+brother, Greysolon du L'hut, the boldest soul that ever put paddle in
+the St. Lawrence. My brother Greysolon, by the fire one night, told me
+that some years before he had been at the mouth of the Green
+Bay--perhaps near this very spot--and that here he and his brothers
+found a deserted Indian camp. Near it, lying half in the fire, where he
+had fallen in exhaustion, was an old, a very old Indian, who had been
+abandoned by his tribe to die--for that, you must know, Monsieur, is one
+of the pleasant customs of the wilderness.
+
+"Greysolon and his men revived this savage in some fashion, and meantime
+had much speech with him about this unknown land at whose edge we have
+now arrived. The old savage said that he had been many moons north and
+west of that place. He knew of the river called the Blue Earth, perhaps
+the same of which Father Hennepin has told. And also of the Divine
+River, far below and tributary to the Messasebe. He said that his father
+was once of a war party who went far to the north against the Ojibways,
+and that his people took from the Ojibways one of their prisoners, who
+said that he came from some strange country far to the westward, where
+there was a very wide plain, of no trees. Beyond that there were great
+mountains, taller than any to be found in all this region hereabout.
+Beyond these mountains the prisoner did not know what there might be,
+but these mountains his people took to be the edge of the world, beyond
+which could live only wicked spirits. This was what the prisoner of the
+Ojibways said. He, too, was an old man.
+
+"The captive of my brother Greysolon was an Outagamie, and he said that
+the Outagamies burned this prisoner of the Ojibways, for they knew that
+he was surely lying to them. Without doubt they did quite right to burn
+him, for the notion of a great open country without trees or streams is,
+of course, absurd to any one who knows America. And as for mountains,
+all men know that the mountains lie to the east of us, not to the
+westward."
+
+"'Twould seem much hearsay," said Law, "this information which comes at
+second, third and fourth hand."
+
+"True," said Du Mesne, "but such is the source of the little we know of
+the valley of the Messasebe, and that which lies beyond it. None the
+less this idea offers interest."
+
+"Yet you ask me if I would return."
+
+"'Twas but for yourself, Monsieur. It is there, if I may humbly confess
+to you, that it is my own ambition some day to arrive. Myself--this
+West, as I said long ago to the gentlemen in London--appeals to me,
+since it is indeed a land unoccupied, unowned, an empire which we may
+have all for ourselves. What say you, Monsieur L'as?"
+
+John Law straightened and stiffened as he stood. For an instant his eye
+flashed with the zeal of youth and of adventure. It was but a transient
+cloud which crossed his face, yet there was sadness in his tone as he
+replied.
+
+"My friend," said he, "you ask me for my answer. I have pondered and I
+now decide. We shall go on. We shall go forward. Let us have this West,
+my friend. Heaven helping us, let me find somewhere, in some land, a
+place where I may be utterly lost, and where I may forget!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+THE PATHWAY OF THE WATERS
+
+
+The news of the intended departure was received with joy by the crew of
+_voyageurs_, who, on the warning of an instant, fell forthwith to the
+simple tasks of breaking camp and storing the accustomed bales and
+bundles in their places in the great _canot du Nord_.
+
+"_La voilà_!" said Tête Gris. "Here she sits, this canoe, eager to go
+on. 'Tis forward again, _mes amis_! Forward once more; and glad enough
+am I for this day. We shall see new lands ere long."
+
+"For my part," said Jean Breboeuf, "I also am most anxious to be away,
+for I have eaten this white-fish until I crave no more. I had bethought
+me how excellent are the pumpkins of the good fathers at the Straits;
+and indeed I would we had with us more of that excellent fruit, the
+bean."
+
+"Bah! Jean Breboeuf," retorted Pierre Noir. "'Tis but a poor-hearted
+_voyageur_ would hang about a mission garden with a hoe in his hand
+instead of a gun. Perhaps the good sisters at the Mountain miss thy
+skill at pulling weeds."
+
+"Nay, now, I can live as long on fish and flesh as any man," replied
+Jean Breboeuf, stoutly, "nor do I hold myself, Monsieur Tête Gris, one
+jot in courage back of any man upon the trail."
+
+"Of course not, save in time of storm," grinned Tête Gris. "Then, it is
+'Holy Mary, witness my vow of a bale of beaver!' It is--"
+
+"Well, so be it," said Jean Breboeuf, stoutly. "'Tis sure a bale of
+beaver will come easily enough in these new lands; and--though I insist
+again that I have naught of superstition in my soul--when a raven sits
+on a tree near camp and croaks of a morning before breakfast--as upon my
+word of honor was the case this morning--there must be some ill fate in
+store for us, as doth but stand to reason."
+
+"But say you so?" said Tête Gris, pausing at his task, with his face
+assuming a certain seriousness.
+
+"Assuredly," said Jean Breboeuf. "'Tis as I told you. Moreover, I insist
+to you, my brothers, that the signs have not been right for this trip at
+any time. For myself, I look for nothing but disaster."
+
+The humor of Jean Breboeuf's very gravity appealed so strongly to his
+older comrades that they broke out into laughter, and so all fell again
+to their tasks, in sheer light-heartedness forgetting the superstitions
+of their class.
+
+Thus at length the party took ship again, and in time made the head of
+the great bay within whose arms they had been for some time encamped.
+They won up over the sullen rapids of the river which came into the bay,
+toiling sometimes waist-deep at the _cordelle_, yet complaining not at
+all. So in time they came out on the wide expanse of the shallow lake of
+the Winnebagoes, which body of water they crossed directly, coming into
+the quiet channel of the stream which fell in upon its western shore. Up
+this stream in turn steadily they passed, amid a panorama filled with
+constant change. Sometimes the gentle river bent away in long curves,
+with hardly a ripple upon its placid surface, save where now and again
+some startled fish sprang into the air in fright or sport, or in the
+rush upon its prey. Then the stream would lead away into vast seas of
+marsh lands, waving in illimitable reaches of rushes, or fringed with
+the unspeakably beautiful green of the graceful wild rice plant.
+
+In these wide levels now and again the channel divided, or lost itself
+in little _cul de sacs_, from which the paddlers were obliged to retrace
+their way. All about them rose myriads of birds and wild fowl, which
+made their nests among these marshes, and the babbling chatter of the
+rail, the high-keyed calling of the coot, or the clamoring of the
+home-building mallard assailed their ears hour after hour as they passed
+on between the leafy shores. Then, again, the channel would sweep to one
+side of the marsh, and give view to wide vistas of high and rolling
+lands, dotted with groves of hardwood, with here and there a swamp of
+cedar or of tamarack. Little herds of elk and droves of deer fed on the
+grass-covered slopes, as fat, as sleek and fearless of mankind as though
+they dwelt domesticated in some noble park.
+
+It was a land obviously but little known, even to the most adventurous,
+and as chance would have it, they met not even a wandering party of the
+native tribes. Clearly now the little boat was climbing, climbing slowly
+and gently, yet surely, upward from the level of the great Lake
+Michiganon. In time the little river broadened and flattened out into
+wide, shallow expanses, the waters known as the Lakes of the Foxes; and
+beyond that it became yet more shallow and uncertain, winding among
+quaking bogs and unknown marshes; yet still, whether by patience, or by
+cheerfulness, or by determination, the craft stood on and on, and so
+reached that end of the waterway which, in the opinion of the more
+experienced Du Mesne, must surely be the place known among the Indian
+tribes as the "Place for the carrying of boats."
+
+Here they paused for a few days, at that mild summit of land which marks
+the portage between the east bound and the west bound waters; yet,
+impelled ever by the eager spirit of the adventurer, they made their
+pause but short. In time they launched their craft on the bright, smooth
+flood of the river of the Ouisconsins, stained coppery-red by its
+far-off, unknown course in the north, where it had bathed leagues of the
+roots of pine and tamarack and cedar. They passed on steadily westward,
+hour after hour, with the current of this great stream, among little
+islands covered with timber; passed along bars of white sand and flats
+of hardwood; beyond forest-covered knolls, in the openings of which one
+might now and again see great vistas of a scenery now peaceful and now
+bold, with turreted knolls and sweeping swards of green, as though some
+noble house of old England were set back secluded within these wide and
+well-kept grounds. The country now rapidly lost its marshy character,
+and as they approached the mouth of the great stream, it being now well
+toward the middle of the summer, they reached, suddenly and without
+forewarning, that which they long had sought.
+
+The sturdy paddlers were bending to their tasks, each broad back
+swinging in unison forward and back over the thwart, each brown throat
+bared to the air, each swart head uncovered to the glare of the midday
+sun, each narrow-bladed paddle keeping unison with those before and
+behind, the hand of the paddler never reaching higher than his chin,
+since each had learned the labor-saving fashion of the Indian canoeman.
+The day was bright and cheery, the air not too ardent, and across the
+coppery waters there stretched slants of shadow from the embowering
+forest trees. They were alone, these travelers; yet for the time at
+least part of them seemed care-free and quite abandoned to the sheer
+zest of life. There arose again, after the fashion of the _voyageurs_,
+the measure of the paddling song, without which indeed the paddler had
+not been able to perform his labor at the thwart.
+
+    "_Dans mon chemin j'ai rencontré_--"
+
+chanted the leader; and voices behind him responded lustily with the
+next line:
+
+    "_Trois cavaliers bien montés_--"
+    "_Trois cavaliers bien montés_--"
+
+chanted the leader again.
+
+
+    "_L'un à cheval et l'autre à pied_--"
+
+came the response; and then the chorus:
+
+    "_Lon, lon laridon daine--
+     Lon, lon laridon dai!_"
+
+The great boat began to move ahead steadily and more swiftly, and bend
+after bend of the river was rounded by the rushing prow. None knew this
+country, nor wist how far the journey might carry him. None knew as of
+certainty that he would ever in this way reach the great Messasebe; or
+even if he thought that such would be the case, did any one know how far
+that Messasebe still might be. Yet there came a time in the afternoon of
+that day, even as the chant of the _voyageurs_ still echoed on the
+wooded bluffs, and even as the great birch-bark ship still responded
+swiftly to their gaiety, when, on a sudden turn in the arm of the river,
+there appeared wide before them a scene for which they had not been
+prepared. There, rippling and rolling under the breeze, as though itself
+the arm of some great sea, they saw a majestic flood, whose real nature
+and whose name each man there knew on the instant and instinctively.
+
+"Messasebe! Messasebe!" broke out the voices of the paddlers.
+
+"Stop the paddles!" cried Du Mesne. "_Voilà_!"
+
+John Law rose in the bow of the boat and uncovered his head. It was a
+noble prospect which lay before him. His was the soul of the adventurer,
+quick to respond to challenge. There was a fluttering in his throat as
+he stood and gazed out upon this solemn, mysterious and tremendous
+flood, coming whence, going whither, none might say. He gazed and gazed,
+and it was long before the shadow crossed his face and before he drew a
+sigh.
+
+"Madam," said he, at length, turning until he faced Mary Connynge, "this
+is the West. We have chosen, and we have arrived!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+MESSASEBE
+
+
+The boat, now lacking its propelling power, drifted on and out into the
+clear tide of the mighty stream. The paddlers were idle, and silence had
+fallen upon all. The rush of this majestic flood, steady, mysterious,
+secret-keeping, created a feeling of awe and wonder. They gazed and
+gazed again, up the great waterway, across to its farther shore, along
+its rolling course below, and still each man forgot his paddle, and
+still the little ship of New France drifted on, just rocking gently in
+the mimic waves which ruffled the face of the mighty Father of the
+Waters.
+
+"By our Lady!" cried Du Mesne, at length, and tears stood in his
+tan-framed eyes as he turned, "'tis true, all that has been said! Here
+it is, Messasebe, more mighty than any story could have told! Monsieur
+L'as, 'tis big enough to carry ships."
+
+"'Twill carry fleets of them one day, Du Mesne," replied John Law. "'Tis
+a roadway fit for a nation. Ah, Du Mesne! our St. Lawrence, our New
+France--they dwindle when compared to this new land."
+
+"Aye! and 'tis all our own!" cried Du Mesne. "Look; for the last ten
+days we have scarce seen even the smoke of a wigwam, and, so far as I
+can tell, there is not in all this valley now the home of a single white
+man. My friend Du L'hut--he may be far north of the Superior to-day for
+aught we know, or somewhere among the Sauteur people. If there he any
+man below us, let some one else tell who that may be. Sir, I promise
+you, when I see this big water going on so fast and heading so far away
+from home--well, I admit it causes me to shiver!"
+
+"'Tis much the same," said Law, "where home may be for me."
+
+"Ah, but 'tis different on the Lakes," said Du Mesne, "for there we
+always knew the way back, and knew that 'twas down stream."
+
+"He says well," broke in Mary Connynge. "There is something in this big
+river that chills me. I am afraid."
+
+"And what say you, Tête Gris, and you, Pierre Noir?" asked Law.
+
+"Why, myself," replied the former, "I am with the captain. It matters
+not. There must always be one trail from which one does not return."
+
+"_Oui_," said Pierre Noir. "To be sure, we have passed as good beaver
+country as heart of man could ask; but never was land so good but there
+was better just beyond."
+
+"They say well, Du Mesne," spoke John Law, presently; "'tis better on
+beyond. Suppose we never do return? Did I not say to you that I would
+leave this other world as far behind me as might be?"
+
+"_Eh bien_, Monsieur L'as, you reply with spirit, as ever," replied Du
+Mesne, "and it is not for me to stand in the way. My own fortune and
+family are also with me, and home is where my fire is lit."
+
+"Very well," replied Law. "Let us run the river to its mouth, if need
+be. 'Tis all one to me. And whether we get back or not, 'tis another
+tale."
+
+"Oh, I make no doubt we shall win back if need be," replied Du Mesne.
+"'Tis said the savages know the ways by the Divine River of the Illini
+to the foot of Michiganon; and that, perhaps, might be our best way back
+to the Lakes and to the Mountain with our beaver. We shall, provided we
+reach the Divine River, as I should guess by the stories I have heard,
+be then below the Illini, the Ottawas and the Miamis, with I know not
+what tribes from west of the Messasebe. 'Tis for you to say, Monsieur
+L'as, but for my own part--and 'tis but a hazard at best--I would say
+remain here, or press on to the river of the Illini."
+
+"'Tis easy of decision, then," replied Law, after a moment of
+reflection. "We take that course which leads us farther on at least.
+Again the paddles, my friends! To-night we sup in our own kingdom.
+Strike up the song, Du Mesne!"
+
+A shout of approval broke from the hardy men along the boat side, and
+even Jean Breboeuf tossed up his cap upon his paddle shaft.
+
+"Forward, then, _mes amis_!" cried Du Mesne, setting his own
+paddle-blade deep into the flood. "_En roulant ma boule, roulant_--"
+
+Again the chorus rose, and again the hardy craft leaped onward into the
+unexplored.
+
+Day after day following this the journey was resumed, and day after day
+the travelers with eager eyes witnessed a prospect of continual change.
+The bluffs, bolder and more gigantic, towered more precipitous than the
+banks of the gentler streams which they had left behind. Forests ranged
+down to the shores, and wide, green-decked islands crept into view, and
+little timbered valleys of lesser streams came marching down to the
+imposing flood of Messasebe. Again the serrated bluffs broke back and
+showed vast vistas of green savannas, covered with tall, waving grasses,
+broken by little rolling hills, over which crossed herds of elk, and
+buffalo, and deer.
+
+"'Tis a land of plenty," said Du Mesne one day, breaking the habitual
+silence into which the party had fallen. "'Tis a great land, and a
+mighty. And now, Monsieur, I know why the Indians say 'tis guarded by
+spirits. Sure, I can myself feel something in the air which makes my
+shoulder-blades to creep."
+
+"'Tis a mighty land, and full of wonders," assented Law, who, in
+different fashion, had felt the same mysterious spell of this great
+stream. For himself, he was nearer to reverence than ever yet he had
+been in all his wild young life.
+
+Now so it happened that at length, after a long though rapid journey
+down the great river, they came to that stream which they took to be the
+river of the Illini. This they ascended, and so finally, early in one
+evening, at the bank of a wide and placid bayou, shaded by willows and
+birch trees, and by great elms that bore aloft a canopy of clinging
+vines, they made a landing for the bivouac which was to prove their
+final tarrying place. The great _canot du Nord_ came to rest at the foot
+of a timbered hill, back of which stretched high, rolling prairies,
+dotted with little groves and broken with wide swales and winding
+sloughs. The leaders of the party, with Tête Gris and Pierre Noir,
+ascended the bluffs and made brief exploration; not more, as was tacitly
+understood, with view to choosing the spot for the evening encampment
+than with the purpose of selecting a permanent stopping place. Du Mesne
+at length turned to Law with questioning gaze. John Law struck the earth
+with his heel.
+
+"Here!" said he. "Here let us stop. 'Tis as well as any place. There are
+flowers and trees, and meadows and hedges, like to those of England.
+Here let us stay!"
+
+"Ah, you say well indeed!" cried Du Mesne, "and may fortune send us
+happy enterprises."
+
+"But then, for the houses," continued Law. "I presume we must keep close
+to this little stream which flows from the bluff. And yet we must have a
+place whence we can obtain good view. Then, with stout walls to protect
+us, we might--but see! What is that beyond? Look! There is, if I mistake
+not, a house already builded!"
+
+"'Tis true, as I live!" cried Du Mesne, lowering his voice
+instinctively, as his quick eye caught the spot where Law was pointing.
+"But, good God! what can it mean?"
+
+They advanced cautiously into the little open space beyond them, a glade
+but a few hundred yards across and lined by encircling trees. They saw
+indeed a habitation erected by human hands, apparently not altogether
+without skill. There were rude walls of logs, reinforced by stakes
+planted in the ground. From the four corners of the inclosure projected
+overhanging beams. There was an opening in the inclosure, as they
+discovered upon closer approach, and entering at this rude door, the
+party looked about them curiously.
+
+Du Mesne shut his lips tight together. This was no house built by the
+hands of white men. There were here no quarters, no shops, no chapel
+with its little bell. Instead there stood a few dried and twisted poles,
+and all around lay the litter of an abandoned camp.
+
+"Iroquois, by the living Mother of God!" cried Pierre Noir.
+
+"Look!" cried Tête Gris, calling them again outside the inclosure. He
+stood kicking in the ashes of what had been a fire-place. He disclosed,
+half buried in the charred embers, an iron kettle into which he gazed
+curiously. He turned away as John Law stepped up beside him.
+
+"There must have been game here in plenty," said Law. "There are bones
+scattered all about."
+
+Du Mesne and Tête Gris looked at each other in silence, and the former
+at length replied:
+
+"This is an Iroquois war house, Monsieur L'as," said he. "They lived
+here for more than a month, and, as you say, they fed well. But these
+bones you see are not the bones of elk or deer. They are the bones of
+men, and women, and children."
+
+Law stood taking in each detail of the scene about him.
+
+"Now you have seen what is before us," resumed Du Mesne. "The Iroquois
+have gone, 'tis true. They have wiped out the villages which were here.
+There are the little cornfields, but I warrant you they have not seen a
+tomahawk hoe for a month or more. The Iroquois have gone, yet the fact
+that they have been here proves they may come again. What say you, Tête
+Gris; and what is your belief, Pierre?"
+
+Tête Gris remained silent for some moments. "'Tis as Monsieur says,"
+replied he at length. "'Tis all one to me. I go or stay, as it shall
+please the others. There is always the one trail over which one does not
+return."
+
+"And you, Pierre?"
+
+"I stay by my friends," replied Pierre Noir, briefly.
+
+"And you, Monsieur L'as?" asked Du Mesne.
+
+Law raised his head with the old-time determination. "My friends," said
+he, "we have elected to come into this country and take its conditions
+as we find them. If we falter, we lose; of that we may rest assured.
+Let us not turn back because a few savages have been here and have
+slaughtered a few other savages. For me, there seems but one opinion
+possible. The lightning has struck, yet it may not strike again at the
+same tree. The Iroquois have been here, but they have departed, and they
+have left nothing to invite their return. Now, it is necessary that we
+make a pause and build some place for our abode. Here is a post already
+half builded to our hands."
+
+"But if the savages return?" said Du Mesne.
+
+"Then we will fight," said John Law.
+
+"And right you are," replied Du Mesne. "Your reasoning is correct. I
+vote that we build here our station."
+
+"Myself also," said Tête Gris. And Pierre Noir nodded his assent in
+silence.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+MAIZE
+
+
+"Ola! Jean Breboeuf," called out Du Mesne to that worthy, who presently
+appeared, breathing hard from his climb up the river bluff. "Know you
+what has been concluded?"
+
+"No; how should I guess?" replied Jean Breboeuf. "Or, at least, if I
+should guess, what else should I guess save that we are to take boat at
+once and set back to Montréal as fast as we may? But that--what is this?
+Whose house is that yonder?"
+
+"'Tis our own, _mon enfant_," replied Du Mesne, dryly. "'Twas perhaps
+the property of the Iroquois a moon ago. A moon before that time the
+soil it stands on belonged to the Illini. To-day both house and soil
+belong to us. See; here stood the village. There are the cornfields, cut
+and trampled by the Iroquois. Here are the kettles of the natives--"
+
+"But, but--why--what is all this? Why do we not hasten away?" broke in
+Jean Breboeuf.
+
+"Pish! We do not go away. We remain where we are."
+
+"Remain? Stay here, and be eaten by the Iroquois? Nay! not Jean
+Breboeuf."
+
+Du Mesne smiled broadly at his terrors, and a dry grin even broke over
+the features of the impassive old trapper, Tête Gris.
+
+"Not so fast with your going away, Jean, my brother," said Du Mesne.
+"Thou'rt ever hinting of corn and the bean; now see what can be done in
+this garden-place of the Iroquois and the Illini. You are appointed head
+gardener for the post!"
+
+"Messieurs, _me voilà_," said Jean Breboeuf, dropping his hands in
+despair. "Were I not the bravest man in all New France I should leave
+you at this moment. It is mad, quite mad you are, every one of you! I,
+Jean Breboeuf, will remain, and, if necessary, will protect. Corn, and
+perhaps the bean, ye shall have; perhaps even some of those little roots
+that the savages dig and eat; but, look you, this is but because you are
+with one who is brave. _Enfin_, I go. I bend me to the hoe, here in this
+place, like any peasant."
+
+"An excellent hoe can be made from the blade bone of an elk, as the
+woman Wabana will perhaps show you if you like," said Pierre Noir,
+derisively, to his comrade of the paddle.
+
+"Even so," said Jean Breboeuf. "I make me the hoe. Could I have but
+thee, old Pierre, to sit on a stump and fright the crows away, I make no
+doubt that all would go well with our husbandry. I had as lief go
+_censitaire_ for Monsieur L'as as for any seignieur on the Richelieu; of
+that be sure, old Pierre."
+
+"Faith," replied the latter, "when it comes to frightening crows, I'll
+even agree to sit on a stump with my musket across my knees and watch
+you work. 'Tis a good place for a sentinel--to keep the crows from
+picking yet more bones than these which will embarrass you in your
+hoeing, Jean Breboeuf."
+
+"He says the Richelieu, Du Mesne," broke in John Law, musingly. "Very
+far away it sounds. I wonder if we shall ever see it again, with its
+little narrow farms. But here we have our own trails and our own lands,
+and let us hope that Monsieur Jean shall prosper in his belated farming.
+And now, for the rest of us, we must look presently to the building of
+our houses."
+
+Thus began, slowly and in primitive fashion, the building of one of the
+first cities of the vast valley of the Messasebe; the seeds of
+civilization taking hold upon the ground of barbarism, the one
+supplanting the other, yet availing itself of that other. As the white
+men took over the crude fields of the departed savages, so also they
+appropriated the imperfect edifice which the conquerors of those savages
+had left for them. It was in little the story of old England herself,
+builded upon the races and the ruins of Briton, and Roman, and Saxon, of
+Dane and Norman.
+
+Under the direction of Law, the walls of the old war house were
+strengthened with an inner row of palisades, supporting an embankment of
+earth and stone. The overlap of the gate was extended into a re-entrant
+angle, and rude battlements were erected at the four corners of the
+inclosure. The little stream of unfailing water was led through a corner
+of the fortress. In the center of the inclosure they built the houses; a
+cabin for Law, one for the men, and a larger one to serve as store room
+and as trading place, should there be opportunity for trade.
+
+It was in these rude quarters that Law and his companion established
+that which was the nearest approach to a home that either for the time
+might claim; and it was thus that both undertook once more that old and
+bootless human experiment of seeking to escape from one's own self.
+Silent now, and dutifully obedient enough was this erstwhile English
+beauty, Mary Connynge; yet often and often Law caught the question of
+her gaze. And often enough, too, he found his own questioning running
+back up the water trails, and down the lakes and across the wide ocean,
+in a demand which, fiercer and fiercer as it grew, he yet remained too
+bitter and too proud to put to the proof by any means now within his
+power. Strange enough, savage enough, hopeless enough, was this wild
+home of his in the wilderness of the Messasebe.
+
+The smoke of the new settlement rose steadily day by day, but it gave
+signal for no watching enemy. All about stretched the pale green ocean
+of the grasses, dotted by many wild flowers, nodding and bowing like
+bits of fragile flotsam on the surface of a continually rolling sea. The
+little groves of timber, scattered here and there, sheltered from the
+summer sun the wild cattle of the plains. The shorter grasses hid the
+coveys of the prairie hens, and on the marsh-grown bayou banks the wild
+duck led her brood. A great land, a rich, a fruitful one, was this that
+lay about these adventurers.
+
+A soberness had come over the habit of the master mind of this little
+colony. His hand took up the ax, and forgot the sword and gun. Day after
+day he stood looking about him, examining and studying in little all the
+strange things which he saw; seeking to learn as much as might be of
+the timorous savages, who in time began to straggle back to their ruined
+villages; talking, as best he might, through such interpreting as was
+possible, with savages who came from the west of the Messasebe, and from
+the South and from the far Southwest; hearing, and learning and
+wondering of a land which seemed as large as all the earth, and various
+as all the lands that lay beneath the sun--that West, so glorious, so
+new, so boundless, which was yet to be the home of countless
+hearth-fires and the sites of myriad fields of corn. Let others hunt,
+and fish, and rob the Indians of their furs, after the accepted fashion
+of the time; as for John Law, he must look about him, and think, and
+watch this growing of the corn.
+
+He saw it fairly from its beginning, this growth of the maize, this
+plant which never yet had grown on Scotch or English soil; this tall,
+beautiful, broad-bladed, tender tree, the very emblem of all
+fruitfulness. He saw here and there, dropped by the careless hand of
+some departed Indian woman, the little germinating seeds, just thrusting
+their pale-green heads up through the soil, half broken by the tomahawk.
+He saw the clustering green shoots--numerous, in the sign of plenty--all
+crowding together and clamoring for light, and life, and air, and room.
+He saw the prevailing of the tall and strong upthrusting stalks, after
+the way of life; saw the others dwarf and whiten, and yet cling on at
+the base of the bolder stem, parasites, worthless, yet existing, after
+the way of life.
+
+He saw the great central stalks spring boldly up, so swiftly that it
+almost seemed possible to count the successive leaps of progress. He saw
+the strong-ribbed leaves thrown out, waving a thousand hands of cheerful
+welcome and assurance--these blades of the corn, so much mightier than
+any blades of steel. He saw the broad beckoning banners of the pale
+tassels bursting out atop of the stalk, token of fecundity and of the
+future. He caught the wide-driven pollen as it whitened upon the earth,
+borne by the parent West Wind, mother of increase. He saw the thickening
+of the green leaf at the base, its swelling, its growth and expansion,
+till the indefinite enlargement showed at length the incipient ear.
+
+He noted the faint brown of the ends of the sweetly-enveloping silk of
+the ear, pale-green and soft underneath the sheltering and protecting
+husk. He found the sweet and milk-white tender kernels, row upon row,
+forming rapidly beneath the husk, and saw at length the hardening and
+darkening of the husk at its free end, which told that man might pluck
+and eat.
+
+And then he saw the fading of the tassels, the darkening of the silk
+and the crinkling of the blades; and there, borne on the strong parent
+stem, he noted now the many full-rowed ears, protected by their husks
+and heralded by the tassels and the blades. "Come, come ye, all ye
+people! Enter in, for I will feed ye all!" This was the song of the
+maize, its invitation, its counsel, its promise.
+
+Under the warped lodge frames which the fires of the Iroquois had
+spared, there were yet visible clusters of the ears of last year's corn.
+Here, under his own eye, were growing yet other ears, ripe for the
+harvesting and ripe for the coming growth. A strange spell fell upon the
+soul of Law. Visions crossed his mind, born in the soft warm air of
+these fecundating winds, of this strange yet peaceful scene.
+
+At times he stood and looked out from the door of the palisade, when the
+prairie mists were rising in the morning at the mandate of the sun, and
+to his eyes these waving seas of grasses all seemed beckoning fields of
+corn. These smokes, coming from the broken tepees of the timid
+tribesmen, surely they arose from the roofs of happy and contented
+homes! These wreaths and wraiths of the twisting and wide-stalking
+mists, surely these were the captains of a general husbandry! Ah, John
+Law, John Law! Had God given thee the right feeling and contented
+heart, happy indeed had been these days in this new land of thine own,
+far from ignoble strivings and from fevered dreams, far from aimless
+struggles and unregulated avarice, far from oppression and from misery,
+far from bickerings, heart-burnings and envyings! Ah, John Law! Had God
+but given thee the pure and well-contented heart! For here in the
+Messasebe, that Mind which made the universe and set man to be one of
+its little inhabitants--surely that Mind had planned that man should
+come and grow in this place, tall and strong, and fruitful, useful to
+all the world, even as this swift, strong growing of the maize.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+THE BRINK OF CHANGE
+
+
+The breath of autumn came into the air. The little flowers which had
+dotted the grassy robe of the rolling hills had long since faded away
+under the ardent sun, and now there appeared only the denuded stalks of
+the mulleins and the flaunting banners of the goldenrod. The wild grouse
+shrank from the edges of the little fields and joined their numbers into
+general bands, which night and morn crossed the country on sustained and
+strong-winged flight. The plumage of the young wild turkeys, stalking in
+droves among the open groves, began to emulate the iridescent splendors
+of their elders. The marshes above the village became the home of yet
+more numerous thousands of clamoring wild fowl, and high up against the
+blue there passed, on the south-bound journey, the harrow of the wild
+geese, wending their way from North to South across an unknown empire.
+
+A chill came into the waters of the river, so that the bass and pike
+sought out the deeper pools. The squirrels busily hoarded up supplies
+of the nuts now ripening. The antlers of the deer and the elk which
+emerged from the concealing thickets now showed no longer ragged strips
+of velvet, and their tips were polished in the preliminary fitting for
+the fall season of love and combat. There came nights when the white
+frost hung heavy upon all the bending grasses and the broad-leafed
+plants, a frost which seared the maize leaves and set aflame the foliage
+of the maples all along the streams, and decked in a hundred flamboyant
+tones the leaves of the sumach and all the climbing vines.
+
+As all things now presaged the coming winter, so there approached also
+the time when the little party, so long companions upon the Western
+trails, must for the first time know division. Du Mesne, making ready
+for the return trip over the unknown waterways back to the Lakes, as had
+been determined to be necessary, spoke of it as though the journey were
+but an affair of every day.
+
+"Make no doubt, Monsieur L'as," said he, "that I shall ascend this river
+of the Illini and reach Michiganon well before the snows. Once at the
+mission of the Miamis, or the village at the river Chicaqua, I shall be
+quite safe for the winter, if I decide not to go farther on. Then, in
+the spring, I make no doubt, I shall be able to trade our furs at the
+Straits, if I like not the long run down to the Mountain. Thus, you see,
+I may be with you again sometime within the following spring."
+
+"I hope it may be so, my friend," replied Law, "for I shall miss you
+sadly enough."
+
+"'Tis nothing, Monsieur; you will be well occupied. Suppose I take with
+me Kataikini and Kabayan, perhaps also Tête Gris. That will give us four
+paddlers for the big canoe, and you will still have left Pierre Noir and
+Jean, to say nothing of our friends the Illini hereabout, who will be
+glad enough to make cause with you in case of need. I will leave Wabana
+for madame, and trust she may prove of service. See to it, pray you,
+that she observes the offices of the church; for methinks, unless
+watched, Wabana is disposed to become careless and un-Christianized."
+
+"This I will look to," said Law, smiling.
+
+"Then all is well," resumed Du Mesne, "and my absence will be but a
+little thing, as we measure it on the trails. You may find a winter
+alone in the wilderness a bit dull for you, mayhap duller than were it
+in London, or even in Quebec. Yet 'twill pass, and in time we shall meet
+again. Perhaps some good father will be wishing to come back with me to
+set up a mission among the Illini. These good fathers, they so delight
+in losing fingers, and ears, and noses for the good of the
+Church--though where the Church be glorified therein I sometimes can not
+say. Perhaps some leech--mayhap some artisan--"
+
+"Nay, 'tis too far a spot, Du Mesne, to tempt others than ourselves."
+
+"Upon the contrary rather, Monsieur L'as. It is matter for laughter to
+see the efforts of Louis and his ministers to keep New France chained to
+the St. Lawrence! Yet my good lord governor might as well puff out his
+cheeks against the north wind as to try to keep New France from pouring
+west into the Messasebe; and as much might be said for those good rulers
+of the English colonies, who are seeking ever to keep their people east
+of the Alleghanies."
+
+"'Tis the Old World over again, there in the St. Lawrence," said Law.
+
+"Right you are, Monsieur L'as," exclaimed Du Mesne. "New France is but
+an extension of the family of Louis. The intendant reports everything to
+the king. Monsieur So-and-so is married. Very well, the king must know
+it! Monsieur's eldest daughter is making sheep's eyes at such and such a
+soldier of the regiment of the king. Very well, this is weighty matter,
+of which the king must be advised! Monsieur's wife becomes expectant of
+a son and heir. 'Tis meet that Louis the Great should be advised of
+this! Mother of God! 'Tis a pretty mess enough back there on the St.
+Lawrence, where not a hen may cackle over its new-laid egg but the king
+must know it, and where not a family has meat enough for its children to
+eat nor clothes enough to cover them. My faith, in that poor medley of
+little lords and lazy vassals, how can you wonder that the best of us
+have risen and taken to the woods! Yet 'tis we who catch their beaver
+for them; and if God and the king be willing, sometime we shall get a
+certain price for our beaver--provided God and the king furnish currency
+to pay us; and that the governor, the priest and the intendant ratify
+the acts of God and the king!"
+
+Law smiled at the sturdy vehemence of the other's speech, yet there was
+something of soberness in his own reply.
+
+"Sir," said he, "you see here my little crooked rows of maize. Look you,
+the beaver will pass away, but the roots of the corn will never be torn
+out. Here is your wealth, Du Mesne."
+
+The sturdy captain scratched his head. "I only know, for my part," said
+he, "that I do not care for the settlements. Not that I would not be
+glad to see the king extend his arm farther to the West, for these
+sullen English are crowding us more and more along our borders. Surely
+the land belongs to him who finds it."
+
+"Perhaps better to him who can both find and hold it. But this soil will
+one day raise up a people of its own."
+
+"Yet as to that," rejoined Du Mesne, as the two turned and walked back
+to the stockade, "we are not here to handle the affairs of either Louis
+or William. Let us e'en leave that to monsieur the intendant, and
+monsieur the governor, and our friends, the gray owls and the black
+crows, the Recollets and the Jesuits. I mind to call this spot home with
+you, if you like. I shall be back as soon as may be with the things we
+need, and we shall plant here no starving colony, but one good enough
+for the home of any man. Monsieur, I wish you very well, and I may
+congratulate you on your daughter. A heartier infant never was born
+anywhere on the water trail between the Mountain and the Messasebe. What
+name have you chosen for the young lady, Monsieur?"
+
+"I have decided," said John Law, "to call her Catharine."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+TOUS SAUVAGES
+
+
+Had nature indeed intended Law for the wild life of the trail, and had
+he indeed spent years rather than months among these unusual scenes, he
+could hardly have been better fitted for the part. Hardy of limb, keen
+of eye, tireless of foot, with a hand which any weapon fitted, his
+success as hunter made his companions willing enough to assign to him
+the chase of the bison or the stag; so that he became not only patron
+but provider for the camp.
+
+Some weeks after the departure of Du Mesne, Law was returning from the
+hunt some miles below the station. His tall and powerful figure,
+hardened by continued outdoor exercise, was scarce bowed by the weight
+of the wild buck which he bore across his shoulders. His eye, accustomed
+to the instant readiness demanded in the _voyageur's_ life, glanced
+keenly about, taking in each item of the scene, each movement of the
+little bird on the tree, the rustling of the grass where a rabbit
+started from its form, the whisk of the gray squirrel's tail on the
+limb far overhead.
+
+The touch of autumn was now in the air. The leaves of the wild grapevine
+were falling. The oaks had donned garments of somber brown, the
+hickories had lost their leaves, while here and there along the river
+shores the flaming sentinels of the maples had changed their scarlet
+uniform for one of duller hue. The wild rice in the marshes had shed its
+grain upon the mud banks. The acorns were loosening in their cups. Fall
+in the West, gorgeous, beautiful, had now set in, of all the seasons of
+the year, that most loved by the huntsman.
+
+This tall, lean man, clad in buckskin like a savage, brown almost as a
+savage, as active and as alert, seemed to fit not ill with these
+environments, nor to lack either confidence or contentment. He walked on
+steadily, following the path along the bayou bank, and at length paused
+for a moment, throwing down his burden and stooping to drink at the tiny
+pool made by the little rivulet which trickled down the face of the
+bluff. Here he bathed his face and hands in the cool stream, for the
+moment abandoning himself to that rest which the hunter earns. It was
+when at length he raised his head and turned to resume his burden that
+his suspicious eye caught a glimpse of something which sent him in a
+flash below the level of the grasses, and thence to the cover of a tree
+trunk.
+
+As he gazed from his hiding-place he saw the tawny waters of the bayou
+broken into a long series of advancing ripples. Passing the fringe of
+wild rice, swimming down beneath the heavy cordage of the wild
+grapevines, there came on two canoes, roughly made of elm bark, in
+fashion which would have shown an older frontiersman full proof of their
+Western origin.
+
+In the bow of the foremost boat, as Law could now clearly see, sat a
+slender young man, clad in the uniform, now soiled and faded, of a
+captain in the British army. His boat was propelled by four dusky
+paddlers, Indians of the East. Stalwart, powerful, silent, they sent the
+craft on down stream, their keen eyes glancing swiftly from one point to
+the other of the ever-changing panorama, yet finding nothing that would
+seem to warrant pause. Back of the first boat by a short distance came a
+kindred craft, its crew comprising two white men and two Indian
+paddlers. Of the white men, one might have been a petty officer, the
+other perhaps a private soldier.
+
+It was, then, as Du Mesne had said. Every party bound into the West must
+pass this very point upon the river of the Illini. But why should these
+be present here? Were they friends or foes? So queried the watcher,
+tense and eager as a waiting panther, now crouched with straining eye
+behind the sheltering tree.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+As the leading boat swung clear of the shadows, the man in the prow
+turned his face, scanning closely the shore of the stream. As he did so,
+Law half started to his feet, and a moment later stepped from his
+concealment. He gazed again and again, doubting what he saw. Surely
+those clean-cut, handsome features could belong to no man but his former
+friend, Sir Arthur Pembroke!
+
+Yet how could Sir Arthur be here? What could be his errand, and how had
+he been guided hither? These sudden questions might, upon the instant,
+have confused a brain ready as that of this observer, who paused not to
+reflect that this meeting, seemingly so impossible, was in fact the most
+natural thing in the world; indeed, could scarce have been avoided by
+any one traveling with Indian guides down the waterway to the Messasebe.
+
+The keen eyes of the red paddlers caught sight of the crushed grasses at
+the little landing on the bayou bank, even as Law rose from his
+hiding-place. A swift, concerted sweep of the paddles sent the boat
+circling out into midstream, and before Law knew it he was covered by
+half a dozen guns. He hardly noticed this. His own gun he left leaning
+against a tree, and his hand was thrown out high, in front of him as he
+came on, calling out to those in the stream. He heard the command of the
+leader in the boat, and a moment later both canoes swung inshore.
+
+"Have down your guns, Sir Arthur," cried Law, loudly and gaily. "We are
+none but friends here. Come in, and tell me that it is yourself, and not
+some miracle of mine eyes."
+
+The young man so surprisingly addressed half started from the thwart in
+his amazement. His face bent into an incredulous frown, scarce carrying
+comprehension, even as he approached the shore. As he left the boat, for
+an instant Pembroke's hand was half extended in greeting, yet a swift
+change came over his countenance, and his body stiffened.
+
+"Is it indeed you, Mr. Law?" he said. "I could not have believed myself
+so fortunate."
+
+"'Tis myself and no one else," replied Law. "But why this melodrama, Sir
+Arthur? Why reject my hand?"
+
+"I have sworn to extend to you no hand but that bearing a weapon, Mr.
+Law!" said Pembroke. "This may be accident, but it seems to me the
+justice of God. Oh, you have run far, Mr. Law--"
+
+"What mean you, Sir Arthur?" exclaimed Law, his face assuming the dull
+red of anger. "I have gone where I pleased, and asked no man's leave for
+it, and I shall live as I please and ask no man's leave for that. I
+admit that it seems almost a miracle to meet you here, but come you one
+way or the other, you come best without riddles, and still better
+without threats."
+
+"You are not armed," said Sir Arthur. He gazed at the bronzed figure
+before him, clad in fringed tunic and leggings of deer hide; at the belt
+with little knife and ax, at the gun which now rested in the hollow of
+his arm. Law himself laughed keenly.
+
+"Why, as to that," said he, "I had thought myself well enough equipped.
+But as for a sword, 'tis true my hand is more familiar, these days, with
+the ax and gun."
+
+"The late Jessamy Law shows change in his capacity of renegade," said
+Pembroke, raspingly. His face displayed a scorn which jumped ill with
+the nature of the man before him.
+
+"I am what I am, Sir Arthur," said Law, "and what I was. And always I am
+at any man's service who is in search of what you call God's justice, or
+what I may call personal satisfaction. I doubt not we shall find my
+other trinkets in good order not far away. But meantime, before you
+turn my hospitality into shame, bring on your men and follow me."
+
+His face working with emotion, Law turned away. He caught up the body of
+the dead buck, and tossing it across his shoulders, strode up the
+winding pathway.
+
+"Come, Gray, and Ellsworth," said Pembroke. "Get your men together. We
+shall see what there is to this."
+
+At the summit of the river-bluff Law awaited their arrival. He noted in
+silence the look of surprise which crossed Pembroke's face as at length
+they came into view of the little panorama of the stockade and its
+surroundings.
+
+"This is my home, Sir Arthur," said he simply. "These are my fields. And
+see, if I mistake not, yonder is some proof of the ability of my people
+to care for themselves."
+
+He pointed to the gateway, from the loop-holes guarding which there
+might now be seen protruding two long dark barrels, leveled in the
+direction of the approaching party. There came a call from within the
+palisade, and the sound of men running to take their places along the
+wall. Law raised his hand, and the barrels of the guns were lowered.
+
+"This, then, is your hiding-place!" said Pembroke.
+
+"I call it not such. 'Tis public to the world."
+
+"Tush! You lack not in the least of your old conceit and assurance, Mr.
+Law!" said Pembroke.
+
+"Nay, I lack not so much in assurance of myself," said Law, "as in my
+patience, which I find, Sir Arthur, now begins to grow a bit short about
+its breath. But since the courtesy of the trail demands somewhat, I say
+to you, there is my home. Enter it as friend if you like, but if not,
+come as you please. Did you indeed come bearing war, I should be obliged
+to signify to you, Sir Arthur, that you are my prisoner. You see my
+people."
+
+"Sir," replied Sir Arthur, blindly, "I have vowed to find you no matter
+where you should go."
+
+"It would seem that your vow is well fulfilled. But now, since you deal
+in mysteries, I shall even ask you definitely, Sir Arthur, who and what
+are you? Why do you come hither, and how shall we regard you?"
+
+"I am, in the first place," said Sir Arthur, "messenger of my Lord
+Bellomont, governor at Albany of our English colonies. I add my chief
+errand, which has been to find Mr. Law, whom I would hold to an
+accounting."
+
+"Oh, granted," replied Law, flicking lightly at the cuff of his tunic,
+"yet your errand still carries mystery."
+
+"You have at least heard of the Peace of Ryswick, I presume?"
+
+"No; how should I? And why should I care?"
+
+"None the less, the king of England and the king of France are no longer
+at war, nor are their colonies this side of the water. There are to be
+no more raids between the colonies of New England and New France. The
+Hurons are to give back their English prisoners, and the Iroquois are to
+return all their captives to the French. The Western tribes are to
+render up their prisoners also, be they French, English, Huron or
+Iroquois. The errand of carrying this news was offered to me. It agreed
+well enough with my own private purposes. I had tracked you, Mr. Law, to
+Montréal, lost you on the Richelieu, and was glad enough to take up this
+chance of finding you farther to the West. And now, by the justice of
+heaven, as I have said, I have found you easily."
+
+"And has Sir Arthur gone to sheriffing? Has my friend become constable?
+Is Sir Arthur a spy? Because, look you, this is not London, nor yet New
+France, nor Albany. This is Messasebe! This is my valley. I rule here.
+Now, if kings, or constables, or even spies, wish to find John
+Law--why, here is John Law. Now watch your people, and go you carefully
+here, else that may follow which will be ill extinguished."
+
+Pembroke flung down his sword upon the ground in front of him.
+
+"You are lucky, Mr. Law," said he, "lucky as ever. But surely, never was
+man so eminently deserving of death as yourself."
+
+"You do me very much honor, Sir Arthur," replied Law. "Here is your
+sword, sir." Stooping, he picked it up and handed it to the other. "I
+did but ill if I refused to accord satisfaction to one bringing me such
+speech as that. 'Tis well you wear your weapons, Sir Arthur, since you
+come thus as emissary of the Great Peace! I know you for a gentleman,
+and I shall ask no parole of you to-night; but meantime, let us wait
+until to-morrow, when I promise you I shall be eager as yourself. Come!
+We can stand here guessing and talking no longer. I am weary of it."
+
+They came now to the gate of the stockade, and there Pembroke stood for
+a moment in surprise and perplexity. He was not prepared to meet this
+dark-haired, wide-eyed girl, clad in native dress of skin, with tinkling
+metals at wrist and ankle, and on her feet the tiny, beaded shoes. For
+her part, Mary Connynge, filled with woman's curiosity, was yet less
+prepared for that which appeared before her--an apparition, as ran her
+first thought, come to threaten and affright.
+
+"Sir Arthur!" she began, her trembling tongue but half forming the
+words. Her eyes stared in terror, and beneath her dark skin the blood
+shrank away and left her pale. She recoiled from him, her left hand
+carrying behind her instinctively the babe that lay on her arm.
+
+Sir Arthur bowed, but found no word. He could only look questioningly at
+Law.
+
+"Madam," said the latter, "Sir Arthur Pembroke journeys through as the
+messenger of Lord Bellomont, governor at Albany, to spread peace among
+the Western tribes. He has by mere chance blundered upon our valley, and
+will delay over night. It seemed well you should be advised."
+
+Mary Connynge, gray and pale, haggard and horrified, dreading all things
+and knowing nothing, found no manner of reply. Without a word she turned
+and fled back into the cabin.
+
+Sir Arthur once more looked about him. Motioning to the others of the
+party to remain outside the gate, Law led him within the stockade. On
+one hand stood Pierre Noir, tall, silent, impassive as a savage, leaning
+upon his gun and fixing on the red coat of the English uniform an eye
+none too friendly. Jean Breboeuf, his piece half ready and his voluble
+tongue half on the point of breaking over restraint, Law quieted with a
+gesture. Back of these, ranged in a silent yet watchful group, their
+weapons well in hand, stood numbers of the savage allies of this new
+war-lord. Pembroke turned to Law again.
+
+"You are strongly stationed, sir; but I do not understand."
+
+"It is my home."
+
+"But yet--why?"
+
+"As well this as any, where one leaves an old life and begins a new,"
+said Law. "'Tis as good a place as any if one would leave all behind,
+and if he would forget."
+
+"And this--that is to say--madam?"
+
+Sir Arthur stumbled in his speech. John Law looked him straight in the
+eye, a slow, sad smile upon his face.
+
+"Had we here the plank of poor La Salle his ship," said he, "we might
+nail the message of that other renegade above our door--'_Nous sommes
+tous sauvages_!'"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+THE DREAM
+
+
+That night John Law dreamed as he slept, and it was in some form the
+same haunting and familiar dream. In his vision he saw not the low roof
+nor the rude walls about him. To his mind there appeared a little dingy
+room, smaller than this in which he lay, with walls of stone, with door
+of iron grating and not of rough-hewn slabs. He saw the door of the
+prison cell swing open; saw near it the figure of a noble young girl,
+with large and frightened eyes and lips half tremulous. To this vision
+he outstretched his hands. He was almost conscious of uttering some word
+supplicatingly, almost conscious of uttering a name.
+
+Perhaps he slept on. We little know the ways of the land of dreams. It
+might have been half an instant or half an hour later that he suddenly
+awoke, finding his hand clapped close against his side, where suddenly
+there had come a sharp and burning pain. His own hand struck another. He
+saw something gleaming in the light of the flickering fire which still
+survived upon the hearth. The dim rays lit up two green, glowing,
+venomous balls, the eyes of the woman whom he found bending above him.
+He reached out his hand in the instinct of safety. This which glittered
+in the firelight was the blade of a knife, and it was in the hand of
+Mary Connynge!
+
+In a moment Law was master of himself. "Give it to me, Madam, if you
+please," he said, quietly, and took the knife from fingers which
+loosened under his grasp. There was no further word spoken. He tossed
+the knife into a crack of the bunk beyond him. He lay with his right arm
+doubled under his head, looking up steadily into the low ceiling, upon
+which the fire made ragged masses of shadows. His left arm, round, full
+and muscular, lay across the figure of the woman whom he had forced down
+upon the couch beside him. He could feel her bosom rise and pant in
+sheer sobs of anger. Once he felt the writhing of the body beneath his
+arm, but he simply tightened his grasp and spoke no word.
+
+It was not far from morning. In time the gray dawn came creeping in at
+the window, until at length the chinks between the logs in the little
+square-cut window and the ill-fitting door were flooded with a sea of
+sunlight. As this light grew stronger, Law slowly turned and looked at
+the face beside him. Out of the tangle of dark hair there blazed still
+two eyes, eyes which looked steadily up at the ceiling, refusing to turn
+either to the right or to the left. He calmly pulled closer to him, so
+that it might not stain the garments of the woman beside him, the
+blood-soaked shirt whose looseness and lack of definition had perhaps
+saved him from a fatal blow. He paid no attention to his wound, which he
+knew was nothing serious. So he lay and looked at Mary Connynge, and
+finally removed his arm.
+
+"Get up," said he, simply, and the woman obeyed him.
+
+"The fire, Madam, if you please, and breakfast."
+
+These had been the duties of the Indian woman, but Mary Connynge obeyed.
+
+"Madam," said Law, calmly, after the morning meal was at last finished
+in silence, "I shall be very glad to have your company for a few
+moments, if you please."
+
+Mary Connynge rose and followed him into the open air, her eyes still
+fixed upon the dark-crusted stain which had spread upon his tunic. They
+walked in silence to a point beyond the cabin.
+
+"You would call her Catharine!" burst out Mary Connynge. "Oh! I heard
+you in your very sleep. You believe every lying word Sir Arthur tells
+you. You believe--"
+
+John Law looked at her with the simple and direct gaze which the tamer
+of the wild beast employs when he goes among them, the look of a man not
+afraid of any living thing.
+
+"Madam," said he, at length, calmly and evenly, as before, "what I have
+said, sleeping or waking, will not matter. You have tried to kill me.
+You did not succeed. You will never try again. Now, Madam, I give you
+the privilege of kneeling here on the ground before me, and asking of
+me, not my pardon, but the pardon of the woman you have foully stabbed,
+even as you have me."
+
+The figure before him straightened up, the blazing yellow eyes sought
+his once, twice, thrice, behind them all the fury of a savage soul. It
+was of no avail. The cool blue eyes looked straight into her heart. The
+tall figure stood before her, unyielding. She sought to raise her eyes
+once more, failed, and so would have sunk down as he had said, actually
+on her knees before him.
+
+John Law extended a hand and stopped her. "There," said he. "It will
+suffice. I can not demean you. There is the child."
+
+"You called her Catharine!" broke out the woman once more in her
+ungovernable rage. "You would name my child--"
+
+"Madam, get up!" said John Law, sharply and sternly. "Get up on your
+feet and look me in the face. The child shall be called for her who
+should have been its mother. Let those forgive who can. That you have
+ruined my life for me is but perhaps a fair exchange; yet you shall say
+no word against that woman whose life we have both of us despoiled."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+BY THE HILT OF THE SWORD
+
+
+Law passed on out at the gate of the stockade and down to the bivouac,
+where Pembroke and his men had spent the night.
+
+"Now, Sir Arthur," said he to the latter, when he had found him, "come.
+I am ready to talk with you. Let us go apart."
+
+Pembroke joined him, and the two walked slowly away toward the
+encircling wood which swept back of the stockade. Law turned upon him at
+length squarely.
+
+"Sir Arthur," said he, "I think you would tell me something concerned
+with the Lady Catharine Knollys. Do you bring any message from her?"
+
+The face of Pembroke flamed scarlet with sudden wrath. "Message!" said
+he. "Message from Lady Catharine Knollys to you? By God! sir, her only
+message could be her hope that she might never hear your name again."
+
+"You have still your temper, Sir Arthur, and you speak harsh enough."
+
+"Harsh or not," rejoined Pembroke, "I scarce can endure her name upon
+your lips. You, who scouted her, who left her, who took up with the
+lewdest woman in all Great Britain, as it now appears--you who would
+consort with this creature--"
+
+"In this matter," said John Law, simply, "you are not my prisoner, and I
+beg you to speak frankly. It shall be man and man between us."
+
+"How you could have stooped to such baseness is what mortal man can
+never understand," resumed Sir Arthur, bitterly. "Good God! to abandon a
+woman like that so heartlessly--"
+
+"Sir Arthur," said John Law, his voice trembling, "I do myself the very
+great pleasure of telling you that you lie!"
+
+For a moment the two stood silent, facing each other, the face of each
+stony, gone gray with the emotions back of it.
+
+"There is light," said Pembroke, "and abundant space."
+
+They turned and paced back farther toward the open forest glade. Yet now
+and again their steps faltered and half paused, and neither man cared to
+go forward or to return. Pembroke's face, stern as it had been, again
+took on the imprint of a growing hesitation.
+
+"Mr. Law," said he, "there is something in your attitude which I admit
+puzzles me. I ask you in all honor, I ask you on the hilt of that sword
+which I know you will never disgrace, why did you thus flout the Lady
+Catharine Knollys? Why did you scorn her and take up with this woman
+yonder in her stead?"
+
+"Sir Arthur," said John Law, with trembling lips, "I must be very low
+indeed in reputation, since you can ask me question such as this."
+
+"But you must answer!" cried Sir Arthur, "and you must swear!"
+
+"If you would have my answer and my oath, then I give you both. I did
+not do what you suggest, nor can I conceive how any man should think me
+guilty of it. I loved Lady Catharine Knollys with all my heart. 'Twas my
+chief bitterness, keener than even the thought of the gallows itself,
+that she forsook me in my trouble. Then, bitter as any man would be, I
+persuaded myself that I cared naught. Then came this other woman. Then
+I--well, I was a man and a fool--a fool, Sir Arthur, a most miserable
+fool! Every moment of my life since first I saw her, I have loved the
+Lady Catharine; and, God help me, I do now!"
+
+Sir Arthur struck his hand upon the hilt of his sword. "You were more
+lucky than myself, as I know," said he, and from his lips broke half a
+groan.
+
+"Good God!" broke out Law. "Let us not talk of it. I give you my word of
+honor, there has been no happiness to this. But come! We waste time. Let
+us cross swords!"
+
+"Wait. Let me explain, since we are in the way of it. You must know that
+'twas within the plans of Montague that Lady Catharine Knollys should be
+the agent of your freedom. I was pledged to the Lady Catharine to assist
+her, though, as you may perhaps see, sir," and Pembroke gulped in his
+throat as he spoke, "'twas difficult enough, this part that was assigned
+to me. It was I, Mr. Law, who drove the coach to the gate, the coach
+which brought the Lady Catharine. 'Twas she who opened the door of
+Newgate jail for you. My God! sir, how could you walk past that woman,
+coming there as she did, with such a purpose!"
+
+At hearing these words, the tall figure of the man opposed to him
+drooped and sank, as though under some fearful blow. He staggered to a
+near-by support and sank weakly to a seat, his head falling between his
+hands, his whole face convulsed.
+
+"Ah!" said he, "you did right to cross seas in search of me! God hath
+indeed found me out and given me my punishment. Yet I ask God to bear
+me witness that I knew not the truth. Come, Sir Arthur! Come, I beseech
+you! Let us fall to!"
+
+"I shall be no man's executioner for his sentence on himself. I could
+not fight you now." His eye fell by chance upon the blotch in Law's
+bloodstained tunic. "And here," he said; "see! You are already wounded."
+
+"'Twas but one woman's way of showing her regard," said Law. "'Twas Mary
+Connynge stabbed me."
+
+"But why?"
+
+"Nay, I am glad of it; since it proves the truth of all you say, even as
+it proves me to be the most unworthy man in all the world. Oh, what had
+it meant to me to know a real love! God! How could I have been so
+blind?"
+
+"'Tis the ancient puzzle."
+
+"Yes!" cried Law. "And let us make an end of puzzles! Your quarrel, sir,
+I admit is just. Let us go on."
+
+"And again I tell you, Mr. Law," replied Sir Arthur, "that I will not
+fight you."
+
+"Then, sir," said Law, dropping his own sword upon the grass and
+extending his hand with a broken smile, "'tis I who am your prisoner!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+THE IROQUOIS
+
+
+Even as Sir Arthur and John Law clasped hands, there came a sudden
+interruption. A half-score yards deeper in the wood there arose a
+sudden, half-choked cry, followed by a shrill whoop. There was a
+crashing as of one running, and immediately there pressed into the open
+space the figure of an Indian, an old man from the village of the
+Illini. Even as his staggering footsteps brought him within gaze, the
+two startled observers saw the shaft which had sunk deep within his
+breast. He had been shot through by an Indian arrow, and upon the
+instant it was all too plain whose hand had sped the shaft. Following
+close upon his heels there came a stalwart savage, whose face, hideously
+painted, appeared fairly demoniacal as he came bounding on with uplifted
+hatchet, seeking to strike down the victim already impaled by the silent
+arrow.
+
+"Quick!" cried Law, in a flash catching the meaning of this sudden
+spectacle. "Into the fort, Sir Arthur, and call the men together!"
+
+Not stopping to relieve the struggles of the victim, who had now fallen
+forward gasping, Law sprang on with drawn blade to meet the advancing
+savage. The latter paused for an uncertain moment, and then with a
+shrill yell of defiance, hurled the keen steel hatchet full at Law's
+head. It shore away a piece of his hat brim, and sank with edge deep
+buried in the trunk of a tree beyond. The savage turned, but turned too
+late. The blade of the swordsman passed through from rib to rib under
+his arm, and he fell choking, even as he sought again to give vent to
+his war-cry.
+
+And now there arose in the woods beyond, and in the fields below the
+hill, and from the villages of the neighboring Indians, a series of
+sharp, ululating yells. Shots came from within the fortress, where the
+loop-holes were already manned. There were borne from the nearest
+wigwams of the Illini the screams of wounded men, the shrieks of
+terrified women. In an instant the peaceful spot had become the scene of
+a horrible confusion. Once more the wolves of the woods, the Iroquois,
+had fallen on their prey!
+
+Swift as had been Law's movements, Pembroke was but a pace behind him as
+he wrenched free his blade. The two turned back together and started at
+speed for the palisade. At the gate they met others hurrying in,
+Pembroke's men joining in the rush of the frightened villagers. Among
+these the Iroquois pressed with shrill yells, plying knife and bow and
+hatchet as they ran, and the horrified eyes of those within the palisade
+saw many a tragedy enacted.
+
+"Watch the gate!" cried Pierre Noir, from his station in the corner
+tower. As he spoke there came a rush of screaming Iroquois, who sought
+to gain the entrance.
+
+"Now!" cried Pierre Noir, discharging his piece into the crowded ranks
+below him; and shot after shot followed his own. The packed brown mass
+gave back and resolved itself into scattered units, who broke and ran
+for the nearest cover.
+
+"They will not come on again until dark," said Pierre Noir, calmly
+leaning his piece against the wall. "Therefore I may attend to certain
+little matters."
+
+He passed out into the entry-way, where lay the bodies of three
+Iroquois, abandoned, under the close and deadly fire, by their
+companions where they had fallen. When Pierre Noir returned and calmly
+propped up again the door of slabs which he had removed, he carried in
+his hand three tufts of long black hair, from which dripped heavy gouts
+of blood.
+
+"Good God, man!" said Pembroke. "You must not be savage as these
+Indians!"
+
+"Speak for yourself, Monsieur Anglais," replied Pierre, stoutly. "You
+need not save these head pieces if you do not care for them. For myself,
+'tis part of the trade."
+
+"Assuredly," broke in Jean Breboeuf. "We keep these trinkets, we
+_voyageurs_ of the French. Make no doubt that Jean Breboeuf will take
+back with him full tale of the Indians he has killed. Presently I go
+out. Zip! goes my knife, and off comes the topknot of Monsieur Indian,
+him I killed but now as he ran. Then I shall dry the scalp here by the
+fire, and mount it on a bit of willow, and take it back for a present to
+my sweetheart, Susanne Duchéne, on the seignieury at home."
+
+"Bravo, Jean!" cried out the old Indian fighter, Pierre Noir, the old
+baresark rage of the fighting man now rising hot in his blood. "And
+look! Here come more chances for our little ornaments."
+
+Pierre Noir for once had been mistaken and underestimated the courage of
+the warriors of the Onondagos. Lashing themselves to fury at the thought
+of their losses, they came on again, now banding and charging in the
+open close up to the walls of the palisade. Again the little party of
+whites maintained a steady fire, and again the Iroquois, baffled and
+enraged, fell back into the wood, whence they poured volley after volley
+rattling against the walls of the sturdy fortress.
+
+"I am sorry, sir," said Sergeant Gray to Pembroke, "but 'tis all up with
+me." The poor fellow staggered against the wall, and in a few moments
+all was indeed over with him. A chance shot had pierced his chest.
+
+"_Peste_! If this keeps up," said Pierre Noir, "there will not be many
+of us left by morning. I never saw them fight so well. 'Tis a good watch
+we'll need this night."
+
+In fact, all through the night the Iroquois tried every stratagem of
+their savage warfare. With ear-splitting yells they came close up to the
+stockade, and in one such charge two or three of their young men even
+managed to climb to the tops of the pointed stakes, though but to meet
+their death at the muzzles of the muskets within. Then there arose
+curving lines of fire from without the walls, half circles which
+terminated at last in little jarring thuds, where blazing arrows fell
+and stood in log, or earth, or unprotected roof. These projectiles,
+wrapped with lighted birch bark, served as fire brands, and danger
+enough they carried. Yet, after some fashion, the little garrison kept
+down these incipient blazes, held together the terrified Illini,
+repulsed each repeated charge of the Iroquois, and so at last wore
+through the long and fearful night.
+
+The sun was just rising across the tops of the distant groves when the
+Iroquois made their next advance. It came not in the form of a concerted
+attack, but of an appeal for peace. A party of the savages left their
+cover and approached the fortress, waving their hands above their heads.
+One of them presently advanced alone.
+
+"What is it, Pierre?" asked Law. "What does the fellow want?"
+
+"I care not what he wants," said Pierre Noir, carefully adjusting the
+lock of his piece and steadily regarding the savage as he approached;
+"but I'll wager you a year's pay he never gets alive past yonder stump."
+
+"Stay!" cried Pembroke, catching at the barrel of the leveled gun. "I
+believe he would talk with us."
+
+"What does he say, Pierre?" asked Law. "Speak to him, if you can."
+
+"He wants to know," said Pierre, as the messenger at length stopped and
+began a harangue, "whether we are English or French. He says something
+about there being a big peace between Corlaer and Onontio; by which he
+means, gentlemen, the governor at New York and the governor at Quebec."
+
+"Tell him," cried Pembroke, with a sudden thought, "that I am an
+officer of Corlaer, and that Corlaer bids the Iroquois to bring in all
+the prisoners they have taken. Tell him that the French are going to
+give up all their prisoners to us, and that the Iroquois must leave the
+war path, or my Lord Bellomont will take the war trail and wipe their
+villages off the earth."
+
+Something in this speech as conveyed to the savage seemed to give him a
+certain concern. He retired, and presently his place was taken by a tall
+and stately figure, dressed in the full habiliments of an Iroquois
+chieftain. He came on calmly and proudly, his head erect, and in his
+extended hand the long-stemmed pipe of peace. Pierre Noir heaved a deep
+sigh of relief.
+
+"Unless my eyes deceive me," said he, "'tis old Teganisoris himself, one
+of the head men of the Onondagos. If so, there is some hope, for
+Teganisoris is wise enough to know when peace is best."
+
+It was, indeed, that noted chieftain of the Iroquois who now advanced
+close up to the wall. Law and Pembroke stepped out to meet him beyond
+the palisade, the old _voyageur_ still serving as interpreter from the
+platform at their back.
+
+"He says--listen, Messieurs!--he says he knows there is going to be a
+big peace; that the Iroquois are tired of fighting and that their
+hearts are sore. He says--a most manifest lie, I beg you to observe,
+Messieurs--that he loves the English, and that, although he ought to
+kill the Frenchmen of our garrison, he will, since some of us are
+English, and hence his friends, spare us all if we will cease to fight."
+
+Pembroke turned to Law with question in his eye.
+
+"There must be something done," said the latter in a low tone. "We were
+short enough of ammunition here even before Du Mesne left for the
+settlements, and your own men have none too much left."
+
+"'Reflect! Bethink yourselves, Englishmen!' he says to us," continued
+Pierre Noir. "'We came to make war upon the Illini. Our work here is
+done. 'Tis time now that we went back to our villages. If there is to be
+a big peace, the Iroquois must be there; for unless the Iroquois demand
+it, there can be no peace at all.' And, gentlemen, I beg you to remember
+it is an Iroquois who is talking, and that the truth is not in the
+tongue of an Iroquois."
+
+"'Tis a desperate chance, Mr. Law," said Pembroke. "Yet if we keep up
+the fight here, there can be but one end."
+
+"'Tis true," said Law; "and there are others to be considered."
+
+It was hurriedly thus concluded. Law finally advanced toward the tall
+figure of the Iroquois headman, and looked him straight in the face.
+
+"Tell him," said he to Pierre Noir, "that we are all English, and that
+we are not afraid; and that if we are harmed, the armies of Corlaer will
+destroy the Iroquois, even as the Iroquois have the Illini. Tell him
+that we will go back with him to the settlements because we are willing
+to go that way upon a journey which we had already planned. We could
+fight forever if we chose, and he can see for himself by the bodies of
+his young men how well we are able to make war."
+
+"It is well," replied Teganisoris. "You have the word of an Iroquois
+that this shall be done, as I have said."
+
+"The word of an Iroquois!" cried Pierre Noir, slamming down the butt of
+his musket. "The word of a snake, say rather! Jean Breboeuf, harken you
+to what our leaders have agreed! We are to go as prisoners of the
+Iroquois! Mary, Mother of God, what folly! And there is madame, and _la
+pauvre petite_, that infant so young. By God! Were it left to me, Pierre
+Berthier would stand here, and fight to the end. I know these Iroquois!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+PRISONERS OF THE IROQUOIS
+
+
+The faith of the Iroquois was worse than Punic, nor was there lacking
+swift proof of its real nature. Law and Pembroke, the moment they had
+led their little garrison beyond the gate, found themselves surrounded
+by a ring of tomahawks and drawn bows. Their weapons were snatched away
+from them, and on the instant they found themselves beyond all
+possibility of that resistance whose giving over they now bitterly
+repented. Teganisoris regarded them with a sardonic smile.
+
+"I see you are all English," said he, "though some of you wear blue
+coats. These we may perhaps adopt into our tribe, for our boys grow up
+but slowly, and some of the blue coats are good fighters. These dogs of
+Illini we shall of course burn. As for your war house, you will no
+longer need it, since you are now friends of the Iroquois, and are going
+to their villages. You may say to Corlaer that you well know the
+Iroquois have no prisoners."
+
+The horrid significance of this threat was all too soon made plain. In
+an hour the little stockade was but a mass of embers and ashes. In
+another hour the little valley had become a Gehenna of anguish and
+lamentations, with whose riot of grief and woe there mingled the savage
+exultations of a foe whose treachery was but surpassed by his cruelty.
+Again the planting-ground of the Illini was utterly laid waste, to mark
+it naught remaining but trampled grain, and heaps of ashes, and remnants
+of blackened and incinerated bones. By nightfall the party of prisoners
+had begun a wild journey through the wilderness, whose horrors surpassed
+any they had supposed to be humanly endurable.
+
+Day after day, week after week, for more than a month, and much of the
+time in winter weather, they toiled on, part of the way by boat, the
+remainder of the journey on foot, crossing snow-clogged forest, and
+tangled thicket and frozen morass, yet daring not to drop out for rest,
+since to lag might mean to die. It was as though after some frightful
+nightmare of suffering and despair that at length they reached the
+villages of the Five Nations, located far to the east, at the foot of
+the great waterway which Law and his family had ascended more than a
+year before.
+
+Yet if that which had gone before seemed like some bitter dream, surely
+the day of awakening promised but little better hope. From village to
+village, footsore and ill, they were hurried without rest, at each new
+stopping place the central figures of a barbarous triumph; and nowhere
+did they meet the representatives of either the French or the English
+government, whose expected presence had constituted their one ground of
+hope.
+
+"Where is your big peace?" asked Teganisoris of Pembroke. "Where are the
+head men of Corlaer? Who brings presents to the Iroquois, and who is to
+tell us that Onontio has carried the pipe of peace to Corlaer? Here are
+our villages as when we left them, and here again are we, save for the
+absent ones who have been killed by your young men. It is no wonder that
+my people are displeased."
+
+Indeed those of the Iroquois who had remained at home clamored
+continually that some of the prisoners should be given over to them.
+Thus, in doubt, uncertainty and terror the party passed through the
+villages, moving always eastward, until at length they arrived at the
+fortified town where Teganisoris made his home, a spot toward the foot
+of Lake Ontario, and not widely removed from that stupendous cataract
+which, from the beginning of earth, had uplifted its thunderous
+diapason here in the savage wilderness--Ontoneagrea, object of
+superstitious awe among all the tribes.
+
+Time hung heavy on the hands of the savages. It was winter, and the
+parties had all returned from the war trails. The mutterings arose yet
+more loudly among families who had lost most heavily in these Western
+expeditions. The shrewd mind of Teganisoris knew that some new thing
+must be planned. He announced his decision at his own village, after the
+triumphal progress among the tribes had at length been concluded.
+
+"Since they have sent us no presents," said he, with that daring
+diplomacy which made him a leader in red statesmanship, "let those who
+stayed at home be given some prisoner in pay for those of their people
+who have been killed. Moreover, let us offer to the Great Spirit some
+sacrifice in propitiation; since surely the Great Spirit is offended."
+Such was the conclusion of this head man of the Onondagos, and fateful
+enough it was to the prisoners.
+
+The great gorge through which poured the vast waters of the Northern
+seas was a spot not always visited by those passing up the Great Lakes
+for the Western stations, nor down the Lakes to the settlements of the
+St. Lawrence. Yet there was a trail which led around the great cataract,
+and the occasional _coureurs de bois_, or the passing friars, or the
+adventurous merchants of the lower settlements now and again left that
+trail, and came to look upon the tremendous scene of the great falling
+of the waters. Here where the tumult ascended up to heaven, and where
+the white-blown wreaths of mist might indeed, even in an imagination
+better than that of a savage, have been construed into actual forms of
+spirits, the Indians had, from time immemorial, made their offerings to
+the genius of the cataract--strips of rude cloth, the skin of the beaver
+and the otter, baskets woven of sweet grasses, and, after the advent of
+the white man, pieces of metal or strings of precious beads. Such valued
+things as these were in rude adoration placed upon rocks or uplifted
+scaffolds near to the brink of the abyss. This was the spot most
+commonly chosen by the medicine man in the pursuit of his incantations.
+It was the church, the wild and savage cathedral of the red men.
+
+Following now the command of their chieftain, the Iroquois left their
+stationary lodges and moved in a body, pitching a temporary camp at a
+spot not far from the Falls. Here, in a great council lodge, the older
+men sat in deliberation for a full day and night. The dull drum sounded
+continually, the council pipe went round, and the warriors besought the
+spirits to give them knowledge. The savage hysteria, little by little,
+yet steadily, arose higher and higher, until at length it reached that
+point of frenzy where naught could suffice save some terrible, some
+tremendous thing.
+
+Enforced spectators of these curious and ominous ceremonies, the
+prisoners looked on, wondering, imagining, hesitating and fearing.
+"Monsieur," said Pierre Noir, turning at last to Law, "it grieves me to
+speak, yet 'tis best for you to know the truth. It is to be you or
+Monsieur Pembroke. They will not have me. They say that it must be one
+of you two great chiefs, for that you were brave, your hearts were
+strong, and that hence you would find favor as the adopted child of the
+Great Spirit who has been offended."
+
+Law looked at Pembroke, and they both regarded Mary Connynge and the
+babe. "At least," said Law, "they spare the woman and the child. So far
+very well. Sir Arthur, we are at the last hazard."
+
+"I have asked them to take me," said Pierre Noir, "for I am an old man
+and have no family. But they will not listen to me."
+
+Pembroke passed his hand wearily across his face. "I have behind me so
+long a memory of suffering," said he, "and before me so small an amount
+of promise, that for myself I am content to let it end. It comes to all
+sooner or later, according to our fate."
+
+"You speak," said Law, "as though it were determined. Yet Pierre says it
+will not be both of us, but one."
+
+Pembroke smiled sadly. "Why, sir," said he, "do you think me so sorry a
+fellow as that? Look!" and he pointed to Mary Connynge and the child.
+"There is your duty."
+
+Law followed his gaze, and his look was returned dumbly by the woman who
+had played so strange a part in the late passages of his life. Never a
+word with her had Law spoken regarding his plans or concerning what he
+had learned from Pembroke. As to this, Mary Connynge had been afraid to
+ask, nor dare ask even now.
+
+"Besides," went on Pembroke later, as he called Law aside, "there is
+something to be done--not here, but over there, in England, or in
+France. Your duty is involved not only with this woman. You must find
+sometime the other woman. You must see the Lady Catharine Knollys."
+
+Law sunk his head between his hands and groaned bitterly.
+
+"Go you rather," said he, "and spend your life for her. I choose that it
+should end at once, and here."
+
+"I have not been wont to call Mr. Law a coward," said Pembroke, simply.
+
+"I should be a coward if I should stand aside and allow you to sacrifice
+yourself; nor shall I do so," replied the other.
+
+"They say," broke in Pierre Noir, who had been listening to the excited
+harangues of first one warrior and then another, "that both warriors are
+great chiefs, and that both should go together. Teganisoris insists that
+only one shall be offered. This last has been almost agreed; but which
+one of you 'tis to be has not yet been determined."
+
+Dawn came through the narrow door and open roof holes of the lodge. The
+rising of the sun seemed to bring conviction to the Iroquois. All at
+once the savage council broke up and scattered into groups, which
+hurried to different parts of the village. Presently these reappeared at
+the central lodge. There sounded a concerted savage chant. A ragged
+column appeared, whose head was faced toward the cataract. There were
+those who bore strings of beads and strips of fur, even the prized
+treasures of the tufted scalp locks, whose tresses, combed smooth, were
+adorned with colored cloth and feathers.
+
+Pierre Noir was silent; yet, as the captives looked, they needed no
+advice that the sacrificial procession was now forming.
+
+"They said," began Pierre Noir, at length, with trembling voice, turning
+his eyes aside as he spoke, "that it could not be myself, that it must
+be one of you, and but one. They are going to cast lots for it. It is
+Teganisoris who has proposed that the lots shall be thrown by--" Pierre
+Noir faltered, unwilling to go on.
+
+"And by whom?" asked Law, quietly.
+
+"By--by the woman--by madame!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+THE SACRIFICE
+
+
+There was sometimes practised among the Iroquois a game which bore a
+certain resemblance to the casting of dice, as the latter is known among
+civilized peoples. The method of the play was simple. Two oblong
+polished bones, of the bigness of a man's finger, were used as the dice.
+The ends of these were ground thin and were rudely polished. One of the
+dice was stained red, the other left white. The players in the game
+marked out a line on the hard ground, and then each in turn cast up the
+two dice into the air, throwing them from some receptacle. The game was
+determined by the falling of the red bone, he who cast this colored bone
+closer to the line upon the ground being declared the winner. The game
+was simple, and depended much upon chance. If the red die fell flat upon
+its face at a point near to the line, it was apt to lie close to the
+spot where it dropped. On the other hand, did it alight upon either end,
+it might bound back and fall at some little distance upon one side of
+the line.
+
+It was this game which, in horrible fashion, Teganisoris now proposed to
+play. He offered to the clamoring medicine man and his ferocious
+disciples one of these captives, whose death should appease not only the
+offended Great Spirit, but also the unsated vengeance of the tribe. He
+offered, at the same time, the spectacle of a play in which a human life
+should be the stake. He used as practical executioner the woman who was
+possessed by one of them, and who, in the crude notions of the savages,
+was no doubt coveted by both. It must be the hand of this woman that
+should cast the dice, a white one and a red one for each man, and he
+whose red die fell closer to the line was winner in the grim game of
+life and death.
+
+Jean Breboeuf and Pierre Noir stood apart, and tears poured from the
+eyes of both. They were hardened men, well acquainted with Indian
+warfare; they had seen the writhings of tortured victims, and more than
+once had faced such possibilities themselves; yet never had they seen
+sight like this.
+
+Near the two men stood Mary Connynge, the bright blood burning in her
+cheeks, her eyes dry and wide open, looking from one to the other. God,
+who gives to this earth the few Mary Connynges, alone knows the nature
+of those elements which made her, and the character of the conflict
+which now went on within her soul. Tell such a woman as Mary Connynge
+that she has a rival, and she will either love the more madly the man
+whom she demands as her own, or with equal madness and with greater
+intensity will hate her lover with a hatred undying and unappeasable.
+
+Mary Connynge stood, her eyes glancing from one to the other of the men
+before her. She had seen them both proved brave men, strong of arm,
+undaunted of heart, both gallant gentlemen. God, who makes the Mary
+Connynges of this earth, only can tell whether or not there arose in the
+heart of this savage woman, this woman at bay, scorned, rebuked,
+mastered, this one question: Which? If Mary Connynge hated John Law, or
+if she loved him--ah! how must have pulsed her heart in agony, or in
+bitterness, as she took into her hand those lots which were the arbiters
+of life and death!
+
+Teganisoris looked about him and spoke a few rapid words. He caught Mary
+Connynge roughly by the shoulder and pulled her forward. The two men
+stood with faces set and gray in the pitiless light of morn. Their arms
+were fast bound behind their backs. Eagerly the crowding savages
+pressed up to them, gesticulating wildly, and peering again and again
+into their faces to discover any sign of weakness. They failed. The
+pride of birth, the strength of character, the sheer animal vigor of
+each man stood him in stead at this ultimate trial. Each had made up his
+mind to die. Each proposed, not doubting that he would be the one to
+draw the fatal lot, to die as a man and a gentleman.
+
+Teganisoris would play this game with all possible mystery and
+importance. It should be told generations hence about the council fires,
+how he, Teganisoris, devised this game, how he played it, how he drew it
+out link by link to the last atom of its agony. There was no receptacle
+at hand in which the dice could be placed. Teganisoris stooped, and
+without ceremony wrenched from Mary Connynge's foot the moccasin which
+covered it--the little shoe--beaded, beautiful, and now again fateful.
+Sir Arthur smiled as though in actual joy.
+
+"My friend," said he, "I have won! This might be the very slipper for
+which we played at the Green Lion long ago."
+
+Law turned upon him a face pale and solemn. "Sir," said he, "I pray God
+that the issue may not be as when we last played. I pray God that the
+dice may elect me and not yourself."
+
+"You were ever lucky in the games of chance," replied Pembroke.
+
+"Too lucky," said Law. "But the winner here is the loser, if it be
+myself."
+
+Teganisoris roughly took from Mary Connynge's hand the little bits of
+bone. He cast them into the hollow of the moccasin and shook them
+dramatically together, holding them high above his head. Then he lowered
+them and took out from the receptacle two of the dice. He placed his
+hand on Law's shoulder, signifying that his was to be the first cast.
+Then he handed back the moccasin to the woman.
+
+Mary Connynge took the shoe in her hand and stepped forward to the line
+which had been drawn upon the ground. The red spots still burned upon
+her cheeks; her eyes, amber, feline, still flamed hard and dry. She
+still glanced rapidly from one to the other, her eye as lightly quick
+and as brilliant as that of the crouched cat about to spring.
+
+Which? Which would it be? Could she control this game? Could she elect
+which man should live and which should die--this woman, scorned, abased,
+mastered? Neither of these sought to read the riddle of her set face and
+blazing eyes. Each as he might offered his soul to his Creator.
+
+The hand of Mary Connynge was raised above her head. Her face was
+turned once more to John Law, her master, her commander, her repudiator.
+Slowly she turned the moccasin over in her hand. The white bone fell
+first, the red for a moment hanging in the soft folds of the buckskin.
+She shook it out. It fell with its face nearly parallel to the ground
+and alighted not more than a foot from the line, rebounding scarce more
+than an inch or so. Low exclamations arose from all around the thickened
+circle.
+
+"As I said, my friend," cried Sir Arthur, "I have won! The throw is
+passing close for you."
+
+Teganisoris again caught Mary Connynge by the shoulder, and dragged her
+a step or so farther along the line, the two dice being left on the
+ground as they had fallen. Once more, her hand arose, once more it
+turned, once more the dice were cast.
+
+The goddess of fortune still stood faithful to this bold young man who
+had so often confidently assumed her friendship. His life, later to be
+so intimately concerned with this same new savage country, was to be
+preserved for an ultimate opportunity.
+
+The white and the red bone fell together from the moccasin. Had it been
+the white that counted, Sir Arthur had been saved, for the white bone
+lay actually upon the line. The red fell almost as close, but alighted
+on its end. As though impelled by some spirit of evil, it dropped upon
+some little pebble or hard bit of earth, bounded into the air, fell, and
+rolled quite away from the mark!
+
+Even on that crowd of cruel savages there came a silence. Of the whites,
+one scarce dared look at the other. Slowly the faces of Pembroke and Law
+turned one toward the other.
+
+"Would God I could shake you by the hand," said Pembroke. "Good by."
+
+"As for you, dogs and worse than dogs," he cried, turning toward the red
+faces about him, "mark you! where I stand the feet of the white man
+shall stand forever, and crush your faces into the dirt!"
+
+Whether or not the Iroquois understood his defiance could not be
+determined. With a wild shout they pressed upon him. Borne struggling
+and stumbling by the impulse of a dozen hands, Pembroke half walked and
+half was carried over the distance between the village and the brink of
+the chasm of Niagara.
+
+Until then it had not been apparent what was to be the nature of his
+fate, but when he looked upon the sliding floor of waters below him, and
+heard beyond the thunderous voices of the cataract, Pembroke knew what
+was to be his final portion.
+
+There was, at some distance above the great falls, a spot where descent
+was possible to the edge of the water. Pembroke's feet were loosened and
+he was compelled to descend the narrow path. A canoe was tethered at the
+shore, and the face of the young Englishman went pale as he realized
+what was to be the use assigned it. Bound again hand and foot, helpless,
+he was cast into this canoe. A strong arm sent the tiny craft out toward
+midstream.
+
+The hands of the great waters grasped the frail cockleshell, twisted it
+about, tossed it, played with it, and claimed it irrevocably for their
+own. For a few moments it was visible as it passed on down with the
+resistless current of the mighty stream. Almost at the verge of the
+plunge, the eyes watching from the shore saw at a distance the struggle
+made by the victim. He half raised himself in the boat and threw himself
+against its side. It was overset. For one instant the cold sun shone
+glistening on the wet bark of the upturned craft. It was but a moment,
+and then there was no dot upon the solemn flood.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+THE EMBASSY
+
+
+"Monsieur! Madame! Pierre Noir! Listen to me! I have saved you! I, Jean
+Breboeuf, I have rescued you!"
+
+So spoke Jean Breboeuf, thrusting his head within the door of the lodge
+in which were the remaining prisoners of the Iroquois.
+
+It was indeed Jean Breboeuf who, strolling beyond the outer edge of the
+village, had been among the first to espy an approaching party of
+visitors. Of any travelers possible, none could have been more important
+to the prisoners. Too late, yet welcome even now, the embassy from New
+France among the Iroquois had arrived. In an instant the village was in
+an uproar.
+
+The leader of this embassy from Quebec was one Captain Joncaire, at that
+time of the French settlements, but in former years a prisoner among the
+Onondagos, where he was adopted into the tribe and much respected.
+Joncaire was accompanied by a priest of the Jesuit brotherhood, by a
+young officer late of the regiment Carignan, and by two or three petty
+Canadian officials, as well as a struggling retinue of savages picked up
+on the way between Lake George and the Indian villages. He advanced now
+at the head of his little party, bearing in his hand a wampum belt. He
+pushed aside the young men, and demanded that he be brought to the chief
+of the village. Teganisoris himself presently advanced to meet him, and
+of him Joncaire demanded that there should at once be called a full
+council of the tribe; with which request the chief of the Onondagos
+hastened to comply.
+
+Fully accustomed to such ceremonies, Joncaire sat in the council calmly
+listening to the speeches of its orators, and at length arose for his
+own reply. "Brothers," said he, "I have here"--and he drew from his
+tunic a copy of the decree of Louis XIV declaring peace between the
+French and the English colonies--"a talking paper. This is the will of
+Onontio, whom you love and fear, and it is the will of the great father
+across the water, whom Onontio loves and fears. This talking paper says
+that our young men of the French colonies are no longer to go to war
+against Corlaer. The hatchet has been buried by the two great fathers.
+Brothers, I have come to tell you that it is time for the Iroquois also
+to bury the hatchet, and to place upon it heavy stones, so that it
+never again can be dug up.
+
+"Brothers, as you know, the great canoes from across the sea are
+bringing more and more white men. Look about you, and tell me where are
+your fathers and your brothers and your sons? Half your fighting men are
+gone; and if you turn to the West to seek out strong young men from the
+other tribes, which of them will come to sit by your fires and be your
+brothers? The war trails of the Nations have gone to the West as far as
+the Great River. All the country has been at war. The friends of Onontio
+beyond Michilimackinac have been so busy fighting that they have
+forgotten to take the beaver, or if they have taken it, they have been
+afraid to bring it down the water trail to us, lest the Iroquois or the
+English should rob them.
+
+"Brothers, a great peace is now declared. Onontio, the father of all the
+red men, has taken the promises of his children, the Hurons, the
+Algonquins, the Miamis, the Illini, the Outagamies, the Ojibways, all
+those peoples who live to the west, that they will follow the war trail
+no more. Next summer there will be a great council. Onontio and Corlaer
+have agreed to call the tribes to meet at the Mountain in the St.
+Lawrence. Onontio says to you that he will give you back your prisoners,
+and now he demands that you in return give back those whom you may have
+with you. This is his will; and if you fail him, you know how heavy is
+his hand.
+
+"Brothers, I see that you have prisoners here, white prisoners. These
+must be given up to us. I will take them with me when I return. For your
+Indian captives, it is the will of Onontio that you bring them all to
+the Great Peace in the summer, and that you then, all of you, help to
+dig the great hill under which the hatchet is going to be buried. Then
+once more our rivers will not be red, and will look more like water. The
+sun will not shine red, but will look as the sun should look. The sky
+will again be blue. Our women and our children will no longer be afraid,
+and you Iroquois can go to sleep in your houses and not dread the arms
+of the French. Brothers, I have spoken. Peace is good."
+
+Teganisoris replied in the same strain as that chosen by Joncaire,
+assuring him that he was his brother; that his heart went out to him;
+that the Iroquois loved the French; and that if they had gone to war
+with them, it was but because the young men of Corlaer had closed their
+eyes so that they could not see the truth. "As to these prisoners," said
+he, "take them with you. We do not want them with us, for we fear they
+may bring us harm. Our medicine man counseled us to offer up one of
+these prisoners as a sacrifice to the Great Spirit. We did so. Now our
+medicine man has a bad dream. He says that the white men are going to
+come and tear down our houses and trample our fields. When the time
+comes for the peace, the Iroquois will be at the Mountain. Brother, we
+will bury the hatchet, and bury it so deep that henceforth none may ever
+again dig it up."
+
+"It is well," said Joncaire, abruptly. "My brothers are wise. Now let
+the council end, for my path is long and I must travel back to Onontio
+at once."
+
+Joncaire knew well enough the fickle nature of these savages, who might
+upon the morrow demand another council and perhaps arrive at different
+conclusions. Hearing there were no white prisoners in the villages
+farther to the west, he resolved to set forth at once upon the return
+with those now at hand. Hurrying, therefore, as soon as might be, to
+their leader, he urged him to make ready forthwith for the journey back
+to the St. Lawrence.
+
+"Unless I much mistake, Monsieur," said he to Law, "you are that same
+gentleman who so set all Quebec by the ears last winter. My faith! The
+regiment Carignan had cause to rejoice when you left for up river, even
+though you took with you half the ready coin of the settlement. Yet come
+you once more to meet the gentlemen of France, and I doubt not they
+will be glad as ever to stake you high, as may be in this
+poverty-stricken region. You have been far to the westward, I doubt not.
+You were, perhaps, made prisoner somewhere below the Straits."
+
+"Far below; among the tribe of the Illini, in the valley of the
+Messasebe."
+
+"You tell me so! I had thought no white man left in that valley for this
+season. And madame--this child--surely 'twas the first white infant born
+in the great valley."
+
+"And the most unfortunate."
+
+"Nay, how can you say that, since you have come more than half a
+thousand miles and are all safe and sound to-day? Glad enough we shall
+be to have you and madame with us for the winter, if, indeed, it be not
+for longer dwelling. I can not take you now to the English settlements,
+since I must back to the governor with the news. Yet dull enough you
+would find these Dutch of the Hudson, and worse yet the blue-nosed
+psalmodists of New England. Much better for you and your good lady are
+the gayer capitals of New France, or _la belle France_ itself, that
+older France. Monsieur, how infinitely more fit for a gentleman of
+spirit is France than your dull England and its Dutch king! Either New
+France or Old France, let me advise you; and as to that new West, let
+me counsel that you wait until after the Big Peace. And, in speaking,
+your friend, Du Mesne, your lieutenant, the _coureur_--his fate, I
+suppose, one need not ask. He was killed--where?"
+
+Law recounted the division of his party just previous to the Iroquois
+attack, and added his concern lest Du Mesne should return to the former
+station during the spring and find but its ruins, with no news of the
+fate of his friends.
+
+"Oh, as to that--'twould be but the old story of the _voyageurs_," said
+Joncaire. "They are used enough to journeying a thousand miles or so, to
+find the trail end in a heap of ashes, and to the tune of a scalp dance.
+Fear not for your lieutenant, for, believe me, he has fended for himself
+if there has been need. Yet I would warrant you, now that this word for
+the peace has gone out, we shall see your friend Du Mesne as big as life
+at the Mountain next summer, knowing as much of your history as you
+yourself do, and quite counting upon meeting you with us on the St.
+Lawrence, and madame as well. As to that, methinks madame will be better
+with us on the St. Lawrence than on the savage Messasebe. We have none
+too many dames among us, and I need not state, what monsieur's eyes have
+told him every morning--that a fairer never set foot from ship from
+over seas. Witness my lieutenant yonder, Raoul de Ligny! He is thus soon
+all devotion! Mother of God! but we are well met here, in this
+wilderness, among the savages. _Voilà_, Monsieur! We take you again
+captive, and 'tis madame enslaves us all!"
+
+There had indeed ensued conversation between the young French officer
+above named and Mary Connynge; yet prompt as might have been the former
+with gallant attentions to so fair a captive, it could not have been
+said that he was allowed the first advances. Mary Connynge, even after a
+month of starving foot travel and another month of anxiety at the
+Iroquois villages, had lost neither her rounded body, her brilliance of
+eye and color, nor her subtle magnetism of personality. It had taken
+stronger head than that of Raoul de Ligny to withstand even her slight
+request. How, then, as to Mary Connynge supplicating, entreating,
+craving of him protection?
+
+"Ah, you brave Frenchmen," said she to De Ligny, advancing to him as he
+stood apart, twisting his mustaches and not unmindful of this very
+possibility of a conversation with the captive. "You brave Frenchmen,
+how can we thank you for our salvation? It was all so horrible!"
+
+"It is our duty to save all, Madame," rejoined De Ligny; "our happiness
+unspeakable to save such as Madame. I swear by my sword, I had as soon
+expected to find an angel with the Iroquois as to meet there Madame!
+Quebec--all Quebec has told me who Madame was and is. And I am your
+slave."
+
+"Oh, sir, could you but mean that!" and there was turned upon him the
+full power of a gaze which few men had ever been able to withstand. The
+blood of De Ligny tingled as he bowed and replied.
+
+"If Madame could but demand one proof."
+
+Mary Connynge stepped closer to him. "Hush!" she said. "Speak low! Do
+not let it seem that we are interested. Keep your own counsel. Can you
+do this?"
+
+The eyes of the young officer gleamed. He was bold enough to respond.
+This his temptress noted.
+
+He nodded.
+
+"You see that man--the tall one, John Law? Listen! It is from him I ask
+you to save me. Oh, sir, there is my captivity!"
+
+"What! Your husband?"
+
+"He is not my husband."
+
+"_Mais_--a thousand pardons. The child--your pardon."
+
+"Pish! 'Tis the child of an Indian woman."
+
+"Oh!" The blood again came to the young gallant's forehead.
+
+"Listen, I tell you! I have been scarce better than a prisoner in this
+man's hands. He has abused me, threatened me, would have beaten me--"
+
+"Madame--Mademoiselle!"
+
+"'Tis true. We have been far in the West, and I could not escape. Good
+Providence has now brought my rescue--and you, Monsieur! Oh! tell me
+that it has brought me safety, and also a friend--that it has brought me
+you!"
+
+With every pulse a-tingle, every vein afire, what could the young
+gallant do? What but yield, but promise, but swear, but rage?
+
+"Hush!" said Mary Connynge, her own eyes gleaming. "Wait! The time will
+come. So soon as we reach the settlements, I leave him, and forever!
+Then--" Their hands met swiftly. "He has abandoned me," murmured Mary
+Connynge. "He has not spoken to me for weeks, other than words of 'Yes,'
+or 'No,' 'Do this,' or 'Do that!' Wait! Wait! How soon shall we be at
+Montréal?"
+
+"Less than a month. 'Twill seem an age, I swear!"
+
+"Madam," interrupted Law, "pardon, but Monsieur Joncaire bids us be
+ready. Come, help me arrange the packs for our journey. Perhaps
+Lieutenant de Ligny--for so I think they name you, sir--will pardon us,
+and will consent to resume his conversation later."
+
+"Assuredly," said De Ligny. "I shall wait, Monsieur."
+
+"So, Madam," said Law to Mary Connynge, as they at last found themselves
+alone in the lodge, arranging their few belongings for transport, "we
+are at last to regain the settlements, and for a time, at least, must
+forego our home in the farther West. In time--"
+
+"Oh, in time! What mean you?"
+
+"Why, we may return."
+
+"Never! I have had my fill of savaging. That we are left alive is mighty
+merciful. To go thither again--never!"
+
+"And if I go?"
+
+"As you like."
+
+"Meaning, Madam--?"
+
+"What you like."
+
+Law seated himself on the corded pack, bringing the tips of his fingers
+together.
+
+"Then my late sweetheart has somewhat changed her fancy?"
+
+"I have no fancy left. What I was once to you I shall not recall more
+than I can avoid in my own mind. As to what you heard from that lying
+man, Sir Arthur--"
+
+"Listen! Stop! Neither must you insult the dead nor the absent. I have
+never told you what I learned from Sir Arthur, though it was enough to
+set me well distraught."
+
+"I doubt not that he told you 'twas I who befooled Lady Catharine; that
+'twas I who took the letter which you sent--"
+
+"Stay! No. He told me not so much as that. But he and you together have
+told me enough to show me that I was the basest wretch on earth, the
+most gullible, the most unspeakably false and cruel. How could I have
+doubted the faith of Lady Catharine--how, but for you? Oh, Mary
+Connynge, Mary Connynge! Would God a man were so fashioned he might
+better withstand the argument of soft flesh and shining eyes! I admit, I
+believed the disloyal one, and doubted her who was loyalty itself."
+
+"And you would go back into the wilderness with one who was as false as
+you say."
+
+"Never!" replied John Law, swiftly. "'Tis as you yourself say. 'Tis all
+over. Hell itself hath followed me. Now let it all go, one with the
+other, little with big. I did not forget, nor should I though I tried
+again. Back to Europe, back to the gaming tables, to the wheels and
+cards I go again, and plunge into it madder than ever did man before.
+Let us see if chance can bring John Law anything worse than what he has
+already known. But, Madam, doubt not. So long as you claim my
+protection, here or anywhere on earth--in the West, in France, in
+England--it is yours; for I pay for my folly like a man, be assured of
+that. The child is ours, and it must be considered. But once let me find
+you in unfaithfulness--once let me know that you resign me--then John
+Law is free! I shall sometime see Catharine Knollys again. I shall give
+her my heart's anguish, and I shall have her heart's scorn in return.
+And then, Mary Connynge, the cards, dice, perhaps drink--perhaps gold,
+and the end. Madam, remember! And now come!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+THE GREAT PEACE
+
+
+Of the long and bitter journey from the Iroquois towns to Lake St.
+George, down the Richelieu and thence through the deep snows of the
+Canadian winter, it boots little to make mention; neither to tell of
+that devotion of Raoul de Ligny to the newly-rescued lady, already
+reputed in camp rumor to be of noble English family.
+
+"That _sous-lieutenant_; he is _tête montée_ regarding madame," said
+Pierre Noir one evening to Jean Breboeuf. "As to that--well, you know
+Monsieur L'as. Pouf! So much for yon monkey, _par comparaison_."
+
+"He is a great _capitaine_, Monsieur L'as," said Jean Breboeuf. "Never a
+better went beyond the Straits."
+
+"But very sad of late."
+
+"Oh, _oui_, since the death of his friend, Monsieur _le Capitaine_
+Pembroke--may Mary aid his spirit!"
+
+"Monsieur L'as goes not on the trail again," said Pierre Noir. "At
+least not while this look is in his eye."
+
+"The more the loss, Pierre Noir; but some day the woods will call to him
+again. I know not how long it may be, yet some day Mother Messasebe will
+raise her finger and beckon to Monsieur L'as, and say: 'Come, my son!'
+'Tis thus, as you know, Pierre Noir."
+
+Yet at length the straggling settlements at Montréal were reached, and
+here, after the fashion of the frontier, some sort of _ménage_ was
+inaugurated for Law and his party. Here they lived through the rest of
+the winter and through the long, slow spring.
+
+And then set on again the heats of summer, and there came apace the time
+agreed upon, in the month of August, for the widely heralded assembling
+of the tribes for the Great Peace; one of the most picturesque, as it
+was one of the most remarkable and significant meetings of widely
+diverse human beings, that ever took place within the ken of history.
+
+They came, these savages, now first owning the strength of the invading
+white men, from all the far and unknown corners of the Western
+wilderness. They came afoot, and with little trains of dogs, in single
+canoes, in little groups and growing flotillas and vast fleets of
+canoes, pushing on and on, down stream, following the tide of the furs
+down this pathway of more than a thousand miles. The Iroquois, for once
+mindful of a promise, came in a compact fleet, a hundred canoes strong,
+and they stalked about the island for days, naked, stark, gigantic,
+contemptuous of white and red men, of friend and foe alike. The
+scattered Algonquins, whose villages had been razed by these same savage
+warriors, came down by scores out of the Northern woods, along little,
+unknown streams, and over paths with which none but themselves were
+acquainted. From the North, group joined group, and village added itself
+to village, until a vast body of people had assembled, whose numbers
+would have been hard to estimate, and who proved difficult enough to
+accommodate. Yet from the farther West, adding their numbers to those
+already gathered, came the fleets of the driven Hurons, and the
+Ojibways, and the Miamis, and the Outagamies, and the Ottawas, the
+Menominies and the Mascoutins--even the Illini, late objects of the
+wrath of the Five Nations. The whole Western wilderness poured forth its
+savage population, till all the shores of the St. Lawrence seemed one
+vast aboriginal encampment. These massed at the rendezvous about the
+puny settlement of Montréal in such numbers that, in comparison, the
+white population seemed insignificant. Then, had there been a Pontiac or
+a Tecumseh, had there been one leader of the tribes able to teach the
+strength of unity, the white settlements of upper America had indeed
+been utterly destroyed. Naught but ancient tribal jealousies held the
+savages apart.
+
+With these tribesmen were many prisoners, captives taken in raids all
+along the thin and straggling frontier; farmers and artisans, peasants
+and soldiers, women raped from the farms of the Richelieu _censitaires_,
+and wood-rangers now grown savage as their captors and loth to leave the
+wild life into which they had so naturally grown. It was the first
+reflex of the wave, and even now the bits of flotsam and jetsam of wild
+life were fain to cling to the Western shore whither they had been
+carried by the advancing flood. This was the meeting of the ebb with the
+sea that sent it forward, the meeting of civilized and savage; and
+strange enough was the nature of those confluent tides. Whether the red
+men were yielding to civilization, or the whites all turning
+savage--this question might well have arisen to an observer of this
+tremendous spectacle. The wigwams of the different tribes and clans and
+families were grouped apart, scattered along all the narrow shore back
+of the great hill, and over the Convent gardens; and among these
+stalked the native French, clad in coarse cloth of blue, with gaudy belt
+and buckskins, and cap of fur and moccasins of hide, mingling
+fraternally with their tufted and bepainted visitors, as well as with
+those rangers, both envied and hated, the savage _coureurs de bois_ of
+the far Northern fur trade; men bearded, silent, stern, clad in
+breech-clout and leggings like any savage, as silent, as stoical, as
+hardy on the trail as on the narrow thwart of the canoe.
+
+Savage feastings, riotings and drunkenness, and long debaucheries came
+with the Great Peace, when once the word had gone out that the fur trade
+was to be resumed. Henceforth there was to be peace. The French were no
+longer to raid the little cabins along the Kennebec and the Penobscot.
+The river Richelieu was to be no longer a red war trail. The English
+were no longer to offer arms and blankets for the beaver, belonging by
+right of prior discovery to those who offered French brandy and French
+beads. The Iroquois were no longer to pursue a timid foe across the
+great prairies of the valley of the Messasebe. The Ojibways were not to
+ambush the scattered parties of the Iroquois. The unambitious colonists
+of New England and New York were to be left to till their stony farms in
+quiet. Meantime, the fur trade, wasteful, licentious, unprofitable, was
+to extend onward and outward in all the marches of the West. From one
+end of the Great River of the West to the other the insignia of France
+and of France's king were to be erected, and France's posts were to hold
+all the ancient trails. Even at the mouth of the Great River,
+forestalling these sullen English and these sluggish English colonists,
+far to the south in the somber forests and miasmatic marshes, there was
+to be established one more ruling point for the arms of Louis the Grand.
+It was a great game this, for which the continent of America was in
+preparation. It was a mighty thing, this gathering of the Great Peace,
+this time when colonists and their king were seeing the first breaking
+of the wave on the shore of an empire alluring, wonderful, unparalleled.
+
+Into this wild rabble of savages and citizens, of priest and soldier and
+_coureur_, Law's friends, Pierre Noir and Jean Breboeuf, swiftly
+disappeared, naturally, fitly and unavoidably. "The West is calling to
+us, Monsieur," said Pierre Noir one morning, as he stood looking out
+across the river. "I hear once more the spirits of the Messasebe.
+Monsieur, will you come?"
+
+Law shook his head. Yet two days later, as he stood at that very point,
+there came to him the silent feet of two _coureurs_ instead of one. Once
+more he heard in his ear the question: "Monsieur L'as, will you come?"
+
+At this voice he started. In an instant his arms were about the neck of
+Du Mesne, and tears were falling from the eyes of both in the welcome of
+that brotherhood which is admitted only by those who have known together
+arms and danger and hardship, the touch of the hard ground and the sight
+of the wide blue sky.
+
+"Du Mesne, my friend!"
+
+"Monsieur L'as!"
+
+"It is as though you came from the depths of the sea, Du Mesne!" said
+Law.
+
+"And as though you yourself arose from the grave, Monsieur!"
+
+"How did you know--?"
+
+"Why, easily. You do not yet understand the ways of the wilderness,
+where news travels as fast as in the cities. You were hardly below the
+foot of Michiganon before runners from the Illini had spread the news
+along the Chicaqua, where I was then in camp. For the rest, the runners
+brought also news of the Big Peace. I reasoned that the Iroquois would
+not dare to destroy their captives, that in time the agents of the
+Government would receive the captives of the Iroquois--that these
+captives would naturally come to the settlements on the St. Lawrence,
+since it was the French against whom the Iroquois had been at war; that
+having come to Montréal, you would naturally remain here for a time. The
+rest was easy. I fared on to the Straits this spring, and then on down
+the Lakes. I have sold our furs, and am now ready to account to you with
+a sum quite as much as we should have expected.
+
+"Now, Monsieur," and Du Mesne stretched out his arm again, pointing to
+the down-coming flood of the St. Lawrence, "Monsieur, will you come? I
+see not the St. Lawrence, but the Messasebe. I can hear the voices
+calling!"
+
+Law dashed his hand across his eyes and turned his head away. "Not yet,
+Du Mesne," said he. "I do not know. Not yet. I must first go across the
+waters. Perhaps sometime--I can not tell. But this, my comrades, my
+brothers, I do know; that never, until the last sod lies on my grave,
+will I forget the Messasebe, or forget you. Go back, if you will, my
+brothers; but at night, when you sit by your fireside, think of me, as I
+shall think of you, there in the great valley. My friends, it is the
+heart of the world!"
+
+"But, Monsieur--"
+
+"There, Du Mesne--I would not talk to-day. At another time. Brothers,
+adieu!"
+
+"Adieu, my brother," said the _coureur_, his own emotion showing in his
+eyes; and their hands met again.
+
+"Monsieur is cast down," said Du Mesne to Pierre Noir later, as they
+reached the beach. "Now, what think you?
+
+"Usually, as you know, Pierre, it is a question of some woman. It
+reminds me, Wabana was remiss enough when I left her among the Illini
+with you. Now, God bless my heart, I find her--how think you? With her
+crucifix lost, cooking for a dirty Ojibway!"
+
+"Mary Mother!" said Pierre Noir, "if it be a matter of a woman--well,
+God help us all! At least 'tis something that will take Monsieur L'as
+over seas again."
+
+"'Tis mostly a woman," mused Du Mesne; "but this passeth my wit."
+
+"True, they pass the wit of all. Now, did I ever tell thee about the
+mission girl at Michilimackinac--but stay! That for another time. They
+tell me that our comrade, Greysolon du L'hut, is expected in to-morrow
+with a party from the far end of Superior. Come, let us have the news."
+
+    "_Tous les printemps,
+     Tant des nouvelles_,"
+
+hummed Du Mesne, as he flung his arm above the shoulder of the other;
+and the two so disappeared adown the beach.
+
+Dully, apathetically, Law lived on his life here at Montréal for yet a
+time, at the edge of that wilderness which had proved all else but Eden.
+Near to him, though in these guarded times guest by necessity of the
+good sisters of the Convent, dwelt Mary Connynge. And as for these two,
+it might be said that each but bided the time. To her Law might as well
+have been one of the corded Sulpician priests; and she to him, for all
+he liked, one of the nuns of the Convent garden. What did it all mean;
+where was it all to end? he asked himself a thousand times; and a
+thousand times his mind failed him of any answer. He waited, watching
+the great encampment disappear, first slowly, then swiftly and suddenly,
+so that in a night the last of the lodges had gone and the last canoe
+had left the shore. There remained only the hurrying flood of the St.
+Lawrence, coming from the West.
+
+The autumn came on. Early in November the ships would leave for France.
+Yet before the beginning of November there came swiftly and sharply the
+settlement of the questions which racked Law's mind. One morning Mary
+Connynge was missing from the Convent, nor could any of the sisters, nor
+the mother superior, explain how or when she had departed!
+
+Yet, had there been close observers, there might have been seen a boat
+dropping down the river on the early morning of that day. And at Quebec
+there was later reported in the books of the intendant the shipping,
+upon the good bark Dauphine, of Lieutenant Raoul de Ligny, sometime
+officer of the regiment Carignan, formerly stationed in New France; with
+him a lady recently from Montréal, known very well to Lieutenant de
+Ligny and his family; and to be in his care _en voyage_ to France; the
+name of said lady illegible upon the records, the spelling apparently
+not having suited the clerk who wrote it, and then forgot it in the
+press of other things.
+
+Certain of the governor's household, as well as two or three _habitants_
+from the lower town, witnessed the arrival of this lady, who came down
+from Montréal. They saw her take boat for the bark Dauphine, one of the
+last ships to go down the river that fall. Yes, it was easily to be
+established. Dark, with singular, brown eyes, _petite_, yet not over
+small, of good figure--assuredly so much could be said; for obviously
+the king, kindly as he might feel toward the colony of New France, could
+not send out, among the young women supplied to the colonists as wives,
+very many such demoiselles as this; otherwise assuredly all France
+would have followed the king's ships to the St. Lawrence.
+
+John Law, a grave and saddened man, yet one now no longer lacking in
+decision, stood alone one day at the parapet of the great rock of
+Quebec, gazing down the broad expanse of the stream below. He was alone
+except for a little child, a child too young to know her mother, had
+death or disaster at that time removed the mother. Law took the little
+one up in his arms and gazed hard upon the upturned face.
+
+"Catharine!" he said to himself. "Catharine! Catharine!"
+
+"Pardon, Monsieur," said a voice at his elbow. "Surely I have seen you
+before this?"
+
+Law turned. Joncaire, the ambassador of peace, stood by, smiling and
+extending his hand.
+
+"Naturally, I could never forget you," said Law.
+
+"Monsieur looks at the shipping," said Joncaire, smiling. "Surely he
+would not be leaving New France, after so luckily escaping the worst of
+her dangers?"
+
+"Life might be the same for me over there as here," replied Law. "As for
+my luck, I must declare myself the most unfortunate man on earth."
+
+"Your wife, perhaps, is ill?"
+
+"Pardon, I have none."
+
+"Pardon, in turn, Monsieur--but, you see--the child?"
+
+"It is the child of a savage woman," said Law.
+
+Joncaire pulled aside the infant's hood. He gave no sign, and a nice
+indifference sat in his query: "_Une belle sauvage_?"
+
+"_Belle sauvage_!"
+
+
+
+
+BOOK III
+
+FRANCE
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+THE GRAND MONARQUE
+
+
+On a great bed of state, satin draped, flanked with ancient tapestries,
+piled sickeningly soft with heaps of pillows, there lay a thin, withered
+little man--old, old and very feeble. His face was shrunken and drawn
+with pain; his eyes, once bright, were dulled; his brow, formerly
+imperious, had lost its arrogance. Under the coverings which, in the
+unrest of illness, he now pulled high about his face, now tossed
+restlessly aside, his figure lay, an elongated, shapeless blot, scarce
+showing beneath the silks. One limb, twitched and drawn up convulsively,
+told of a definite seat of pain. The hands, thin and wasted, lay out
+upon the coverlets; and the thumbs were creeping, creeping ever more
+insistently, under the cover of the fingers, telling that the battle for
+life was lost, that the surrender had been made.
+
+It was a death-bed, this great bed of state; a death-bed situated in the
+heart of the greatest temple of desire ever built in all the world. He
+who had been master there, who had set in order those miles of stately
+columns, those seas of glittering gilt and crystal, he who had been
+magician, builder, creator, perverter, debaser--he, Louis of France, the
+Grand Monarque, now lay suffering like any ordinary human being, like
+any common man.
+
+Last night the four and twenty violins, under the king's command, had
+shrilled their chorus, as had been their wont for years while the master
+dined. This morning the cordon of drums and hautboys had pealed their
+high and martial music. Useless. The one or the other music fell upon
+ears too dull to hear. The formal tribute to the central soul for a time
+continued of its own inertia; for a time royalty had still its worship;
+yet the custom was but a lagging one. The musicians grimaced and made
+what discord they liked, openly, insolently, scorning this weak and
+withered figure on the silken bed. The cordon of the white and blue
+guards of the Household still swept about the vast pleasure grounds of
+this fairy temple; yet the officers left their posts and conversed one
+with the other. Musicians and guards, spectators and populace, all were
+waiting, waiting until the end should come. Farther out and beyond,
+where the peaked roofs of Paris rose, back of that line which this
+imperious mind had decreed should not be passed by the dwellings of
+Paris, which must not come too near this temple of luxury, nor disturb
+the king while he enjoyed himself--back of the perfunctorily loyal
+guards of the Household, there reached the ragged, shapeless masses of
+the people of Paris and of France, waiting, smiling, as some animal
+licking its chops in expectation of some satisfying thing. They were
+waiting for news of the death of this shrunken man, this creature once
+so full of arrogant lust, then so full of somber repentance, now so full
+of the very taste of death.
+
+On the great tapestry that hung above the head of the curtained bed
+shone the double sun of Louis the Grand, which had meant death and
+devastation to so much of Europe. It blazed, mimicking the glory that
+was gone; but toward it there was raised no sword nor scepter more in
+vow or exaltation. The race was run, the sun was sinking to its setting.
+Nothing but a man--a weary, worn-out, dying man--was Louis, the Grand
+Monarque, king for seventy-two years of France, almost king of Europe.
+This death-bed lay in the center of a land oppressed, ground down,
+impoverished. The hearts and lives of thousands were in these
+colonnades. The people had paid for their king. They had fed him fat and
+kept him full of loves. In return, he had trampled the people into the
+very dust. He had robbed even their ancient nobles of honors and
+consideration. Blackened, ruined, a vast graveyard, a monumental
+starving-ground, France lay about his death-bed, and its people were but
+waiting with grim impatience for their king to die. What France might do
+in the future was unknown; yet it was unthinkable that aught could be
+worse than this glorious reign of Louis, the Grand Monarque, this
+crumbling clod, this resolving excrescence, this phosphorescent,
+disintegrating fungus of a diseased life and time.
+
+Seventy-two years a king; thirty years a libertine; twenty years a
+repentant. Son, grandson, great-grandson, all gone, as though to leave
+not one of that once haughty breed. For France no hope at all; and for
+the house of Bourbon, all the hope there might be in the life of a
+little boy, sullen, tiny, timid. Far over in Paris, busy about his games
+and his loves, a jesting, long-curled gallant, the Duke of Orléans,
+nephew of this king, was holding a court of his own. And from this court
+which might be, back to the court which was, but which might not be
+long, swung back and forth the fawning creatures of the former court.
+This was the central picture of France, and Paris, and of the New World
+on this day of the year 1715.
+
+In the room about the bed of state, uncertain groups of watchers
+whispered noisily. The five physicians, who had tried first one remedy
+and then another; the rustic physician whose nostrum had kept life
+within the king for some unexpected days; the ladies who had waited upon
+the relatives of the king; some of the relatives themselves; Villeroy,
+guardian of the young king soon to be; the bastard, and the wife of that
+bastard, who hoped for the king's shoes; the mistress of his earlier
+years, for many years his wife--Maintenon, that peerless hypocrite of
+all the years--all these passed, and hesitated, and looked, waiting, as
+did the hungry crowds in Paris toward the Seine, until the double sun
+should set, and the crawling thumbs at last should find their shelter.
+The Grand Monarque was losing the only time in all his life when he
+might have learned human wisdom.
+
+"Madame!" whispered the dry lips, faintly.
+
+She who was addressed as madame, this woman Maintenon, pious murderer,
+unrivaled hypocrite, unspeakably self-contained dissembler, the woman
+who lost for France an empire greater than all France, stepped now to
+the bed-side of the dying monarch, inclining her head to hear what he
+might have to say. Was Maintenon, the outcast, the widow, the wife of
+the king, at last to be made ruler of the Church in France? Was she to
+govern in the household of the king even after the king had departed?
+The woman bent over the dying man, the covetousness of her soul showing
+in her eyes, struggle as she might to retain her habitual and
+unparalleled self-control.
+
+The dying man muttered uneasily. His mind was clouded, his eyes saw
+other things. He turned back to earlier days, when life was bright, when
+he, Louis, as a young man, had lived and loved as any other.
+
+"Louise," he murmured. "Louise! Forgive! Meet me--Louise--dear one. Meet
+me yonder--"
+
+An icy pallor swept across the face of the arch hypocrite who bent over
+him. Into her soul there sank like a knife this consciousness of the
+undying power of a real love. La Vallière, the love of the youth of
+Louis, La Vallière, the beautiful, and sweet, and womanly, dead and gone
+these long years since, but still loved and now triumphant--she it was
+whom Louis now remembered.
+
+Maintenon turned from the bed-side. She stood, an aged and unhappy
+woman, old, gray and haggard, not success but failure written upon every
+lineament. For one instant she stood, her hands clenched, slow anger
+breaking through the mask which, for a quarter of a century, she had so
+successfully worn.
+
+"Bah!" she cried. "Bah! 'Tis a pretty rendezvous this king would set
+for me!" And then she swept from the room, raged for a time apart, and
+so took leave of life and of ambition.
+
+At length even the last energies of the once stubborn will gave way. The
+last gasp of the failing breath was drawn. The herald at the window
+announced to the waiting multitude that Louis the Fourteenth was no
+more.
+
+"Long live the king!" exclaimed the multitude. They hailed the new
+monarch with mockery; but laughter, and sincere joy and feasting were
+the testimonials of their emotions at the death of the king but now
+departed.
+
+On the next day a cheap, tawdry and unimposing procession wended its way
+through the back streets of Paris, its leader seeking to escape even the
+edges of the mob, lest the people should fall upon the somber little
+pageant and rend it into fragments. This was the funeral cortège of
+Louis, the Grand Monarque, Louis the lustful, Louis the bigot, Louis the
+ignorant, Louis the unhappy. They hurried him to his resting-place,
+these last servitors, and then hastened back to the palaces to join
+their hearts and voices to the rising wave of joy which swept across all
+France at the death of this beloved ruler.
+
+Now it happened that, as the funeral procession of the king was
+hurrying through the side streets near the confines of the old city of
+Paris, there encountered it, entering from the great highway which led
+from the east up to the city gates, the carriage of a gentleman who
+might, apparently with justice, have laid some claim to consequence. It
+had its guards and coachmen, and was attended by two riders in livery,
+who kept it company along the narrow streets. This equipage met the head
+of the hurrying funeral cortège, and found occasion for a moment to
+pause. Thus there passed, the one going to his grave, the other to his
+goal, the two men with whom the France of that day was most intimately
+concerned.
+
+There came from the window of the coach the voice of one inquiring the
+reason of the halt, and there might have been seen through the upper
+portion of the vehicle's door the face of the owner of the carriage. He
+seemed a man of imposing presence, with face open and handsome, and an
+eye bright, bold and full of intelligence. His garb was rich and
+elegant, his air well contained and dignified.
+
+"Guillaume," he called out, "what is it that detains us?"
+
+"It is nothing, Monsieur L'as," was the reply, "They tell me it is but
+the funeral of the king."
+
+"_Eh bien_!" replied Law, turning to one who sat beside him in the
+coach. "Nothing! 'Tis nothing but the funeral of the king!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+EVER SAID SHE NAY
+
+
+The coach proceeded steadily on its way, passing in toward that quarter
+where the high-piled, peaked roofs and jagged spires betokened ancient
+Paris. On every hand arose confused sounds from the streets, now filled
+with a populace merry as though some pleasant carnival were just
+beginning. Shopkeeper called across to his neighbor, tradesman gossiped
+with gallant. Even the stolid faces of the plodding peasants, fresh past
+the gate-tax and bound for the markets to seek what little there
+remained after giving to the king, bore an unwonted look, as though hope
+might yet succeed to their surprise.
+
+"Ohé! Marie," called one stout dame to another, who stood smiling in her
+doorway near by. "See the fine coach coming. That is the sort you and I
+shall have one of these days, now that the king is dead. God bless the
+new king, and may he die young! A plague to all kings, Marie. And now
+come and sit with my man and me, for we've a bottle left, and while it
+lasts we drink freedom from all kings!"
+
+"You speak words of gold, Suzanne," was the reply. "Surely I will drink
+with you, and wish a pleasant and speedy death to kings."
+
+"But now, Marie," said the other, argumentatively, "as to my good duke
+regent, that is otherwise. It goes about that he will change all things.
+One is to amuse one's self now and then, and not to work forever for the
+taxes and the conscription. Long live the regent, then, say I!"
+
+"Yes, and let us hope that regents never turn to kings. There are to be
+new days here in France. We people, aye, my faith! We people, so they
+say, are to be considered. True, we shall have carriages one day, Marie,
+like that of my Lord who passes."
+
+John Law and his companions heard broken bits of such speech as this as
+they passed on.
+
+"Ah, they talk," replied he at last, turning toward his companions, "and
+this is talk which means something. Within the year we shall see Paris
+upside down. These people are ready for any new thing. But"--and his
+face lost some of its gravity--"the streets are none too safe to-day, my
+Lady. Therefore you must forgive me if I do not set you down, but keep
+you prisoner until you reach your own gates. 'Tis not your fault that
+your carriage broke down on the road from Marly; and as for my brother
+Will and myself, we can not forego a good fortune which enables us at
+last to destroy a certain long-standing debt of a carriage ride given
+us, once upon a time, by the Lady Catharine Knollys."
+
+"At least, then, we shall be well acquit on both sides," replied the
+soft voice of the woman. "I may, perhaps, be an unwilling prisoner for
+so short a time."
+
+"Madam, I would God it might be forever!"
+
+It was the same John Law of old who made this impetuous reply, and
+indeed he seemed scarce changed by the passing of these few years of
+time. It was the audacious youth of the English highway who now looked
+at her with grave face, yet with eyes that shone.
+
+Some years had indeed passed since Law, turning his back upon the appeal
+of the wide New World, had again set foot upon the shores of England,
+from which his departure had been so singular. Driven by the goads of
+remorse, it had been his first thought to seek out the Lady Catharine
+Knollys; and so intent had he been on this quest, that he learned almost
+without emotion of the king's pardon which had been entered, discharging
+him of further penalty of the law of England. Meeting Lady Catharine, he
+learned, as have others since and before him, that a human soul may
+have laws inflexible; that the iron bars of a woman's resolve may bar
+one out, even as prison doors may bar him in. He found the Lady
+Catharine unshakeable in her resolve not to see him or speak with him.
+Whereat he raged, expostulated by post, waited, waylaid, and so at
+length gained an interview, which taught him many things.
+
+He found the Lady Catharine Knollys changed from a light-hearted girl to
+a maiden tall, grave, reserved and sad, offering no reproaches,
+listening to no protestations. Told of Sir Arthur Pembroke's horrible
+death, she wept with tears which his survivor envied. Told at length of
+the little child, she sat wide-eyed and silent. Approached with words of
+remorse, with expostulations, promises, she shrank back in absolute
+horror, trembling, so that in very pity the wretched young man left her
+and found his way out into a world suddenly grown old and gray.
+
+After this dismissal, Law for many months saw nothing, heard nothing of
+this woman whom he had wronged, even as he received no sign from the
+woman who had forsaken him over seas. He remained away as long as might
+be, until his violent nature, geyser-like, gathered inner storm and fury
+by repression, and broke away in wild eruption.
+
+Once more he sought the presence of the woman whose face haunted his
+soul, and once more he met ice and adamant stronger than his own fires.
+Beaten, he fled from London and from England, seeking still, after the
+ancient and ineffective fashion of man, to forget, though he himself had
+confessed the lesson that man can not escape himself, but takes his own
+hell with him wherever he goes.
+
+Rejected, as he was now, by the new ministry of England, none the less
+every capital of Europe came presently to know John Law, gambler,
+student and financier. Before every ruler on the continent he laid his
+system of financial revolution, and one by one they smiled, or shrugged,
+or scoffed at him. Baffled once more in his dearest purpose, he took
+again to play, play in such colossal and audacious form as never yet had
+been seen even in the gayest courts of a time when gaming was a vice to
+be called national. No hazard was too great for him, no success and no
+reverse sufficiently keen to cause him any apparent concern. There was
+no risk sharp enough to deaden the gnawing in his soul, no excitement
+strong enough to wipe away from his mind the black panorama of his past.
+
+He won princely fortunes and cast them away again. With the figure and
+the air of a prince, he gained greater reputation than any prince of
+Europe. Upon him were spent the blandishments of the fairest women of
+his time. Yet not this, not all this, served to steady his energies, now
+unbalanced, speeding without guidance. The gold, heaped high on the
+tables, was not enough to stupefy his mind, not enough though he doubled
+and trebled it, though he cast great golden markers to spare him trouble
+in the counting of his winnings. Still student, still mathematician, he
+sought at Amsterdam, at Paris, at Vienna, all new theories which offered
+in the science of banking and finance, even as at the same time he
+delved still further into the mysteries of recurrences and chance.
+
+In this latter such was his success that losers made complaint, unjust
+but effectual, to the king, so that Law was obliged to leave Paris for a
+time. He had dwelt long enough in Paris, this double-natured man, this
+student and creator, this gambler and gallant, to win the friendship of
+Philippe of Orléans, later to be regent of France; and gay enough had
+been the life they two had led--so gay, so intimate, that Philippe gave
+promise that, should he ever hold in his own hands the Government of
+France, he would end Law's banishment and give to him the opportunity he
+sought, of proving those theories of finance which constituted the
+absorbing ambition of his life.
+
+Meantime Law, ever restless, had passed from one capital of Europe to
+another, dragging with him from hotel to hotel the young child whose
+life had been cast in such feverish and unnatural surroundings. He
+continued to challenge every hazard, fearless, reckless, contemptuous,
+and withal wretched, as one must be who, after years of effort, found
+that he could not banish from his mind the pictures of a dark-floored
+prison, and of a knife-stab in the dark, and of raging, awful waters,
+and of a girl beautiful, though with sealed lips and heart of ice. From
+time to time, as was well known, Law returned to England. He heard of
+the Lady Catharine Knollys, as might easily be done in London; heard of
+her as a young woman kind of heart, soft of speech, with tenderness for
+every little suffering thing; a beautiful young woman, whose admirers
+listed scores; but who never yet, even according to the eagerest gossip
+of the capital, had found a suitor to whom she gave word or thought of
+love.
+
+So now at last the arrogant selfishness of his heart began to yield. His
+heart was broken before it might soften, but soften at last it did. And
+so he built up in his soul the image of a grave, sweet saint, kindly and
+gentle-voiced, unapproachable, not to be profaned. To this image--ah,
+which of us has not had such a shrine!--he brought in secret the homage
+of his life, his confessions, his despairs, his hopes, his resolutions;
+guiding thereby all his life, as well as poor mortal man may do, failing
+ever of his own standards, as all men do, yet harking ever back to that
+secret sibyl, reckoning all things from her, for her, by her.
+
+There came at length one chastened hour when they met in calmness, when
+there was no longer talk of love between them, when he stood before her
+as though indeed at the altar of some marble deity. Always her answer
+had been that the past had been a mistake; that she had professed to
+love a man, not knowing what that man was; that she had suffered, but
+that it was better so, since it had brought understanding. Now, in this
+calmer time, she begged of him knowledge of this child, regretting the
+wandering life which had been its portion, saying that for Mary Connynge
+she no longer felt horror and hatred. Thus it was that in a hasty moment
+Law had impulsively begged her to assume some sort of tutelage over that
+unfortunate child. It was to his own amazement that he heard Lady
+Catharine Knollys consent, stipulating that the child should be placed
+in a Paris convent for two years, and that for two years John Law should
+see neither his daughter nor herself. Obedient as a child himself he had
+promised.
+
+"Now, go away," she then had said to him. "Go your own way. Drink,
+dice, game, and waste the talents God hath given you. You have made ruin
+enough for all of us. I would only that it may not run so far as to
+another generation."
+
+So both had kept their promises; and now the two years were done, years
+spent by Law more manfully than any of his life. His fortune he had
+gathered together, amounting to more than a million livres. He had sent
+once more for his brother Will, and thus the two had lived for some time
+in company in lower Europe, the elder brother still curious as ever in
+his abstruse theories of banking and finance--theories then new, now
+outlived in great part, though fit to be called a portion of the great
+foundation of the commercial system of the world. It was a wiser and
+soberer and riper John Law, this man who had but recently received a
+summons from Philippe of Orléans to be present in Paris, for that the
+king was dying, and that all France, France the bankrupt and distracted,
+was on the brink of sudden and perhaps fateful change.
+
+With a quick revival of all his Highland superstition, Law hailed now as
+happy harbinger the fact that, upon his entry into Paris, the city once
+more of his hopes, he had met in such fashion this lady of his dreams,
+even at such time as the seal of silence was lifted from his lips. It
+was no wonder that his eye gleamed, that his voice took on the old
+vibrant tone, that every gesture, in thought or in spite of thought,
+assumed the tender deference of the lover.
+
+It was a fair woman, this chance guest of the highway whom he now
+accosted--bronze-haired, blue-eyed, soft of voice, queenly of mien,
+gentle, calm and truly lovable. Oh, what waste that those arms should
+hold nothing, that lips such as those should know no kisses, that eyes
+like those should never swim in love! What robbery! What crime! And this
+man, thief of this woman's life, felt his heart pinch again in the old,
+sharp anguish of remorse, bitterest because unavailing.
+
+For the Lady Catharine herself there had been also many changes. The
+death of her brother, the Earl of Banbury, had wrought many shifts in
+the circumstances of a house apparently pursued by unkind fate. Left
+practically alone and caring little for the life of London, even after
+there had worn away the chill of suspicion which followed upon the
+popular knowledge of her connection with the escape of Law from London,
+Lady Catharine Knollys turned to a life and world suddenly grown vague
+and empty. Travel upon the continent with friends, occasional visits to
+the old family house in England, long sojourns in this or the other
+city--such had been her life, quiet, sweet, reproachless and
+unreproaching. For the present she had taken an hôtel in the older part
+of Paris, in connection with her friend, the Countess of Warrington,
+sometime connected with the embassy of that Lord Stair who was later to
+act as spy for England in Paris, now so soon to know tumultuous scenes.
+With these scenes, as time was soon to prove, there was to be most
+intimately connected this very man who, now bending forward attentively,
+now listening respectfully, and ever gazing directly and ardently, heard
+naught of plots or plans, cared naught for the Paris which lay about,
+saw naught but the beautiful face before him, felt naught but some deep,
+compelling thrill in every heart-string which now reaching sweet accord
+in spite of fate, in spite of the past, in spite of all, went singing on
+in a deep melody of joy. This was she, the idol, the deity. Let the
+world wag. It was a moment yet ere paradise must end!
+
+"Madam, I would God it might be forever!" said Law again. The old
+stubborn nature was showing once more, but under it something deeper,
+softer, tenderer.
+
+A sudden panic fear called at the heart of her to whom he spoke. Two
+rosy spots shone in her cheeks, and as she gazed, her eyes showed the
+veiled softening of woman's gentleness. There fell a silence.
+
+"Madam, I could feel that this were Sadler's Wells over again," said Law
+a moment later.
+
+But now the carriage had arrived at the destination named by Lady
+Catharine. Law sprang out, hat in hand, and assisted Lady Catharine to
+the curb. A passing flower girl, gaily offering her wares, paused as the
+carriage drew up. Law turned quickly and caught from her as many roses
+as his hand could grasp, handing her in return half as much coin as her
+smaller palm could hold. He turned to the Lady Catharine, and bowed with
+that grace which was the talk of a world of gallants. In his hand he
+extended a flower.
+
+"Madam, as before!" he said.
+
+There was a sob in his voice. Their eyes met fairly, unmasked as they
+had not been for years. Tears came into the man's eyes, the first that
+had ever sat there; tears for the past, tears for that sweetness which
+once might have been.
+
+"'Tis for the king! They weep for the king!" sang out the hard voice of
+the flower girl, ironically, as she skipped away. "Ohé, for the king,
+for the king!"
+
+"Nay, for the queen!" said John Law, as he gazed into the eyes of
+Catharine Knollys.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+SEARCH THOU MY HEART
+
+
+"Only believe me, Lady Catharine, and I shall do everything I promised
+years ago--I shall lay all France at your feet. But if you deny me thus
+always, I shall make all France a mockery."
+
+"Monsieur is fresh from the South of France," replied the Lady Catharine
+Knollys. "Has Gascon wine perhaps put Gascon speech into his mouth?"
+
+"Oh, laugh if you like," exclaimed Law, rising and pacing across the
+great room in which these two had met. "Laugh and mock, but we shall
+see!"
+
+"Granted that Mr. Law is well within his customary modesty," replied
+Lady Catharine, "and granted even that Mr. Law has all France in the
+hollow of his hand to-day, to do with as he likes, I must confess I see
+not why France should suffer because I myself have found it difficult to
+endorse Mr. Law's personal code of morals."
+
+It was the third day after Law's entry into Paris, and the first time
+for more than two long years that he found himself alone with the Lady
+Catharine Knollys. His eagerness might have excused his impetuous and
+boastful speech.
+
+As for the Lady Catharine, that one swift, electric moment at the street
+curb had well-nigh undone more than two years of resolve. She had heard
+herself, as it were in a dream, promising that this man might come. She
+had found herself later in her own apartments, panting, wide-eyed,
+afraid. Some great hand, unseen, uninvited, mysterious, had swept
+ruthlessly across each chord of womanly reserve and resolution which so
+long she had held well-ordered and absolutely under control. It was
+self-distrust, fear, which now compelled her to take refuge in this
+woman's fence of speech with him. "Surely," argued she with herself, "if
+love once dies, then it is dead forever, and can never be revived.
+Surely," she insisted to herself, "my love is dead. Then--ah, but then
+was it dead? Can my heart grow again?" asked the Lady Catharine of
+herself, tremblingly. This was that which gave her pause. It was this
+also which gave to her cheek its brighter color, to her eye a softer
+gleam; and to her speech this covering shield of badinage.
+
+Yet all her defenses were in a way to be fairly beaten down by the
+intentness of the other. All things he put aside or overrode, and would
+speak but of himself and herself, of his plans, his opportunities, and
+of how these were concerned with himself and with her.
+
+"There are those who judge not so harshly as yourself, Madam," resumed
+Law. "His Grace the regent is good enough to believe that my studies
+have gone deeper than the green cloth of the gaming table. Now, I tell
+you, my time has come--my day at last is here. I tell you that I shall
+prove to you everything which I said to you long ago, back there in old
+England. I shall prove to you that I have not been altogether an idler
+and a trifler. I shall bring to you, as I promised you long ago, all the
+wealth, all the distinction--"
+
+"But such speech is needless, Mr. Law," came the reply. "I have all the
+wealth I need, nor do I crave distinction, save of my own selection."
+
+"But you do not dream! This is a day unparalleled. There will be such
+changes here as never yet were known. Within a week you shall hear of my
+name in Paris. Within a month you shall hear of it beyond the gates of
+Paris. Within a year you shall hear nothing else in Europe!"
+
+"As I hear nothing else here now, Monsieur?"
+
+Like a horse restless under the snaffle, the man shook his head, but
+went on. "If you should be offered wealth more than any woman of Paris,
+if you had precedence over the proudest peers of France--would these
+things have no weight with you?"
+
+"You know they would not."
+
+Law cast himself restlessly upon a seat across the room from her. "I
+think I do," said he, dejectedly. "At times you drive me to my wit's
+end. What then, Madam, would avail?"
+
+"Why, nothing, so far as the past is to be reviewed for you and me. Yet,
+I should say that, if there were two here speaking as you and I, and if
+they two had no such past as we--then I could fancy that woman saying to
+her friend, 'Have you indeed done all that lay within you to do?'"
+
+"Is it not enough--?"
+
+"There is nothing, sir, that is enough for a woman, but all!"
+
+"I have given you all."
+
+"All that you have left--after yourself."
+
+"Sharp, sharp indeed are your words, my Lady. And they are most sharp
+because they come with justice."
+
+"Oh," broke out the woman, "one may use sharp words who has been scorned
+for her own false friend! You would give me all, Mr. Law, but you must
+remember that it is only what remains after that--that--"
+
+"But would you, could you, have cared had there been no 'that'? Had I
+done all that lay in me to do, could you then have given me your
+confidence, and could you have thought me worthy of it?"
+
+"Oh, 'if!'"
+
+"Yes, 'if!' 'If,' and 'as though,' and 'in that case'--these are all we
+have to console us in this life. But, sweet one--"
+
+"Sir, such words I have forbidden," said Lady Catharine, the blood for
+one cause or another mounting again into her cheek.
+
+"You torture me!" broke out Law.
+
+"As much as you have me? Is it so much as that, Mr. Law?"
+
+He rose and stood apart, his head falling in despair. "As I have done
+this thing, so may God punish me!" said he. "I was not fit, and am not.
+Yet I was bold enough to hope that there could be some atonement, some
+thing--if my suffering--"
+
+"There are things, Mr. Law, for which no suffering atones. But why cause
+suffering longer for us both? You come again and again. Could you not
+leave me for a time untroubled?"
+
+"How can I?" blazed the man, his forehead furrowed up into a frown, the
+moist beads on his brow proving his own intentness. "I can not! I can
+not! That is all I know. Ask me not why. I can not; that is all."
+
+"Sir," said Lady Catharine, "this seems to me no less than terrible."
+
+"It is indeed no less than terrible. Yet I must come and come again,
+bound some day to be heard, not for what I am, but for what I might be.
+'Tis not justice I would have, dear heart, but mercy, a woman's mercy!"
+
+"And you would bully me to agree with you, as I said, in regard to your
+own excellent code of morals, Mr. Law?"
+
+"You evade, like any woman, but if you will, even have it so. At least
+there is to be this battle between us all our lives. I will be loved,
+Lady Catharine! I must be loved by you! Look in my heart. Search beneath
+this man that you and others see. Find me my own fellow, that other self
+better than I, who cries out always thus. Look! 'Tis not for me as I am.
+No man deserves aught for himself. But find in my heart, Lady Catharine,
+that other self, the man I might have been! Dear heart, I beseech you,
+look!"
+
+Impulsively, he even tore apart the front of his coat, as though indeed
+to invite such scrutiny. He stood before her, trembling, choking. The
+passion of his speech caused the color again to rush to the Lady
+Catharine's face. For a moment her bosom rose and fell tumultuously,
+deep answering as of old unto deep, in the ancient, wondrous way.
+
+"Is it the part of manhood to persecute a woman, Mr. Law?" she asked,
+her own uncertitude now showing in her tone.
+
+"I do not know," he answered.
+
+Lady Catharine looked at him curiously.
+
+"Do you love me, Mr. Law?" she asked, directly.
+
+"I have no answer."
+
+"Did you love that other woman?"
+
+It took all his courage to reply. "I am not fit to answer," said he.
+
+"And you would love me, too, for a time and in a way?"
+
+"I will not answer. I will not trifle."
+
+"And I am to think Mr. Law better than himself, better than other men;
+since you say no man dare ask actual justice?"
+
+"Worse than other men, and yet a man. A man--my God! Lady Catharine--a
+man unworthy, yet a man seized fatally of that love which neither life
+nor death can alter!"
+
+As one fascinated, Lady Catharine sat looking at him. "Then," said she,
+"any man may say to any woman--Mr. Law says to me--'I have cared for
+such, and so many other women to the extent, let us say, of so many
+pounds sterling. But I love you to the extent of twice as many pounds,
+shillings and pence?' Is that the dole we women may expect, Mr. Law?"
+
+"Have back your own words!" he cried. "Nothing is enough but all! And as
+God witnesseth in this hour, I have loved you with all my heart-beats,
+with all my prayers. I call upon you now, in the name of that love I
+know you once bore me--"
+
+Upon the face of the Lady Catharine there blazed the red mark of the
+shame of Knollys. Covering her face with her hands, she suddenly bent
+forward, and from her lips there broke a sob of pain.
+
+In a flash Law was at her side, kneeling, seeking to draw away her
+fingers with hands that trembled as much as her own.
+
+"Do not! Do not!" he cried. "I am not worth it! It shall be as you like.
+Let me go away forever. This I can not endure!"
+
+"Ah, John Law, John Law!" murmured Catharine Knollys, "why did you break
+my heart!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+THE REGENT'S PROMISE
+
+
+"Tell me, then, Monsieur L'as, of this new America. I would fain have
+some information at first hand. There was rumor, I know not how exact,
+that you once traveled in those regions."
+
+Thus spake his Grace Philippe, Duke of Orléans, regent of France, now,
+in effect, ruler of France. It was the audience which had been arranged
+for John Law, that opportunity for which he had waited all his life.
+Before him now, as he stood in the great council chamber, facing this
+man whose ambitions ended where his own began--at the convivial board
+and at the gaming table--he saw the path which led to the success that
+he had craved so long. He, Law of Lauriston, sometime adventurer and
+gambler, was now playing his last and greatest game.
+
+"Your Grace," said he, "there be many who might better than I tell you
+of that America."
+
+"There are many who should be able, and many who do," replied the
+regent. "By the body of the Lord! we get nothing but information
+regarding these provinces of New France, and each advice is worse than
+the one preceding it. The gist of it all is that my Lord Governor and my
+very good intendant can never agree, save upon one point or so. They
+want more money, and they want more soldiers--ah, yes, to be sure, they
+also want more women, though we sent them out a ship load of choice
+beauties not more than a six-month ago. But tell me, Monsieur L'as, is
+it indeed true that you have traveled in America?"
+
+"For a short time."
+
+"I have heard nothing regarding you from the intendant at Quebec."
+
+"Your Grace was not at that time caring for intendants. 'Twas many years
+ago, and I was not well known at Quebec by my own name."
+
+"_Eh bien_? Some adventure, then, perhaps? A woman at the bottom of it,
+I warrant."
+
+"Your Grace is right."
+
+"'Twas like you, for a fellow of good zest. May God bless all fair
+dames. And as to what you found in thus following--or was it in
+fleeing--your divinity?"
+
+"I found many things. For one, that this America is the greatest country
+of the world. Neither England nor France is to be compared with it."
+
+The regent fell back in his chair and laughed heartily.
+
+"Monsieur, you are indeed, as I have ever found you, of most excellent
+wit. You please me enormously."
+
+"But, your Grace, I am entirely serious."
+
+"Oh, come, spoil not so good a jest by qualifying, I beseech you!
+England or France, indeed--ah, Monsieur L'as, Monsieur L'as!"
+
+"Your own city of New Orléans, Sire, will lie at the gate of a realm
+greater than all France. Your Grace will hand to the young king, when he
+shall come of age, a realm excellently worth the ownership of any king."
+
+"You say rich. In what way?" asked the regent. "We have not had so much
+of returns after all. Look at Crozat? Look at--"
+
+"Oh fie, Crozat! Your Grace, he solved not the first problem of real
+commerce. He never dreamed the real richness of America."
+
+Philippe sat thoughtful, his finger tips together. "Why have we not
+heard of these things?" said he.
+
+"Because of men like Crozat, of men like your governors and intendants
+at Quebec. Because, your Grace, as you know very well, of the same
+reason which sent me once from Paris, and kept me so long from laying
+before you these very plans of which I now would speak."
+
+"And that cause?"
+
+"Maintenon."
+
+"Oh, ah! Indeed--that is to say--"
+
+"Louis would hear naught of me, of course. Maintenon took care that he
+should find I was but heretic."
+
+"As for myself," said Philippe the regent, "heretic or not heretic makes
+but small figure. 'Twill take France a century to overcome her late
+surfeit of religion. For us, 'tis most a question of how to keep the
+king in the saddle and France underneath."
+
+"Precisely, your Grace."
+
+"Frankly, Monsieur L'as, I take it fittest now not so much to ponder
+over new worlds as over how to keep in touch with this Old World yet
+awhile. France has danced, though for years she danced to the tune of
+Louis clad in black. Now France must pay for the music. My faith, I like
+not the look of things. This joyful France to-day is a hideous thing.
+These people laugh! I had sooner see a lion grin. Now to govern those
+given us by Providence to govern," and the regent smiled grimly at the
+ancient fiction, "it is most meet that the governed should produce
+somewhat of funds in order that they may be governed."
+
+"Yes, and the error has been in going too far," said Law. "These people
+have been taxed beyond the taxation point. Now they laugh."
+
+"Yes; and by God, Monsieur L'as, when France laughs, beware!"
+
+"Your Grace admits that France has no further resources."
+
+"Assuredly."
+
+"Then tax New France!" cried Law, his hand coming down hard upon the
+table, his eyes shining. "Mortgage where the security doubles every
+year, where the soil itself is security for wealth greater than all
+Europe ever owned."
+
+"Oh, very well, Monsieur; though later I must ask you to explain."
+
+"You admit that no more money can be forced from the people of France."
+
+"Ask the farmers of the taxes. Ask Chamillard of the Treasury. My faith,
+look out of the window! Listen! Do I not tell you that France is
+laughing?"
+
+"Very well. Let us also laugh. Let us all laugh together. There is money
+in France, more money in Europe. I assure you these people can be
+brought to give you cheerfully all they have."
+
+"It sounds well, Monsieur L'as, but let me ask you how?"
+
+"France is bankrupt--this is brutal, but none the less true. France must
+repudiate her obligations unless something be swiftly done. It is not
+noble to repudiate, your Grace. Yet, if we cancel and not repudiate, if
+we can obtain the gold of France, of Europe--"
+
+"Body of God! but you speak large, my friend."
+
+"Not so large. All subjects shrink as we come close to them by study.
+'Tis easy to see that France has not money enough for her own business.
+If we had more money in France, we should have more production, and if
+we had more production, we might have taxes. Thereby we might have
+somewhat in our treasury wherewith to keep the king in the saddle, and
+not under foot."
+
+"Then, if I follow you," said Philippe, leaning slightly forward and
+again placing his finger tips judicially together, "you would coin
+greater amounts of money. Then, I would ask you, where would you get
+your gold for the coinage?"
+
+"It is not gold I would coin," said Law, "but credit."
+
+"The kingdom hath been run on credit for these many years."
+
+"No, 'tis not that kind of credit that I mean. I mean the credit which
+comes of confidence. It is fate, necessity, which demands a new system.
+The world has grown too much for every man to put his sixpence into the
+other man's hand, and carry away in a basket what he buys. We are no
+longer savages, to barter beads for hides. Yet we were as savages, did
+we not come to realize that this insufficient coin must be replaced in
+the evolution of affairs, just as barter has long ago been, replaced."
+
+"And by what?"
+
+"As I said, by credit."
+
+"Do not annoy me by things too deep, but rather suggest some definite
+plan, if that may be."
+
+"First of all, then, as I said to you years ago, we need a bank, a bank
+in which all the people of France shall have absolute confidence."
+
+"You would, then, wish a charter of some sort?"
+
+"Only provided your Grace shall please. I have of my own funds a half
+million livres or more. This I would put into a bank of general nature,
+if your Grace shall please. That should be some small guarantee of my
+good faith in these plans."
+
+"Monsieur L'as would seem to have followed play to his good fortune."
+
+"Never to so good fortune as when first I met your Grace," replied Law.
+"I have given to games of chance the severest thought and study. Just
+as much more have I given thought and study to this enterprise which I
+propose now to lay before you."
+
+"And you ask the patent of the Crown for your bank?"
+
+"It were better if the institution received that open endorsement."
+
+A slow frown settled upon the face of the other. "That is, at the
+beginning, impossible, Monsieur L'as," said the regent. "It is you who
+must prove these things which you propose."
+
+"Let it be so, then," said Law, with conviction. "I make no doubt I
+shall obtain subscriptions for the shares. Remember my words. Within a
+few months you shall see trebled the energies of France. Money is the
+only thing which we have not in France. Why, your Grace, suppose the
+collectors of taxes in the South of France succeed in raising the king's
+levies. That specie must come by wheeled vehicle all the way to Paris.
+Consider what loss of time is there, and consider what hindrance to the
+trade of the provinces from which so much specie is taken bodily, and to
+which it can return later only a little at a time. Is it any wonder that
+usury is eating up France? There is not money enough--it is the one
+priceless thing; by which I mean only that there is not belief, not
+confidence, not credit enough in France. Now, given a bank which holds
+the confidence of the people, and I promise the king his taxes, even as
+I promise to abolish usury. You shall see money at work, money begetting
+money, and that begetting trade, and that producing comfort, and comfort
+making easier the collection of the king's taxes."
+
+"By heaven! you begin to make it somewhat more plain to me."
+
+"One thing I beg you to observe most carefully, your Grace," said Law,
+"nor must it ever be forgotten in our understanding. The shares of this
+bank must have a fixed value in regard to the coin of the realm. There
+must be no altering of the value of our coin. Grant that the coin does
+not fluctuate, and I promise you that my bank _actions_, notes of the
+chief bank of Paris, shall soon be found better than gold or silver in
+the eyes of France. Moreover, given a greater safety to foreign gold,
+and I promise you that too shall pour into Paris in such fashion as has
+never yet been seen. Moreover, the people will follow their coin. Paris
+will be the greatest capital of Europe. This I promise you I can do."
+
+"In effect," said the regent, smiling, "you promise me that you can
+build a new Paris, a new world! Yet much of this I can in part believe
+and understand. Let that be as it may. The immediate truth is that
+something must be done, and done at once."
+
+"Obviously."
+
+"Our public debt is twenty-six hundred millions of livres. Its annual
+interest is eighty millions of livres. We can not pay this interest
+alone, not to speak of the principal. Obviously, as you say, the matter
+admits of no delay. Your bank--why, by heaven, let us have your bank!
+What can we do without your bank? Lastly, how quickly can we have it?"
+
+"Sire, you make me the happiest man in all the world!"
+
+"The advantage is quite otherwise, sir. But my head already swims with
+figures. Now let us set the rest aside until to-morrow. Meantime, I must
+confess to you, my dear friend, there is somewhat else that sits upon my
+mind."
+
+A change came upon the demeanor of his Grace the regent. Laying aside
+the dignity of the ruler with the questions of state, he became again
+more nearly that Philippe of Orléans, known by his friends as gay, care
+free and full of _camaraderie_.
+
+"Your Grace, could I be of the least personal service, I should be too
+happy," said Law.
+
+"Well, then, I must admit to you that this is a question of a diamond."
+
+"Oh, a diamond?"
+
+"The greatest diamond in the world. Indeed, there is none other like it,
+and never will be. This Jew hounds me to death, holding up the thing
+before mine eyes. Even Saint Simon, that priggish little duke of ours,
+tells me that France should have this stone, that it is a dignity which
+should not be allowed to pass away from her. But how can France,
+bankrupt as she is, afford a little trifle which costs three million
+francs? Three million francs, when we can not pay eighty millions annual
+interest on our debts!"
+
+"'Tis as you say, somewhat expensive," said Law.
+
+"Naturally, for I say to you that this stone had never parallel in the
+history of the world. It seems that this overseer in the Golconda mines
+got possession of it in some fashion, and escaped to Europe, hiding the
+stone about his person. It has been shown in different parts of Europe,
+but no one yet has been able to meet the price of this extortioner who
+owns it."
+
+"And yet, as Saint Simon says, there is no dignity too great for the
+throne of France."
+
+"Yet, meantime, the king will have no use for it for several years to
+come. There is the Sancy stone--"
+
+"And, as your Grace remembers, this new stone would look excellent well
+upon a woman?" said Law. He gazed, calm and unsmiling, directly into the
+eyes of Philippe of Orléans.
+
+"Monsieur L'as, you have the second sight!" cried the latter,
+unblushingly. "You have genius. May God strike me blind if ever I have
+seen a keener mind than thine!"
+
+"All warm blood is akin," replied John Law. "This stone is perhaps for
+your Grace's best beloved?"
+
+"Eh--ah--which? As you know--"
+
+"Ah! Perhaps for La Parabère. Richly enough she deserves it."
+
+"Ah, Monsieur L'as, even your mind is at fault now," cried the regent,
+shaking his finger exultingly. "I covet this new stone, not for Parabère
+nor for any one of those dear friends whom you might name, and whom you
+may upon occasion have met at some of my little suppers. It is for
+another, whose name or nature you can not guess."
+
+"Not that mysterious beauty of whom rumor goes about this week, the
+woman rated surpassing fair, who has lately come into the acquaintance
+of your Grace, and whom your Grace has concealed as jealously as though
+he feared to lose her by some highway robbery?"
+
+"It is the same, I must admit!"
+
+Law remained thoughtful for a time. "I make no doubt that the Hebrew
+would take two million francs for this stone," said he.
+
+"Perhaps, but two millions is the same as three millions," said
+Philippe. "The question is, where to get two millions."
+
+"As your Grace has said, I have been somewhat fortunate at play,"
+replied Law, "but I must say that this sum is beyond me, and that both
+the diamond and the bank I can not compass. Yet, your Grace has at
+disposal the crown jewels of France. Now, beauty is the sovereign of all
+sovereigns, as Philippe of Orléans must own. To beauty belongs the use
+of these crown jewels. Place them as security, and borrow the two
+millions. For myself, I shall take pride in advancing the interest on
+the sum for a certain time, until such occasion as the treasury may
+afford the price of this trinket. In a short time it will be able to do
+so, I promise your Grace; indeed able to buy a dozen such stones, and
+take no thought of the matter."
+
+"Monsieur L'as, do you actually believe these things?"
+
+"I know them."
+
+"And you can secure for me this gem?"
+
+"Assuredly. We shall have it. Let it be called the 'Regent's Diamond,'
+after your Grace of Orléans. And when the king shall one day wear it,
+let us hope that he will place it as fitly as I am sure your Grace will
+do, on the brow of beauty--even though it be beauty unknown, and kept
+concealed under princely prerogative!"
+
+"Ah! You are too keen, Monsieur L'as, too keen to see my new discovery.
+Not for a little time shall I take the risk of introducing this fair
+friend to one so dangerous as yourself; but one of these times, my very
+good friend, if you can secure for me this diamond, you shall come to a
+very little supper, and see where for a time I shall place this gem, as
+you say, on the brow of beauty. For the sake of Monsieur L'as, head
+magician of France my mysterious alien shall then unmask."
+
+"And then I am to have my bank?"
+
+"Good God, yes, a thousand banks!"
+
+"It is agreed?"
+
+"It is agreed."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+A DAY OF MIRACLES
+
+
+The regent of France kept his promise to Law, and the latter in turn
+fulfilled his prophecy to the regent. Moreover, he swiftly went far
+toward verifying his boast to the Lady Catharine Knollys; for in less
+than a month his name was indeed on every tongue in Paris. The Banque
+Générale de L'as et Compagnie was seized upon by the public, debtor and
+creditor alike, as the one new thing, and hence as the only salvation.
+As ever, it pleased Paris to be mystified. In some way the rumor spread
+about that Monsieur L'as was _philosophique_; that the Banque Générale
+was founded upon "philosophy." It was catch-word sufficient for the
+time.
+
+"_Vive_ Jean L'as, _le philosophe_--Monsieur L'as, he who has saved
+France!" So rang the cry of the shallow-witted people of an age splendid
+even in its contradictions. And meantime the new bank, crudely
+experimental as it was, flourished as though its master spirit had
+indeed in his possession the philosopher's stone, turning all things to
+gold.
+
+One day, shortly after the beginning of that brilliantly spectacular
+series of events destined so soon to make Paris the Mecca of the world,
+there sat at table, in a little, obscure _cabaret_ of the gay city, a
+group of persons who seemed to have chosen that spot for purposes of
+privacy. Yet privacy was difficult where all the curious passers-by
+stared in amaze at the great coach near the door, half filling the
+narrow and unclean street--a vehicle bearing the arms of no less a
+person than that august and unscrupulous representative of the French
+nobility, the Prince de Conti. No less a person than the prince himself,
+thin-faced, aquiline and haughty, sat at this table, looking about him
+like any common criminal to note whether his speech might be overheard.
+Next to him sat a hook-nosed Jew from Austria, Fraslin by name, one of
+many of his kind gathered so quickly within the last few weeks in Paris,
+even as the scent of carrion fetches ravens to the feast. Another of the
+party was a man of middle age, of handsome, calm, patrician features and
+an unruffled mien--that De la Chaise, nephew of the confessor of Louis
+the Grand, who was later to represent the young king in the provinces of
+Louisiana.
+
+Near by the latter, and indeed the central figure of this gathering, was
+one less distinguished than either of the above, evidently neither of
+churchly ancestry nor civic distinction--Henri Varenne, sometime clerk
+for the noted Paris Frères, farmers of the national revenues. Varenne,
+now serving but as clerk in the new bank of L'as et Compagnie, could
+have been called a man of no great standing; yet it was he whose
+presence had called hither these others to this unusual meeting. In
+point of fact, Varenne was a spy, a spy chosen by the jealous Paris
+Frères, to learn what he might of the internal mechanism of this new and
+startling institution which had sprung into such sudden prominence.
+
+"As to the bank of these brothers L'as," said the Prince de Conti,
+rapping out emphasis with his sword hilt on the table, "it surely has
+much to commend it. Here is one of its notes, and witness what it says.
+'The bank promises to pay to the bearer at sight the sum of fifty livres
+in coin of the weight and standard of this day.' That is to say, of this
+date which it bears. Following these, are the words 'value received.'
+Now, my notary tells me that these words make this absolutely safe, so
+that I know what it means in coin to me at this day, or a year from now.
+Is it not so, Monsieur Fraslin?"
+
+The Jew reached out his hand, took the note, and peered over it in close
+scrutiny.
+
+"'Tis no wonder, Monsieur le Prince," said he, presently, "that orders
+have been given by the Government to receive this note without discount
+for the payment of the general taxes. Upon my reputation, I must say to
+you that these notes will pass current better than your uncertain coin.
+The specie of the king has been changed twice in value by the king's
+orders. Yet this bases itself upon a specie value which is not subject
+to any change. Therein lies its own value."
+
+"It is indeed true," broke in Varenne. "Not a day goes by at this new
+bank but persons come to us and demand our notes rather than coin of the
+realm of France."
+
+"Yes, yes," broke in the prince, "we are agreed as to all this, but
+there is much talk about further plans of this Monsieur L'as. He has the
+ear of his Grace the regent, surely. Now, sir, tell us what you know of
+these future affairs."
+
+"The rumor is, as I understand it," answered Varenne, "that he is to
+take over control of the Company of the West--to succeed, in short, to
+the shoes of Anthony Crozat. There come curious stories of this province
+of Louisiana."
+
+"Of course," resumed the prince, with easy wisdom, "we all of us know of
+the voyage of L'Huillier, who, with his four ships, went up this great
+river Messasebe, and who, as is well known, found that river of Blue
+Earth, described by early writers as abounding in gold and gems."
+
+"Aye, and there comes the strange part of it, and this is what I would
+lay before your Lordships, as bearing upon the value of the shares of
+this new bank, since it is taking over the charter of the Company of the
+West. It is news not yet known upon the street. The story goes that the
+half has not been told of the wealth of these provinces.
+
+"Now, as you say, L'Huillier had with him four ships, and it is well
+known that his gentlemen had with them certain ladies of distinction,
+among these a mysterious dame reported to have earlier traveled in
+portions of New France. The name of this mysterious female is not known,
+save that she is reported to have been a good friend of a
+_sous-lieutenant_ of the regiment Carignan, sometime dweller at Quebec
+and Montréal, and who later became a lieutenant under L'Huillier. It is
+said that this same mysterious fair, having returned from America and
+having cast aside her lieutenant, has come under protection of no less a
+person than his Grace Philippe of Orléans, the regent. Now, as you know,
+the bank is the best friend of the regent, and this mysterious dame, as
+we are advised by servants of his Grace's household, hath told his Grace
+such stories of the wealth of the Messasebe that he has secretly and
+quickly made over the control of the trade of those provinces to this
+new bank. There is story also that his Grace himself will not lack
+profit in this movement!"
+
+The hand of Conti smote hard upon the table. "By heaven! it were strange
+thing," said he, "if this foreign traveler should prove the same
+mysterious beauty Philippe is reported to have kept in hiding. My faith,
+is it indeed true that we are come upon a time of miracles?"
+
+"Listen!" broke in again Varenne, his ardor overcoming his
+obsequiousness. "These are some of the tales brought back--and reported
+privately, I can assure you, gentlemen, now for the first time and to
+yourselves. The people of this country are said to be clad in beauteous
+raiment, made of skins, of grasses, and of the barks of trees. Their
+ornaments are made of pure, yellow gold, and of precious gems which they
+pick up from the banks of the streams, as common as pebbles here in
+France. The climate is such that all things grow in the most unrivaled
+fruitfulness. There is neither too much sun nor too much rain. The lakes
+and rivers are vast and beautiful, and the forests are filled with
+myriads of strange and sweet-voiced birds. 'Tis said that the dream of
+Ponce de Leon hath been realized, and that not only one, but scores of
+fountains of youth have been discovered in this great valley. The people
+are said never to grow old. Their personal beauty is of surpassing
+nature, and their disposition easy and complaisant to the last degree--"
+
+"My faith, say on!" broke in De la Chaise. "'Tis surely a story of
+paradise which you recount."
+
+"But, listen, gentlemen! The story goes yet farther. As to mines of gold
+and silver, 'twas matter of report that such mines are common in all the
+valley of the Messasebe. Indeed the whole surface of the earth, in some
+parts, is covered with lumps of gold, so that the natives care nothing
+for it. The bottoms of the streams, the beaches of the lakes, carry as
+many particles of gold as they have pebbles and little stones. As for
+silver, none take note of it. 'Tis used as building stone."
+
+"In the name of Jehovah, is there support for these wonders you have
+spoken?" broke in Fraslin the Jew, his eyes shining with suppressed
+excitement.
+
+"Assuredly. Yet I am telling not half of the news which came to my
+knowledge this very morning--the story is said to have emanated from the
+Palais Royal itself, and therefore, no doubt, is to be traced to this
+same unknown queen of the Messasebe. She reports, so it is said, that
+beyond the country where L'Huillier secured his cargo of blue earth,
+there is a land where grows a most peculiar plant. The meadows and
+fields are covered with it, and it is said that the dews of night, which
+gather within the petals of these flowers, become, in the course of a
+single day, nothing less than a solid diamond stone! From this in time
+the leaves drop down, leaving the diamond exposed there, shining and
+radiant."
+
+"Ah, bah!" broke in Fraslin the Jew. "Why believe such babblings? We all
+know that the diamond is a product not of the vegetable but of the
+mineral world!"
+
+"So have we known many things," stoutly replied Varenne, "only to find
+ourselves frequently mistaken. Now for my part, a diamond is a diamond,
+be it born in a flower or broken from a rock. And as for the excellence
+of these stones, 'tis rumored that the lady hath abundant proof. 'Tis no
+wonder that the natives of the valley of the Messasebe robe themselves
+in silks, and that they deck themselves carelessly with precious stones,
+as would a peasant of ours with a chain of daisy blossoms. Now, if there
+be such wealth as this, is it not easy to see the profit of a bank which
+controls the trade with such a province? True, there have been some
+discoveries in this valley, but nothing thorough. 'Tis but recent the
+thing hath been done thorough."
+
+The Prince de Conti sat back in his chair and drew a long breath. "If
+these things be true," said he, "then this Monsieur L'as is not so bad a
+leader to follow."
+
+"But listen!" exclaimed Varenne once more. "I have not even yet told you
+the most important thing, and this is rumor which perhaps your Grace has
+caught. 'Tis whispered that the bank of the brothers L'as is within a
+fortnight to be changed."
+
+"What is that?" queried Fraslin quickly. "'Tis not to be abandoned?"
+
+"By no means. Abandoned would be quite the improper word. 'Tis to be
+improved, expanded, increased, magnified! My Lords, there is the
+opportunity of a life-time for every one of us here!"
+
+"Say on, man, say on!" commanded the prince, the covetousness of his
+soul shining in his eyes as he leaned forward.
+
+"I mean to say this," and the spy lowered his voice as he looked
+anxiously about. "The regent hath taken a fancy to be chief owner
+himself of an enterprise so profitable. In fine, the Banque Générale is
+to become the Banque Royale. His Majesty of France, represented by his
+Grace the regent, is to become the head banker of France and Europe!
+Monsieur L'as is to be retained as director-general of this Banque
+Royale. There are to be branches fixed in different cities of the realm,
+at Lyons, at Tours, at Amiens, at Rochelle, at Orléans--in fact, all
+France is to go upon a different footing."
+
+The glances of the Prince de Conti and the Austrian met each other. The
+Jew drew a long breath as he sat back in his chair, his hands grasping
+at the edge of the table. Try as he might, he scarce could keep his chin
+from trembling. He licked out his tongue to moisten his lips.
+
+"There is so much," resumed Varenne, "that 'tis hard to tell it all. But
+you must know that this Banque Royale will be still more powerful than
+the old one. There will be incorporated with it, not only the Company of
+the West, but also the General Company of the Indies, as you know, the
+most considerable mercantile enterprise of France. Now listen! Within
+the first year the Banque Royale will issue one thousand million livres
+in notes. This embodiment of the Compagnie Générale of the Indies will
+warrant, as I know by the secret plans of the bank, the issue of notes
+amounting to two billion livres. Therefore, as Monsieur de la Chaise
+signifies, he who is lucky enough to-day to own a few _actions_ of the
+Banque Royale, or even the old _actions_ of Monsieur L'as' bank, which
+will be redeemed by its successor, is in a way to gain greater sums than
+were ever seen on the face of any investment from the beginning of the
+world until to-day! Now, as I was about to ask of you, Monsieur
+Fraslin--"
+
+The speaker turned in his chair to where Fraslin had been but a moment
+before. The chair was empty.
+
+"Our friend stepped to the door but on the instant," said De la Chaise.
+"He is perhaps--"
+
+"That he has," cried Varenne. "He is the first of us to profit! Monsieur
+le Prince, in virtue of what I have said to you, if you could favor me
+with an advance of a few hundred louis, I could assure my family of
+independence. Monsieur le Prince! Monsieur le Prince--"
+
+Monsieur le Prince, however, was not so far behind the Austrian! Varenne
+followed him, tugging at his coat, but Conti shook him off, sprang into
+his carriage and was away.
+
+"To the Place Vendôme!" he cried to his coachman, "and hasten!"
+
+De la Chaise, aristocratic, handsome and thick-witted, remained alone at
+the table, wondering what was the cause of this sudden commotion.
+Varenne re-appeared at the door wringing his hands.
+
+"What is it, my friend?" asked De la Chaise. "Why all this haste? Why
+this confusion?"
+
+"Nothing!" exclaimed Varenne, bitterly, "except that every minute of
+this day is worth a million francs. Man, do you know?"--and in his
+frenzy he caught De la Chaise by the collar and half shook him out of
+his usual calm--"man, can you not see that Jean L'as has brought
+revolution into Paris? Oh! This L'as, this devil of a L'as! A thousand
+louis, my friend, a hundred, ten--give me but ten louis, and I will make
+you rich! A day of miracles is here!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+THE GREATEST NEED
+
+
+There sprang now with incredible swiftness upward and outward an Aladdin
+edifice of illusion. It was as though indeed this genius who had waved
+his wand and bidden this fairy palace of chimera to arise, had used for
+his material the intangible, iridescent film of bubbles, light as air.
+Wider and wider spread the balloon of phantasm. Higher and higher it
+floated, on it fixed the eyes of France. And France laughed, and asked
+that yet other bubbles should be blown.
+
+All France was mad, and to its madness there was joined that of all
+Europe. The population of Paris doubled. The prices of labor and
+commodities trebled in a day. There was now none willing to be called
+artisan. Every man was broker in stocks. Bubbles, bubbles, dreams,
+fantasies--these were the things all carried in their hands and in their
+hearts. These made the object of their desire, of their pursuit
+unimaginably passionate and frenzied.
+
+With a leap from the somberness of the reign of Louis, all France went
+to the extreme of levity. Costumes changed. Manners, but late devout,
+grew debonair. Morals, once lax, now grew yet more lax. The blaze and
+tinsel, the music and the rouge, the wine, the flowing, uncounted
+gold--all Paris might have been called a golden brothel of delirious
+delight, tenanted by a people utterly gone mad.
+
+It was a house made of bubbles. Its domes were of bubbles. Its roof was
+of bubbles, and its walls. Its windows were of that nacreous film. Even
+its foundations had naught in them more substantial than an evanescent
+dream of gauze-like web, frail as the spider's house upon the dew-hung
+grasses.
+
+Yet as to this latter, there should be somewhat of qualification. The
+wizard who created this fairy structure saw it swiftly grow beyond its
+original plan, saw unforeseen results spring from those causes which
+were first well within his comprehension.
+
+Berated by later generations as an adventurer, a schemer, a charlatan,
+Law originally deserved anything but such a verdict of his public.
+Dishonest he was not, insincere he never was; and as a student of
+fundamentals, he was in advance of his age, which is ever to be
+accursed. His method was but the forerunner of the modern commercial
+system, which is of itself to-day but a tougher faith bubble, as may be
+seen in all the changing cycles of finance and trade. His bank was but
+a portion of a nobler dream. His system was but one vast belief, one
+glorious hope.
+
+The Company of the West--this it was that made John Law's heart throb.
+America--its trade--its future! John Law, dead now and gone--he was the
+colossal pioneer! He saw in his dreams what we see to-day in reality;
+and no bubble of all the frenzied Paris streets equaled this splendid
+dream of a renewed and revived humanity that is a fact to-day.
+
+But there came to this dreamer and doer, at the very door of his
+success, that which arrested him even upon his entering in. There came
+the preliminary blow which in a flash his far-seeing mind knew was to
+mean ultimate ruin. In a word, the loose principles of a dissolute man
+were to ruin France, and with it one who had once saved France from
+ruin.
+
+Philippe of Orléans found it ever difficult to say no to a friend, and
+more so if that friend were a woman; and of the latter sort, none had
+more than he. Men and women alike, these could all see only this
+abundance of money made of paper. What, then, was to prevent the regent,
+all powerful, from printing more and yet more of it, and giving it to
+his friends? The regent did so. Never were mistresses better paid than
+those of Philippe of Orléans, receiving in effect faithlessness in
+return for insincerity.
+
+Philippe of Orléans could not see why, since credit based on specie made
+possible a great volume of accepted notes, a credit based on all France
+might not warrant an indefinite issue of such notes. He offered his
+director-general all the concessions which the crown could give, all the
+revenue-producing elements of France--in effect, all France itself, as
+security. In return he asked but the small privilege of printing for
+himself as much money as he chose and whenever he saw fit!
+
+The notes of the private bank of Law were an absolute promise to pay a
+certain and definite sum, not a changeable or indefinite sum; and Law
+made it a part of his published creed that any banker was worthy of
+death who issued notes without having the specie wherewith to pay them.
+He insisted that the payment should mean specie in the value of the day
+on which the note was issued. This item the regent liked little, as
+being too irksome for his temper. Was it not of record how Louis, the
+Grand Monarque, had twice made certain millions for himself by the
+simple process of changing the value of the coin? Dicing, drinking,
+amorous Philippe, easy-going, shallow-thinking, truly wert thou better
+fitted for a throne than for a banker's chair!
+
+The royal bank, which the regent himself hastened to foster when he saw
+the profits of the first private bank of circulation and discount France
+had ever known, issued notes against which Law entered immediately his
+firm protest. He saw that their tenor spelled ruin for the whole system
+of finance which, at such labor, he had erected. These notes promised to
+pay, for instance, fifty livres "in silver coin," not "in coin of the
+weight and standard of this day," as had the honester notes of Law's
+bank. That is to say, the notes meant nothing sure and nothing definite.
+They might be money for a time, but not forever; and this the
+director-general was too shrewd a man not to know.
+
+"But under this issue you shall have all France," said the regent to him
+one day, as they renewed their discussion yet again upon this scheme.
+"You shall have the farming of the taxes. I will give you all the
+foreign trade as monopoly, if you like--will give you the mint--will
+give you, in effect, as I have said, all France. But, Monsieur my
+director-general, I must have money. It is for that purpose that I
+appoint you director-general--because I find you the most remarkable man
+in all the world."
+
+"Your Grace," said Law, "print your notes thus, and print them to such
+extent as you wish, and France is again worse than bankrupt! Then,
+indeed, you have worse than repudiated the debts of France."
+
+"Ah bah! _mon drôle_! You are ill to-day. You have a _migraine_,
+perhaps? What folly for you to speak thus. France hath swiftly grown so
+strong that she can never again be ruined. What ails my magician, my
+Prince of Golconda, this morning? France bankrupt! Even were it so, does
+that relieve me of this begging of De Prie, of Parabère, and all the
+others? My God, Monsieur L'as, they are like leeches! They think me made
+of money."
+
+"And your Grace thinks France made of money."
+
+"Nay; I only think my director-general is made of money, or can make it
+as he likes."
+
+And this was ever the end of Law's reproaches and his expostulations.
+This, then, was to be the end of his glorious enterprises, thought he,
+as he sat one morning, staring out of the window when left alone. This
+sordid love for money for its own sake--this was to be the limit of an
+ambition which dealt in theories, in men, in nations, and not in livres
+and louis d'or! Law smiled bitterly. For an instant he was not the
+confident man of action and of affairs, not the man claiming with
+assurance the perpetual protection of good fortune. He sat there, alone,
+feeling nothing but the great human craving for sympathy and trust. A
+line of carriages swept back across the street at his window, and
+streams of nobles besought entrance at his door. And the man who had
+called out all these, the man for whose friendship all Europe
+clamored--that man sat with aching heart, longing, craving, begging now
+of fortune only the one thing--a friend!
+
+At last he arose, his face showing lean and haggard. He passed into
+another room.
+
+"Will," said he, "I am at a place where I am dizzy and need a hand. You
+know what hand it means for me. Can you go--will you take her, as you
+did once before for me, a message? I can not go. I can not venture into
+her presence. Will you go? Tell her it is the last time! Tell her it is
+the last!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+THE MIRACLE UNWROUGHT
+
+
+"You do not know my brother, Lady Catharine."
+
+Thus spoke Will Law, who had been admitted but a half hour since at the
+great door of the private hotel where dwelt the Lady Catharine Knollys.
+
+"'Twould seem, then, 'tis by no fault of his," replied Lady Catharine,
+hotly.
+
+"And is that not well? There are many in Paris who would fain change
+places with you, Lady Catharine."
+
+"Would heaven they might!" exclaimed she. "Would that my various
+friends, or the prefect of police, or heaven knows who that may have
+spread the news of my acquaintance with your brother, would take me out
+of that acquaintance!"
+
+"They might hold his friendship a high honor," said Will.
+
+"Oh, an honor! Excellent well comes this distinguished honor. Sirrah,
+carriages block my street, filled with those who beseech my introduction
+to John Law. I am waylaid if I step abroad, by women--persons of
+quality, ladies of the realm, God knoweth what--and they beg of me the
+favor of an introduction to John Law! There seems spread, I know not
+how, a silly rumor of the child Kate. And though I did scarce more than
+name a convent for her attendance, there are now out all manner of
+reports of Monsieur John Law's child, and--what do I say--'tis
+monstrous! I protest that I have come closer than I care into the public
+thoughts with this prodigy, this John Law, whose favor is sought by
+every one. Honor!--'tis not less than outrage!"
+
+"'Tis but argument that my brother is a person not without note."
+
+"But granted. 'We have seen his carriage at your curb,' they say. I
+insist that it is a mistake. 'But we saw him come from your door at such
+and such an hour.' If he came, 'twas but for meeting such answer as I
+have always given him. Will they never believe--will your brother
+himself never believe that, though did he have, as he himself says, all
+France in the hollow of his hand, he could be nothing to me? Now I will
+make an end to this. I will leave Paris."
+
+"Madam, you might not be allowed to go."
+
+"What! I not allowed to go! And what would hinder a Knollys of Banbury
+from going when the hour shall arrive?"
+
+"The regent."
+
+"And why the regent?"
+
+"Because of my brother."
+
+"Your brother!"
+
+"Assuredly. My brother is to-day king of Paris. If he liked he could
+keep you prisoner in Paris. My brother does as he chooses. He could
+abolish Parliament to-morrow if he chose. My brother can do all
+things--except to win from you, Lady Catharine, one word of kindness, of
+respect. Now, then, he has come to the end. He told me to come to you
+and bear his word. He told me to say to you that this is the last time
+he will importune, the last time that he will implore. Oh, Lady
+Catharine! Once before I carried to you a message from John Law--from
+John Law, not in distress then more than he is now, even in this hour of
+his success."
+
+Lady Catharine paled as she sank back into her seat. Her white hand
+caught at the lace at her throat. Her eyes grew dark in their emotion.
+
+"Yes, Madam," went on Will Law, tears shining in his own eyes, "'twas I,
+an unfaithful messenger, who, by an error, wrought ruin for my brother
+and for yourself, even as I did for myself. Madam, hear me! I would be a
+better messenger to-day."
+
+Lady Catharine sat still silent, her bosom heaving, her eyes gone wide
+and straining.
+
+"I have seen my brother weep," said Will, going on impulsively. "I have
+seen him walk the floor at night, have heard him cry out to himself.
+They call him crazed. Indeed he is crazed. Yet 'tis but for one word
+from you."
+
+"Sir," said Lady Catharine, struggling to gain self-control, and in
+spite of herself softened by this appeal, "you speak well."
+
+"If I do, 'tis but because I am the mouth-piece of a man who all his
+life has sought to speak the truth; who has sought--yes, I say to you
+even now, Lady Catharine--who has sought always to live the truth. This
+I say in spite of all that we both know."
+
+There came no reply from the woman, who sat still looking at him, not
+yet moved by the voice of the proxy as she might then have been by the
+voice of that proxy's principal. Vehemently the young man, ordinarily so
+timid and diffident, approached her.
+
+"Look you!" exclaimed he. "If my brother said he could lay France at
+your feet, by heaven! he can well-nigh do so now. See! Here are some of
+the properties he has lately purchased in the realm of France. The
+Marquisat d'Effiat--'tis worth eight hundred thousand livres; the estate
+of Rivière--worth nine hundred thousand livres; the estate of
+Roissy--worth six hundred and fifty thousand livres; the estates of
+Berville, of Fontaine, of Yville, of Gerponville, of Tancarville, of
+Guermande--the tale runs near a score! Lately my brother has purchased
+the Hôtel Mazarin, and the property at Rue Vivienne, paying for them one
+million two hundred thousand livres. He has other city properties,
+houses in Paris, estates here and there, running not into the hundreds
+of thousands, but into the millions of livres in actual value. Among
+these are some of the estates of the greatest nobles of France. Their
+value is more than any man can compute. Is this not something? Moreover,
+there goes with it all the dignity of the most stupendous personal
+success ever made by a single man since the world began. 'Tis all yours,
+Lady Catharine. And unless you share it, it has no value to my brother.
+I know myself that he will fling it all away, calling it worthless,
+since he can not have that greatest fortune which he craves!"
+
+"Sirrah, I have entertained much speech of both yourself and your
+brother, because I would not seem ungracious nor forgetful. Yet this
+paying of court by means of figures, by virtue of lists of estates--do
+you not know how ineffectual this must seem?"
+
+"If you could but understand!" cried Will. "If you could but believe
+that there is none on earth values these less than my brother. Under
+all this he has yet greater dreams. His ambition is to awaken an old
+world and to build a new one. By heaven! Lady Catharine, I am asked to
+speak for my brother, and so I shall! These are his ambitions. First of
+all, Lady Catharine, you. Second, America. Third, a people for
+America--a people who may hope! Oh, I admit all the folly of his life.
+He played deep, yet 'twas but to forget you. He drank, but 'twas to
+forget you. Foolish he was, as are all men. Now he succeeds, and finds
+he can not forget you. I have told you his ambitions, Madam, and though
+others may never know nor acknowledge them, you, at least, must do so.
+And I beg you to remember, Madam, that of all his ambitions, 'twas you,
+Lady Catharine, your favor, your kindness, your mercy, that made his
+first and chief desire."
+
+"As for that," said the woman, somewhat scornfully, "if you please, I
+had rather I received my protestations direct; and your brother knows I
+forbid him further protestations. He has, it is true, raised some
+considerable noise by way of enterprises. That I might know, even did I
+not see this horde of dukes and duchesses and princes of the blood,
+clamoring for the recognition of even his remotest friends. I know,
+too, that he is accepted as a hero by the people."
+
+"And well he may be. Coachmen and valets have liveries of their own
+these days. Servants now eat from plate, and clerks have their own
+coaches. Paris is packed with people, and, look you, they are people no
+longer clamoring for bread. Who has done this? Why, my brother, John Law
+of Lauriston, Lady Catharine, who loves you, and loves you dearly."
+
+The old wrinkle of perplexity gathered between the brows of the woman
+before him. Her face was clouded, the changeful eyes now deep covered by
+their lids.
+
+Lacking the precise word for that crucial moment, Will Law broke further
+on into material details. "To be explicit, as I have said," resumed he,
+"everything seems to center about my brother, the director-general of
+finance. He took the old notes of the government, worth not half their
+face, and in a week made them treble their face value. The king owes him
+over one hundred million livres to-day. My brother has taken over the
+farming of the royal taxes. And now he forms a little Company of the
+Indies; and to this he adds the charter of the Senegal Company. Not
+content, he adds the entire trade of the Indies, of China and the South
+Seas. He has been given the privilege of the royal farming of tobacco,
+for which he pays the king the little trifle of two hundred million
+livres, and assures to the king certain interest moneys, which, I need
+not say, the king will actually obtain. In addition to these things, he
+has lately been given the mint of France. The whole coinage of the realm
+has been made over to this Company of the Indies. My brother pays the
+king fifty million livres for this privilege, and this he will do within
+fifteen months. All France is indeed in the hands of my brother. Now,
+call John Law an adventurer, a gambler, if you will, and if you can; but
+at least admit that he has given life and hope to the poor of France,
+that he has given back to the king a people which was despoiled and
+ruined by the former king. He has trebled the trade of France, he has
+saved her honor, and opened to her the avenues of a new world. Are these
+things nothing? They have all been done by my brother, this man whom you
+believe incapable of faith and constancy. Good God! It surely seems that
+he has at least been constant to himself!"
+
+"Oh, I hear talk of it all. I hear that a share in the new company
+promises dividends of two hundred livres. I hear talk of shares and
+'sub-shares,' called 'mothers,' and 'daughters,' and 'granddaughters,'
+and I know not what. It seems as though half the coin were divided into
+centimes, and as though each centime had been planted by your brother
+and had grown to be worth a thousand pounds. I admit somewhat of
+knowledge of these miracles."
+
+"True, Lady Catharine. Can there not be one miracle more?"
+
+Lady Catharine Knollys bent her face forward upon her hands, unhappiness
+in every gesture.
+
+"Sir," said she, "it grieves my heart to say it; yet this answer you
+must take to your brother, John Law. That miracle hath not yet been
+wrought which can give us back the past again."
+
+"This," said Will Law, sadly, "is this all the message I may take?"
+
+"It is all."
+
+"Though it is the last?"
+
+"It is the last."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+THE LITTLE SUPPER OF THE REGENT
+
+
+Paris, city of delights, Paris drunk with gold, mad with the delirium of
+excesses, Paris with no aim except joy, no method but extravagance, held
+within her gilded gates one citadel of sensuality which remained ever an
+object of mystery, a source of curiosity even in that dissipated and
+pleasure-sated city. In the Palais Royal, back of the regally beautiful
+gardens, back of the noble rows of trees, beyond the gates of iron and
+the guards in uniform, lived France's regent, in a city of libertines
+the prince of libertines. In a city where there were more mistresses
+than wives, he it was who led the list of the licentious. In a city of
+unregulated vice and yet of exquisitely ordered taste, he it was who
+accorded to himself daily pleasures which were admittedly beyond
+approach. How unspeakably unbridled, how delightfully wicked, how
+temptingly ingenious in their features the little suppers of the regent
+might be--these were matters of curious interest to all, of intimate
+knowledge to but few.
+
+It was to one of these famous yet mysterious gatherings that the regent
+of France had invited the master of that great and glittering bubble
+house, wherein dwelt so insecurely the affairs of France. John Law,
+director-general of the finances, controller of the Company of the
+Indies, was chosen by Philippe of Orléans for a position not granted to
+the crafty Dubois or to the shrewd D'Argenson, the last of that strange
+trinity who made his council. John Law, gallant, graceful, owner of a
+reputation as wit and beau scarce behind that of his sudden fame as
+financier, was admitted not only to the business affairs of the gay
+duke, but to his pleasures as well. To him and his brother Will, still
+associated in large measure in the stupendous operations of the
+director-general, there came the invitation of the regent, practically
+the command of the king, to join the regent after the opera for a little
+supper at the Palais Royal.
+
+Law would have excused himself from this unsought honor. "Your Grace
+will observe," said he, "that my time is occupied to the full. The
+people scarcely suffer me to rest at night. Perhaps your Grace might not
+care for company so dull as mine."
+
+"Fie! my friend, my very good friend," replied Philippe. "Have you
+become _dévot_? Whence this sudden change? Consider; 'tis no hardship to
+meet such ladies as Madame de Sabran, or Madame de Prie--designer
+though I fear De Prie is for the domestic felicity of the youthful
+king--nor indeed my good friend, La Parabère, somewhat pale and pensive
+though she groweth. And what shall I say for Madame de Tencin, the
+_spirituelle_, who is to be with us; or Madame de Caylus, niece of
+Maintenon, but the very opposite of Maintenon in every possible way?
+Moreover, we are promised the attendance of Mademoiselle Aïssé. She hath
+become devout of late, and thinks it a sin even to powder her hair, but
+Aïssé devout is none the less Aïssé the beautiful."
+
+"Surely your Grace hath never lacked in excellent taste, and that is the
+talk of Paris," replied Law.
+
+"Oh, well, long training bringeth perfection in due time," replied
+Philippe of Orléans, composedly, it having no ill effect with him to
+call attention to his numerous intrigues. "It should hardly be called a
+poor privilege, after all, to witness the results of that highly
+cultivated taste, as it shall be displayed this evening, not to mention
+the privilege you will have of meeting one or two other gentlemen; and
+lastly, of course, myself, if you be not tired of such company."
+
+"Your Grace," replied Law, "you both honor and flatter me."
+
+"Why, sir, you speak as if this were a new experience for you. Now, in
+the days--"
+
+"'Tis true; but of late years I have grown grave in the cares of state,
+as your Grace may know."
+
+"And most efficiently," replied the regent. "But stay! I have kept until
+the last my main attraction. You shall witness there, I give you my
+word, the making public of the secret of the fair unknown who is reputed
+to have been especially kind to Philippe of Orléans for these some
+months past. Join us at the little enterprise, my friend, and you shall
+see, I promise you, the most beautiful woman in Paris, crowned with the
+greatest gem of all the world. The regent's diamond, that great gem
+which you have made possible for France, shall, for the first time, and
+for one evening at least, adorn the forehead of the regent's queen of
+beauty!"
+
+As the gay words of the regent fell upon his ears, there came into Law's
+heart a curious tension, a presentiment, a feeling as though some great
+and curious thing were about to happen. Yet ever the challenge of danger
+was one to draw him forward, not to hold him back. If for a moment he
+had hesitated, his mind was now suddenly resolved.
+
+"Your Grace," said he, "your wish is for me command, and certainly in
+this instance is peculiarly agreeable."
+
+"As I thought," replied the regent. "Had you hesitated, I should have
+called your attention to the fact that the table of the Palais Royal is
+considered to possess somewhat of character. The Vicomte de Béchamel is
+at the very zenith of his genius, and he daily produces dishes such as
+all Paris has not ever dreamed. Moreover, we have been fortunate in some
+recent additions of most excellent _vin d'Ai_. I make no doubt, upon the
+whole, we shall find somewhat with which to occupy ourselves."
+
+Thus it came about that, upon that evening, there gathered at the
+entrance of the Palais Royal, after an evening with Lecouvreur at the
+Théâtre Français, some scattered groups of persons evidently possessing
+consequence. The chairs of others, from more distant locations,
+threading their way through the narrow, dark and unlighted streets of
+the old, crude capital of France, brought their passengers in time to a
+scene far different from that of the gloomy streets.
+
+The little supper of the regent, arranged in the private _salle_, whose
+decorations had been devised for the special purpose, was more
+entrancing than even the glitter of the mimic world of the Théâtre
+Français. There extended down the center of the room, though filling but
+a small portion of its vast extent, the grand table provided for the
+banquet, a reach of snowy linen, broken at the upper end by the arm of
+an abbreviated cross. At each end of this cross-arm stood magnificent
+candelabra, repeated at intervals along the greater extension of the
+board. Noble epergnes, filled with the choicest plants, found their
+reflections in plates of glass cunningly inlaid here and there upon the
+surface of the table. Vast mirrors, framed in wreaths of roses and
+surmounted by little laughing cupids, gleamed in the walls of the room,
+and in the faces of these mirrors were reflected the beams of the
+many-colored tapers, carried in brackets of engraved gold and silver and
+many-colored glasses. The ceiling of the room was a soft mass of silken
+draperies, depending edgewise from above, thousands of yards of the most
+expensive fabrics of the world. From these, as they were gently swayed
+by the breath of invisible fans, there floated delicious, languorous
+perfumes, intoxicating to the senses. On any hand within the great room,
+removed at some distance from the table, were rich, luxurious couches
+and divans.
+
+As one trod within the door of this temple of the senses, surely it must
+have seemed to him that he had come into another world, which at first
+glance might have appeared to be one of an unrighteous ease, an
+unprincipled enjoyment and an unmanly abandonment to embowered vice.
+Yet here it was that Philippe of Orléans, ruler of France, spent those
+hours most dear to him. If he gave thought to affairs of state during
+the day it was but that these affairs of state might give to him the
+means to indulge fancies of his own. Alike shrewd and easy, alike
+haughty and sensuous, here it was that Philippe held his real court.
+
+These young gentlemen of France, these _roués_ who have come to meet
+Philippe at his little supper--how different from the same beings under
+the rule of the Grand Monarque. Their coats are no longer dark in hue.
+Their silks and velvets have blossomed out, even as Paris has blossomed
+since the death of Louis the Grand. Jabots of lace are shown in full
+abundance, and so far from the abolishment of jewels from their garb,
+rubies, sapphires, diamonds sparkle everywhere, from the clasp of the
+high ruffles of the neck to the buckles of the red-heeled shoes. Powder
+sparkles on the head coverings of these new gallants of France. They
+step daintily, yet not ungracefully, into this brilliantly-lighted room,
+these creatures, gracious and resplendent, sparkling, painted,
+ephemeral, not unsuited to the place and hour.
+
+For the ladies, witness the attire, for instance, of that Madame de
+Tencin, the wonder of the wits of Paris. A full blue costume, with
+pannier more than five yards in circumference, under a skirt of silver
+gauze, trimmed with golden gauze and pink crape, and a train lying six
+yards upon the floor, showing silver embroideries with white roses. The
+sleeves are half-draped, as is the skirt, and each caught up with
+diamonds, showing folds lying above and below the silk underneath.
+Madame wears a necklace of rubies and of diamonds, and above the pannier
+a belt of diamonds and rubies. Her hair is dressed, following the mental
+habit of madame, in the Greek style, and abundantly trimmed with roses
+and gems and bits of silver gauze. There is a little crown upon the top
+of madame's coiffure. Her bodice, cut sufficiently low, is seen to be of
+light silken weave. From her hair depends a veil of light gauze covered
+with gold spangles, and it is secured upon the left side by a hand's
+grasp of pink and white feathers, surmounted by a magnificent heron
+plume of long and silken whiteness. The gloves of madame are white silk,
+and so also, as she is not reluctant to advise, are her stockings,
+picked out with pink and silver clocks. Her shoes, made by the
+celebrated _cordonnier_, Raveneau, show heels three inches in height. As
+madame enters she casts aside the camlet coat which has covered her
+costume. She sweeps back the veil, endangering its confining clasp of
+plumes. Madame makes a deliberate and open inspection of her face in her
+little looking-glass to discover whether her _mouches_ are well placed.
+She carefully arranges the patch upon the middle of her cheek. She would
+be "gallant" to-night, would lay aside things _spirituelle_. She twirls
+carelessly her fan, a creation of ivory and mother of pearl, elaborately
+carved, tipped with gold and silver and set with precious stones.
+
+Close at the elbow of Madame de Tencin steps a figure of different type,
+a woman not accustomed to please by brilliance of mind or vivacity of
+speech, but by sheer femininity of face and form. Tall, slender, yet
+with figure divinely proportioned, this beautiful girl, Haideé, or
+Mademoiselle Aïssé, reputed to be of Turkish or Circassian birth, and
+possessed of a history as strange as her own personality is attractive,
+would seem certainly as pure as angel of the skies. Not so would say the
+gossips of Paris, who whisper that mademoiselle is not happy from her
+_chevalier_--who speak of a certain visit to England, and a little child
+born across seas and not acknowledged by its parent. Aïssé, the devout,
+the beautiful, is no better than others of her sex in this gay city.
+True, she has abandoned all artificial aids to the complexion and
+appears distinct among her flattering rivals, the clear olive of her
+skin showing in strange contrast to the heightened colors of her
+sisters. Yet Aïssé, the toast of Europe and the text of poets, proves
+herself not behind the others in the loose gaiety of this occasion.
+
+And there came others: Madame de Prie, later to hold such intimate
+relations with the fortunes of France in the selection of a future queen
+for the boy king; De Sabran, plain, gracious and good-natured; Parabère,
+of delicately oval face, of tiny mouth, of thin high nose and large
+expressive eyes, her soft hair twined with a deep flushed rose, and over
+her corsage drooping a continuous garland of magnificent flowers. Also
+Caylus the wit, Caylus the friend of Peter the Great, by duty and by
+devotion a _religieuse_, but by thought and training a gay woman of the
+world--all these butterflies of the bubble house of Paris came swimming
+in as by right upon this exotic air.
+
+And all of these, as they advanced into the room, paused as they met,
+coming from the head of the apartment, the imposing figure of their
+host. Philippe of Orléans, his powdered wig drawn closely into a
+half-bag at the nape of the neck, his full eye shining with merriment
+and good nature, his soft, yet not unmanly figure appearing to good
+advantage in his well-chosen garments, advances with a certain dignity
+to meet his guests. He is garbed in a coat made of watered silk, its
+straight collar faced with dark-green material edged with gold. A green
+and gold shoulder knot sets off the garment, which is provided with
+large opal buttons set in brilliants, this same adornment appearing on
+the hilt of his sword, which he lays aside as he approaches. From the
+sides of his wig depend two carefully-arranged locks, dusted with a
+tan-colored powder. His small-clothes, of lighter hue than the coat,
+display fitly the proportions of his lower limbs. The high-heeled shoes
+blaze with the glare of reflected lights as the diamonds change their
+angles during the calm advance down the room.
+
+"Welcome, my very dear ladies," exclaimed Philippe, advancing to the
+head of the board and at once setting all at ease, if any there needed
+such encouragement, by the grace and good feeling of his air. "You do me
+much honor, ladies. If I be not careful, the fair Adrienne will become
+jealous, since I fear you have deserted the pomp of the play full early
+for the table of Philippe. Ladies, as you know, I am your devoted slave.
+Myself and the Vicomte de Béchamel have labored, seriously labored, for
+your welfare this day. I promise you something of the results of those
+painstaking efforts, which we both hope will not disappoint you.
+Meantime, that the moments may not lag, let me recommend, if I am
+allowed, this new vintage of Ai, which Béchamel advises me we have
+never yet surpassed in all our efforts. Madame de Tencin, let me beg of
+you to be seated close to my arm. Not upon this side, Mademoiselle
+Haidée, if you please, for I have been wheedled into promising that
+station this night to another. Who is it to be, my dear Caylus? Ah, that
+is my secret! Presently we shall see. Have I not promised you an
+occasion this evening? And did Philippe ever fail in his endeavors to
+please? At least, did he ever cease to strive to please his angels? Now,
+my children, accept the blessing of your father Philippe, your friend,
+who, though years may multiply upon him, retains in his heart, none the
+less, for each and all of you, those sentiments of passion and of
+admiration which constitute for him his dearest memories! Ladies, I pray
+you be seated. I pray you tarry not too long before proving the judgment
+of Béchamel in regard to this new vintage of Ai."
+
+"Ah, your Grace," exclaimed De Tencin, "were it not Philippe of Orléans,
+we women might not be apt to sit in peace together. Yet, as we have
+earlier proved your hospitality, we may perhaps not scruple to
+continue."
+
+Philippe smiled blandly. The remark was not ill-fitted to the actual
+case. Though the regent counted his sweethearts by scores, he dismissed
+the one with the same air of interest as he welcomed the other, and
+indeed ended by retaining all as his friends.
+
+"Madame de Tencin, in admiration there can be no degrees," said he. "In
+love there can be no rank."
+
+"Why, then, do you place as your chief guest this other, this unknown?"
+pouted Mademoiselle Aïssé, as she seated herself, turning upon her host
+the radiance of her large, dark eyes. "Is this stranger, then, so
+passing fair?"
+
+"Not so fair as you, my lovely Haidée, that I may swear, and safely,
+since she is not yet present. Yet I announce to you that she is _très
+intéressante_, my unknown queen of beauty, my _belle sauvage_ from
+America. But see! Here she comes. 'Tis time for her to appear, and not
+keep our guests in waiting."
+
+There sounded at the back of the great hall the tinkle of a little bell
+of some soft metal. It approached, and with it the sweeping stir of
+heavy silken garb. The door opened, admitting a still greater blaze of
+light, and there swept into the hall, as though swimming upon the flood
+of this added brilliance, a figure striking enough to arouse attention
+even at that time and place, even among the beauties of the court of
+France. There advanced, calm and stately, with the gliding ease of a
+perfect carriage, the figure of a woman, slender, with full bright eyes
+and somber hair--so much might be seen at a glance. Yet the newcomer
+left somewhat of query in the mind of womankind accustomed to view in
+detail any costume.
+
+The stranger was enveloped in a wide and undefining garment, a sweeping
+robe fit for any duchess of the realm, whose flowing folds showed a
+magnificent tissue of silver embroidery covered with golden flowers,
+below the plum-color and green. The high corsage of the white robe
+covered the bosom fully, and was caught at the throat with a bunch of
+blazing jewels. Under these soft draperies, tinkling in time with the
+movements of an otherwise noiseless tread, there sounded ever the faint
+note of the little bell. At the toe of shoes otherwise silent, there
+peeped in and out the flash of diamonds, and in the dark masses of her
+hair, shifting as she trod beneath each new sconce in turn, and catching
+more and more brilliance as she advanced, there smoldered the flame of a
+mass of scintillating gems. A queen's raiment was that of this unknown
+beauty, and she herself might have been a queen as she swept down the
+great hall, scornfully careless of the eyes of those other beauties.
+
+She stepped to the place at the regent's right hand, with head high and
+eyes undrooping. For a dramatic instant she paused, as though in the
+rehearsal of a part--a part of which it might be said that the regent
+was not alone the author. This triumph of woman over other women, this
+triumph of vice over other vice, of effrontery over effrontery
+akin--this could not have been so planned and executed by any but a
+woman. One another these beauties might tolerate, knowing one another's
+frailties as they did; yet the elegance, the disdain, the indifference
+of this newcomer--this they could not support. Hatred sat in the bosom
+of each woman there as she swept her courtesy to the new guest of the
+regent, who took her place as of right at the head of the board and near
+the regent's arm.
+
+"Our gentlemen are somewhat late this evening," exclaimed Philippe.
+"'Tis too bad the Abbé Dubois could not be with us to-night to
+administer clerical consolation."
+
+"Ah! _le drôle_ Dubois!" exclaimed Madame de Tencin.
+
+"And that vagabond, the Due de Richelieu--but we may not wait. Again
+ladies, the glasses, or Béchamel will be aggrieved. And finally, though
+I perceive most of you have graciously unmasked, let me say that the
+moment has now arrived when we make plain all secrets."
+
+He turned his gaze upon the woman at his right. As though at a signal,
+she half rose, unclasped the circlet of gems at her throat, and swept
+back across the arm of her chair the soft garment which enveloped her.
+
+A sigh, a long breath of amazement broke from those other dames of
+Paris. Not one of them but was sated with the blaze of diamonds, the
+rich, red light of rubies and the fathomless radiance of sapphires.
+Silks and satins and cloth of gold and silver had few novelties for
+them. The costumers of Paris, center of the world of art, even in those
+times of unrivaled extravagance and unbridled self-gratification, held
+no new surprise for these beauties, possessed so long of all that their
+imagination required or that princely liberality could supply. Yet here
+indeed was a surprise.
+
+As she stood at the regent's right, calmly and composedly looking down
+the long board as she arranged her drapery before reseating herself,
+this new favorite of the regent appeared in the full costume of the
+American native! A long soft tunic of exquisitely dressed white leather
+fell below her hips, intricately embroidered in the native bead work of
+America, and stained with great blotches of colors done in the quills of
+the porcupine--heavy reds, sprightly yellows, and deep blues. Down the
+seams of this loose-fitting tunic depended little waving fringes. The
+belt which caught it at the waist was wrought likewise in beads. Beneath
+the level of the table, as she stood, the inquiring eyes might not so
+clearly see; yet the white leggings, fringed and beaded, and covered by
+a sweeping blanket of snowy buckskin, might have been seen to finish at
+the ankle and blend in texture and ornamentation with tiny shoes, which
+covered the smallest foot yet seen in Paris--shoes at the side of which
+there dangled the little bells of metal whose tones had told her coming.
+
+Here and there upon the bead work of the native artist, who had made
+this attire at the expense of so much patient effort, there blazed the
+changing rays of real gems, diamonds, rubies, emeralds--every stone
+known as precious. As the full bosom of the scornful beauty rose and
+fell there were cast about in sprays of light the reflections of these
+gems. Bracelets of dull, beaten metal hung about her wrists. In her hair
+were ornaments of some dull blue stone. Barbaric, beautiful,
+fascinating, savage she surely seemed as she met unruffled the startled
+gaze of these beautiful women of the court, who never, at even the most
+fanciful _bal masque_ in all Paris, had seen costume like to this.
+
+"Ladies, _la voilà_!" spoke the regent. "_Ma belle sauvage_!"
+
+The newcomer swept a careless courtesy as she took her seat. As yet she
+had spoken no word. The door at the lower end of the hall opened.
+
+"His Grace le Duc de Richelieu," announced the attendant, who stood
+beneath the board.
+
+There advanced into the room, with slouchy, ill-bred carriage, a young
+man whose sole reputation was that of being the greatest rake in Paris,
+the Duc de Richelieu, half-gamin, half-nobleman, who counted more
+victims among titled ladies than he had fingers on his hands, whose sole
+concern of living was to plan some new impassioned avowal, some new and
+pitiless abandonment. This creature, meeting the salute of the regent,
+and catching at the same moment a view of the regent's guest, found eyes
+for nothing else, and stood boldly gazing at the face of her whom Paris
+knew for the first time and under no more definite title than that of
+"_Belle Sauvage_."
+
+"Pray you, be seated, Monsieur le Duc," said the regent, calmly, and the
+latter was wise enough to comply.
+
+"Your Grace," said Madame de Sabran, "was it not understood that we were
+to meet to-night none less than the wizard, Monsieur L'as?"
+
+"Monsieur L'as will be with us, and his brother," replied Philippe.
+"But now I ask you to bear witness to the shrewdness of your friend
+Philippe in entertainment. I bethought me that, as we were to have with
+us the master of the Messasebe, it were well to have with us also the
+typified genius of that same Messasebe. 'Twas but a little conceit of my
+own. And why--_mon enfant_, what is it to you? What do you know of our
+controller of finance?"
+
+The face of the woman at his right had suddenly gone white with a pallor
+visible even beneath its rouge and patches. She half turned, as though
+to push back her chair from the board, would have arisen, would have
+spoken perhaps; yet act and gesture were at the time unnoticed.
+
+"His Excellency, Monsieur Jean L'as, _le contrôleur-général_," came the
+soft tones of the attendant near the door. "Monsieur Guillaume L'as,
+brother of the _contrôleur-général_."
+
+The eyes of all were turned toward the door. Every petted belle of
+Paris there assembled shifted bodily in her seat, turning her gaze upon
+that man whose reputation was the talk of all the realm of France.
+
+There appeared now the tall, erect and vigorous form of a man owning a
+superb physical beauty. Powerful, yet not too heavy for ease, his figure
+retained that elasticity and grace which had won him favor in more than
+one court of Europe. He himself might have been king as he advanced
+steadily up the brilliantly-illuminated room. His costume, simply made,
+yet of the richest materials of the time; his wig, highly powdered
+though of modest proportions; his every item of apparel appeared alike
+of great simplicity and barren of pretentiousness. As much might be said
+for the garb of his brother, who stepped close behind him, a figure less
+self-contained than that of the man who now occupied the absorbed
+attention of the public mind, even as he now filled the eager eyes of
+those who turned to greet his entrance.
+
+"Ah, Monsieur L'as, Monsieur L'as!" exclaimed Philippe of Orléans,
+stepping forward to welcome him and taking the hand of Law in both his
+own. "You are welcome, you are very welcome indeed. The soup will be
+with us presently, and the wine of Ai is with us now. You and your
+brother are with us; so all at last is well. These ladies are, as I
+believe, all within your acquaintance. You have been present at the
+_salon_ of Madame de Tencin. You know her Grace the Duchesse de Falari,
+recently Madame d'Artague? Mademoiselle de Caylus you know very well,
+and of course also Mademoiselle Aïssé, _la belle Circassienne_--But
+what? _Diable_! Have you too gone mad? Come, is the sight of my guest
+too much for you also, Monsieur L'as?"
+
+There was irritation in the tone with which the regent uttered this
+protest, yet he continued.
+
+"Monsieur L'as, 'tis but a little surprise I had planned for you.
+Mademoiselle, my princess of the Messasebe, let me present Monsieur Jean
+L'as, king of the Messasebe, and hence your sovereign! This is my fair
+unknown, whose face I have promised you should see to-night--this,
+Monsieur L'as, is my princess, the one whom I have seen fit to honor
+this evening by the wearing of the chief gem of France."
+
+The regent fumbled for an instant at his fob. He stepped to the side of
+the faltering figure which stood arrayed in all its savage finery. One
+movement, and upon the dark locks which fell about her brow there blazed
+the unspeakable fires of a stone whose magnificence brought forth
+exclamations of awe from every person present.
+
+"See!" cried Philippe of Orléans. "'Twas on the advice and by the aid of
+Monsieur L'as that I secured the gem, whose like is not known in all the
+world. 'Tis chief of the crown jewels of the realm of France, this
+stone, now to be known as the regent's diamond. And now, as regent of
+France and master for a day of her jewels, I place this gem upon the
+brow of her who for this night is to be your queen of beauty!"
+
+The wine of Ai had already done part of its work. There were brightened
+eyes, easy gestures and ready compliance as the guests arose to quaff
+the toast to this new queen.
+
+As for the queen herself, she stood faltering, her eyes averted, her
+limbs trembling. John Law, tall, calm, self-possessed, did not take his
+seat, but stood with set, fixed face, gazing at the woman who held the
+place of honor at the table of the regent.
+
+"Come! Come!" cried the latter, testily, his wine working in his brain.
+"Why stand you there, Monsieur L'as, gazing as though spellbound?
+Salute, sir, as I do, the chief gem of France, and her who is most fit
+to wear it!"
+
+John Law stood, as though he had not heard him speak. There swept
+through the softly brilliant air, over the flash and glitter of the
+great banquet board, across the little group which stood about it, a
+sudden sense of a strange, tense, unfamiliar situation. There came to
+all a presentiment of some unusual thing about to happen. Instinctively
+the hands paused, even as they raised the bright and brimming glasses.
+The eyes of all turned from one to the other, from the stern-faced man
+to the woman decked in barbaric finery, who now stood trembling,
+drooping, at the head of the table.
+
+Law for a moment removed his gaze from the face of the regent's guest.
+He flicked lightly at the deep cuff of lace which hung about his hands.
+"Your Grace is not far wrong," said he. "I regret that you do not have
+your way in planning for me a surprise. Yet I must say to you, that I
+have already met this lady."
+
+"What?" cried the regent. "You have met her? Impossible! Incredible!
+How, Monsieur L'as? We will admit you wizard enough, and owner of the
+philosopher's stone--owner of anything you like, except this secret of
+mine own. According to mademoiselle's own words, it would have been
+impossible."
+
+"None the less, what I have said is true," said John Law, calmly, his
+voice even and well-modulated, vibrating a little, yet showing no trace
+of anger nor of emotional uncontrol.
+
+"But I tell you it could not be!" again exclaimed the regent.
+
+"No, it is impossible," broke in the young Duc de Richelieu. "I would
+swear that had such beauty ever set foot in Paris before now, the news
+would so have spread that all France had been at her feet."
+
+Law looked at the impudent youth with a gaze that seemed to pass
+through him, seeing him not. Then suddenly this scene and its
+significance, its ultimate meaning seemed to take instant hold upon him.
+He could feel rising within his soul a flood of irresistible emotions.
+All at once his anger, heritage of an impetuous youth, blazed up hot and
+furious. He trod a step farther forward, after his fashion advancing
+close to that which threatened him.
+
+"This lady, your Grace," said he, "has been known to me for years. Mary
+Connynge, what do you masquerading here?"
+
+A sudden silence fell, a silence broken at length by the voice of the
+regent himself.
+
+"Surely, Monsieur L'as," said Philippe, "surely we must accept your
+statements. But Monsieur must remember that this is the table of the
+regent, that these are the friends of the regent. We bring no
+recollections here which shall cut short the joy of any person. Sir, I
+would not reprimand you, but I must beg that you be seated and be calm!"
+
+Yet the imperious nature of the other brooked not even so pointed a
+rebuke. As though he had not heard, Law stepped yet a pace nearer to the
+woman, upon whom he now bent the blaze of his angered eyes. He looked
+neither to right nor left, but visually commanded the woman until in
+turn her eyes sought his own.
+
+"This woman, your Grace," said Law, at length, "was for some time in
+effect my wife. This I do not offer as matter of interest. What I would
+say to your Grace is this--she was also my slave!"
+
+"Sirrah!" cried the regent.
+
+"Ah, Dame!" exclaimed the Duc de Richelieu. And even from the women
+about there came little murmurs of expostulation. Indeed there might
+have been pity, even in this assemblage, for the agony now visible upon
+the brow of Mary Connynge.
+
+"Monsieur, the wine has turned your head," said the regent scornfully.
+"You boast!"
+
+"I boast of nothing," cried Law, savagely, his voice now ringing with a
+tone none present had ever known it to assume. "I say to you again, this
+woman was my slave, and that she will again do as I shall choose. Your
+Grace, she would come and wipe the dust from my shoes if I should
+command it! She would kneel at my feet, and beg of me, if I should
+command it! Shall I prove this, your Grace?"
+
+"Oh, assuredly!" replied the regent, with a sarcasm which now seemed his
+only relief. "Assuredly, if Monsieur L'as should please. We here in
+Paris are quite his humble servants."
+
+Law said nothing. He stood with his biting blue eyes still fixed upon
+Mary Connynge, whose own eyes faltered, trying their utmost to escape
+from his; whose fingers, resting just lightly on the snowy Hollands of
+the table cloth, moved tremulously; whose limbs appeared ready to sink
+beneath her.
+
+"Come, then, Mary Connynge!" cried Law at last, his teeth setting
+savagely together. "Come, then, traitress and slave, and kneel before
+me, as you did once before!"
+
+Then there ensued a strange and horrible spectacle. A hush as of death
+fell upon the group. Mary Connynge, trembling, halting, yet always
+advancing, did indeed as her master had bidden! She passed from the head
+of the table, back of the chair of the regent, who stood gazing with
+horror in his eyes; she passed the chair of Aïssé, near which Law now
+stood; she paused in front of him, and stood as though in a dream. Her
+knees would have indeed sunk beneath her. She drew from her bosom a
+silken kerchief, as though she would indeed have performed the ignoble
+service which had been threatened for her. There came neither voice nor
+motion to those who saw this thing. The sheer force of one strong
+nature, terrible in the intensity of one supreme moment--this might have
+been the spell which commanded at the table of the regent. Yet this did
+occur.
+
+There came a sound which broke the silence, which caused all to start as
+with swift relief. A sob, short, dry, hard, as from one whose heart is
+broken, came from beyond the place where Law stood facing the trembling
+woman. The eyes of all turned upon Will Law, from whom had burst this
+irrepressible exclamation of agony. Will Law, as one grown swiftly old,
+haggard, broken-down, stood gazing in wide-eyed horror at this woman, so
+humiliated in the presence of all in this brilliantly-lighted hall;
+before the blazing mirrors which should have reflected back naught but
+beauty and joy; under the twining roses, which should have been the
+signs manual of undying love; under the smiling cherubs, which should
+have typified the deities of happy love. Will Law, too, had loved.
+Perhaps still he loved.
+
+This sharp sound served to break also the spell under which Law himself
+seemed held. He cast aloft his arms, as in remorse or in despair. Then
+he extended a hand to the woman who would have sunk before him.
+
+"God forgive me! Madam," he cried. "I had forgot. Savage indeed you are
+and have been, but 'tis not for me to treat you brutally."
+
+"Your Grace," said he, turning toward the regent, "I crave your
+pardon. Our explanations shall reach you on the morrow."
+
+[Illustration]
+
+He turned, and taking his brother by the arm, advanced toward the door
+at which he had recently entered, pausing not to look behind him. Had
+his eye been more curious as he and his half-fainting brother bowed
+before passing through the door, it might have seen that which he must
+long have borne in memory.
+
+Mary Connynge, trembling, pallid, utterly broken, never found her way
+back to the right hand of the regent. She half stumbled into a chair
+near the foot of the table. Her bosom fluttered at the base of the
+throat. Half blindly she reached out her hand toward a glass of wine
+which stood near by, foaming and sparkling, its gem-like drops of keen
+pungency swimming continuously up to the surface. Her hand caught at the
+slender stem of the glass. Leaning upon her left arm, she half rose as
+though to put it to her lips. Her head moved, as though she would follow
+the retreating figure of the man who had thus scornfully used her. All
+at once, slowly, and then with a sudden crash, she sank down upon her
+seat and fell forward across the table. The fragile glass snapped in her
+fingers. The amber wine rushed in swift flood across the linen. In the
+broadening stain there fell and lay blazing the great gem of France.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+THE NEWS
+
+
+"Lady Kitty! Lady Kitty! Have you heard the news?"
+
+Thus, breathless, the Countess of Warrington, Lady Catharine's English
+neighbor in exile, who burst into the drawing-room early in the morning,
+not waiting for announcement of her presence.
+
+"Nay, not yet, my dear," said Lady Catharine, advancing and embracing
+her. "What is it, pray? Has the poodle swallowed a bone, or the baby
+perhaps cut another tooth? And, forsooth, how is the little one?"
+
+Lady Emily Warrington, slender, elegant, well clad, and for the most
+part languorously calm, was in a state of excitement quite without her
+customary _aplomb_. She sank into a seat, fanning herself with a vigor
+which threatened ruin to the precious slats of a fan which bore the
+handiwork of Watteau.
+
+"The streets are full of it," said she. "Have you not heard, really?"
+
+"I must say, not yet. But what is it?"
+
+"Why, the quarrel between the regent and his director-general, Mr.
+Law."
+
+"No, I have not heard of it." Lady Catharine sought refuge behind her
+own fan. "But tell me" she continued.
+
+"But that is not all. 'Twas the reason for the quarrel. Paris is all
+agog. 'Twas about a woman!"
+
+"You mean--there was--a woman?"
+
+"Yes, it all happened last night, at the Palais Royal. The woman is
+dead--died last night. 'Tis said she fell in a fit at the very
+table--'twas at a little supper given by the regent--and that when they
+came to her she was quite dead."
+
+"But Mr. Law--"
+
+"'Twas he that killed her!"
+
+"Good God! What mean you?" cried Lady Catharine, her own face blanching
+behind her protecting fan. The blood swept back upon her heart, leaving
+her cold as a statue.
+
+"Why," continued the caller, in her own excitement to tell the news
+scarce noting what went on before her, "it seems that this mysterious
+beauty of the regent's, of whom there has been so much talk, proved to
+be none other than a former mistress of this same Mr. Law, who is
+reputed to have been somewhat given to that sort of thing, though of
+late monstrous virtuous, for some cause or other. Mr. Law came suddenly
+upon her at the table of the regent, arrayed in some kind of savage
+finery--for 'twas in fashion a mask that evening, as you must know. And
+what doth my director-general do, so high and mighty? Why, in spite of
+the regent and in spite of all those present, he upbraids her, taunts
+her, reviles her, demanding that she fall on her knees before him, as it
+seems indeed she would have done--as, forsooth, half the dames of Paris
+would do to-day! Then, all of a sudden, my Lord Director changes, and he
+craves pardon of the woman and of the regent, and so stalks off and
+leaves the room! And now then the poor creature walks to the table,
+would lift a glass of wine, and so--'tis over! 'Twas like a play! Indeed
+all Paris is like a play nowadays. Of course you know the rest."
+
+A gesture of negative came from the hand that lay in Lady Catharine's
+lap. The busy gossip went on.
+
+"The regent, be sure, was angry enough at this cheapening of his own
+wares before all, and perhaps 'tis true he had a fancy for the woman. At
+any rate, 'tis said that this very morning he quarreled hotly with Mr.
+Law. The latter gave back words hot as he received, and so they had it
+violent enough. 'Tis stated on the Quinquempoix that another must take
+Mr. Law's place. But if Mr. Law goes, what will become of the System?
+And what would the System be without Mr. Law? And what would Paris be
+without the System? Why, listen, Lady Catharine! I gained fifty thousand
+livres yesterday, and my coachman, the rascal, in some manner seems to
+have done quite as well for himself. I doubt not he will yet build a
+mansion of his own, and perhaps my husband may drive for him! These be
+strange days indeed. I only hope they may continue, in spite of what my
+husband says."
+
+"And what says he?" asked Lady Catharine, her own voice sounding to her
+unfamiliar and far away.
+
+"Why, that the city is mad, and that this soon must end--this
+Mississippi bubble, as my Lord Stair calls it at the embassy."
+
+"Yet I have heard all France is prosperous."
+
+"Oh, yes indeed. 'Tis said that but yesterday the kingdom paid four
+millions of its debt to Bavaria, three millions of its debt to
+Sweden--yet these are not the most pressing debts of France."
+
+"Meaning--"
+
+"Why, the debts of the regent to his friends--those are the important
+things. But the other day he gave eighty thousand livres to Madame
+Châteauthiers, as a little present. He gave two hundred thousand livres
+to the Abbé Something-or-other, who asked for it, and another thousand
+livres to that rat Dubois. The thief D'Argenson ever counsels him to
+give in abundance now that he hath abundance, and the regent is ready
+with a vengeance with his compliance. Saint Simon, that priggish duke,
+has had a million given him to repay a debt his father took on for the
+king a generation ago. To the captain of the guard the regent gives six
+hundred thousand livres, for carrying the fan of the regent's forgotten
+wife; to the Prince Courtenay, two hundred thousand, most like because
+the prince said he had need of it; a pension of two hundred thousand
+annually to the Marquise de Bellefonte, the second such sum, because
+perhaps she once made eyes at him; a pension of sixty thousand livres to
+a three-year-old relative to the Prince de Conti, because Conti cried
+for it; one hundred thousand livres to Mademoiselle Haidée, because she
+has a consumption; and as much more to the Duchesse de Falari, because
+she has not a consumption. Bah! The credit of France might indeed, as my
+husband says, be called leaking through the slats of fans."
+
+"But, look you!" she went on, "how Mr. Law feathers his own nest. He
+bought lately, for a half million livres, the house of the Comte de
+Tesse; and on the same day, as you know, the Hôtel Mazarin. There is no
+limit to his buying of estates. This, so says my husband, is the great
+proof of his honesty. He puts his money here in France, and does not
+send it over seas. He seems to have no doubt, and indeed no fear, of
+anything."
+
+Lady Warrington paused, half for want of breath. Silence fell in the
+great room. A big and busy fly, deep down in the crystal _cylindre_
+which sheltered a taper on a near-by table, buzzed out a droning
+protest. The face of Lady Catharine was averted.
+
+"You did not tell me, Lady Emily," said she, with woman's feigned
+indifference, "what was the name of this poor woman of the other
+evening."
+
+"Why, so I had forgot--and 'tis said that Mr. Law, after all, comported
+himself something of the gentleman. No one knows how far back the affair
+runs, nor how serious it was. And indeed I have seen no one who ever
+heard of the woman before."
+
+"And the name?"
+
+"'Twas said Mr. Law called her Mary Connynge."
+
+The big fly, deep down in the crystal cage, buzzed on audibly; and to
+one who heard it, the drone of the lazy wings seemed like the roars of a
+thousand tempests.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+MASTER AND MAN
+
+
+John Law, idle, preoccupied, sat gazing out at the busy scenes of the
+street before him. The room in which he found himself was one of a suite
+in that magnificent Hôtel de Soisson, bought but recently of the Prince
+de Carignan for the sum of one million four hundred thousand livres,
+which had of late been chosen as the temple of Fortuna. The great
+gardens of this distinguished site were now filled with hundreds of
+tents and kiosks, which offered quarters for the wild mob of speculators
+which surged and swirled and fought throughout the narrow avenues,
+contending for the privilege of buying the latest issue of the priceless
+shares of the Company of the Indies.
+
+The System was at its height. The bubble was blown to its last limit.
+The popular delirium had grown to its last possible degree.
+
+From the window these mad mobs of infuriated human beings might have
+seemed so many little ants, running about as though their home had been
+destroyed above their heads. They hastened as though fleeing from the
+breath of some devouring flame. Surely the point of flame was there, at
+that focus of Paris, this focus of all Europe; and thrice refined was
+the quality of this heat, burning out the hearts of those distracted
+ones.
+
+Yet it was a scene not altogether without its fascinations. Hither came
+titled beauties of Paris, peers of the realm, statesmen, high officials,
+princes of the blood; all these animated but by one purpose--to bid and
+outbid for these bits of paper, which for the moment meant wealth,
+luxury, ease, every imaginable desire. It seemed indeed that the world
+was mad. Tradesmen, artisans, laborers, peasants, jostled the princes
+and nobility, nor met reproof. Rank was forgotten. Democracy, for the
+first time on earth, had arrived. All were equal who held equal numbers
+of these shares. The mind of each was blank to all but one absorbing
+theme.
+
+Law looked over this familiar scene, indifferent, calm, almost moody,
+his cheek against his hand, his elbow on his chair. "What was the call,
+Henri," asked he, at length, of the old Swiss who had, during these
+stormy times, been so long his faithful attendant. "What was the last
+quotation that you heard?"
+
+"Your Honor, there are no quotations," replied the attendant. "'Tis
+only as one is able to buy. The _actions_ of the last issue, three
+hundred thousand in all, were swept away at a breath at fifteen thousand
+livres the share."
+
+"Ninety times what their face demands," said Law, impassively.
+
+"True, some ninety times," said the Swiss. "'Tis said that of this issue
+the regent has taken over one-third, or one hundred thousand, himself.
+'Tis this that makes the price of the other two-thirds run the higher,
+since 'tis all that the public has to buy."
+
+"Lucky regent," said Law, sententiously. "Plenty would seem to have been
+his fortune!"
+
+He grimly turned again to his study of the crowds which swarmed among
+the pavilions before his window. Outside his door he heard knockings and
+cries, and impatient footfalls, but neither he nor the impassive Swiss
+paid to these the least attention. It was to them an old experience.
+
+"Your Honor, the Prince de Conti is in the antechamber and would see
+you," at length ventured the attendant, after listening for some time
+with his ear at an aperture in the door.
+
+"Let the Prince de Conti wait," said Law, "and a plague take him for a
+grasping miser! He has gained enough. Time was when I waited at his
+door."
+
+"The Abbé Dubois--here is his message pushed beneath the door."
+
+"My dearest enemy," replied Law, calmly. "The old rat may seek another
+burrow."
+
+"The Duchesse de la Rochefoucauld."
+
+"Ah, then, she hath overcome her husband's righteousness of resolution,
+and would beg a share or so? Let her wait. I find these duchesses the
+most tiresome animals in the world."
+
+"The Madame de Tencin."
+
+"I can not see the Madame de Tencin."
+
+"A score of dukes and foreign princes. My faith! master, we have never
+had so large a line of guests as come this morning." The stolid
+impassiveness of the Swiss seemed on the point of giving way.
+
+"Let them wait," replied Law, evenly as before. "Not one of them would
+listen to me five years ago. Now I shall listen to them--shall listen to
+them knocking at my door, as I have knocked at theirs. To-day I am
+aweary, and not of mind to see any one. Let them wait."
+
+"But what shall I say? What shall I tell them, my master?"
+
+"Tell them nothing. Let them wait."
+
+Thus the crowd of notables packed into the anterooms waited at the
+door, fuming and execrating, yet not departing. They all awaited the
+magician, each with the same plea--some hope of favor, of advancement,
+or of gain.
+
+At last there arose yet a greater tumult in the hall which led to the
+door. A squad of guardsmen pushed through the packed ranks with the cry:
+"For the king!" The regent of France stood at the closed door of the man
+who was still the real ruler of France.
+
+"Open, open, in the name of the king!" cried one, as he beat loudly on
+the panels.
+
+Law turned languidly toward the attendant. "Henri," said he, "tell them
+to be more quiet."
+
+"My master, 'tis the regent!" expostulated the other, with somewhat of
+anxiety in his tones.
+
+"Let him wait," replied Law, coolly. "I have waited for him."
+
+"But, my master, they protest, they clamor--"
+
+"Very well. Let them do so--but stay. If it is indeed the regent, I may
+as well meet him now and say that which is in my mind. Open the door."
+
+The door swung open and there entered the form of Philippe of Orléans,
+preceded by his halberdiers and followed close by a rush of humanity
+which the guards and the Swiss together had much pains to force back
+into the anteroom.
+
+"How now, Monsieur L'as, how now?" fumed the regent, his heavy face
+glowing a dull red, his prominent eyes still more protruding, his
+forehead bent into a heavy frown. "You deny entrance to our person, who
+are next to the body of his Majesty?"
+
+"Did you have delay?" asked Law, sweetly. "'Twas unfortunate."
+
+"'Twas execrable!"
+
+"True. I myself find these crowds execrable."
+
+"Nay, execrable to suffer this annoyance of delay!"
+
+"Your Grace's pardon," said Law, coolly. "You should have made an
+appointment a few days in advance."
+
+"What! The regent of France need to arrange a day when he would see a
+servant!"
+
+"Your Grace is unfortunate in his choice of words," replied Law,
+blandly. "I am not your servant. I am your master."
+
+The regent sank back into a chair, gasping, his hand clutching at the
+hilt of his sword.
+
+"Seize him! Seize him! To the Bastille with him! The presumer! The
+impostor!"
+
+Yet even the guards hesitated before the commanding presence of that man
+whom all had been so long accustomed to obey. With hand upraised, Law
+gazed at them for one instant, and then gave them no further attention.
+
+"Yet these words I must hasten to qualify," resumed he. "True, I am at
+this moment your master, your Grace, but two minutes hence, and for all
+time thereafter, I shall no longer be your master. Your Grace was once
+so good as to make me head of certain financial matters, and to give me
+control of them. The fabric of this Messasebe, which you see without,
+was all my own. It was this which made me master of Paris, and of every
+man within the gates of Paris. So far, very well. My plans were honest,
+and the growth of France--nay, let us say the resurrection of
+France--the new life of France--shows how my own plans were made and how
+well I knew that which was to happen. I made you rich, your Grace. I
+gave you funds to pay off millions of your private debts, millions to
+gratify your fancies. I gave you more millions to pay the debts of
+France. France and her regent have again taken a position of honor in
+the eyes of the world. You may well call me master of your fate, who
+have been able to accomplish these things. So long as you knew your
+master, you did well. Now your Grace has seen fit to change masters. He
+would be his own master again. There can not be two in control of a
+concern like this. Sir, the two minutes have elapsed. I am your very
+humble servant!"
+
+The regent still sat staring from his chair, and speech was yet denied
+him.
+
+"There are your people. There is your France," said Law, beckoning as he
+turned toward the window and pointing to the crowd without. "There is
+your France. Now handle it, my master! Here are the reins! Now drive;
+but see that you be careful how you drive. Come, your Grace," said he,
+mockingly, over his shoulder. "Come, and see your France!"
+
+The audacity of John Law was a thing without parallel, as had been
+proved a hundred times in his strange life and in a hundred places. His
+sheer contemptuous daring brought Philippe of Orléans to his senses. He
+relaxed now in his purpose, changeable as was his wont, and advanced
+towards Law with hand outstretched.
+
+"There, there, Monsieur L'as, I did you wrong, perhaps," said he. "But
+as to these hasty words, pray reconsider them at once. 'Twill have a bad
+effect should a breath of this get afloat. Indeed, 'twas because of some
+such thing that I came to see you this morning. A most unspeakable, a
+most incredible thing hath occurred. It comes to me with certain
+confirmation that there have been shares sold upon the street at twelve
+thousand livres to the _action_, whereas, as you very well know,
+fifteen thousand should be the lowest price to-day."
+
+"And what of that, your Grace?" said Law, calmly. "Is it not what you
+planned? Is it not what you have been expecting?"
+
+"How, sirrah! What do you mean?"
+
+"Why, I mean this, your Grace," said Law, calmly, "that since you have
+taken the reins, it is you who must drive the chariot. I shall suggest
+no plans, shall offer no remedy. But, if you still lack ability to see
+how and why this thing has attained this situation, I will take so much
+trouble as to make it plain."
+
+"Go on, then, sir," said the regent. "Is not all well? Is there any
+danger?"
+
+"As to danger," said Law, "we can not call it a time of danger after the
+worst has happened."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"Why, that the worst has happened. But, as I was about to say, I shall
+tell you how it happened."
+
+The gaze of the regent fell. His hand trembled as he fumbled at his
+sword hilt.
+
+"Your Grace," said Law, calmly, "will do me the kindness to remember
+that when I first asked of you the charter of the Banque Générale, to be
+taken privately in the name of myself and my brother, I told you that
+any banker merited the punishment of death if he issued notes or bills
+of exchange without having their effective value safe in his own strong
+boxes."
+
+"Well, what of that?" queried the regent, weakly.
+
+"Nothing, your Grace, except that your Grace deserves the punishment of
+death."
+
+"How, sir! Good God!"
+
+"If the truth of this matter should ever become known, those people out
+there, that France yonder, would tear your Grace limb from limb, and
+trample you in the dust!"
+
+The livid face of the regent went paler as the other spoke. There was
+conviction in those tones which could not fail to reach even his heavy
+wits.
+
+"Let me explain," went on Law. "I beg your Grace to remember again, that
+when your Grace was good enough to take out of the hands of my brother
+and myself our little bank--which we had run honorably and
+successfully--you changed at one sweep the whole principle of honest
+banking. You promised to pay something which was unstipulated. You
+issued a note back of which there was no value, no fixed limit of
+measurement. Twice you have changed the coinage of the realm, and twice
+assigned a new value to your specie. No one can tell what one of your
+shares in the stock of the Indies means in actual coin. It means
+nothing, stands for nothing, is good for nothing. Now, think you, when
+these people, when this France shall discover these facts, that they
+will be lenient with those who have thus deceived them?"
+
+"Yet your theory always was that we had too great a scarcity of money
+here in France," expostulated the regent.
+
+"True, so I did. We had not enough of good money. We can not have too
+little of false money, of money such as your Grace--as you thought
+without my knowledge--has been so eager to issue from the presses of our
+Company. It had been an easy thing for the regent of France to pay off
+all the debts of the world from now until the verge of eternity, had not
+his presses given out. Money of that sort, your Grace, is such as any
+man could print for himself, did he but have the linen and the ink."
+
+The regent again dropped to his chair, his head falling forward upon his
+breast.
+
+"But what does it all mean? What shall be done? What will be the
+result?" he asked, his voice showing well enough the anxiety which had
+swiftly fallen upon his soul.
+
+"As to that," replied Law, laconically, "I am no longer master here. I
+am not controller of finance. Appoint Dubois, appoint D'Argenson. Send
+for the Brothers Paris. Take them to this window, your Grace, and show
+them your people, show them your France, and then ask them to tell you
+what shall be done. Cry out to all the world, as I know you will, that
+this was the fault of an unknown adventurer, of a Scotch gambler, of one
+John Law, who brought forth some pretentious schemes to the detriment of
+the realm. Saddle upon me the blame for all this ruin which is coming.
+Malign me, misrepresent me, imprison me, exile me, behead me if you
+like, and blame John Law for the discomfiture of France! But when you
+come to seek your remedies, why, ask no more of John Law. Ask of Dubois,
+ask of D'Argenson, ask of the Paris Frères; or, since your Grace has
+seen fit to override me and to take these matters in his own hands, let
+your Grace ask of himself! Tell me, as regent of France, as master of
+Paris, as guardian of the rights of this young king, as controller of
+the finances of France, as savior or destroyer of the welfare of these
+people of France and of that America which is greater than this
+France--tell me, what will you do, your Grace? What do you suggest as
+remedy?"
+
+"You devil! you arch fiend!" exclaimed the regent, starting up and
+laying his hand on his sword. "There is no punishment you do not
+deserve! You will leave me in this plight--you--you, who have supplanted
+me at every turn; you who made that horrible scene but last night at my
+own table, within the very gates of the Palais Royal; you, the murderer
+of the woman I adored! And now, you mocker and flouter of what may be my
+bitterest misfortune--why, sir, no punishment is sharp enough for you!
+Why do you stand there, sir? Do you dare to mock me--to mock us, the
+person of the king?"
+
+"I mock not in the least, your Grace," said John Law, "nor do aught else
+that ill beseems a gentleman. I should have been proud to be known as
+the friend of Philippe of Orléans, yet I stand before that Philippe of
+Orléans and tell him that that man doth not live, nor that set of
+terrors exist, which can frighten John Law, nor cause him to depart from
+that stand which he once has taken. Sir, if you seek to frighten me, you
+fail."
+
+"But, look you--consider," said the regent. "Something must be done."
+
+"As I said," replied Law.
+
+"But what is going to happen? What will the people do?"
+
+"First," said Law, judicially, flicking at the deep lace of his cuff as
+though he were taking into consideration the price of a wig or cane,
+"first, the price of a share having gone to twelve thousand livres this
+morning, by two o'clock will be so low as ten thousand. By three
+o'clock this afternoon it will be six thousand. Then, your Grace, there
+will be panic. Then the spell will be broken. France will rub her eyes
+and begin to awaken. Then, since the king can do no wrong, and since the
+regent is the king, your Grace can do one of two things. He can send a
+body-guard to watch my door, or he can see John Law torn into fragments,
+as these people would tear the real author of their undoing, did they
+but recognize him."
+
+"But can nothing be done to stop this? Can it not be accommodated?"
+
+"Ask yourself. But I must go on to say what these people will do. All at
+once they will demand specie for their notes. The Prince de Conti will
+drive his coaches to the door of your bank, and demand that they be
+loaded with gold. Jacques and Raoul and Pierre, and every peasant and
+pavior in Paris will come with boxes and panniers, and each of them will
+also demand his gold. Make edicts, your Grace. Publish broadcast and
+force out into publicity, on every highway of France, your decree that
+gold and silver are not so good as your bank notes; that no one must
+have gold or silver; that no one must send his gold and silver out of
+France, but that all must bring it to the king and take for it in
+exchange these notes of yours. Try that. It ought to succeed, ought it
+not, your Grace?" His bantering tone sank into one of half plausibility.
+
+"Why, surely. That would be the solution."
+
+"Oh, think you so? Your Grace is wondrous keen as a financier! Now take
+the counsel of Dubois, of D'Argenson, my very good friends. This is what
+they will counsel you to do. And I will counsel you at the same time to
+avail yourself of their advice. Tell all France to bring in its gold, to
+enable you to put something essential under the value of all this paper
+money which you have been sending out so lavishly, so unthinkingly, so
+without stint or measure."
+
+"Yes. And then?"
+
+"Why, then, your Grace," said Law, "then we shall see what we shall
+see!"
+
+The regent again choked with anger. Law continued. "Go on. Smooth down
+the back of this animal. Continue to reduce these taxes. The specie of
+the realm of France, as I am banker enough to know, is not more than
+thirteen hundred millions of livres, allowing sixty-five livres to the
+marc. Yet long before this your Grace has crowded the issue of our
+_actions_ until there are out not less than twenty-six hundred millions
+of livres in the stock of our Company. Your Brothers Paris, your
+D'Argenson, your Dubois will tell you how you can make the people of
+France continue to believe that twice two is not four, that twice
+thirteen is not twenty-six!"
+
+"But this they are doing," broke in the regent, with a ray of hope in
+his face. "This they are doing. We have provided for that. In the
+council not an hour ago the Abbé Dubois and Monsieur d'Argenson decided
+that the time had come to make some fixed proportion between the specie
+and these notes. We have to-day framed an edict, which the Parliament
+will register, stating that the interests of the subjects of the king
+require that the price of these bank notes should be lessened, so that
+there may be some sort of accommodation between them and the coin of the
+realm. We have ordered that the shares shall, within thirty days, drop
+to seventy-five hundred livres, in another thirty days to seven thousand
+livres, and so on, at five hundred livres a month, until at last they
+shall have a value of one-half what they were to-day. Then, tell me, my
+wise Monsieur L'as, would not the issue of our notes and the total of
+our specie be equal, one with the other? The only wrong thing is this
+insulting presumption of these people, who have sold _actions_ at a
+price lower than we have decreed."
+
+Law smiled as he replied. "You say excellently well, my master. These
+plans surely show that you and your able counselors have studied deeply
+the questions of finance! I have told you what would happen to-day
+without any decree of the king. Now go you on, and make your decrees.
+You will find that the people are much more eager for values which are
+going up than values which are going down. Start your shares down hill,
+and you will see all France scramble for such coin, such plate, such
+jewels as may be within the ability of France to lay her hands upon.
+Tell me, your Grace, did Monsieur d'Argenson advise you this morning as
+to the total issue of the _actions_ of this Company?"
+
+"Surely he did, and here I have it in memorandum, for I was to have
+taken it up with yourself," replied the regent.
+
+"So," exclaimed Law, a look of surprise passing over his countenance,
+until now rigidly controlled, as he gazed at the little slip of paper.
+"Your Grace advises me that there are issued at this time in the shares
+of the Company no less than two billion, two hundred and thirty-five
+million, eighty-five thousand, five hundred and ninety livres in notes!
+Against this, as your Grace is good enough to agree with me, we have
+thirteen hundred millions of specie. Your Grace, yourself and I have
+seen some pretty games in our day. Look you, the merriest game of all
+your life is now but just before you!"
+
+"And you would go and leave me at this time?"
+
+"Never in my life have I forsaken a friend at the time of distress,"
+replied Law. "But your Grace absolved me when you forsook me, when you
+doubted and hesitated regarding me, and believed the protestations of
+those not so able as myself to judge of what was best. And now it is too
+late. Will your Grace allow me to suggest that a place behind stout
+gates and barred doors, deep within the interior of the Palais Royal,
+will be the best residence for him to-night--perhaps for several nights
+to come?"
+
+"And yourself?"
+
+"As for myself, it does not matter," replied Law, slowly and
+deliberately. "I have lived, and I thought I had succeeded. Indeed,
+success was mine for some short months, though now I must meet failure.
+I have this to console me--that 'twas failure not of my own fault. As
+for France, I loved her. As for America, I believe in her to-day, this
+very hour. As for your Grace in person, I was your friend, nor was I
+ever disloyal to you. But it sometimes doth seem that, no matter how
+sincere be one in one's endeavors, no matter how cherished, no matter
+how successful for a time may be his ambitions, there is ever some
+little blight to eat the face of the full fruit of his happiness.
+To-morrow I shall perhaps not be alive. It is very well. There is
+nothing I could desire, and it is as well to-morrow as at any time."
+
+"But surely, Monsieur L'as," interrupted the regent, with a trace of his
+old generosity, "if there should be outbreak, as you fear, I shall, of
+course, give you a guard. I shall indeed see you safe out of the city,
+if you so prefer, though I had much liefer you would remain and try to
+help us undo this coil, wherein I much misdoubt myself."
+
+"Your Grace, I am a disappointed man, a man with nothing in the world to
+comfort him. I have said that I would not help you, since 'twas yourself
+brought ruin on my plans, and cast down that work which I had labored
+all my life to finish. Yet I will advise this, as being your most
+immediate plan. Smooth down this France as best you may. Remit more
+taxes, as I said. Depreciate the value of these shares gently, but
+rapidly as you can. Institute great numbers of perpetual annuities.
+Juggle, temporize, postpone, get for yourself all the time you can.
+Trade for the people's shares all you have that they will take. You can
+never strike a balance, and can never atone for the egregious error of
+this over-issue of stock which has no intrinsic value. Eventually you
+may have to declare void many of these shares and withdraw from the
+currency these _actions_ for which so recently the people have been
+clamoring."
+
+"That means repudiation!" broke in the regent.
+
+"Certainly, your Grace, and in so far your Grace has my extremest
+sympathy. I know it was your resolve not to repudiate the debts of
+France, as those debts stood when I first met you some years ago. That
+was honorable. Yet now the debts of France are immeasurably greater,
+rich as France thinks herself to be. Not all France, were the people and
+the produce of the commerce counted in the coin, could pay the debt of
+France as it now exists. Hence, honorable or not, there is nothing
+else--it is repudiation which now confronts you. France is worse than
+bankrupt. And now it would seem wise if your Grace took immediate steps,
+not only for the safety of his person, but for the safety of the
+Government."
+
+"Sir, do you mean that the people would dare, that they would presume--"
+
+"The people are not what they were. There hath come into Europe the
+leaven of the New World. I had looked there to see a nobler and a better
+France. It is too late for that, and surely it is too late for the old
+ways of this France which we see about us. You can not presume now upon
+the temper of these folk as you might have done fifty years ago. The
+Messasebe, that noble stream, it hath swept its purifying flood
+throughout the world! Look you, at this moment there is tumbling this
+house which we have built of bubbles, one bubble upon another, blowing
+each bubble bigger and thinner than the last. Mine is not the only
+fault, nor yet the greatest fault. I was sincere, where others cared
+naught for sincerity. Another day, another people, may yet say the world
+was better for my effort, and that therefore at the last I have not
+failed."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+THE BREAKING OF THE BUBBLE
+
+
+It was the evening of the day following that on which John Law and the
+regent of France had met in their stormy interview. During the morning
+but little had transpired regarding the significant events of the
+previous day. In these vast and excited crowds, divided into groups and
+cliques and factions, aided by no bulletins, counseled by no printed
+page, there was but little cohesion of purpose, since there was little
+unity of understanding. The price of shares at one kiosk might be
+certain thousands of livres, whereas a square away, the price might vary
+by half as many livres; so impetuous was the advance of these
+continually rising prices, and so frenzied and careless the temper of
+those who bargained for them.
+
+Yet before noon of the day following the decree of the regent, which
+fixed the value of _actions_ upon a descending scale, the news, after a
+fashion of its own, spread rapidly abroad, and all too swiftly the truth
+was generally known. The story started in a rumor that shares had been
+offered and declined at a price which had been current but a few moments
+before. This was something which had not been known in all these
+feverish months of the Messasebe. Then came the story that shares could
+not be counted upon to realize over eight thousand livres. At that the
+price of all the _actions_ dropped in a flash, as Law had prophesied. A
+sudden wave of sanity, a panic chill of sober understanding swept over
+this vast multitude of still unreasoning souls who had traded so long
+upon this impossible supposition of an ever-advancing market. Reason
+still lacked among them, yet fear and sudden suspicion were not wanting.
+Man after man hastened swiftly away to sell privately his shares before
+greater drop in the price might come. He met others upon the same
+errand.
+
+Precisely the reverse of the old situation now obtained. As all Paris
+had fought to buy, so now all Paris fought to sell. The streets were
+filled with clamoring mobs. If earlier there had been confusion, now
+there was pandemonium. Never was such a scene witnessed. Never was there
+chronicled so swift and utter reversion of emotion in the minds of a
+great concourse of people. Bitter indeed was the wave of agony that
+swept over Paris. It began at the Messasebe, in the gardens of the Hôtel
+de Soisson, at that focus hard by the temple of Fortuna. It spread and
+spread, edging out into all the remoter portions of the walled city. It
+reached ultimately the extreme confines of Paris. Into the crowded
+square which had been decreed as the trading-place of the Messasebe
+System, there crowded from the outer purlieus yet other thousands of
+excited human beings. The end had come. The bubble had burst. There was
+no longer any System of the Messasebe!
+
+It was late in the day, in fact well on toward night, when the knowledge
+of the crash came into the neighborhood where dwelt the Lady Catharine
+Knollys. To her the news was brought by a servant, who excitedly burst
+unannounced into her mistress's presence.
+
+"Madame! Madame!" she cried. "Prepare! 'Tis horrible! 'Tis impossible!
+All is at an end!"
+
+"What mean you, girl!" cried Lady Catharine, displeased at the
+disrespect. "What is happening? Is there fire? And even if there were,
+could you not remember your duty more seemly than this?"
+
+"Worse, worse than fire, Madame! Worse than anything! The bank has
+failed! The shares of the System are going down! 'Tis said that we can
+get but three thousand livres the share, perhaps less--perhaps they will
+go down to nothing. I am ruined, ruined! We are all ruined! And within
+the month I was to have been married to the footman of the Marquis
+d'Allouez, who has bought himself a title this very week!"
+
+"And if it has fallen so ill," said Lady Catharine, "since I have not
+speculated in these things like most folk, I shall be none the worse for
+it, and shall still have money to pay your wages. So perhaps you can
+marry your marquis after all."
+
+"But we shall not be rich, Madame! We are ruined, ruined! _Mon Dieu_! we
+poor folk! We had the hope to be persons of quality. 'Tis all the work
+of this villain Jean L'as. May the Bastille get him, or the people, and
+make him pay for this!"
+
+"Stop! Enough of this, Marie!" said the Lady Catharine, sternly. "After
+this have better wisdom, and do not meddle in things which you do not
+understand."
+
+Yet scarce had the girl departed before there appeared again the sound
+of running steps, and presently there broke, equally unannounced, into
+the presence of his mistress, the coachman, fresh from his stables and
+none too careful of his garb. Tears ran down his cheeks. He flung out
+his hands with gestures as of one demented.
+
+"The news!" cried he. "The news, my Lady! The horrible news! The System
+has vanished, the shares are going down!"
+
+"Fellow, what do you here?" said Lady Catharine. "Why do you come with
+this same story which Marie has just brought to me? Can you not learn
+your place?"
+
+"But, my Lady, you do not understand!" reiterated the man, blankly.
+"'Tis all over. There is no Messasebe; there is no longer any System, no
+longer any Company of the Indies. There is no longer wealth for the
+stretching out of the hand. 'Tis all over. I must go back to horses--I,
+Madame, who should presently have associated with the nobility!"
+
+"Well, and if so," replied his mistress, "I can say to you, as I have to
+Marie, that there will still be money for your wages."
+
+"Wages! My faith, what trifles, my Lady! This Monsieur L'as, the
+director-general, he it is who has ruined us! Well enough it is that the
+square in front of his hotel is filled with people! Presently they will
+break down his doors. And then, pray God they punish him for this that
+he has done!"
+
+The cheek of Lady Catharine paled and a sudden flood of contending
+emotions crossed her mind. "You do not tellme that Monsieur L'as is in
+danger, Pierre?" said she.
+
+"Assuredly. Perhaps within the very hour they will tear down his doors
+and rend him limb from limb. There is no punishment which can serve him
+right--him who has ruined our pretty, pretty System. _Mon Dieu_! It was
+so beautiful!"
+
+"Is this news certain?"
+
+"Assuredly, most certain. Why should it not be? The entire square in
+front of the Hôtel de Soisson is packed. Unless my Lady needs me, I
+myself must hasten thither to aid in the punishment of this Jean L'as!"
+
+"You will stay here," said Lady Catharine. "Wait! There may be need! For
+the present, go!"
+
+Left alone, Lady Catharine stood for a moment pale and motionless, in
+the center of the room. She strode then to the window and stood looking
+fixedly out. Her whole figure was tense, rigid. Yonder, over there,
+across the gabled roofs of Paris, they were clamoring at the door of him
+who had given back Paris to the king, and Franceagain to its people.
+They were assailing him--this man so long unfaltering, so insistent on
+his ambitions, so--so steadfast! Could she call him steadfast? And they
+would seize him in spite of the courage which she knew would never fail.
+They would kill, they would rend, they would trample him! They would
+crush that glorious body, abase the lips that had spoke so well of love!
+
+The clenched fingers of Lady Catharine broke apart, her arms were flung
+wide in a gesture of resolution. She turned from the window, looking
+here and there about the room. Unconsciously she stopped before the
+great cheval-glass that hung against the wall. She stood there, looking
+at her own image, keenly, deeply.
+
+She saw indeed a woman fit for sweet usages of love, comely and rounded,
+deep-bosomed, her oval face framed in the piled masses of glorious
+red-brown hair. But her wide, blue eyes, scarce seeing this outward
+form, stared into the soul of that other whom she witnessed.
+
+It was as though the Lady Catharine Knollys at last saw another self and
+recognized it! A quick, hard sob broke from her throat. In haste she
+flew, now to one part of the room, now to another, picking up first this
+article and then that which seemed of need. And so at last she hurried
+to the bell-cord.
+
+"Quick," cried she, as the servant at length appeared. "Quick! Do not
+delay an instant! My carriage at once!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+THAT WHICH REMAINED
+
+
+As for John Law, all through that fatal day which meant for him the ruin
+of his ambitions, he continued in the icy calm which, for days past, had
+distinguished him. He discontinued his ordinary employments, and spent
+some hours in sorting and destroying numbers of papers and documents.
+His faithful servant, the Swiss, Henri, he commanded to make ready his
+apparel for a journey.
+
+"At six this evening," said he, "Henri, we shall be ready to depart. Let
+us be quite ready well before that time."
+
+"Monsieur is leaving Paris?" asked the Swiss, respectfully.
+
+"Quite so."
+
+"Perhaps for a stay of some duration?"
+
+"Quite so, indeed, Henri."
+
+"Then, sir," expostulated the Swiss, "it would require a day or so for
+me to properly arrange your luggage."
+
+"Not at all," replied Law. "Two valises will suffice, not more, and I
+shall perhaps not need even these."
+
+"Not all the apparel, the many coats, the jewels--"
+
+"Do not trouble over them."
+
+"But what disposition shall I make--?"
+
+"None at all. Leave all these things as they are. But stay--this package
+which I shall prepare for you--take it to the regent, and have it marked
+in his care and for the Parliament of France."
+
+Law raised in his hands a bundle of parchments, which one by one he tore
+across, throwing the fragments into a basket as he did so.
+
+"The seat of Tancarville," he said. "The estate of Berville; the Hôtel
+Mazarin; the lands of Bourget; the Marquisat of Charleville; the lands
+of Orcher; the estate of Roissy--Gad! what a number of them I find."
+
+"But, Monsieur," expostulated the Swiss, "what is that you do? Are these
+not your possessions?"
+
+"Not so, _mon ami_," replied Law. "They once were mine. They are estates
+in France. Take back these deeds. Dead Sully may have his own again, and
+each of these late owners of the lands. I wished them for a purpose.
+That purpose is no longer possible, and now I wish them no more. Take
+back your deeds, my friends, and bear in your minds that John Law tore
+them in two, and thus canceled the obligation."
+
+"But the moneys you have paid--they are enormous. Surely you will exact
+restitution?"
+
+"Sirrah, could I not afford these moneys?"
+
+"Admirably at the time," replied the Swiss, with the freedom of long
+service. "But for the future, what do we know? Besides, it is a matter
+of right and justice."
+
+"Ah, _mon ami_" said Law, "right and justice are no more. But since you
+speak of money, let us take precautions as to that. We shall need some
+money for our journey. See, Henri! Take this note and get the money
+which it calls for. But no! The crowd may be too great. Look in the
+drawer of my desk yonder, and take out what you find."
+
+The Swiss did as he was bidden, but at length returned with troubled
+face.
+
+"Monsieur," said he, "I can find but a hundred louis."
+
+"Put half of it back," said Law. "We shall not need so much."
+
+"But, Monsieur, I do not understand."
+
+"We shall not need more than fifty louis. That is enough. Leave the
+rest," said Law. "Leave it where you found it."
+
+"But for whom? Does Monsieur soon return?"
+
+"No. Leave it for him who may be first to find it. These dear people
+without, these same people whom I have enriched, and who now will claim
+that I have impoverished them--these people will demand of me everything
+that I have. As a man of honor I can not deny them. They shall have
+every jot and stiver of the property of John Law, even the million or so
+of good coin which he brought here to Paris with him. The coat on my
+back, the wheels beneath me, gold enough to pay for the charges of the
+inns through France--that is all that John Law will take away with him."
+
+The arms of the old servant fell helpless at his side. "Sir, this is
+madness," he expostulated.
+
+"Not so, Henri," replied Law, leniently. "Madness enough there has been
+in Paris, it is true, but madness not mine nor of my making. For
+madness, look you yonder."
+
+He pointed a finger through the window where the stately edifice of the
+Palais Royal rose.
+
+"My good friend the regent--it is he who hath been mad," continued Law.
+"He, holding France in trust, has ruined France forever."
+
+"Monsieur, I grieve for you," said the Swiss. "I have seen your success
+in these years and, as you may imagine, have understood something of
+your affairs as time went on."
+
+"And have you not profited by your knowledge in these times?"
+
+"I have had the salary your Honor has agreed to pay me," replied the
+Swiss.
+
+"And no more?"
+
+"No more."
+
+"Why, there are serving folk in France by the hundreds who have grown
+millionaires by the knowledge of their employers' affairs these last two
+years in Paris. Never was such a time in all the world for making money.
+Have you been more blind than they? Why did you not tell me? Why did you
+not ask?"
+
+"I was content with your employment. Monsieur L'as. I would ask no
+better master."
+
+"It is not so with certain others. They think me a hard master enough,
+and having displaced me, will do all they can to punish me. But now,
+Henri, you will perhaps need to look elsewhere for a master. I am going
+far away--perhaps across the seas. It may be--but I know not where and
+care not where my foot may wander hereafter, nor will I seek now to plan
+for it. As for you, Henri, since you admit you have been thus blind to
+your own interests, let us look to that. Go to the desk again. Take out
+the drawer--that one on the left hand. So--bring it to me."
+
+The servant obeyed. Law took from his hand the receptacle, and with a
+sweep of his hand poured out on the table its contents. A mass of
+glittering gems, diamonds, sapphires, pearls, emeralds, fell and spread
+over the table top. The light cast out by their thousand facets lit up
+the surroundings with shimmering, many-colored gleams. The wealth of a
+kingdom might have been here in the careless possession of this man,
+whose resources had been absolutely without measure.
+
+"Help yourself, Henri," said Law, calmly, and turned about to his
+employment among the papers. A moment later he turned again to see his
+servant still standing motionless.
+
+"Well?" said Law.
+
+"I do not understand," said the Swiss.
+
+"Take what you like," said Law. "I have said it, and I mean it. It is
+for your pay, because you have been honest, because I understand you as
+a faithful man."
+
+"But, Monsieur, these things have very great value," said the Swiss.
+"Let me ask how is it that you yourself take so little gold along? Does
+Monsieur purpose to take with him his fortune in gems and jewels
+instead?"
+
+"By no means. I purpose taking but fifty louis, as I have said."
+
+"Monsieur would have me replace the drawer?"
+
+"How do you mean?"
+
+"Why, I want none of them."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because Monsieur wants none of them."
+
+"Fie! Your case is quite different from mine."
+
+"Perhaps, but I want none of them."
+
+"Are you afraid?"
+
+"Monsieur!"
+
+"Do you not think them genuine stones?"
+
+"Assuredly," said the Swiss, "else why should we have cared for them
+among our gems?"
+
+"Well, then, I command you as your master, to take forth some of these
+jewels and keep them for your own."
+
+"But no," replied the Swiss. "It is only after Monsieur."
+
+"What? Myself?"
+
+"Assuredly."
+
+"Then, for the sake of precedent," said Law, "let me see. Well, then, I
+will take one gem, only one. Here, Henri, is the diamond which I brought
+with me when I came to Paris years ago. It was the sole jewel owned then
+by my brother and myself, though we had somewhat of gold between us,
+thanks to this same diamond. It was once my sole capital, in years gone
+by. Perhaps we may need a carriage through France, and this may serve to
+pay the hire of a vehicle from one of my late dukes or marquises. Or
+perhaps at best I may send this same stone across the channel to my
+brother Will, who has wisely gone to Scotland, or should have departed
+before this. So, very well, Henri, to oblige you I will take this single
+stone. Now, do you help yourself."
+
+"Since Monsieur limits himself to so little," said the Swiss, sturdily,
+"I shall not want more. This little pin will serve me, and I shall wear
+it long in memory of your many kindnesses."
+
+Law rose to his feet and caught the good fellow by the hand.
+
+"By heaven, I find you of good blood!" said he. "My friend, I thank you.
+And now put up the box. I shall not counsel you to take more than this.
+We shall leave the rest for those who will presently come to claim it."
+
+For some time silence reigned in the great room, as Law, deeply engaged
+in the affairs before him, buried himself in the mass of scattered books
+and papers. Hour after hour wore on, and at last he turned from his
+employment. His face showed calm, pale, and furrowed with a sadness
+which till now had been foreign to it. He arose at last, and with a
+sweep of his arm pushed back the papers which lay before him.
+
+"There," said he. "This should conclude it all. It should all be plain
+enough now to those who follow."
+
+"Monsieur is weary," mentioned the faithful attendant. "He would have
+some refreshment."
+
+"Presently, but I think not here, Henri. My household is not all so
+faithful as yourself, and I question if we could find cook or servants
+for the table below. No, we are to leave Paris to-night, Henri, and it
+is well the journey should begin. Get you down to the stables, and, if
+you can, have my best coach brought to the front door."
+
+"It may not be quite safe, if Monsieur will permit me to suggest."
+
+"Perhaps not. These fools are so deep in their folly that they do not
+know their friends. But safe or not, that is the way I shall go. We
+might slip out through the back door, but 'tis not thus John Law will go
+from Paris."
+
+The servant departed, and Law, left alone, sat silent and motionless,
+buried in thought. Now and again his head sank forward, like that of one
+who has received a deep hurt. But again he drew himself up sternly, and
+so remained, not leaving his seat nor turning toward the window, beyond
+which could now be heard the sound of shouting, and cries whose confused
+and threatening tones might have given ground for the gravest
+apprehension. At length the Swiss again reported, much agitated and
+shaken from his ordinary self-control.
+
+"Monsieur," said he, "come. I have at last the coach at the door.
+Hasten, Monsieur; a crowd is gathering. Indeed, we may meet violence."
+
+Law seemed not to hear him, but sat for a time, his head still bowed,
+his eyes gazing straight before him.
+
+"But, Monsieur," again broke in the Swiss, anxiously, "if I may
+interrupt, there is need to hasten. There will be a mob. Our guard is
+gone."
+
+"So," said Law. "They were afraid?"
+
+"Surely. They fled forthwith when they heard the people below crying out
+at the house. They are indeed threatening death to yourself. They cry
+that they will burn the house--that should you appear, they will have
+your blood at once."
+
+"And are you not afraid?" asked Law.
+
+"I am here. Does not Monsieur fear for himself?"
+
+Law shrugged his shoulders. "There are many of them, and we are but
+two," said he. "For yourself, go you down the back way and care for your
+own safety. I will go out the front and meet these good people. Are we
+quite ready for the journey?"
+
+"Quite ready, as you have directed."
+
+"Have you the two valises, with the one change of clothing?"
+
+"They are here."
+
+"And have you the fifty louis, as I stated?"
+
+"Here in the purse."
+
+"And I think you have also the single diamond."
+
+"It is here."
+
+"Then," said Law, "let us go."
+
+He rose, and scarce looking behind him, even to see that his orders to
+the servant had been obeyed, he strode down the vast stairway of the
+great hôtel, past many precious works of art, between walls hung with
+richest tapestries and noble paintings. The click of his heel on a
+chance bit of exposed marble here and there echoed hollow, as though
+indeed the master of the palace had been abandoned by all his people.
+The great building was silent, empty.
+
+"What! Are you, then, here?" he said, seeing the servant had disobeyed
+his instructions and was following close behind him. He alone out of
+those scores of servants, those hundreds of fawning nobles, those
+thousands of sycophant souls who had but lately cringed before him, now
+accompanied the late master of France as he turned to leave the house
+in which he no longer held authority.
+
+Without, but the door's thickness from where he stood, there arose a
+tumult of sound, shouts, cries, imprecations, entreaties, as though the
+walls of some asylum for the unfortunate had broken away and allowed its
+inmates to escape unrestrained, irreclaimable, impossible to control.
+
+"Down with Jean L'as! Down with Jean L'as!" rose a cadenced, rhythmic
+shout, the accord of a mob of Paris beating into its tones. And this
+steady burden was broken by the cries of "Enter! Enter! Break down the
+door! Kill the monster! Assassin! Thief! Traitor!" No word of the
+vocabulary of scorn and loathing was wanting in their cries.
+
+Hearing these cries, the face of this fighting man now grew hot with
+anger, and now it paled with grief and sorrow. Yet he faltered not, but
+stepped on, confidently. The Swiss opened the door and stood at the head
+of the flight of stairs. Tall, calm, pale, fearless, John Law stood
+facing the angry mob, his eyes shining brightly. He laid his hand for an
+instant upon his sword, yet it was but to unbuckle the belt. The weapon
+he left leaning against the wall, and so stepped on down toward the
+crowd.
+
+He was met by a rush of excited men and women, screaming, cursing,
+giving vent to inarticulate and indistinguishable speech. A man laid his
+hand upon his shoulder. Law caught the hand, and with a swift wrench of
+the wrist, threw the owner of it to the ground. At this the others gave
+back, and for half a moment silence ensued. The mob lacked just the
+touch of rage to hurl themselves upon him. He raised his hand and
+motioned them aside.
+
+"Are you not Jean L'as?" cried one dame, excitedly, waving in his face a
+handful of the paper shares of the latest issue in the Company of the
+Indies. "Are you not Jean L'as? Tell me, then, where is my money for
+these things? What shall I get for this rotten paper?"
+
+"You are Jean L'as, the director-general!" cried a man, pushing up to
+his side. "'Twas you that ruined the Company. See! Here is all that I
+have!" He wept as he shook his bunch of paper in John Law's face. "Last
+week I was worth half a million!" He wept, and tore across, with
+impotent rage, the bundle of worthless paper.
+
+"Down with Jean L'as! Down with Jean L'as!" came the recurrent cry. A
+rush followed. The carriage, towering above the ring of the surrounding
+crowd, showed its coat of arms, and thus was recognized. A paving-stone
+crashed through its heavy window. A knife ripped up the velvets of the
+cushions.
+
+The coachman was pulled from his box. The horses, plunging with terror,
+were cut loose from the pole and led away. With shouts and cries of rage
+and busy zeal, one madman vied with another in tearing, cutting and
+destroying the vehicle, until it stood there ruined, without means of
+locomotion, defaced and useless. And still the ring of desperate
+humanity closed around him who had late been master of all France.
+
+"What do you want, my friends?" asked he, calmly, as for an instant
+there came a lull in the tumult. He stood looking at them curiously now,
+his dulling eyes regarding them as though they presented some new and
+interesting study. "What is it that you desire?" he repeated.
+
+"We want our money," cried a score of voices. "We want back that which
+you have stolen."
+
+"You are not exact," replied Law, calmly. "I have not your money, nor
+yet have I stolen it. If you have suffered by this foolish panic, you do
+not mend matters by thus treating me. By heaven, you go the wrong way to
+get anything from me! Out of the way, you _canaille_! Do you think to
+frighten me? I made your city. I made you all. Now, do you think to
+frighten me, John Law?"
+
+"Oh! You would go away, you want to escape!" cried the voices of those
+near at hand. "We will see as to that!"
+
+Again they fell upon the carriage, and still they hemmed him in the
+closer.
+
+"True, I am going away," said Law. "But you can not say that I tried to
+steal away without your knowing it. There, up the stairs, are my papers.
+You will see in time that I have concealed nothing. Now I am going to
+leave Paris, it is true; but not because I am afraid to stay here. 'Tis
+for other reason, and reason of mine own."
+
+"'Twas you who ruined Paris--this city which you now seek to leave!"
+shrieked the dame who had spoken before, still shaking her useless
+bank-notes in her hand.
+
+"Oh, very well, my friend. For the argument, let us agree upon that,"
+said Law.
+
+"You ruined our Company, our beautiful Company!" cried another.
+
+"Certainly. Since I was the originator of it, that follows as matter of
+reason," replied Law.
+
+"Ah, he admits it! He admits it!" cried yet another. "Don't let him
+escape. Kill him! Down with Jean L'as!"
+
+"We are going to kill you precisely here!" cried a huge fellow,
+brandishing a paving-stone before his eyes. "You are not fit to live."
+
+"As to that," said Law, "I agree with you perfectly. My hand upon it; I
+am not fit to live. I have found that I made mistakes. I have found that
+there is nothing left to desire. I have found out that all this money is
+not worth the having. I have found out so many things, my very dear
+friends, that I quite agree with you. For if one must want to live
+before he is fit to live, then indeed I am not fit. But what then?"
+
+"Kill him! Kill him! Strike him down!" cried out a voice back of the
+giant with the menacing paving-stone.
+
+"Oh, very well, my friends," resumed the object of their fury, flicking
+again with his old, careless gesture at the deep cuff of his wrist. "As
+you like in regard to that. More than one man has offered me that
+happiness in the past, yet it was many a long year since, any man could
+trouble me by announcing that he was about to kill me."
+
+Something in the attitude of the man stayed the hands of the most
+dangerous members of the mob. Yet ever there came the cry from back of
+them. "Down with Jean L'as! He has ruined everything!"
+
+"Friends," responded Law to this cry, bitterly, "you little know how
+true you speak. It was indeed John Law who brought ruin to everything.
+It was indeed he who threw away what was worth more than all the gold in
+France. It is indeed he who has failed, and failed most utterly. You can
+not frighten John Law, but you may do as you like with him, for surely
+he has failed!"
+
+The bitterness of despair was in his tones. Then, perhaps, the sullen,
+savage crowd had wrought their last act of anger and revenge on him, had
+it not been for a sudden change in that tide of ill fortune that now
+seemed to carry him forward to his doom. There came a sound of far-off
+cries, a distant clacking of hoofs, the clatter of steel, many shouts,
+entreaties and commands. The close-packed crowd which filled the open
+space in front of the hôtel writhed, twisted, turned and would have
+sought to resolve itself into groups and individuals. Some cried out
+that the troops were coming. A detachment of the king's household, sent
+out to disperse these dangerous gatherings, came full front down the
+street, as had so often come the arm of the military in this turbulent
+old city of Paris. Remorselessly they rode over and through the mob,
+driving them, dispersing them. A moment later, and Law stood almost
+alone at the steps of his own house. The squadron wheeled, headed by an
+officer, who rode upon him with sword uplifted as though to cut him
+down. Law raised his hand at this new menace.
+
+"Stop!" he cried. "I am the cause of this rioting. I am John Law."
+
+"What! Monsieur L'as?" cried the lieutenant. "So the people have found
+you, have they?"
+
+"It would so seem. They have destroyed my carriage, and they would have
+killed me," replied Law. "But I perceive it is Captain Mirabec. 'Twas I
+who got you your commission, as you may remember."
+
+"Is it so?" replied the other, with a grin. "I have no recollection.
+Since you are Jean L'as, the late director-general, the pity is I did
+not let the people kill you. You are the cause of the ruin of us all,
+the cause of my own ruin. Three days more, and I had been a
+major-general. I had nearly the sum in _actions_ ready to pay over at
+the right place. By our Lady of Grace, I am minded to run you through
+myself, for a greater villain never set foot in France!"
+
+"Monsieur, I am about to leave France," said Law.
+
+"Oh, you would leave us? You would run away?"
+
+"As you like. But most of all, I am now very weary. I would not remain
+here longer talking. Henri, where are you?"
+
+The faithful Swiss, who had remained close to his employer all the time,
+and who had been not far from his side during the scenes just concluded,
+was in a moment at his side. He hardly reached his master too soon, for
+as he passed his arm about him, the head of Law sank wearily forward. He
+might, perhaps, have sunk to the ground had he lacked a supporting arm.
+
+At this moment there came again the sound of hoofs upon the pavement.
+There was the rush of a mounted outrider, and hard after him sped the
+horses of a carriage, whose driver pulled up close at the curb and
+scarce clear of the little group gathered there. The door of the coach
+was opened, and at it appeared the figure of a woman, who quickly
+descended from the step.
+
+"What is it?" she cried. "Is not this the residence of Monsieur Law?"
+The officer saluted, and the few loiterers gave back and made room, as
+she stepped fully into the street and advanced with decision towards
+those whom she saw.
+
+"Madam," replied the Swiss, "this is the residence of Monsieur L'as, and
+this is Monsieur L'as himself. I fear he is taken suddenly ill."
+
+The lady stepped quickly to his side. As she did so, Law, as one not
+fully hearing, half raised his head. He looked full into her face, and
+releasing himself from the arms of his servant, stood thus, staring
+directly at the visitor, his face haggard, his fixed eyes bearing no
+sign of actual recognition.
+
+"Catharine! Catharine!" he exclaimed. "Oh God, how cruel of you too to
+mock me! Catharine!"
+
+The unspeakable yearning of the cry went to the heart of her who heard
+it. She put out a hand and laid it on his forehead. The Swiss motioned
+toward the house. And even as the officer wheeled his troop to depart,
+these two again ascended the steps, half carrying between them a
+stumbling man, who but repeated mumblingly to himself the same words:
+
+"Mockery! Mockery!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+THE QUALITY OF MERCY
+
+
+Within the great house there was silence, for the vistas of the wide
+interior led far back from the street and its tumult; nor did there
+arise within the walls any sound of voice or footfall. Of the entire
+household there was but one left to do the master service.
+
+They entered the great hall, passed the foot of the wide stairway, and
+turned at the first _entresol_, where were seats and couches. The
+servant paused for a moment and looked inquiringly at the lady with whom
+he now found himself in company.
+
+"The times are serious," he began. "I would not intrude, Madame, yet
+perhaps you are aware--"
+
+"I am a friend of monsieur," replied Lady Catharine. "He is ill. See, he
+is not himself. Tell me, what is this illness?"
+
+"Madame," said the Swiss, gravely, "his illness is that of grief.
+Monsieur's failure sits heavily upon him."
+
+[Illustration]
+
+"How long is it since he slept?" asked the lady, for she noted the
+drooping head of the man now reclining upon the couch.
+
+"Not for many days and nights," replied the Swiss. "He has for the last
+few days been under much strain. But shall I not assist you, Madame? You
+are, perhaps--pardon me, since I do not know your relationship with
+monsieur--"
+
+"A friend of years ago. I knew Mr. Law when he lived in England."
+
+"I perceive. Perhaps Madame would be alone for a time? If you please, I
+will seek aid."
+
+They approached the side of the couch. Law's head lay back upon the
+cushions. His breath came deeply and slowly, not stertorously nor
+labored.
+
+"How strange," whispered the Swiss, "he sleeps!"
+
+Such was indeed the truth. The iron nature, so long overwrought, now
+utterly unstrung, had yielded for the first time to the stress of nature
+and of events. The relief from what he had taken to be death had come
+swiftly, and the reaction brought a lethal calm of its own. If he had
+indeed recognized the face of the woman who had touched him with her
+hand, it was as though he had witnessed her in a vision, a dream bitter
+and troubled, since it was a dream impossible to be true.
+
+The Swiss looked still hesitatingly at the lady who had thus strangely
+come upon the scene, noticing her sweet and tender mouth, her cheeks
+just faintly tinged with pink, her eyes shining with a soft, mysterious
+radiance. She approached the couch and laid both her hands upon the face
+of the unconscious man. Tears sprang within her eyes and fell from her
+dark lashes. The old servant looked up at her, simply.
+
+"Madame would be alone with monsieur?" asked he. "It will be better."
+
+Lady Catharine Knollys, left alone, gazed upon the sleeper. John Law,
+the failure, lay there, supine, abased, cast-down, undone, shorn utterly
+of his old arrogance of mind and mien. Fortune, wealth, even the boon of
+physical well-being--all had fled from him. The pride of a superb
+manhood had departed from the lines of this limp figure. The cheeks were
+lined and sunken, the eye, even had the lid not covered it, lacked the
+late convincing fire. No longer commanding, no longer strong, no longer
+gay and debonair, he lay, a man whose fate was failure, as he himself
+had said.
+
+The woman who stood with clasped hands, gazing at him, tears welling in
+her eyes--she, so closely linked to his every thought for these many
+years--well enough she knew the story of his boundless ambitions, now so
+swiftly ended. Well enough, too, she knew the shortcomings of this
+mortal man before her. Even as she had in her mirror looked into her own
+soul, so now she saw deep into his heart as he lay there, helpless,
+making no further plea for himself, urging no claim, making no
+explanations nor denials, no asseverations, no promises. Did she indeed
+see and recognize again, as sometimes gloriously happens in this poor
+life of ours, that other and inner man, the only one fit to touch a
+woman's hand--the man who might have been? Did she see this, and greet
+again the friend of long ago? God, who hath given mercy, remedy alone
+sufficing for the ill that men may do, He alone may know these things.
+
+Could John Law failing be John Law succeeding, and in his most sublime
+success? Upon the wreck and ruin of the old nature could there grow
+another and a better man? Mayhap the answer to this was what the eye of
+woman saw. How else could there have come into this great room, so late
+the scene of turbulent activities, this vast and soothing calm? How else
+could this man's breath come now so deep and regular and content? The
+angels of God may know, they who drop down the gentle dew of heaven.
+
+An hour passed by. A soft tread came to the door, but Henri heard no
+sound, and saw only the prone figure of the sleeper, and beside it the
+form of the woman, who still held his hand in her own. Still the hours
+wore on, and still the watch continued, there under the mysteries of
+Life and of Love, of Mercy and of Forgiveness. And so at last the gray
+dawn broke again. The panes of the high mullioned windows were tinged
+with splashes of color. The pale light crept into the room, slowly
+revealing and lighting up its splendors.
+
+With the dawn there came into the heart of Catharine Knollys a flood of
+light and joy. Why, she knew not; how, she cared not; yet she knew that
+the shadows were gone. The same tide of peace and calm might have swept
+into the bosom of the man before her. He stirred, moved. His eyes opened
+wide, in their gaze wonder and disbelief, yet hope and longing.
+
+"Catharine," he murmured, "Catharine! Is it you? Catharine! Dear Kate!"
+
+She bent over and softly kissed his face. "Dear heart," she whispered,
+"I have loved you always. Awake. The day has come. There is another
+world before us. See, I have come to you, dear heart, for Faith, and for
+Love, and for Hope!"
+
+
+
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+<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Mississippi Bubble, by Emerson Hough</title>
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+<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Mississippi Bubble, by Emerson Hough,
+Illustrated by Henry Hutt</h1>
+<pre>
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at <a href = "https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre>
+<p>Title: The Mississippi Bubble</p>
+<p>Author: Emerson Hough</p>
+<p>Release Date: November 10, 2004  [eBook #14001]</p>
+<p>Language: English</p>
+<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p>
+<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE***</p>
+<br><br><h3>E-text prepared by Rick Niles, John Hagerson, Jon King,<br>
+            and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team</h3><br><br>
+<hr class="full" noshade>
+<br />
+
+
+<center>
+<img src="images/img1.jpg" height="391" width="300"
+alt="Frontispiece">
+</center>
+
+<h1>THE MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE</h1>
+
+<br />
+
+<h2>HOW THE STAR OF GOOD FORTUNE ROSE
+AND SET AND ROSE AGAIN, BY A WOMAN'S
+GRACE, FOR ONE JOHN LAW <i>of</i> LAURISTON</h2>
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+
+<h2>A NOVEL <i>by</i> EMERSON HOUGH</h2>
+<h3>THE ILLUSTRATIONS <i>by</i> HENRY HUTT</h3>
+
+<h4>NINETEEN HUNDRED TWO</h4>
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+
+<h3>TO<br />
+L.C.H.</h3>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<h2>CONTENTS</h2>
+
+<!-- Autogenerated TOC. Modify or delete as required. -->
+ <a href='#BOOK_I'><b>BOOK I</b></a><br />
+ <br />
+ <a href='#CHAPTER_I'><b>CHAPTER I&mdash;THE RETURNED TRAVELER</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#CHAPTER_II'><b>CHAPTER II&mdash;AT SADLER'S WELLS</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#CHAPTER_III'><b>CHAPTER III&mdash;JOHN LAW OF LAURISTON</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#CHAPTER_IV'><b>CHAPTER IV&mdash;THE POINT OF HONOR</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#CHAPTER_V'><b>CHAPTER V&mdash;DIVERS EMPLOYMENTS OF JOHN LAW</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#CHAPTER_VI'><b>CHAPTER VI&mdash;THE RESOLUTION OF MR. LAW</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#CHAPTER_VII'><b>CHAPTER VII&mdash;TWO MAIDS A-BROIDERING</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#CHAPTER_VIII'><b>CHAPTER VIII&mdash;CATHARINE KNOLLYS</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#CHAPTER_IX'><b>CHAPTER IX&mdash;IN SEARCH OF THE QUARREL</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#CHAPTER_X'><b>CHAPTER X&mdash;THE RUMOR OF THE QUARREL</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#CHAPTER_XI'><b>CHAPTER XI&mdash;AS CHANCE DECREED</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#CHAPTER_XII'><b>CHAPTER XII&mdash;FOR FELONY</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#CHAPTER_XIII'><b>CHAPTER XIII&mdash;THE MESSAGE</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#CHAPTER_XIV'><b>CHAPTER XIV&mdash;PRISONERS</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#CHAPTER_XV'><b>CHAPTER XV&mdash;IF THERE WERE NEED</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#CHAPTER_XVI'><b>CHAPTER XVI&mdash;THE ESCAPE</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#CHAPTER_XVII'><b>CHAPTER XVII&mdash;WHITHER</b></a><br />
+
+ <br />
+ <a href='#BOOK_II'><b>BOOK II</b></a><br />
+ <br />
+ <a href='#BOOK_II_CHAPTER_I'><b>CHAPTER I&mdash;THE DOOR OF THE WEST</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#BOOK_II_CHAPTER_II'><b>CHAPTER II&mdash;THE STORM</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#BOOK_II_CHAPTER_III'><b>CHAPTER III&mdash;AU LARGE</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#BOOK_II_CHAPTER_IV'><b>CHAPTER IV&mdash;THE PATHWAY OF THE WATERS</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#BOOK_II_CHAPTER_V'><b>CHAPTER V&mdash;MESSASEBE</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#BOOK_II_CHAPTER_VI'><b>CHAPTER VI&mdash;MAIZE</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#BOOK_II_CHAPTER_VII'><b>CHAPTER VII&mdash;THE BRINK OF CHANGE</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#BOOK_II_CHAPTER_VIII'><b>CHAPTER VIII&mdash;TOUS SAUVAGES</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#BOOK_II_CHAPTER_IX'><b>CHAPTER IX&mdash;THE DREAM</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#BOOK_II_CHAPTER_X'><b>CHAPTER X&mdash;BY THE HILT OF THE SWORD</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#BOOK_II_CHAPTER_XI'><b>CHAPTER XI&mdash;THE IROQUOIS</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#BOOK_II_CHAPTER_XII'><b>CHAPTER XII&mdash;PRISONERS OF THE IROQUOIS</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#BOOK_II_CHAPTER_XIII'><b>CHAPTER XIII&mdash;THE SACRIFICE</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#BOOK_II_CHAPTER_XIV'><b>CHAPTER XIV&mdash;THE EMBASSY</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#BOOK_II_CHAPTER_XV'><b>CHAPTER XV&mdash;THE GREAT PEACE</b></a><br />
+
+ <br />
+ <a href='#BOOK_III'><b>BOOK III</b></a><br />
+ <br />
+ <a href='#BOOK_III_CHAPTER_I'><b>CHAPTER I&mdash;THE GRAND MONARQUE</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#BOOK_III_CHAPTER_II'><b>CHAPTER II&mdash;EVER SAID SHE NAY</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#BOOK_III_CHAPTER_III'><b>CHAPTER III&mdash;SEARCH THOU MY HEART</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#BOOK_III_CHAPTER_IV'><b>CHAPTER IV&mdash;THE REGENT'S PROMISE</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#BOOK_III_CHAPTER_V'><b>CHAPTER V&mdash;A DAY OF MIRACLES</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#BOOK_III_CHAPTER_VI'><b>CHAPTER VI&mdash;THE GREATEST NEED</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#BOOK_III_CHAPTER_VII'><b>CHAPTER VII&mdash;THE MIRACLE UNWROUGHT</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#BOOK_III_CHAPTER_VIII'><b>CHAPTER VIII&mdash;THE LITTLE SUPPER OF THE REGENT</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#BOOK_III_CHAPTER_IX'><b>CHAPTER IX&mdash;THE NEWS</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#BOOK_III_CHAPTER_X'><b>CHAPTER X&mdash;MASTER AND MAN</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#BOOK_III_CHAPTER_XI'><b>CHAPTER XI&mdash;THE BREAKING OF THE BUBBLE</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#BOOK_III_CHAPTER_XII'><b>CHAPTER XII&mdash;THAT WHICH REMAINED</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#BOOK_III_CHAPTER_XIII'><b>CHAPTER XIII&mdash;THE QUALITY OF MERCY</b></a><br />
+
+<!-- End Autogenerated TOC. -->
+<br />
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+
+<h2><b>THE MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE</b></h2>
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+
+<a name='BOOK_I'></a><h2>BOOK I</h2>
+
+<h3>ENGLAND</h3>
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+
+<a name='CHAPTER_I'></a><h3>CHAPTER I</h3>
+
+<h4>THE RETURNED TRAVELER</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>&quot;Gentlemen, this is America!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The speaker cast upon the cloth-covered table a singular object, whose
+like none of those present had ever seen. They gathered about and bent
+over it curiously.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;This is that America,&quot; the speaker repeated. &quot;Here you have it,
+barbaric, wonderful, abounding!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>With sudden gesture he swept his hand among the gold coin that lay on
+the gaming table. He thrust into the mouth of the object before him a
+handful of louis d'or and English sovereigns. &quot;There is your America,&quot;
+said he. &quot;It runs over with gold. No man may tell its richness. Its
+beauty you can not imagine.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Faith,&quot; said Sir Arthur Pembroke, bending over the table with glass in
+eye, &quot;if the ladies of that land have feet for this sort of shoon,
+methinks we might well emigrate. Take you the money of it. For me, I
+would see the dame could wear such shoe as this.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>One after another this company of young Englishmen, hard players, hard
+drinkers, gathered about the table and bent over to examine the little
+shoe. It was an Indian moccasin, cut after the fashion of the Abenakis,
+from the skin of the wild buck, fashioned large and full for the spread
+of the foot, covered deep with the stained quills of the porcupine, and
+dotted here and there with the precious beads which, to the maker, had
+more worth than any gold. A little flap came up for cover to the ankle,
+and a thong fell from its upper edge. It was the ancient foot-covering
+of the red race of America, made for the slight but effectual protection
+of the foot, while giving perfect freedom to the tread of the wearer.
+Light, dainty and graceful, its size was much less than that of the
+average woman's shoe of that time and place.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Bah! Pembroke,&quot; said Castleton, pushing up the shade above his eyes
+till it rested on his forehead, &quot;'tis a child's shoe.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Not so,&quot; said the first speaker. &quot;I give you my word 'tis the moccasin
+of my sweetheart, a princess in her own right, who waits my coming on
+the Ottawa. And so far from the shoe being too small, I say as a
+gentleman that she not only wore it so, but in addition used somewhat
+of grass therein in place of hose.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The earnestness of this speech in no wise prevented the peal of laughter
+that followed.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There you have it, Pembroke,&quot; cried Castleton. &quot;Would you move to a
+land where princesses use hay for hosiery?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis curious done,&quot; said Pembroke, musingly, &quot;none the less.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And done by her own hand,&quot; said the owner of the shoe, with a certain
+proprietary pride.</p>
+
+<p>Again the laughter broke out. &quot;Do your princesses engage in shoemaking?&quot;
+asked a third gamester as he pushed into the ring. &quot;Sure it must be a
+rare land. Prithee, what doth the king in handicraft? Doth he take to
+saddlery, or, perhaps, smithing?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Have done thy jests, Wilson,&quot; cried Pembroke. &quot;Mayhap there is somewhat
+to be learned here of this New World and of our dear cousins, the
+French. Go on, tell us, Monsieur du Mesne&mdash;as I think you call yourself,
+sir?&mdash;tell us more of your new country of ice and snow, of princesses
+and little shoes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The original speaker went a bit sullen, what with his wine and the jests
+of his companions. &quot;I'll tell ye naught,&quot; said he. &quot;Go see for
+yourselves, by leave of Louis.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Come now,&quot; said Pembroke, conciliatingly. &quot;We'll all admit our
+ignorance. 'Tis little we know of our own province of Virginia, save
+that Virginia is a land of poverty and tobacco. Wealth&mdash;faith, if ye
+have wealth in your end of the continent, 'tis time we English fought ye
+for it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Methinks you English are having enough to do here close at home,&quot;
+sneered Du Mesne. &quot;I have heard somewhat of Steinkirk, and how ye ran
+from the half-dressed gentlemen of France.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Dark looks followed this bold speech, which cut but too closely to the
+quick of English pride. Pembroke quelled the incipient outcry with
+calmer speech.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Peace, friends,&quot; said he. &quot;'Tis not arms we argue here, after all. We
+are but students at the feet of Monsieur du Mesne, who hath returned
+from foreign parts. Prithee, sir, tell us more.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Tell ye more&mdash;and if I did, would ye believe it? What if I tell ye of
+great rivers far to the west of the Ottawa; of races as strange to my
+princess's people as we are to them; of streams whose sands run in gold,
+where diamonds and sapphires are to be picked up as ye like? If I told
+ye, would ye believe?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The martial hearts and adventurous souls of the circle about him began
+to show in the heightened color and closer crowding of the young men to
+the table. Silence fell upon the group.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ye know nothing, in this old rotten world, of what there is yet to be
+found in America,&quot; cried Du Mesne. &quot;For myself, I have been no farther
+than the great falls of the Ontoneagrea&mdash;a mere trifle of a cataract,
+gentlemen, into which ye might pitch your tallest English cathedral and
+sink it beyond its pinnacle with ease. Yet I have spoke with the holy
+fathers who have journeyed far to the westward, even to the vast
+Messasebe, which is well known to run into the China sea upon some
+far-off coast not yet well charted. I have also read the story of
+Sagean, who was far to the west of that mighty river. Did not the latter
+see and pursue and kill in fair fight the giant unicorn, fabled of
+Scripture? Is not that animal known to be a creature of the East, and
+may we not, therefore, be advised that this new country takes hold upon
+the storied lands of the East? Why, this holy friar with whom I spoke,
+fresh back from his voyaging to the cold upper ways of the Northern
+tribes, who live beyond the far-off channel at Michilimackinac&mdash;did he
+not tell of a river of the name of the Blue Earth, and did he not
+himself see turquoises and diamonds and emeralds taken in handfuls from
+this same blue earth? Ah, bah! gentlemen, Europe for you if ye like, but
+for me, back I go, so soon as I may get proper passage and a connection
+which will warrant me the voyage. Back I go to Canada, to America, to
+the woods and streams. I would see again my ancient Du L'hut, and my
+comrade Pierre Noir, and T&ecirc;te Gris, the trapper from the Mistasing&mdash;free
+traders all. Life is there for the living, my comrades. This Old World,
+small and outworn, no more of it for me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And why came you back to this little Old World of ours, an you loved
+the New World so much?&quot; asked the cynical voice of him who had been
+called Wilson.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;By the body of God!&quot; cried Du Mesne, &quot;think ye I came of my own free
+will? Look here, and find your reason.&quot; He stripped back the opening of
+his doublet and under waistcoat, and showed upon his broad shoulder the
+scar of a red tri-point, deep and livid upon his flesh. &quot;Look! There is
+the fleur-de-lis of France. That is why I came. I have rowed in the
+galleys, me&mdash;me a free man, a man of the woods of New France!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Murmurs of concern passed among the little group. Castleton rose from
+his chair and leaned with his hands upon the table, gazing now at the
+face and now at the bared shoulder of this stranger, who had by chance
+become a member of their nightly party.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I have not been in London a fortnight since my escape,&quot; said the man
+with the brand. &quot;I was none the less once a good servant of Louis in New
+France, for that I found many a new tribe and many a bale of furs that
+else had never come to the Mountain for the robbery of the lying
+officers who claim the robe of Louis. I was a soldier for the king as
+well as a traveler of the forest. Was I not with the Le Moynes and the
+band that crossed the icy North and destroyed your robbing English fur
+posts on the Bay of Hudson? I fought there and helped blow down your
+barriers. I packed my own robe on my back, and walked for the king, till
+the <i>raquette</i> thongs cut my ankles to the bone. For what? When I came
+back to the settlements at Quebec I was seized for a <i>coureur de bois</i>,
+a free trader. I was herded like a criminal into a French ship, sent
+over seas to a French prison, branded with a French iron, and set like a
+brute to pull without reason at a bar of wood in the king's galleys&mdash;the
+king's hell!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And yet you are a Frenchman,&quot; sneered Wilson.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yet am I not a Frenchman,&quot; cried the other. &quot;Nor am I an Englishman. I
+am no man of a world of galleys and brands. I am a man of America!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis true what he says,&quot; spoke Pembroke. &quot;'Tis said the minister of
+Louis was feared to keep these men in the galleys, lest their fellows in
+New France should become too bitter, and should join the savages in
+their inroads on the starving settlements of Quebec and Montr&eacute;al.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;True,&quot; exclaimed Du Mesne. &quot;The <i>coureurs</i> care naught for the law and
+little for the king. As for a ruler, we have discovered that a man makes
+a most excellent sovereign for himself.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And excellent said,&quot; cried Castleton.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;None of ye know the West,&quot; went on the <i>coureur</i>. &quot;Your Virginia, we
+know well of it&mdash;a collection of beggars, prostitutes and thieves. Your
+New England&mdash;a lot of cod-fishing, starving snivelers, who are most
+concerned how to keep life in their bodies from year to year. New France
+herself, sitting ever on the edge of an icy death, with naught but
+bickerings at Quebec and naught but reluctant compliance from
+Paris&mdash;what hath she to hope? I tell ye, gentlemen, 'tis beyond, in the
+land of the Messasebe, where I shall for my part seek out my home; and
+no man shall set iron on my soul again.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He spoke bitterly. The group about him, half amused, half cynical and
+all ignorant, as were their kind at this time of the reign of William,
+were none the less impressed and thoughtful. Yet once more the sneering
+voice of Wilson broke in.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;A strange land, my friend,&quot; said he, &quot;monstrous strange. Your unicorns
+are great, and your women are little. Methinks to give thy tale
+proportion thou shouldst have shown shoon somewhat larger.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Peace! Beau,&quot; said Castleton, quickly. &quot;As for the size of the human
+foot&mdash;gad! I'll lay a roll of louis d'or that there's one dame here in
+London town can wear this slipper of New France.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Done!&quot; cried Wilson. &quot;Name the one.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;None other than the pretty Lawrence whom thou hast had under thine
+ancient wing for the past two seasons.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The face of Wilson gathered into a sudden frown at this speech. &quot;What
+doth it matter&quot;&mdash;he began.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Have done, fellows!&quot; cried Pembroke with some asperity. &quot;Lay wagers
+more fit at best, and let us have no more of this thumb-biting. Gad! the
+first we know, we'll be up for fighting among ourselves, and we all know
+how the new court doth look on that.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Come away,&quot; laughed Castleton, gaily. &quot;I'm for a pint of ale and an
+apple; and then beware! 'Tis always my fortune, when I come to this
+country drink, to win like a very countryman. I need revenge upon Lady
+Betty and her lap-dog. I've lost since ever I saw them last.&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='CHAPTER_II'></a><h3>CHAPTER II</h3>
+
+<h4>AT SADLER'S WELLS</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>Sadler's Wells, on this mild and cheery spring morning, was a scene of
+fashion and of folly. Hither came the élite of London, after the custom
+of the day, to seek remedy in the reputed qualities of the springs for
+the weariness and lassitude resultant upon the long season of polite
+dissipations which society demanded of her votaries. Bewigged dandies,
+their long coats of colors well displayed as they strutted about in the
+open, paid court there, as they did within the city gates, to the
+powdered and painted beauties who sat in their couches waiting for their
+servants to bring out to them the draft of which they craved healing for
+crow's-feet and hollow eyes. Here and there traveling merchants called
+their wares, jugglers spread their carpets, bear dancers gave their
+little spectacles, and jockeys conferred as to the merits of horse or
+hound. Hawk-nosed Jews passed among the vehicles, cursed or kicked by
+the young gallants who stood about, hat in hand, at the steps of their
+idols' carriages.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Buy my silks, pretty lady, buy my silks! Fresh from the Turkey walk on
+the Exchange, and cheaper than you can buy their like in all the
+city&mdash;buy my silks, lady!&quot; Thus the peddler with his little pack of
+finery.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;My philter, lady,&quot; cried the gipsy woman, who had left her donkey cart
+outside the line. &quot;My philter! 'Twill keep-a your eyes bright and your
+cheeks red for ay. Secret of the Pharaohs, lady; and but a shilling!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Have ye a parrot, ma'am? Have ye never a parrot to keep ye free and
+give ye laughter every hour? Buy my parrot, lady. Just from the Gold
+Coast. He'll talk ye Spanish, Flemish or good city tongue. Buy my parrot
+at ten crowns, and so cheap, lady!&quot; So spoke the ear-ringed sailor, who
+might never have seen a salter water than the Thames.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Powder-puffs for the face, lady,&quot; whispered a lean and weazen-faced
+hawker, slipping among the crowd with secrecy. &quot;See my puff, made from
+the foot of English hares. Rubs out all wrinkles, lady, and keeps ye
+young as when ye were a lass. But a shilling, a shilling. See!&quot; And with
+the pretense of secrecy the seller would sidle up to a carriage of some
+dame, slip to her the hare's foot and take the shilling with an air as
+though no one could see what none could fail to notice.</p>
+
+<p>Above these mingled cries of the hangers-on of this crowd of nobility
+and gentles rose the blare of crude music, and cries far off and
+confused. Above it all shone the May sun, brighter here than lower
+toward the Thames. In the edge of London town it was, all this little
+pageant, and from the residence squares below and far to the westward
+came the carriages and the riders, gathering at the spot which for the
+hour was the designated rendezvous of capricious fashion. No matter if
+the tower at the drinking curb was crowded, so that inmates of the
+coaches could not find way among the others. There was at least magic in
+the morning, even if one might not drink at the chalybeate spring.
+Cheeks did indeed grow rosy, and eyes brightened under the challenge not
+only of the dawn but of the ardent eyes that gazed impertinently bold or
+reproachfully imploring.</p>
+
+<p>Far-reaching was the line of the gentility, to whose flanks clung the
+rabble of trade. Back upon the white road came yet other carriages,
+saluted by those departing. Low hedges of English green reached out into
+the distance, blending ultimately at the edge of the pleasant sky. Merry
+enough it was, and gladsome, this spring day; for be sure the really ill
+did not brave the long morning ride to test the virtue of the waters of
+Sadler's Wells. It was for the most part the young, the lively, the
+full-blooded, perhaps the wearied, but none the less the vital and
+stirring natures which met in the decreed assemblage.</p>
+
+<p>Back of Sadler's little court the country came creeping close up to the
+town. There were fields not so far away on these long highways.
+Wandering and rambling roads ran off to the westward and to the north,
+leading toward the straight old Roman road which once upon a time ran
+down to London town. Ill-kept enough were some of the lanes, with their
+hedges and shrubs overhanging the highways, if such the paths could be
+called which came braiding down toward the south. One needed not to go
+far outward beyond Sadler's Wells of a night-time to find adventure, or
+to lose a purse.</p>
+
+<p>It was on one of these less crowded highways that there was this morning
+enacted a curious little drama. The sun was still young and not too
+strong for comfort, and as it rose back of the square of Sadler's it
+cast a shadow from a hedge which ran angling toward the southeast. Its
+rays, therefore, did not disturb the slumbers of two young men who were
+lying beneath the shelter of the hedge. Strange enough must have been
+the conclusions of the sun could it have looked over the barrier and
+peered into the faces of these youths. Evidently they were of good
+breeding and some station, albeit their garb was not of the latest
+fashion. The gray hose and the clumsy shoes plainly bespoke some
+northern residence. The wig of each lacked the latest turn, perhaps the
+collar of the coat was not all it should have been. There was but one
+coat visible, for the other, rolled up as a pillow, served to support
+the heads of both. The elder of the two was the one who had sacrificed
+his covering. The other was more restless in his attitude, and though
+thus the warmer for a coat, was more in need of comfort. A white bandage
+covered his wrist, and the linen was stained red. Yet the two slept on,
+well into the morn, well into the rout of Sadler's Wells. Evidently they
+were weary.</p>
+
+<p>The elder man was the taller of the two; as he lay on the bank beneath
+the hedge, he might even in that posture have been seen to own a figure
+of great strength and beauty. His face, bold of outline, with well
+curved, wide jaw and strong cheek bones, was shaded by the tangled mat
+of his wig, tousled in his sleep. His hands, long and graceful, lay idly
+at his side, though one rested lightly on the hilt of the sword which
+lay near him. The ruffles of his shirt were torn, and, indeed, had
+almost disappeared. By study one might have recognized them in the
+bandage about the hand of the other. Somewhat disheveled was this
+youth, yet his young, strong body, slender and shapely, seemed even in
+its rest strangely full of power and confidence.</p>
+
+<p>The younger man was in some fashion an epitome of the other, and it had
+needed little argument to show the two were brothers. But why should two
+brothers, well-clad and apparently well-to-do, probably brothers from a
+country far to the north, be thus lying like common vagabonds beneath an
+English hedge?</p>
+
+<p>Far down the roadway there rose a cloud of dust, which came steadily
+nearer, following the only vehicle in sight, probably the only one which
+had passed that morning. As this little dust-cloud came slowly nearer it
+might have been seen to rise from the wheels of a richly-built and
+well-appointed coach. Four dark horses obeyed the reins handled by a
+solemn-visaged lackey on the box, and there was a goodly footman at the
+back. Within the coach were two passengers such as might have set
+Sadler's Wells by the ears. They sat on the same seat, as equals, and
+their heads lay close together, as confidantes. The tongues of both ran
+fast and free. Long gloves covered the arms of these beauties, and their
+costumes showed them to be of station. The crinoline of the two filled
+all the body of the ample coach from seat to seat, and the folds of
+their figured muslins, flowing out over this ample outline, gave to the
+face of each a daintiness of contour and feature which was not ill
+relieved by the high head-dress of ribbons and bepowdered hair. Of the
+two ladies, one, even in despite of her crinoline, might have been seen
+to be of noble and queenly figure; the towering head-dress did not fully
+disguise the wealth of red-bronze hair. Tall and well-rounded, vigorous
+and young, not yet twenty, adored by many suitors, the Lady Catharine
+Knollys had rarely looked better than she did this morning as she drove
+out to Sadler's, for Providence alone knew what fault of a superb vital
+energy. Her eyes sparkled as she spoke, and every gesture betokened
+rather the grand young creature that she was than the valetudinarian
+going forth for healing. Her cheek, turned now and again, showed a
+clear-cut and untouched soundness that meant naught but health. It
+showed also the one blemish upon a beauty which was toasted in the court
+as faultless. Upon the left cheek there was a <i>mouche</i>, excessive in its
+size. Strangers might have commented on it. Really it covered a
+deep-stained birth-mark, the one blur upon a peerless beauty. Yet even
+this might be forgotten, as it was now.</p>
+
+<p>The companion of the Lady Catharine in her coach was a young woman,
+scarce so tall and more slender. The heavy hoop concealed much of the
+grace of figure which was her portion, but the poise of the upper body,
+free from the seat-back and erect with youthful strength as yet
+unspared, showed easily that here, too, was but an indifferent subject
+for Sadler's. Dark, where her companion was fair, and with the glossy
+texture of her own somber locks showing in the individual roll which ran
+back into the absurd <i>fontange</i> of false hair and falser powder, Mary
+Connynge made good foil for her bosom friend; though honesty must admit
+that neither had yet much concern for foils, since both had their full
+meed of gallants. Much seen together, they were commonly known, as the
+Morning and Eve, sometimes as Aurora and Eve. Never did daughter of the
+original Eve have deeper feminine guile than Mary Connynge. Soft of
+speech&mdash;as her friend, the Lady Catharine, was impulsive,&mdash;slow, suave,
+amber-eyed and innocent of visage, this young English woman, with no
+dower save that of beauty and of wit, had not failed of a sensation at
+the capital whither she had come as guest of the Lady Catharine. Three
+captains and a squire, to say nothing of a gouty colonel, had already
+fallen victims, and had heard their fate in her low, soft tones, which
+could whisper a fashionable oath in the accent of a hymn, and say &quot;no&quot;
+so sweetly that one could only beg to hear the word again. It was
+perhaps of some such incident that these two young maids of old London
+conversed as they trundled slowly out toward the suburb of the city.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Twould have killed you, Lady Kitty; sure 'twould have been your end to
+hear him speak! He walked the floor upon his knees, and clasped his
+hands, and followed me about like a dog in a spectacle. Lord! but I
+feared he would have thrown over the tabouret with his great feet. And
+help me, if I think not he had tears in his eyes!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;My friend,&quot; said Lady Kitty, solemnly, &quot;you must have better care of
+your conduct. I'll not have my father's old friend abused in his own
+house.&quot; At which they both burst into laughter. Youth, the blithely
+cruel, had its own way in this old coach upon the ancient dusty road, as
+it has ever had.</p>
+
+<p>But now serious affairs gained the attention of these two fairs. &quot;Tell
+me, sweetheart,&quot; said Lady Catharine, &quot;what think you of the fancy of my
+new dresser? He insists ever that the mode in Paris favors a deep bow,
+placed high upon the left side of the 'tower.' Montespan, of the French
+court, is said to have given the fashion. She hurried at her toilet, and
+placed the bow there for fault of better care. Hence, so must we if we
+are to live in town. So says my new hair-dresser from Paris. 'Tis to
+Paris we must go for the modes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I am not so sure,&quot; began Mary Connynge, &quot;as to this arrangement. Now I
+am much disposed to believe&mdash;&quot; but what she was disposed to believe at
+that time was not said, then or ever afterward, for at that moment there
+happened matters which ended their little talk; matters which divided
+their two lives, and which, in the end, drove them as far apart as two
+continents could carry them.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;O Gemini!&quot; called out Mary Connynge, as the coachman for a moment
+slackened his pace. &quot;Look! We shall be robbed!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The driver irresolutely pulled up his horses. From under the shade of
+the hedge there arose two men, of whom the taller now stood erect and
+came toward the carriage.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis no robber,&quot; said Lady Catharine Knollys, her eyes fastened on the
+tall figure which came forward.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Save us,&quot; said Mary Connynge, &quot;what a pretty man!&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='CHAPTER_III'></a><h3>CHAPTER III</h3>
+
+<h4>JOHN LAW OF LAURISTON</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>Unconsciously the coachman obeyed the unvoiced command of this man, who
+stepped out from the shelter of the hedge. Travel-stained, just awakened
+from sleep, disheveled, with dress disordered, there was none the less
+abundant boldness in his mien as he came forward, yet withal the grace
+and deference of the courtier. It was a good figure he made as he
+stepped down from the bank and came forward, hat in hand, the sun, now
+rising to the top of the hedge, lighting up his face and showing his
+bold profile, his open and straight blue eye.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ladies,&quot; he said, as he reached the road, &quot;I crave your pardon humbly.
+This, I think, is the coach of my Lord, the Earl of Banbury. Mayhap this
+is the Lady Catharine Knollys to whom I speak?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The lady addressed still gazed at him, though she drew up with dignity.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You have quite the advantage of us,&quot; said she. She glanced uneasily at
+the coachman, but the order to go forward did not quite leave her lips.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I am not aware&mdash;I do not know&mdash;,&quot; she began, afraid of her adventure
+now it had come, after the way of all dreaming maids who prate of men
+and conquests.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I should be dull of eye did I not see the Knollys arms,&quot; said the
+stranger, smiling and bowing low. &quot;And I should be ill advised of the
+families of England did I not know that the daughter of Knollys, the
+sister of the Earl of Banbury, is the Lady Catharine, and most charming
+also. This I might say, though 'tis true I never was in London or in
+England until now.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The speech, given with all respectfulness, did not fail of flattery.
+Again the order to drive on remained unspoken. This speaker, whose foot
+was now close to the carriage step, and whose head, gravely bowed as he
+saluted the occupants of the vehicle, presented so striking a type of
+manly attractiveness, even that first moment cast some spell upon the
+woman whom he sought to interest. The eyes of the Lady Catharine Knollys
+did not turn from him. As though it were another person, she heard
+herself murmur, &quot;And you, sir?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I am John Law of Lauriston, Scotland, Madam, and entirely at your
+service. That is my brother Will, yonder by the bank.&quot; He smiled, and
+the younger man came forward, hesitatingly, and not with the address of
+his brother, though yet with the breeding of a gentleman.</p>
+
+<p>The eyes of Mary Connynge took in both men with the same look, but her
+eyes, as did those of the Lady Catharine, became most concerned with the
+first speaker.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;My brother and I are on our first journey to London,&quot; continued he,
+with a gay laugh which did not consort fully with the plight in which he
+showed. &quot;We started by coach, as gentlemen; and now we come on foot,
+like laborers or thieves. 'Twas my own fault. Yesterday I must needs
+quit the Edinboro' stage. Last night our chaise was stopped, and we were
+asked to hand our money to a pair of evil fellows who had made prey of
+us. In short&mdash;you see&mdash;we fared ill enough. Lost in the dark, we made
+what shift we could along this road, where we both are strangers. At
+last, not able to pay for better quarters even had we found them, we lay
+down to sleep. I have slept far worse. And 'tis a lovely morning. Madam,
+I thank you for this happy beginning of the day.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Mary Connynge pointed to the bandage on the younger man's arm, speaking
+a low word to her companion.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;True,&quot; said the Lady Catharine, &quot;you are injured, sir; you did not come
+off whole.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, we would hardly suffer the fellows to rob us without making some
+argument over it,&quot; said the first speaker. &quot;Indeed, I think we are the
+better off hereabouts for a brace of footpads gone to their account. I
+made them my duties as we came away. Will, here, was pricked a trifle,
+but you see we have done very well.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The face of Will Law hardly offered complete proof of this assertion. He
+had slept ill enough, and in the morning light his face showed gaunt and
+pale. Here, then, was a situation most inopportune; the coach of two
+ladies, unattended, stopped by two strangers, who certainly could not
+claim introduction by either friend or reputation.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I did but wish to ask some advice of the roads hereabout,&quot; said the
+elder brother, turning his eyes full upon those of the Lady Catharine.
+&quot;As you see, we are in ill plight to get forward to the city. If you
+will be so good as to tell me which way to take, I shall remember it
+most gratefully. Once in the city, we should do better, for the rascals
+have not taken certain papers, letters which I bear to gentlemen in the
+city&mdash;Sir Arthur Pembroke I may name as one&mdash;a friend of my father's,
+who hath had some dealings with him in the handling of moneys. I have
+also word for others, and make sure that, once we have got into town, we
+shall soon mend our fortune.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lady Catharine looked at Mary Connynge and the latter in turn gazed at
+her. &quot;There could be no harm,&quot; said each to the other with her eyes.
+&quot;Surely it is our duty to take them in with us; at least the one who is
+wounded.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Will Law had said nothing, though he had come forward to the road, and,
+bowing, stood uncovered. Now he leaned against the flank of one of the
+horses, in a tremor of vertigo which seized him as he stood. It was
+perhaps the paleness of his face that gave determination to the issue.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;William,&quot; called the Lady Catharine Knollys, &quot;open the door for Mr. Law
+of Lauriston!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The footman sprang to the ground and held open the door. Therefore, into
+the coach stepped John Law and his brother, late of Edinboro', sometime
+robbed and afoot, but now to come into London in circumstances which
+surely might have been far worse.</p>
+
+<p>John Law entered the coach with the dignity and grace of a gentleman
+born. He bowed gravely as he took his seat beside his brother, facing
+the ladies. Will Law sank back into the corner, not averse to rest. The
+eyes of the two young women did not linger more upon the wounded man
+than upon his brother. He, in turn, looked straight into their eyes,
+courteously, respectfully, gravely, yet fearlessly and calmly, as
+though he knew what power and possibilities were his. Enigma and
+autocrat alike, Beau Law of Edinboro', one of the handsomest and
+properest men ever bred on any soil, was surely a picture of vigorous
+young manhood, as he rode toward Sadler's Wells, with two of the
+beauties of the hour, and in a coach and four which might have been his
+own.</p>
+
+<p>Now all the sweet spring morning came on apace, and from the fields and
+little gardens came the breath of flowers. The sky was blue. The languor
+of springtime pulsed through the veins of those young creatures, those
+engines of life, of passion and desire. Neither of the two women saw the
+torn garb of the man before them. They saw but the curve of the strong
+chest beneath. They heard, and the one heard and felt as keenly as the
+other, the voice of the young man, musical and rich, touching some
+deep-seated and vibrating heart-string. So in the merry month of May,
+with the birds singing in the trees, and the scent of the flowers wafted
+coolly to their senses, they came on apace to the throng at Sadler's
+Wells. There it was that John Law, finding in a pocket a coin that had
+been overlooked, reached out to a vender and bought a rose. He offered
+his flower with a deep inclination of the body to the Lady Catharine.</p>
+
+<p>It was at this moment that Mary Connynge first began to hate her friend,
+the Lady Catharine Knollys.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='CHAPTER_IV'></a><h3>CHAPTER IV</h3>
+
+<h4>THE POINT OF HONOR</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>&quot;Tell me, friend Castleton,&quot; said Pembroke, banteringly, &quot;art still
+adhering to thy country drink of lamb's-wool? Methinks burnt ale and
+toasted apple might better be replaced in thy case by a beaker of
+stronger waters. You lose, and still you lose.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;May a plague take it!&quot; cried Castleton. &quot;I've had no luck these four
+days. 'Tis that cursed lap-dog of the duchess. Ugh! I saw it in my
+dreams last night.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Gad! your own fortune in love must be ill enough, Sir Arthur,&quot; said
+Beau Wilson, as he pushed back his chair during this little lull in the
+play of the evening.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And tell me why, Beau?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Because of us all who have met here at the Green Lion these last
+months, not one hath ever had so steady a run of luck. Sure some fairy
+hath befriended thee. <i>Sept et le va</i>, <i>sept et le va</i>&mdash;I'll hear it in my
+ears to-night, even as Castleton sees the lap-dog. Man, you play as
+though you read the pack quite through.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah, then, you admit that there is some such thing as a talisman. I'll
+not deny that I have had one these last three evenings, but I feared to
+tell ye all, lest I might be waylaid and robbed of my good-luck charm.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Tell us, tell us, man, what it is!&quot; cried Castleton. &quot;<i>Sept et le va</i>
+has not been made in this room before for many a month, yet here thou
+comest with the run of <i>sept et le va</i> thrice in as many hours.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, then,&quot; continued Pembroke, still smiling, &quot;I'll make a small
+confession. Here is my charm. Salute it!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He cast on the table the Indian moccasin which had been shown the same
+party at the Green Lion a few evenings before. Eager hands reached for
+it.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Treachery!&quot; cried Castleton. &quot;I bid Du Mesne four pounds for the shoe
+myself.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh ho!&quot; said Pembroke, &quot;so you too were after it. Well, the long purse
+won, as it doth ever. I secretly gave our wandering wood ranger,
+ex-galley slave of France, the neat sum of twenty-five pounds for this
+little shoe. Poor fellow, he liked ill enough to part with it; but he
+said, very sensibly, that the twenty-five pounds would take him back to
+Canada, and once there, he could not only get many such shoes, but see
+the maid who made this one for him, or, rather, made it for herself. As
+for me, the price was cheap. You could not replace it in all the
+Exchange for any money. Moreover, to show my canniness, I've won back
+its cost a score of times this very night.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He laughingly extended his hand for the moccasin, which Wilson was
+examining closely.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis clever made,&quot; said the latter. &quot;And what a tale the owner of it
+carried. If half he says be true, we do ill to bide here in old England.
+Let us take ship and follow Monsieur du Mesne.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Twould be a long chase, mayhap,&quot; said Pembroke, reflectively. Yet each
+of the men at that little table in the gaming room of the Green Lion
+coffee-house ceased in his fingering the cards, and gazed upon this
+product of another world.</p>
+
+<p>Pembroke was first to break the silence, and as he heard a footfall at
+the door, he called out:</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ho, fellow! Go fetch me another bottle of Spanish, and do not forget
+this time the brandy and water which I told thee to bring half an hour
+ago.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The step came nearer, and as it did not retreat, but entered the room,
+Pembroke called out again: &quot;Make haste, man, and go on!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The footsteps paused, and Pembroke looked up, as one does when a strange
+presence comes into the room. He saw, standing near the door, a tall and
+comely young man, whose carriage betokened him not ill-born. The
+stranger advanced and bowed gravely. &quot;Pardon me, sir,&quot; he said, &quot;but I
+fear I am awkward in thus intruding. The man showed me up the stair and
+bade me enter. He said that I should find here Sir Arthur Pembroke, upon
+whom I bear letters from friends of his in the North.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir,&quot; said Pembroke, rising and advancing, &quot;you are very welcome, and I
+ask pardon for my unwitting speech.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I come at this hour and at this place,&quot; said the newcomer, &quot;for reasons
+which may seem good a little later. My name is John Law, of Edinboro',
+sir.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>All those present arose.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir,&quot; responded Pembroke, &quot;I am delighted to have your name. I know of
+the acquaintance between your father and my own. These are friends of
+mine, and I am delighted to name ye to each other. Mr. Charles
+Castleton; Mr. Edward Wilson. We are all here to kill the ancient enemy,
+Time. 'Tis an hour of night when one gains an appetite for one thing or
+another, cards or cold joint. I know not why we should not have a bit of
+both?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;With your permission, I shall be glad to join ye at either,&quot; said John
+Law. &quot;I have still the appetite of a traveler&mdash;in faith, rather a better
+appetite than most travelers may claim, for I swear I've had no more to
+eat the last day and night than could be purchased for a pair of
+shillings.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Pembroke raised his eyebrows, scarce knowing whether to be amused at
+this speech or nettled by its cool assurance.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Some ill fortune?&quot;&mdash;he began politely.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There is no such thing as ill fortune,&quot; quoth John Law. &quot;We fail always
+of our own fault. Forsooth I must explore Roman roads by night. England
+hath builded better, and the footpads have the Roman ways. My brother
+Will&mdash;he waiteth below, if ye please, good friends, and is quite as
+hungry as myself, besides having a pricked finger to boot&mdash;and I lost
+what little we had about us, and we came through with scarce a good
+shirt between the two.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>A peal of laughter greeted him as he pulled apart the lapels of his coat
+and showed ruffles torn and disfigured. The speaker smiled gravely.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;To-morrow,&quot; said he, &quot;I must seek me out a goldsmith and a haberdasher,
+if you will be so good as to name such to me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir,&quot; said Sir Arthur Pembroke, &quot;in this plight you must allow me.&quot; He
+extended a purse which he drew from his pocket. &quot;I beg you, help
+yourself.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Thank you, no,&quot; replied John Law. &quot;I shall ask you only to show me the
+goldsmith in the morning, him upon whom I hold certain credits. I make
+no doubt that then I shall be quite fit again. I have never in my life
+borrowed a coin. Besides, I should feel that I had offended my good
+angel did I ask it to help me out of mine own folly. If we have but a
+bit of this cold joint, and a place for my brother Will to sit in
+comfort as we play, I shall beg to hope, my friends, that I shall be
+allowed to stake this trifle against a little of the money that I see
+here; which, I take it, is subject to the fortunes of war.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He tossed on the board a ring, which carried in its setting a diamond of
+size and brilliance.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;This fellow hath a cool assurance enough,&quot; muttered Beau Wilson to his
+neighbor as he leaned toward him at the table.</p>
+
+<p>Pembroke, always good-natured, laughed at the effrontery of the
+newcomer.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You say very well; it is there for the fortune of war,&quot; said he. &quot;It is
+all yours, if you can win it; but I warn you, beware, for I shall have
+your jewel and your letters of credit too, if ye keep not sharp watch.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes,&quot; said Castleton, &quot;Pembroke hath warrant for such speech. The man
+who can make <i>sept et le va</i> thrice in one evening is hard company for
+his friends.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>John Law leaned back comfortably in his chair.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I make no doubt,&quot; said he, &quot;that I shall make <i>trente et le va</i>, here
+at this table, this very evening.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Smiles and good-natured sneerings met this calm speech.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;<i>Trente et le va</i>&mdash;it hath not come out in the history of London play
+for the past four seasons!&quot; cried Wilson. &quot;I'll lay you any odds that
+you're not within eye-sight of <i>trente et le va</i> these next five
+evenings, if you favor us with your company.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Be easy with me, good friends,&quot; said John. Law, calmly. &quot;I am not yet
+in condition for individual wagers, as my jewel is my fortune, till
+to-morrow at least. But if ye choose to make the play at Lands-knecht, I
+will plunge at the bank to the best of my capital. Then, if I win, I
+shall be blithe to lay ye what ye like.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The young Englishmen sat looking at their guest with some curiosity. His
+strange assurance daunted them.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Surely this is a week of wonders,&quot; said Beau Wilson, with scarce
+covered sarcasm in his tone. &quot;First we have a wild man from Canada, with
+his fairy stories of gold and gems, and now we have another gentleman
+who apparently hath fathomed as well how to gain sudden wealth at will,
+and yet keep closer home.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Law took snuff calmly. &quot;I am not romancing, gentlemen,&quot; said he. &quot;With
+me play is not a hazard, but a science. I ought really not to lay on
+even terms with you. As I have said, there is no such thing as chance.
+There are such things as recurrences, such things as laws that govern
+all happenings.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Laughter arose again at this, though it did not disturb the newcomer,
+nor did the cries of derision which followed his announcement of his
+system.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Many a man hath come to London town with a system of play,&quot; cried
+Pembroke. &quot;Tell us, Mr. Law, what and where shall we send thee when we
+have won thy last sixpence?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Good sir,&quot; said Law, &quot;let us first of all have the joint.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I humbly crave a pardon, sir,&quot; said Pembroke. &quot;In this new sort of
+discourse I had forgot thine appetite. We shall mend that at once. Here,
+Simon! Go fetch up Mr. Law's brother, who waits below, and fetch two
+covers and a bit to eat. Some of thy new Java berry, too, and make
+haste! We have much yet to do.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That have ye, if ye are to see the bottom of my purse more than once,&quot;
+said Law gaily. &quot;See! 'tis quite empty now. I make ye all my solemn
+promise that 'twill not be empty again for twenty years. After
+that&mdash;well, the old Highland soothsayer, who dreamed for me, always told
+me to forswear play after I was forty, and never to go too near running
+water. Of the latter I was born with a horror. For play, I was born with
+a gift. Thus I foresee that this little feat which you mention is sure
+to be mine this very night. You all say that <i>trente</i> has not come up
+for many months. Well, 'tis due, and due to-night. The cards never fail
+me when I need.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;By my faith,&quot; cried Wilson, &quot;ye have a pretty way about you up in
+Scotland!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>John Law saw the veiled ill feeling, and replied at once:</p>
+
+<p>&quot;True, we have a pretty way. We had it at Killiecrankie not so long ago;
+and when the clans fight among themselves, we need still prettier ways.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Now, gentlemen,&quot; said Pembroke, &quot;none of this talk, by your leave. The
+odds are fairer here than they were at Killiecrankie's battle, and 'tis
+all of us against the Scotch again. We English stand together, but we
+stand to-night only against this threat of the ultimate fortune of the
+cards. Moreover, here comes the supper, and if I mistake not, also the
+brother of our friend.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Will bowed to one and the other gentlemen, unconsciously drifting toward
+his brother's chair.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Now we must to business,&quot; cried Castleton, as the dishes were at last
+cleared away. &quot;Show him thy talisman, Pem, and let him kiss his jewel
+good by.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Pembroke threw upon the table once more the moccasin of the Indian girl.
+John Law picked it up and examined it long and curiously, asking again
+and again searching questions regarding its origin.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I have read of this new land of America,&quot; said he. &quot;Some day it will be
+more prominent in all plans.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He laid down the slipper and mused for a moment, apparently forgetful of
+the scene about him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Perhaps,&quot; cried Castleton, the zeal of the gambler now showing in his
+eye. &quot;But let us make play here to-night. Let Pembroke bank. His luck is
+best to win this vaunter's stake.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Pembroke dealt the cards about for the first round. The queen fell. John
+Law won. &quot;<i>Deux</i>,&quot; he said calmly, and turned away as though it were a
+matter of course. The cards went round again. &quot;<i>Trois</i>,&quot; he said, as he
+glanced at his stakes, now doubled again.</p>
+
+<p>Wilson murmured. &quot;Luck's with him for a start,&quot; said he, &quot;but 'tis a
+long road.&quot; He himself had lost at the second turn. &quot;<i>Quint!</i>&quot; &quot;<i>Seix!</i>&quot;
+&quot;<i>Sept et le va!</i>&quot; in turn called Law, still coolly, still regarding with
+little interest the growing heap of coin upon the board opposite the
+glittering ring which he had left lying on the table.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;<i>Vingt-un, et le va!</i>&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Good God!&quot; cried Castleton, the sweat breaking out upon his forehead.
+&quot;See the fellow's luck!&mdash;Pembroke, sure he hath stole thy slipper. Such
+a run of cards was never seen in this room since Rigby, of the Tenth,
+made his great game four years ago.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;<i>Vingt-cinq; et le va!</i>&quot; said John Law, calmly.</p>
+
+<p>Will touched his sleeve. The stake had now grown till the money on the
+hoard meant a matter of hundreds of pounds, which might he removed at
+any turn the winner chose. It was there but for the stretching out of
+the hand. Yet this strange genius sat there, scarce deigning to smile at
+the excited faces of those about him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I'll lay thee fifty to one that the next turn sees thee lose!&quot; cried
+Castleton.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Done,&quot; said John Law.</p>
+
+<p>The iciness in the air seemed now an actual thing. There was, in the
+nature of this play, something which no man at that board, hardened
+gamesters as they all were, had ever met before. It was indeed as though
+Fate were there, with her hand upon the shoulder of a favored son.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You lose, Mr. Castleton,&quot; said Law, calmly, as the cards came again his
+way. He swept his winnings from the coin pushed out to him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Now we have thee, Mr. Law!&quot; cried Pembroke. &quot;One more turn, and I hope
+your very good nerve will leave the stake on the board, for so we'll see
+it all come back to the bank, even as the sheep come home at eventide.
+Here your lane turns. And 'tis at the last stage, for the next is the
+limit of the rules of the game. But you'll not win it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Anything you like for a little personal wager,&quot; said the other, with no
+excitement in his voice.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, then, anything you like yourself, sir,&quot; said Pembroke.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Your little slipper against fifty pounds?&quot; asked John Law.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why&mdash;yes&mdash;,&quot; hesitated Pembroke, for the moment feeling a doubt of the
+luck that had favored him so long that evening. &quot;I'd rather make it
+sovereigns, but since you name the slipper, I even make it so, for I
+know there is but one chance in hundreds that you win.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The players leaned over the table as the deal went on. Once, twice,
+thrice, the cards went round. A sigh, a groan, a long breath broke from
+those who looked at the deal. Neither groan nor sigh came from John Law.
+He gazed indifferently at the heap of coin and paper that lay on the
+table, and which, by the law of play, was now his own.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;<i>Trente et le va</i>,&quot; he said. &quot;I knew that it would come. Sir Arthur, I
+half regret to rob thee thus, but I shall ask my slipper in hand paid.
+Pardon me, too, if I chide thee for risking it in play. Gentlemen, there
+is much in this little shoe, empty as it is.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He dandled it upon his finger, hardly looking at the winnings that lay
+before him. &quot;'Tis monstrous pretty, this little shoe,&quot; he said, rousing
+himself from his half reverie.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Confound thee, man!&quot; cried Castleton, &quot;that is the only thing we
+grudge. Of sovereigns there are plenty at the coinage&mdash;but of a shoe
+like this, there is not the equal this day in England!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;So?&quot; laughed Law. &quot;Well, consider, 'tis none too easy to make the run
+of <i>trente</i>. Risk hath its gains, you know, by all the original laws of
+earth and nature.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But heard you not the wager which was proposed over the little shoe?&quot;
+broke in Castleton. &quot;Wilson, here, was angered when I laid him odds that
+there was but one woman in London could wear this shoe. I offered him
+odds that his good friend, Kittie Lawrence&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Nor had ye the right to offer such bet!&quot; cried Wilson, ruffled by the
+doings of the evening.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I'll lay you myself there's no woman in England whom you know with foot
+small enough to wear it,&quot; cried Castleton.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Meaning to me?&quot; asked Law, politely.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;To any one,&quot; cried Castleton, quickly, &quot;but most to thee, I fancy,
+since 'tis now thy shoe!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I'll lay you forty crowns, then, that I know a smaller foot than that
+of Madam Lawrence,&quot; said Law, suavely. &quot;I'll lay you another forty
+crowns that I'll try it on for the test, though I first saw the lady
+this very morning. I'll lay you another forty crowns that Madam Lawrence
+can not wear this shoe, though her I have never seen.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>These words rankled, though they were said offhand and with the license
+of coffee-house talk at so late an hour. Beau Wilson rose, in a somewhat
+unsteady attitude, and, turning towards Law, addressed him with a tone
+which left small option as to its meaning.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sirrah!&quot; cried he, &quot;I know not who you are, but I would have a word or
+two of good advice for you!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir, I thank you,&quot; said John Law, &quot;but perhaps I do not need advice.&quot;
+He did not rise from his seat.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Have it then at any rate, and be civil!&quot; cried the older man. &quot;You seem
+a swaggering sort, with your talk of love and luck, and such are sure to
+get their combs cut early enough here among Englishmen. I'll not
+tolerate your allusion to a lady you have never met, and one I honor
+deeply, sir, deeply!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I am but a young man started out to seek his fortune,&quot; said John Law,
+his eye kindling now for the first time, &quot;and I should do very ill if I
+evaded that fortune, whatsoever it may be.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then you'll take back that talk of Mrs. Lawrence!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I have made no talk of Mrs. Lawrence, sir,&quot; said Law, &quot;and even had I,
+I should take back nothing for a demand like yours. 'Tis not meet, sir,
+where no offense was meant, to crowd in an offensive remark.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Pembroke said nothing. The situation was ominous enough at this point. A
+sudden gravity and dignity fell upon the young men who sat there,
+schooled in an etiquette whose first lesson was that of personal
+courage.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sirrah!&quot; cried Beau Wilson, &quot;I perceive your purpose. If you prove good
+enough to name lodgings where you may he found by my friends, I shall
+ask leave to bid you a very good night.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>So speaking, Wilson flung out of the room. A silence fell upon those
+left within.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sirs,&quot; said Law, a moment later, &quot;I beg you to bear witness that this
+is no matter of my seeking or accepting. This gentleman is a stranger to
+me. I hardly got his name fair.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Wilson is his name, sir,&quot; said Pembroke, &quot;a very good friend of us all.
+He is of good family, and doth keep his coach-and-four like any
+gentleman. For him we may vouch very well.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Wilson!&quot; cried Law, springing now to his feet. &quot;'Tis not him known as
+Beau Wilson? Why, my dear sirs, his father was friend to many of my kin
+long ago. Why, sir, this is one of those to whom my mother bade me look
+to get my first ways of London well laid out.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;These are some of the ways of London,&quot; said Pembroke, grimly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But is there no fashion in which this matter can be accommodated?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Pembroke and Castleton looked at each other, rose and passed him, each
+raising his hat and bowing courteously.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Your servant, sir,&quot; said the one; and, &quot;Your servant, sir,&quot; said the
+other.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='CHAPTER_V'></a><h3>CHAPTER V</h3>
+
+<h4>DIVERS EMPLOYMENTS OF JOHN LAW</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>&quot;And when shall I send these garments to your Lordship?&quot; asked the
+haberdasher, with whom Law was having speech on the morning following
+the first night in London.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Two weeks from to-day,&quot; said Law, &quot;in the afternoon, and not later than
+four o'clock. I shall have need for them.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Impossible!&quot; said the tradesman, hitherto obsequious, but now smitten
+with the conviction regarding the limits of human possibilities.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;At that hour, or not at all,&quot; said John Law, calmly. &quot;At that time I
+shall perhaps be at my lodgings, 59 Bradwell Street, West. As I have
+said to you, I am not clad as I could wish. It is not a matter of your
+convenience, but of mine own.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But, sir,&quot; expostulated the other, &quot;you order of the best. Nothing, I
+am sure, save the utmost of good workmanship would please you. I should
+like a month of time upon these garments, in order to make them worthy
+of yourself. Moreover, there are orders of the nobility already in our
+hands will occupy us more than past the time you name. Make it three
+weeks, sir, and I promise&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>His customer only shook his head and reiterated, &quot;You heard me well.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The tailor, sore puzzled, not wishing to lose a customer who came so
+well recommended, and yet hesitating at the exactions of that customer,
+sat with perplexity written upon his brow.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;So!&quot; exclaimed Law. &quot;Sir Arthur Pembroke told me that you were a clever
+fellow and could execute exact any order I might give you. Now it
+appears to me you are like everybody else. You prate only of hardships
+and of impossibilities.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The perspiration fairly stood out on the forehead of the man of trade.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir,&quot; said he, &quot;I should be glad to please not only a friend of Sir
+Arthur Pembroke, but also a gentleman of such parts as yourself. I
+hesitate to promise&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But you must promise,&quot; said John Law.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, then, I do promise! I will have this apparel at your place on the
+day which you name. 'Tis most extraordinary, but the order shall be
+executed.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;As I thought,&quot; said John Law.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But I must thank you besides,&quot; resumed the tradesman. &quot;In good truth I
+must say that of all the young gentlemen who come hither&mdash;and I may show
+the names of the best nobility of London and of some ports beyond
+seas&mdash;there hath never stepped within these doors a better figure than
+yourself&mdash;nay, not so good. And I am a judge of men.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Law looked at him carelessly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You shall make me none the easier, nor yourself the easier, by soft
+speech,&quot; said he, &quot;if you have not these garments ready by the time
+appointed. Send them, and you shall have back the fifty sovereigns by
+the messenger, with perhaps a coin or so in addition if all be well.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The air of this nobility!&quot; said the tailor, but smiling with pleasure
+none the less. &quot;This is, perhaps, some affair with a lady?&quot; he added.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis an affair with a lady, and also with certain gentlemen.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, so,&quot; said the tailor. &quot;If it he, forsooth, an enterprise with a
+lady, methinks I know the outcome now.&quot; He gazed with professional pride
+upon the symmetrical figure before him. &quot;You shall be all the better
+armed when well fitted in my garments. Not all London shall furnish a
+properer figure of a man, nor one better clad, when I shall have done
+with you, sir.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Law but half heard him, for he was already turning toward the door,
+where he beckoned again for his waiting chair.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;To the offices of the Bank of England,&quot; he directed. And forthwith he
+was again jogging through the crowded streets of London.</p>
+
+<p>The offices of the Bank of England, to which this young adventurer now
+so nonchalantly directed his course, were then not housed in any such
+stately edifice as that which now covers the heart of the financial
+world, nor did the location of the young and struggling institution, in
+a by-street of the great city, tend to give dignity to a concern which
+still lacked importance and assuredness. Thither, then, might have gone
+almost any young traveler who needed a letter of credit cashed, or a
+bill changed after the fashion of the passing goldsmiths.</p>
+
+<p>Yet it was not as mere transient customer of a money-changer that young
+Law now sought the Bank of England, nor was it as a commercial house
+that the bank then commanded attention. That bank, young as it was, had
+already become a pillar of the throne of England. William, distracted by
+wars abroad and factions at home, found his demands for funds ever in
+excess of the supply. More than that, the people of England discovered
+themselves in possession of a currency fluctuating, mutilated, and
+unstable, so that no man knew what was his actual fortune. The shrewd
+young financier, Montague, chancellor of the exchequer, who either by
+wisdom or good fortune had sanctioned the founding of the Bank of
+England, was at this very time addressing himself to the question of a
+recoinage of the specie of the realm of England. He needed help, he
+demanded ideas; nor was he too particular whence he obtained either the
+one or the other.</p>
+
+<p>John Law was in London on no such blind quest as he had himself
+declared. He was here by the invitation, secret yet none the less
+obligatory, of Montague, controller of the financial policy of England.
+And he was to meet, here upon this fair morning, none less than my Lord
+Somers, keeper of the seals; none less than Sir Isaac Newton, the
+greatest mathematician of his time; none less than John Locke, the most
+learned philosopher of the day. Strong company this, for a young and
+unknown man, yet in the belief of Montague, himself a young man and a
+gambler by instinct, not too strong for this young Scotchman who had
+startled the Parliament of his own land by some of the most remarkable
+theories of finance which had ever been proposed in any country or to
+any government. As Law had himself arrogantly announced, he was indeed a
+philosopher and a mathematician, young as he was; and these things
+Montague was himself keen enough to know.</p>
+
+<p>It promised, then, to be a strange and interesting council, this which
+was to meet to-day at the Bank of England, to adjust the value of
+England's coinage; two philosophers, one pompous trimmer, and two
+gamblers; the younger and more daring of whom was now calmly threading
+the streets of London on his way to a meeting which might mean much to
+him.</p>
+
+<p>To John Law, adventurer, mathematician, philosopher, gambler, it seemed
+a natural enough thing that he should be asked to sit at the council
+table with the ablest minds of the day and pass upon questions the most
+important. This was not what gave him trouble. This matter of the
+coinage, these questions of finance&mdash;they were easy. But how to win the
+interest of the tall and gracious English girl whom he had met by chance
+that other morn, who had left no way open for a further meeting; how to
+gain access to the presence of that fair one&mdash;these were the questions
+which to John Law seemed of greater importance, and of greater
+difficulty in the answering.</p>
+
+<p>The chair drew up at the somber quarters where the meeting had been set.
+Law knew the place by instinct, even without seeing the double row of
+heavy-visaged London constabulary which guarded the entrance. Here and
+there along the street were carriages and chairs, and multiplied
+conveyances of persons of consequence. Upon the narrow pavement, and
+within the little entrance-way that led to the inner room, there bustled
+about important-looking men, some with hooked noses, most with florid
+faces and well-fed bodies, but all with a certain dignity and sobriety
+of expression.</p>
+
+<p>Montague himself, young, smooth-faced, dark-eyed, of active frame, of
+mobile and pleasing features, sat at the head of a long table. The
+high-strung quality of his nervous system was evidenced in his restless
+hands, his attitude frequently changed.</p>
+
+<p>At the left of Montague sat Somers, lord keeper; older, of more steady
+demeanor, of fuller figure, of bold face and full light eye, a
+politician, not a ponderer. At the right of Montague, grave, silent,
+impassive, now and again turning a contemplative eye about him, sat that
+great man. Sir Isaac Newton, known then to every nobleman, and now to
+every schoolboy, of the world. A gem-like mind, keen, clear, hard and
+brilliant, exact in every facet, and forsooth held in the setting of an
+iron body. Gentle, unmoved, self-assured, Sir Issac Newton was calm as
+morn itself as he sat in readiness to give England the benefit of his
+wisdom.</p>
+
+<p>Beyond sat John Locke, abstruse philosopher, a man thinner and darker
+than his <i>confr&egrave;re</i>, with large full orb, with the brow of the student
+and the man of thought. In dignity he shared with the learned gentleman
+sitting near him.</p>
+
+<p>All those at the board looked with some intentness at the figure of the
+young man from the North, who came as the guest of Montague. With small
+formality, the latter rose and advanced to meet Law with an eager grasp
+of the hand. He made him known to the others present promptly, but with
+a half apology.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Gentlemen,&quot; said he, &quot;I have made bold to ask the presence with us of a
+young man who has much concerned himself with problems such as those
+which we have now in hand. Sir Isaac Newton, this is Mr. Law of
+Edinboro'. Mr. Law, the fame of John Locke I need not lay before you,
+and of my Lord Somers you need no advice. Mr. Law, I shall pray you to
+be seated.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I shall but serve as your mouthpiece to the Court, gentlemen,&quot; resumed
+Montague, seating himself and turning at once to the business of the
+day. &quot;We are all agreed as to the urgency of the case. The king needs
+behind him in these times a contented people. You have already seen the
+imminence of a popular discontent which may shake the throne of England,
+none too safe in these days of change. That we must reorganize the
+coinage is understood and agreed. The question is, how best to do this
+without further unsettling the times. My Lord Keeper, I must beg you for
+your suggestions.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir,&quot; said Somers, shifting and coughing, &quot;it is as you say. The
+question is of great moment. I should suggest a decree that the old coin
+shall pass by weight alone and not by its face value. Call in all the
+coin and have it weighed, the government to make future payment to the
+owner of the coin of the difference between its nominal and its real
+value. The coin itself should be restored forthwith to its owner. Hence
+the trade and the credit of the realm would not suffer. The money of the
+country would be withdrawn from the use of the country only that short
+time wherein it was in process of counting. This, it occurs to me, would
+surely be a practical method, and could work harm to none.&quot; My Lord
+Somers sat back, puffing out his chest complacently.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir Isaac,&quot; said Montague, &quot;and Mr. Locke, we must beg you to find such
+fault as you may with this plan which my Lord Keeper hath suggested.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Sir Isaac made no immediate reply. John Locke stirred gently in his
+chair. &quot;There seemeth much to commend in this plan of my Lord Keeper,&quot;
+said he, leaning slightly forward, &quot;but in pondering my Lord Keeper's
+suggestion for the bringing in of this older coin, I must ask you if
+this plan can escape that selfish impulse of the human mind which
+seeketh for personal gain? For, look you, short as would be the time
+proposed, it taketh but still shorter time to mutilate a coin; and it
+doth seem to me that, under the plan of my Lord Keeper, we should see
+the old currency of England mutilated in a night. Sir, I should opine in
+the contrary of this plan, and would base my decision upon certain
+principles which I believe to be ever present in the human soul.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Montague cast down his eye for a moment. &quot;Sir Isaac,&quot; at length he
+began, &quot;we are relying very much upon you. Is there no suggestion which
+you can offer on this ticklish theme?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The large, full face of the great man was turned calmly and slowly upon
+the speaker. His deep and serene eye apparently saw not so much the man
+before him as the problem which lay on that man's mind.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir,&quot; said Sir Isaac, &quot;as John Locke hath said, this is after all much
+a matter of clear reasoning. There come into this problem two chief
+questions: First, who shall pay the expense of the recoinage? Shall the
+Government pay the expense, or shall the owner of the coin, who is to
+obtain good coin for evil?</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Again, this matter applieth not to one man but to many men. Now if one
+half the tradesmen of England rush to us with their coin for reminting,
+surely the trade of the country will have left not sufficient medium
+with which to prosper. This I take to be the second part of this
+problem.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There be certain persons of the realm who claim that we may keep our
+present money as it is, but mark from its face a certain amount of
+value. Look you, now, this were a small thing; yet, in my mind, it
+clearly seemeth dishonesty. For, if I owe my neighbor a debt, let us say
+for an hundred sovereigns, shall I not be committing injustice upon my
+neighbor if I pay him an hundred sovereigns less that deduction which
+the realm may see fit thus to impose upon the face of my sovereign?
+This, in justice, sirs, I hold it to be not the part of science, nor the
+part of honesty, neither of statesmanship, to endorse.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir Isaac,&quot; cried Montague, striking his nervous hands upon the table,
+&quot;recoin we must. But how, and, as you say, at whose expense? We are as
+far now from a plan as when we started. We but multiply difficulties.
+What we need now is not so much negative measures as positive ones. We
+must do this thing, and we must do it promptly. The question is still
+of how it may best be done. Mr. Law, by your leave and by the leave of
+these gentlemen here present, I shall take the liberty of asking you if
+there doth occur to your mind any plan by which we may be relieved of
+certain of these difficulties. I am aware, sir, that you are much a
+student in these matters.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>A grave silence fell upon all. John Law, young, confident and arrogant
+in many ways as he was, none the less possessed sobriety and depth of
+thought, just as he possessed the external dignity to give it fitting
+vehicle. He gazed now at the men before him, not with timorousness or
+trepidation. His face was grave, and he returned their glances calmly as
+he rose and made the speech which, unknown to himself, was presently to
+prove so important in his life.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;My Lords,&quot; said he, &quot;and gentlemen of this council, I am ill-fitted to
+be present here, and ill-fitted to add my advice to that which has been
+given. It is not for me to go beyond the purpose of this meeting, or to
+lay before you certain plans of my own regarding the credit of nations.
+I may start, as does our learned friend, simply from established
+principles of human nature.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It is true that the coinage is a creature of the government. Yet I
+believe it to be true that the government lives purely upon credit;
+which is to say, the confidence of the people in that government.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Now, we may reason in this matter perhaps from the lesser relations of
+our daily life. What manner of man do we most trust among those whom we
+meet? Surely, the honest man, the plain man, the one whose directness
+and integrity we do not doubt. Truly you may witness the nature of such
+a man in the manner of his speech, in his mien, in his conduct.
+Therefore, my Lords and gentlemen, it seems to me plain that we shall
+best gain confidence for ourselves if we act in the most simple fashion.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Let us take up this matter directly with Parliament, not seeking to
+evade the knowledge of Parliament in any fashion; for, as we know, the
+Parliament and the king are not the best bed-fellows these days, and the
+one is ready enough to suspect the other. Let us have a bill framed for
+Parliament&mdash;such bill made upon the decisions of these learned gentlemen
+present. Above all things, let us act with perfect openness.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;As to the plan itself, it seems that a few things may be held safe and
+sure. Since we can not use the old coin, then surely we must have new
+coin, milled coin, which Charles, the earlier king of England, has
+decreed. Surely, too, as our learned friend has wisely stated, the loss
+in any recoinage ought, in full justice and honesty, to fall not upon
+the people of England, but upon the government of England. It seems
+equally plain to me there must be a day set after which the old coin may
+no longer be used. Set it some months ahead, not, as my Lord Keeper
+suggests, but a few days; so that full notice may be given to all. Make
+your campaign free and plain, and place it so that it may be known, not
+only of Parliament, but of all the world. Thus you establish yourselves
+in the confidence of Parliament and in the good graces of this people,
+from whom the taxes must ultimately come.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Montague's hands smote again upon the table with a gesture of
+conviction. John Locke shifted again in his chair. Sir Isaac and the
+lord keeper gazed steadfastly at this young man who stood before them,
+calmly, assuredly, and yet with no assumption in his mien.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Moreover,&quot; went on John Law, calmly, &quot;there is this further benefit to
+be gained, as I am sure my countryman, Mr. Paterson, has long ago made
+plain. It is not a question of the wealth of England, but a question of
+the confidence of the people in the throne. There is money in abundance
+in England. It is the province of my Lord Chancellor to wheedle it out
+of those coffers where it is concealed and place it before the uses of
+the king. Gentlemen, it is confidence that we need. There will be no
+trouble to secure loans of money in this rich land, but the taxes must
+be the pledge to your bankers. This new Bank of England will furnish you
+what moneys you may need. Secure them only by the pledge of such taxes
+as you feel the people may not resent; give the people, free of cost, a
+coinage which they can trust; and then, it seems to me, my Lords and
+gentlemen, the problem of the revenue may be thought solved simply and
+easily&mdash;solved, too, without irritating either the people or the
+Parliament, or endangering the relations of Parliament and the throne.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The conviction which fell upon all found its best expression in the face
+of Montague. The youth and nervousness of the man passed away upon the
+instant. He sat there sober and thoughtful, quiet and resolved.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Gentlemen,&quot; said he at last, slowly, &quot;my course is plain from this
+instant. I shall draw the bill and it shall go to Parliament. The
+expense of this recoinage I am sure we can find maintained by the
+stockholders of the Bank of England, and for their pay we shall propose
+a new tax upon the people of England. We shall tax the windows of the
+houses of England, and hence tax not only the poor but the rich of
+England, and that proportionately with their wealth. As for the coin of
+England, it shall be honest coin, made honest and kept honest, at no
+cost to the people of old England. Sirs, my heart is lighter than it has
+been for many days.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The last trace of formality in the meeting having at length vanished,
+Montague made his way rapidly to the foot of the table. He caught Law by
+both his hands.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir,&quot; said he, &quot;you helped us at the last stage of our ascent. A
+mistake here had been ruinous, not only to myself and friends, but to
+the safety of the whole Government. You spoke wisely and practically.
+Sir, if I can ever in all my life serve you, command me, and at whatever
+price you name. I am not yet done with you, sir,&quot; resumed Montague,
+casting his arm boyishly about the other's shoulder as they walked out.
+&quot;We must meet again to discuss certain problems of the currency which, I
+bethink me, you have studied deeply. Keep you here in London, for I
+shall have need of you. Within the month, perhaps within the week, I
+shall require you. England needs men who can do more than dawdle. Pray
+you, keep me advised where you may be found.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>There was ill omen in the light reply. &quot;Why, as to that, my Lord,&quot; said
+Law, &quot;if you should think my poor service useful, your servants might
+get trace of me at the Green Lion&mdash;unless I should be in prison! No man
+knoweth what may come.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Montague laughed lightly. &quot;At the Green Lion, or in Newgate itself,&quot;
+said he. &quot;Be ready, for I have not yet done with you.&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='CHAPTER_VI'></a><h3>CHAPTER VI</h3>
+
+<h4>THE RESOLUTION OF MR. LAW</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>The problems of England's troubled finances, the questions of the
+coinage, the gossip of the king's embroilments with the
+Parliament&mdash;these things, it may again be said, occupied Law's mind far
+less than the question of gaining audience with his fair rescuer of the
+morn at Sadler's Wells. This was the puzzle which, revolve it as he
+might, not even his audacious wit was able to provide with plausible
+solution. He pondered the matter in a hundred different pleasing phases
+as he passed from the Bank of England through the crowded streets of
+London, and so at length found himself at the shabby little lodgings in
+Bradwell Street, where he and his brother had, for the time, taken up
+their quarters.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It starteth well, my boy,&quot; cried he, gaily, to his brother, when at
+length he had found his way up the narrow stair into the little room,
+and discovered Will patiently awaiting his return. &quot;Already two of my
+errands are well acquit.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You have, then, sent the letters to our goldsmith here?&quot; said Will.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Now, to say truth, I had not thought of that. But letters of
+credit&mdash;why need we trouble over such matters? These English are but
+babes. Give me a night or so in the week at the Green Lion, and we'll
+need no letters of credit, Will. Look at your purse, boy&mdash;since you are
+the thrifty cashier of our firm!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I like not this sort of gold,&quot; said Will Law, setting his lips
+judicially.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yet it seems to purchase well as any,&quot; said the other, indifferently.
+&quot;At least, such is my hope, for I have made debt against our purse of
+some fifty sovereigns&mdash;some little apparel which I have ordered. For,
+look you, Will, I must be clothed proper. In these days, as I may tell
+you, I am to meet such men as Montague, chancellor of the exchequer&mdash;my
+Lord Keeper Somers&mdash;Sir Isaac Newton&mdash;Mr. John Locke&mdash;gentry of that
+sort. It is fitting I should have better garb than this which we have
+brought with us.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You are ever free with some mad jest or other, Jack; but what is this
+new madness of which you speak?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No madness at all, my dear boy; for in fact I have but come from the
+council chamber, where I have met these very gentlemen whom I have
+named to you. But pray you note, my dear brother, there are those who
+hold John Law, and his studies, not so light as doth his own brother.
+For myself, the matter furnishes no surprise at all. As for you, you had
+never confidence in me, nor in yourself. Gad! Will, hadst but the
+courage of a flea, what days we two might have together here in this old
+town!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I want none of such days, Jack,&quot; said Will Law, soberly. &quot;I care most
+to see you settled in some decent way of living. What will your mother
+say, if we but go on gaming and roistering, with dangers of some sudden
+quarrel&mdash;as this which has already sprung up&mdash;with no given aim in life,
+with nothing certain for an ambition&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Now, Will,&quot; began his brother, yet with no petulance in his tone, &quot;pray
+go not too hard with me at the start. I thought I had done fairly well,
+to sit at the table of the council of coinage on my first day in London.
+'Tis not every young man gets so far as that. Come, now, Will!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But after all, there must be serious purpose.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Know then,&quot; cried the elder man, suddenly, &quot;that I have found such
+serious purpose!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The speaker stood looking out of the window, his eye fixed out across
+the roofs of London. There had now fallen from his face all trace of
+levity, and into his eye and mouth there came reflex of the decision of
+his speech. Will stirred in his chair, and at length the two faced each
+other.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And pray, what is this sudden resolution, Jack?&quot; said Will Law.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;If I must tell you, it is simply this: I am resolved to marry the girl
+we met at Sadler's Wells.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;How&mdash;what&mdash;?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, how&mdash;what&mdash;?&quot; repeated his brother, mockingly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But I would ask, which?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There was but one,&quot; said John Law. &quot;The tall one, with the
+brassy-brown, copper-red hair, the bright blue eye, and the figure of a
+queen. Her like is not in all the world!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Methought 'twas more like to be the other,&quot; replied Will. &quot;Yet you&mdash;how
+dare you think thus of that lady? Why, Jack, 'twas the Lady Catharine
+Knollys, sister to the Earl of Banbury!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Law did not at once make any answer. He turned to the dressing-table and
+began making such shift as he could to better his appearance.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Will,&quot; said he, at length, &quot;you are, as ever, a babe and a suckling. I
+quite despair of you. 'Twould serve no purpose to explain anything to so
+faint a heart as yours. But you may come with me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And whither?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Whither? Where else, than to the residence of this same lady! Look
+you, I have learned this. She is, as you say, the sister of the Earl of
+Banbury, and is for the time at the town house in Knightwell Terrace.
+Moreover, if that news be worth while to so white-feathered a swain as
+yourself, the other, damsel, the dark one&mdash;the one with the mighty
+pretty little foot&mdash;lives there for the time as the guest of Lady
+Catharine. They are rated thick as peas in a pod. True, we are
+strangers, yet I venture we have made a beginning, and if we venture
+more we may better that beginning. Should I falter, when luck gave me
+the run of <i>trente et le va</i> but yesterday? Nay, ever follow fortune
+hard, and she waits for you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes,&quot; said Will, scornfully. &quot;You would get the name of gambler, and
+add to it the name of fortune-hunting, heiress-seeking adventurer.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Not so,&quot; replied John Law, taking snuff calmly and still keeping the
+evenness of his temper. &quot;My own fortune, as I admit, I keep safe at the
+Green Lion. For the rest, I seek at the start only respectful footing
+with this maid herself. When first I saw her, I knew well enough how the
+end would be. We were made for each other. This whole world was made for
+us both. Will, boy, I could not live without the Lady Catharine
+Knollys!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, cease such talk, Jack! 'Tis ill-mannered, such presumption
+regarding a lady, even had you known her long. Besides, 'tis but another
+of your fancies, Jack,&quot; said Will. &quot;Wilt never make an end of such
+follies?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, my boy,&quot; said his brother, gravely. &quot;I have made an end. Indeed, I
+made it the other morning at Sadler's Wells.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Methinks,&quot; said Will, dryly, &quot;that it might be well first to be sure
+that you can win past the front door of the house of Knollys.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>John Law still kept both his temper and his confidence.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Come with me,&quot; said he, blithely, &quot;and I will show you how that thing
+may be done.&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='CHAPTER_VII'></a><h3>CHAPTER VII</h3>
+
+<h4>TWO MAIDS A-BROIDERING</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>&quot;Now a plague take all created things, Lady Kitty!&quot; cried Mary Connynge,
+petulantly flinging down a silken pattern over which she had pretended
+to be engaged. &quot;There are devils in the skeins to-day. I'll try no more
+with't.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Fie! For shame, Mary Connynge,&quot; replied Lady Catharine Knollys,
+reprovingly. &quot;So far from better temperance of speech, didst ever hear
+of the virtue of perseverance? Now, for my own part&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And what, for your own part? Have I no eyes to see that thou'rt
+puttering over the same corner this last half hour? What is it thou art
+making to-day?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The Lady Catharine paused for a moment and held her embroidery frame
+away from her at arm's length, looking at it with brow puckering into a
+perplexed frown.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I was working a knight,&quot; said she. &quot;A tall one&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, a tall one, with yellow hair, I warrant.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, so it was. I was but seeking floss of the right hue, and found it
+difficult.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And with blue eyes?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;True; or perhaps gray. I could not state which. I had naught in my box
+would serve to suit me for the eyes. But how know you this, Mary
+Connynge?&quot; asked the Lady Catharine.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Because I was making some such knight for myself,&quot; replied the other.
+&quot;See! He was to have been tall, of good figure, wearing a wide hat and
+plume withal. But lest I spoil him, my knight&mdash;now a plague take me
+indeed if I do not ruin him complete!&quot; So saying, she drew with vengeful
+fingers at the intricately woven silks until she had indeed undone all
+that had gone before.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Nay, nay! Mary Connynge! Do not so!&quot; replied Lady Catharine in
+expostulation. &quot;The poor knight, how could he help himself? Why, as for
+mine, though I find him not all I could wish, I'll e'en be patient as I
+may, and seek if I may not mend him. These knights, you know, are most
+difficult. 'Tis hard to make them perfect.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Mary Connynge sat with her hands in her lap, looking idly out of the
+window and scarce heeding the despoiled fabric which lay on her lap.
+&quot;Come, confess, Lady Kitty,&quot; said she at length, turning toward her
+friend. &quot;Wert not trying to copy a knight of a hedge-row after all? Did
+not a certain tall young knight, with eyes of blue, or gray, or the
+like, give pattern for your sampler while you were broidering to-day?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Fie! For shame!&quot; again replied Lady Catharine, flushing none the less.
+&quot;Rather ask, does not such a thought come over thine own broidering? But
+as to the hedge-row, surely the gentleman explained it all proper
+enough; and I am sure&mdash;yes, I am very sure&mdash;that my brother Charles had
+quite approved of my giving the injured young man the lift in the
+coach&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Provided that your Brother Charles had ever heard of such a thing!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, of that, to be sure, why trouble my brother over such a trifle,
+when 'twas so obviously proper?&quot; argued Lady Catharine, bravely. &quot;And
+certainly, if we come to knights and the like, good chivalry has ever
+demanded succor for those in distress; and if, forsooth, it was two
+damsels in a comfortable coach, who rescued two knights from underneath
+a hedge-row, why, such is but the way of these modern days, when knights
+go seeking no more for adventures and ladies fair; as you very well
+know.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;As I do not know, Lady Catharine,&quot; replied Mary Connynge. &quot;To the
+contrary, 'twould not surprise me to learn that he would not shrink
+from any adventure which might offer.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You mean&mdash;that is&mdash;you mean the tall one, him who said he was Mr. Law
+of Lauriston?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, perhaps. Though I must say,&quot; replied Mary Connynge, with
+indirection, &quot;that I fancy the other far more, he being not so forward,
+nor so full of pure conceit. I like not a man so confident.&quot; This with
+an eye cast down, as much as though there were present in the room some
+man subject to her coquetry.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, I had not found him offering such an air,&quot; replied Lady Catharine,
+judicially. &quot;I had but thought him frank enough, and truly most
+courteous.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, truly,&quot; replied Mary Connynge. &quot;But saw you naught in his eye?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, but that it was blue, or gray,&quot; replied Lady Catharine.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, ho! then my lady did look a bit, after all! And so this is why the
+knight flourisheth so bravely in silks to-day&mdash;Fie! but a mere
+adventurer, Lady Kitty. He says he is Law of Lauriston; but what proof
+doth he offer? And did he find such proof, it is proof of what? For my
+part, I did never hear of Lauriston nor its owner.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah, but that I have, to the contrary,&quot; said Lady Catharine. &quot;John
+Law's father was a goldsmith, and it was he who bought the properties of
+Lauriston and Randleston. And so far from John Law being ill-born, why,
+his mother was Jean Campbell, kinswoman of the Campbell, Duke of Argyll;
+and a mighty important man is the Duke of Argyll these days, I may tell
+you, as the king's army hath discovered before this. You see, I have not
+talked with my brother about these things for naught.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;So you make excuse for this Mr. Law of Lauriston,&quot; said Mary Connynge.
+&quot;Well, I like better a knight who comes on his own horse, or in his own
+chariot, and who rescues me when I am in trouble, rather than asks me to
+give him aid. But, as to that, what matter? We set those highway
+travelers down, and there was an end of it. We shall never see either of
+them again.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Of course not,&quot; said Lady Catharine.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It were impossible.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, quite impossible!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Both the young women sighed, and both looked out of the window.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Because,&quot; said Mary Connynge, &quot;they are but strangers. That talk of
+having letters may be but deceit. They themselves may be coiners. I have
+heard it said that coiners are monstrous bold.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;To be sure, he mentioned Sir Arthur Pembroke,&quot; ventured Lady
+Catharine.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh! And be sure Sir Arthur Pembroke will take pains enough that no tall
+young man, who offers roses to ladies on first acquaintance, shall ever
+have opportunity to present himself to Lady Catharine Knollys. Nay, nay!
+There will be no introduction from that source, of that be sure. Sir
+Arthur is jealous as a wolf of thee already, Lady Kitty. See! He hath
+followed thee about like a dog for three years. And after all, why not
+reward him, Lady Kitty? Indeed, but the other day thou wert upon the
+very point of giving him his answer, for thou saidst to me that he sure
+had the prettiest eyes of any man in London. Pray, are Sir Arthur's eyes
+blue, or gray&mdash;or what? And can you match his eyes among the color of
+your flosses?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It might be,&quot; said Lady Catharine, musingly, &quot;that he would some day
+find means to send us word.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Who? Sir Arthur?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No. The young man, Mr. Law of Lauriston.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes; or he might come himself,&quot; replied Mary Connynge.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Fie! He dare not!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, but be not too sure. Now suppose he did come&mdash;'twill do no harm for
+us to suppose so much as that. Suppose he stood there at your very
+door, Lady Kitty. Then what would you do?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Do! Why, tell James that we were not in, and never should be, and
+request the young man to leave at once.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And never let him pass the door again.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Certainly not! 'Twould be presumption. But then&quot;&mdash;this with a gentle
+sigh&mdash;&quot;we need not trouble ourselves with this. I doubt not he hath
+forgot us long ago, just as indeed we have forgotten him&mdash;though I would
+say&mdash;. But I half believe he hit thee, girl, with his boldness and his
+bow, and his fearlessness withal.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Who, I? Why, heavens! Lady Kitty! The idea never came to my mind.
+Indeed no, not for an instant. Of course, as you say, 'twas but a
+passing occurrence, and 'twas all forgot. But, by the way, Lady Kitty,
+go we to Sadler's Wells to-morrow morn?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I see no reason for not going,&quot; replied Lady Catharine. &quot;And we may
+drive about, the same way we took the other morn. I will show you the
+same spot where he stood and bowed so handsomely, and made so little of
+the fight with the robbers the night before, as though 'twere trifling
+enough; and made so little of his poverty, as though he were owner of
+the king's coin.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But we shall never see him more,&quot; said Mary Connynge.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;To be sure not. But just to show you&mdash;see! He stood thus, his hat off,
+his eye laughing, I pledge you, as though for some good jest he had. And
+'twas 'your pardon, ladies!' he said, as though he were indeed nobleman
+himself. See! 'Twas thus.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>What pantomime might have followed did not appear, for at that moment
+the butler appeared at the door with an admonitory cough. &quot;If you
+please, your Ladyship,&quot; said he, &quot;there are two persons waiting.
+They&mdash;that is to say, he&mdash;one of them, asks for admission to your
+Ladyship.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What name does he offer, James?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Mr. John Law of Lauriston, your Ladyship, is the name he sends. He
+says, if your Ladyship please, that he has brought with him something
+which your Ladyship left behind, if your Ladyship please.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lady Catharine and Mary Connynge had both arisen and drawn together, and
+they now turned each a swift half glance upon the other.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Are these gentlemen waiting without the street door?&quot; asked Lady
+Catharine.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No, your Ladyship. That is to say, before I thought, I allowed the tall
+one to come within.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, well then, you see, Mary Connynge,&quot; replied Lady Catharine, with
+the pink flush rising in her cheek, &quot;it were rude to turn them now from
+our door, since they have already been admitted.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, we will send to the library for your brother,&quot; said Mary Connynge,
+dimpling at the corners of her mouth.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No, I think it not needful to do that,&quot; replied Lady Catharine, &quot;but we
+should perhaps learn what this young man brings, and then we'll see to
+it that we chide him so that he'll no more presume upon our kindness. My
+brother need not know, and we ourselves will end this forwardness at
+once, Mary Connynge, you and I. James, you may bring the gentlemen in.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Enter, therefore, John Law and his brother Will, the former seeming thus
+with ease to have made good his promise to win past the door of the Earl
+of Banbury.</p>
+
+<p>John Law, as on the morning of the roadside meeting, approached in
+advance of his more timid brother, though both bowed deeply as they
+entered. He bowed again respectfully, his eyes not wandering hither and
+yon upon the splendors of this great room in an ancestral home of
+England. His gaze was fixed rather upon the beauty of the tall girl
+before him, whose eyes, now round and startled, were not quite able to
+be cold nor yet to be quite cast down; whose white throat throbbed a bit
+under its golden chain; whose bosom rose and fell perceptibly beneath
+its falls of snowy laces.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lady Catharine Knollys,&quot; said John Law, his voice deep and even, and
+showing no false note of embarrassment, &quot;we come, as you may see, to
+make our respects to yourself and your friend, and to thank you for your
+kindness to two strangers.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;To two strangers, Mr. Law,&quot; said Lady Catharine, pointedly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes&quot;&mdash;and the answering smile was hard to be denied&mdash;&quot;to two strangers
+who are still strangers. I did but bethink me it was sweet to have such
+kindness. We were advised that London was cruel cold, and that all folk
+of this city hated their fellow-men. So, since 'twas welcome to be thus
+kindly entreated, I believed it but the act of courtesy to express our
+thanks more seeming than we might as that we were two beggars by the
+wayside. Therefore, I pay the first flower of my perpetual tribute.&quot; He
+bowed and extended, as he spoke, a deep red rose. His eye, though still
+direct, was as much imploring as it was bold.</p>
+
+<p>Instinctively Mary Connynge and Lady Catharine had drawn together,
+retreating somewhat from this intrusion. They were now standing, like
+any school girls, looking timidly over their shoulders, as he advanced.
+Lady Catharine hesitated, and yet she moved forward a half pace, as
+though bidden by some unheard voice. &quot;'Twas nothing, what we did for you
+and your brother,&quot; said she. She extended her hand as she spoke. &quot;As for
+the flower, I think&mdash;I think a rose is a sweet-pretty thing.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>She bent her cheek above the blossom, and whether the cheek or the petal
+were the redder, who should say? If there were any ill at ease in that
+room, it was not Law of Lauriston. He stood calm as though there by
+right. It was an escapade, an adventure, without doubt, as both these
+young women saw plainly enough. And now, what to do with this adventure
+since it had arrived?</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir,&quot; said Lady Catharine at length, &quot;I am sure you must be wearied
+with the heavy heats of the town. Your brother must still be weak from
+his hurt. Pray you, be seated.&quot; She placed the rose upon the tabouret as
+she passed, and presently pulled at the bell cord.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;James,&quot; said she, standing very erect and full of dignity, &quot;go to the
+library and see if Sir Charles be within.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>When the butler's solemn cough again gave warning, it was to bring
+information which may or may not have been news to Lady Catharine. &quot;Your
+Ladyship,&quot; said he, &quot;Sir Charles is said to have taken carriage an hour
+ago, and left no word.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Send me Cecile, James,&quot; said Lady Catharine, and again the butler
+vanished.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Cecile,&quot; said she, as the maid at length appeared, &quot;you may serve us
+with tea.&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='CHAPTER_VIII'></a><h3>CHAPTER VIII</h3>
+
+<h4>CATHARINE KNOLLYS</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>&quot;You mistake, sir! I am no light o' love, John Law!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Thus spoke Catharine Knollys. She stood near the door of the great
+drawing-room of the Knollys mansion, her figure beseeming well its
+framing of deep hangings and rich tapestries. Her eyes were wide and
+flashing, her cheeks deeply pink, the sweet bow of her lips half
+a-quiver in her vehemence. Her surpassing personal beauty, rich, ripe,
+enticing, gave more than sufficient challenge for the fiery blood of the
+young man before her.</p>
+
+<p>It was less than two weeks since these two had met. Surely the flood of
+time had run swiftly in those few days. Not a day had passed that Law
+had not met Catharine Knollys, nor had yet one meeting been such as the
+girl in her own conscience dared call better than clandestine, even
+though they met, as now, under her own roof. Yet, reason as she liked,
+struggle as she could, Catharine Knollys had not yet been quite able to
+end this swift voyaging on the flood of fate. It was so strange, so new,
+so sweet withal, this coming of her suitor, as from the darkness of some
+unknown star, so bold, so strong, so confident, and yet so humble! All
+the old song of the ages thrilled within her soul, and each day its
+compelling melody had accession. That this delirious softening of all
+her senses meant danger, the Lady Catharine could not deny. Yet could
+aught of earth be wrong when it spelled such happiness, such
+sweetness&mdash;when the sound of a footfall sent her blood going the faster,
+when the sight of a tall form, the ring of a vibrant tone, caused her
+limbs to weaken, her throat to choke?</p>
+
+<p>But ah! whence and why this spell, this sorcery&mdash;why this sweetness
+filling all her being, when, after all, duty and seemliness bade it all
+to end, as end it must, to-day? Thus had the Lady Catharine reflected
+but the hour before John Law came; her knight of dreams&mdash;tall,
+yellow-haired, blue-eyed, bold and tender, and surely speaking truth if
+truth dwelt beneath the stars. Now he would come&mdash;now he had come again.
+Here was his red, red rose once more. Here, burning in her ears, singing
+in her heart, were his avowing, pleading words. And this must end!</p>
+
+<p>John Law looked at her calmly, but said nothing. One hand, in a gesture
+customary with him, flicked lightly at the deep cuff of the other
+wrist, and this nervous movement was the sole betrayal of his
+uneasiness.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You come to this house time and again,&quot; resumed Catharine Knollys, &quot;as
+though it were an ancient right on your part, as though you had always
+been a friend of this family. And yet&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And so I have been,&quot; broke in her suitor. &quot;My people were friends of
+yours before we two were born. Why, then, should you advise your
+servant, as you have, fairly to deny me admission at the door?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I have done ill enough to admit you. Had I dreamed of this last
+presumption on your part I should never have seen your face again.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis not presumption,&quot; said the young man, his voice low and even,
+though ringing with the feeling to which even he dared not give full
+expression. &quot;I myself might call this presumption in another, but with
+myself 'tis otherwise.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir,&quot; said Lady Catharine Knollys, &quot;you speak as one not of good mind.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Not of good mind!&quot; broke out John Law. &quot;Say rather of mind too good to
+doubt, or dally, or temporize. Why, 'tis plain as the plan of fate! It
+was in the stars that I should come to you. This face, this form, this
+heart, this soul&mdash;I shall see nothing else so long as I live! Oh, I
+feel myself unworthy; you have right to think me of no station. Yet some
+day I shall bring to you all that wealth can buy, all that station can
+mean. Catharine&mdash;dear Lady Kitty&mdash;dear Kate&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I like not so fast a soothsaying in any suitor of mine,&quot; replied Lady
+Catharine, hotly, &quot;and this shall go no further.&quot; Her hand restrained
+him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then you find me distasteful? You would banish me? I could not learn to
+endure it!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lady Catharine looked at him curiously. &quot;Actually, sir,&quot; said she, &quot;you
+cause me to chill. I could half fear you. What is in your heart? Surely,
+this is a strange love-making.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And by that,&quot; cried John Law, &quot;know, then the better of the truth.
+Listen! I know! And this is what I know&mdash;that I shall succeed, and that
+I shall love you always!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis what one hears often from men, in one form or another,&quot; said the
+girl, coolly, seating herself as she spoke.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Talk not to me of other men&mdash;I'll not brook it!&quot; cried he, advancing
+toward her a few rapid paces. &quot;Think you I have no heart?&quot; His eye
+gleamed, and he came on yet a step in his strange wooing. &quot;Your face is
+here, here,&quot; he cried, &quot;deep in my heart! I must always look upon it, or
+I am a lost man!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis a face not so fair as that,&quot; said the Lady Catharine, demurely.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis the fairest face in England, or in the world!&quot; cried her lover;
+and now he was close at her side. Her hand, she knew not how, rested in
+his own. Something of the honesty and freedom from coquetry of the young
+woman's nature showed in her next speech, inconsequent, illogical,
+almost unmaidenly in its swift sincerity and candor.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis a face but blemished,&quot; said she, slowly, the color rising to her
+cheek. &quot;See! Here is the birth-mark of the house of Knollys. They tell
+me&mdash;my very good friends tell me, that this is the mark of shame, the
+bar sinister of the hand of justice. You know the story of our house.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Somewhat of it,&quot; said Law.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;My brother is not served of the writ when Parliament is called. This
+you know. Tell me why?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I know the so-called reason,&quot; replied John Law. &quot;'Twas brought out in
+his late case at the King's Bench.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;True. 'Twas said that my grandfather, past eighty, was not the father
+of those children of his second wife. There is talk that&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Twas three generations ago, this talk of the Knollys shortcoming. I am
+not eighty. I am twenty-four, and I love you, Catharine Knollys.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It was three generations ago,&quot; said the Lady Catharine, slowly and
+musingly, as though she had not heard the speech of her suitor. &quot;Three
+generations ago. Yet never since then hath there been clean name for the
+Banbury estate. Never yet hath its peer sat in his rightful place in
+Parliament. And never yet hath eldest daughter of this house failed to
+show this mark of shame, this unpurged contempt for that which is
+ordained. Surely it would seem fate holds us in its hands.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You tell me these things,&quot; said John Law, &quot;because you feel it is right
+to tell them. And I tell you of my future, as you tell me of your past.
+Why? Because, Lady Catharine Knollys, it has already come to matter of
+faith between us.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The girl leaned back against the wall near which she had seated herself.
+The young man bent forward, taking both her hands quietly in his own
+now, and gazing steadily into her eyes. There was no triumph in his
+gaze. Perhaps John Law had prescience of the future.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, sir, I had far liefer I had never seen you,&quot; cried Catharine
+Knollys, bending a head from whose eyes there dropped sudden tears.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah, dear heart, say anything but that!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis a hard way a woman must travel at best in this world,&quot; murmured
+the Lady Catharine, with wisdom all unsuited to her youth. &quot;But I can
+not understand. I had thought that the coming of a lover was a joyous
+thing, a time of happiness alone.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah, now, in the hour of mist can you not foresee the time of sunshine?
+All life is before us, my sweet, all life. There is much for us to do,
+there are so many, many days of love and happiness.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>But now the Lady Catharine Knollys veered again, with some sudden change
+of the inner currents of the feminine soul.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I have gone far with you, Mr. Law,&quot; said she, suddenly disengaging her
+hand. &quot;Yet I did but give you insight of things which any man coming as
+you have come should have well within his knowledge. Think not, sir,
+that I am easy to be won. I must know you equally honest with myself.
+And if you come to my regard, it must be step by step and stair by
+stair. This is to be remembered.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I shall remember.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Go, then, and leave me for this time,&quot; she besought him. But still he
+could not go, and still the Lady Catharine could not bid him more
+sternly to depart. Youth&mdash;youth, and love, and fate were in that room;
+and these would have their way.</p>
+
+<p>The beseeching gaze of an eye singular in its power rested on the girl,
+a gaze filled with all the strange, half mandatory pleading of youth and
+yearning. Once more there came a shift in the tidal currents of the
+woman's heart. The Lady Catharine slowly became conscious of a delicious
+helplessness, of a sinking and yielding which she could not resist. Her
+head lost power to be erect. It slipped forward on a shoulder waiting as
+by right. Her breath came in soft measure, and unconsciously a hand was
+raised to touch the cheek pressed down to hers. John Law kissed her once
+upon the lips. Suddenly, without plan&mdash;in spite of all plan&mdash;the seal of
+a strange fate was set forever on her life!</p>
+
+<p>For a long moment they stood thus, until at length she raised a face
+pale and sharp, and pushed back against his breast a hand that trembled.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis wondrous strange,&quot; she whispered.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ask nothing,&quot; said John Law, &quot;fear nothing. Only believe, as I
+believe.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Neither John Law nor the Lady Catharine Knollys saw what was passing
+just without the room. They did not see the set face which looked down
+from the stairway. Through the open door Mary Connynge could see the
+young man as he stepped out of the door, could see the conduct of the
+girl now left alone in the drawing-room. She saw the Lady Catharine sink
+down upon the seat, her head drooped in thought, her hand lying
+languidly out before her. Pale now and distraught, the Lady Catharine
+Knollys wist little of what went on before her. She had full concern
+with the tumult which waged riot in her soul.</p>
+
+<p>Mary Connynge turned, and started back up the stair unseen. She paused,
+her yellow eyes gone narrow, her little hand clutched tight upon the
+rail.</p>
+
+<center>
+<img src="images/img2.jpg" height="414" width="300"
+alt="Illustration">
+</center>
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='CHAPTER_IX'></a><h3>CHAPTER IX</h3>
+
+<h4>IN SEARCH OF THE QUARREL</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>As Law turned away from the door of the Knollys mansion, he walked with
+head bent forward, not looking upon the one hand or the other. He raised
+his eyes only when a passing horseman had called thrice to him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What!&quot; cried Sir Arthur Pembroke. &quot;I little looked to see you here, Mr.
+Law. I thought it more likely you were engaged in other business&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Meaning by that&mdash;?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What should I mean, except that I supposed you preparing for your
+little affair with Wilson?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;My little affair?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Certainly, with Wilson, as I said. I saw our friend Castleton but now,
+and he advised me of your promptness. He had searched for you for days,
+he being chosen by Wilson for his friend&mdash;and said he had at last found
+you in your lodgings. Egad! I have mistook your kidney completely. Never
+in London was a duel brought on so swift. 'Fight? This afternoon!' said
+you. Jove! but the young bloods laughed when they heard of it. 'Bloody
+Scotland' is what they have christened you at the Green Lion. 'He said
+to me,' said Charlie, 'that he was slow to find a quarrel, but since
+this quarrel was brought home to him, 'twere meet 'twere soon finished.
+He thought, forsooth, that four o'clock of the afternoon were late
+enough.' Gad! But you might have given Wilson time at least for one more
+dinner.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What do you mean?&quot; exclaimed Law, mystified still.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Mean! Why, I mean that I've been scouring London to find you. My faith,
+man, but thou'rt a sudden actor! Where caught you this unseemly haste?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir Arthur,&quot; said the other, slowly, &quot;you do me too much justice. I
+have made no arrangement to meet Mr. Wilson, nor have I any wish to do
+so.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Pish, man! You must not jest with me in such a case as this. 'Tis no
+masquerading. Let me tell you, Wilson has a vicious sword, and a temper
+no less vicious. You have touched him on his very sorest spot. He has
+gone to meet you this very hour. His coach will be at Bloomsbury Square
+this afternoon, and there he will await you. I promise you he is eager
+as yourself. 'Tis too late now to accommodate this matter, even had you
+not sent back so prompt and bold an answer.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I have sent him no answer at all!&quot; cried Law. &quot;I have not seen
+Castleton at all.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, come!&quot; expostulated Sir Arthur, his face showing a flush of
+annoyance.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir Arthur,&quot; continued Law, as he raised his head, &quot;I am of the
+misfortune to be but young in London, and I am in need of your
+friendship. I find myself pressed for rapid transportation. Pray you,
+give me your mount, for I must have speed. I shall not need the service
+of your seconding. Indulge me now by asking no more, and wait until we
+meet again. Give me the horse, and quickly.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But you must be seconded!&quot; cried the other. &quot;This is too unusual.
+Consider!&quot; Yet all the time he was giving a hand at the stirrup of Law,
+who sprang up and was off before he had time to formulate his own
+wonder.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Who and what is he?&quot; muttered the young nobleman to himself as he gazed
+after the retreating form. &quot;He rides well, at least, as he does
+everything else well. 'Till I return,' forsooth, 'till I return!' Gad! I
+half wish you had never come in the first place, my Bloody Scotland!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>As for Law, he rode swiftly, asking at times his way, losing time here,
+gaining it again there, creating much hatred among foot folk by his
+tempestuous speed, but giving little heed to aught save his own purpose.
+In time he reached Bradwell Street and flung himself from his panting
+horse in front of the dingy door of the lodging house. He rushed up the
+stairs at speed and threw open the door of the little room. It was
+empty.</p>
+
+<p>There was no word to show what his brother had done, whither he had
+gone, when he would return. Around the lodgings in Bradwell Street lay a
+great and unknown London, with its own secrets, its own hatreds, its own
+crimes. A strange feeling of on-coming ill seized upon the heart of Law,
+as he stood in the center of the dull little room, now suddenly grown
+hateful to him. He dashed his hand upon the table, and stood so, scarce
+knowing which way to turn. A foot sounded in the hallway, and he went to
+the door. The ancient landlady confronted him. &quot;Where has my brother
+gone?&quot; he demanded, fiercely, as she came into view along the
+ill-lighted passage-way.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Gone, good sir?&quot; said she, quaveringly. &quot;Why, how should I know where
+he has gone? More quality has been here this morning than ever I saw in
+Bradwell Street in all my life. First comes a coach this morning, with
+four horses as fine as the king's, and a man atop would turn your
+blood, he was that solemn-like, sir. Then your brother was up here
+alone, sir, and very still. I will swear he was never out of this room.
+Then, but an hour ago, here comes another coach, as big as the first,
+and yellower. And out of it steps another fine lord, and he bows to your
+brother, and in they get, and off goes the coach. But, God help me, sir!
+How should I know which way they went, or what should be their errand?
+Methinks it must be some servant come from the royal palace. Sir, be you
+two of the nobility? And if you be, why come you here to Bradwell
+Street? Sir, I am but a poor woman. If you be not of the nobility, then
+you must be either coiners or smugglers. Sir, I am bethought that you
+are dangerous guests in my house. I am a poor woman, as you know.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Law flung a coin at her as he sped through the hall and down the stair.
+&quot;'Twas to Bloomsbury Square,&quot; he said, as he sprang into saddle and set
+heel to the flank of the good horse. &quot;To Bloomsbury Square, then, and
+fast!&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='CHAPTER_X'></a><h3>CHAPTER X</h3>
+
+<h4>THE RUMOR OF THE QUARREL</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>Meantime, at the Knollys mansion, there were forthcoming other parts of
+the drama of the day. The butler announced to Lady Catharine, still
+sitting dreaming by the window, Sir Arthur Pembroke, now late arrived on
+foot. Lady Catharine hesitated. &quot;Show the gentleman to this room,&quot; she
+said at length.</p>
+
+<p>Pembroke came forward eagerly as he entered. &quot;Such a day of it, Lady
+Kitty!&quot; he exclaimed, impulsively. &quot;You will pardon me for coming thus,
+when I say I have just been robbed of my horse. 'Twas at your very door,
+and methinks you must know the highwayman. I have come to tell you of
+the news.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You don't mean&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, but I do! 'Twas no less than Mr. Law, of Scotland. He hath taken
+my horse and gone off like a whirlwind, leaving me afoot and friendless,
+save for your good self. I am begging a taste of tea and a little
+biscuit, for I vow I am half famished.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The Lady Catharine Knollys, in sheer reaction from the strain, broke out
+into a peal of laughter.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sure, he has strange ways about him, this same Mr. Law,&quot; said she.
+&quot;That young man would have come here direct, and would have made himself
+quite at home, methinks, had he had but the first encouragement.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Gad! Lady Catharine, but he has a conceit of himself. Think you of what
+he has done in his short stay here in town! First, as you know, he sat
+at cards with two or three of us the other evening&mdash;Charlie Castleton,
+Beau Wilson, myself and one or two besides. And what doth he do but
+stake a bauble against good gold that he would make <i>sept et le va</i>.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And did it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And did it. Yes, faith, as though he saw it coming. Yet 'twas I who cut
+and dealt the cards. Nor was that the half of it,&quot; he went on. &quot;He let
+the play run on till 'twas <i>seize et le va</i>, then <i>vingt-un et le va</i>,
+then twenty-five. And, strike me! Lady Catharine, if he sat not there
+cool as my Lord Speaker in the Parliament, and saw the cards run to
+<i>trente et le va</i>, as though 'twere no more to him than the eating of an
+orange!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And showed no anxiety at all?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;None, as I tell you, and he proved to us plain that he had not
+two-pence to his name, for that he had been robbed the night before
+while on his way to town. He staked a diamond, a stone of worth. I must
+say, his like was never seen at cards.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;He hath strange quality.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That you may say. Now read me some farther riddles of this same young
+man. He managed to win from me a little shoe of an American savage,
+which I had bought at a good price but the day before. It came to idle
+talk of ladies' shoes, and wagers&mdash;well, no matter; and so Mr. Law
+brought on a sudden quarrel with Beau Wilson. Then, though he seemed not
+wanting courage, he half declined to face Wilson on the field. Sudden
+to change as ever, this very morning he sent word to Wilson by Mr.
+Castleton that he was ready to meet him at four this afternoon. God save
+us! what a haste was there! And now, to cap it all, he hath taken my
+horse from me and ridden off to keep an appointment which he says he
+never made! Gad! These he odd ways enough, and almost too keen for me to
+credit. Why, 'twould not surprise me to hear that he had been here to
+make love to the Lady Catharine Knollys, and to offer her the proceeds
+of his luck at faro. And, strike me! if that same luck holds, he'll
+have all the money in London in another fortnight! I wish him joy of
+Wilson.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;He may be hurt!&quot; exclaimed the Lady Catharine, starting up.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Who? Beau Wilson?&quot; exclaimed Sir Arthur. &quot;Take no fear. He carries a
+good blade.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir Arthur,&quot; said the girl, &quot;is there no way to stop this foolish
+matter? Is there not yet time?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, as to that,&quot; said Sir Arthur, &quot;it all depends upon the speed of my
+own horse. I should think myself e'en let off cheaply if he took the
+horse and rode on out of London, and never turned up again. Yet, I
+bethink me, he has a way of turning up. If so, then we are too late. Let
+him go. For me, I'd liefer sit me here with Lady Catharine, who, I
+perceive, is about now to save my death of hunger, since now I see the
+tea tray coming. Thank thee prettily.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lady Catharine poured for him with a hand none too steady. &quot;Sir Arthur,&quot;
+said she, &quot;you know why I have this concern over such a quarrel. You
+know well enough what the duello has cost the house of Knollys. Of my
+uncles, four were killed upon this so-called field of honor. My
+grandfather met his death in that same way. Another relative, before my
+time, is reputed to have slain a friend in this same manner. As you
+know, but three years ago, my brother, the living representative of our
+family, had the misfortune to slay his kinsman in a duel which sprang
+out of some little jest. I say to you, Sir Arthur, that this quarrel
+must be stopped, and we must do thus much for our friends forthwith. It
+must not go on.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;For our friends! Our friends!&quot; cried Sir Arthur. &quot;Ah, ha! so you mean
+that the old beau hath hit thee, too, with his ardent eye. Or&mdash;hang!
+What&mdash;you mean not that this stranger, this Scotchman, is a friend of
+yours?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I speak but confusedly,&quot; said the Lady Catharine. &quot;'Tis my prejudice
+against such fighting, as you know. Can we not make haste, and so
+prevent this meeting?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, I doubt if there be much need of haste,&quot; said Sir Arthur, balancing
+his cup in his hand judicially. &quot;This matter will fall through at most
+for the day. They assuredly can not meet until to-morrow. This will be
+the talk of London, if it goes on in this pell-mell, hurly-burly
+fashion. As to the stopping of it&mdash;well now, the law under William and
+Mary saith that one who slays another in a duel of premeditation is
+nothing but a murderer, and may be hanged like any felon; hanged by the
+neck, till he be dead. Alas, what a fate for this pretty Scotchman!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Sir Arthur paused. A look of wonder swept across his face. &quot;Open the
+window, Annie!&quot; he cried suddenly to the servant. &quot;Your mistress is
+ill.&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='CHAPTER_XI'></a><h3>CHAPTER XI</h3>
+
+<h4>AS CHANCE DECREED</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>Mischance delayed the carriage of Beau Wilson in its journeying to
+Bloomsbury Square. It had not appeared at that moment, far toward
+evening, when John Law, riding a trembling and dripping steed, came upon
+one side of this little open common and gazed anxiously across the
+space. He saw standing across from him a carriage, toward which he
+dashed. He flung open the carriage door, crying out, even before he saw
+the face within.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Will! Will Law, I say, come out!&quot; called he. &quot;What mad trick is this?
+What&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He saw indeed the face of Will Law inside the carriage, a face pale,
+melancholy, and yet firm.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Get you back into the city!&quot; cried Will Law. &quot;This is no place for you,
+Jack.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Boy! Are you mad, entirely mad?&quot; cried Law, pushing his way directly
+into the carriage and reaching out with an arm of authority for the
+sword which he saw resting beside his brother against the seat. &quot;No
+place for me! 'Tis no place for you, for either of us. Turn back. This
+foolishness must go no further!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It must go on now to the end,&quot; said Will Law, wearily. &quot;Mr. Wilson's
+carriage is long past due.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But you&mdash;what do you mean? You've had no hand in this. Even had
+you&mdash;why, boy, you would be spitted in an instant by this fellow.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And would not that teach you to cease your mad pranks, and use to
+better purpose the talents God hath given you? Yours is the better
+chance, Jack.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Peace!&quot; cried John Law, tears starting to his eyes. &quot;I'll not argue
+that. Driver, turn back for home!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The coachman at the box touched his hat with a puzzled air. &quot;I beg
+pardon, sir,&quot; said he, &quot;but I was under orders of the gentleman inside.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You were sent for Mr. John Law.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;For Mr. Law&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But I am John Law, sirrah!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You are both Mr. Law? Well, sir, I scarce know which of you is the
+proper Mr. Law. But I must say that here comes a coach drove fast
+enough, and perhaps this is the gentleman I was to wait for, according
+to the first Mr. Law, sir.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;He is coming, then,&quot; cried John Law, angrily. &quot;I'll see into this
+pretty meeting. If this devil's own fool is to have a crossing of steel,
+I'll fair accommodate him, and we'll look into the reasons for it later.
+Sit ye down! Be quiet, Will, boy, I say!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Law was a powerful man, over six feet in height. The sports of the
+Highlands, combined with much fencing and continuous play in the tennis
+court, indeed his ardent love for every hardy exercise, had given his
+form alike solid strength and great activity. &quot;Jessamy Law,&quot; they called
+him at home, in compliment of his slender though full and manly form.
+Cool and skilful in all the games of his youth, as John Law himself had
+often calmly stated, in fence he had a knowledge amounting to science, a
+knowledge based upon the study of first principles. The intricacies of
+the Italian school were to him an old story. With the single blade he
+had never yet met his master. Indeed, the thought of successful
+opposition seemed never to occur to him at all. Certainly at this
+moment, angered at the impatient insolence of his adversary, the thought
+of danger was farthest from his mind. Stronger than his brother, he
+pushed the latter back with one hand, grasping as he did so the
+small-sword with which the latter was provided. With one leap he sprang
+from the carriage, leaving Will half dazed and limp within.</p>
+
+<p>Even as he left the carriage step, he found himself confronted with an
+adversary eager as himself; for at that instant Beau Wilson was
+hastening from his coach. Vain, weak and pompous in a way, yet lacking
+not in a certain personal valor, Beau Wilson stopped not for his
+seconds, tarried not to catch the other's speech, but himself strode
+madly onward, his point raised slightly, as though he had lost all care
+and dignity and desired nothing so much as to stab his enemy as swiftly
+as might be.</p>
+
+<p>It would have mattered nothing now to this Highlander, this fighting
+Argyll, what had been the reason animating his opponent. It was enough
+that he saw a weapon bared. Too late, then, to reason with John Law,
+&quot;Beau&quot; Law of Edinboro', &quot;Jessamy&quot; Law, the best blade and the coolest
+head in all the schools of arms that taught him fence.</p>
+
+<p>For a moment Law paused and raised his point, whether in query or in
+salute the onlookers scarce could tell. Sure it was that Wilson was the
+first to fall into the assault. Scarce pausing in his stride, he came on
+blindly, and, raising his own point, lunged straight for his opponent's
+breast. Sad enough was the fate which impelled him to do this thing.</p>
+
+<p>It was over in an instant. It could not be said that there was an
+actual encounter. The side step of the young Highlander was soft as that
+of a panther, as quick, and yet as full of savagery. The whipping over
+of his wrist, the gliding, twining, clinging of his blade against that
+of his enemy was so swift that eye could scarce have followed it. The
+eye of Beau Wilson was too slow to catch it or to guard. He never
+stopped the <i>riposte</i>, and indeed was too late to attempt any guard.
+Pierced through the body, Wilson staggered back, clapping his hands
+against his chest. Over his face there swept a swift series of changes.
+Anger faded to chagrin, that to surprise, surprise to fright, and that
+to gentleness.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir,&quot; said he, &quot;you've hit me fair, and very hard. I pray you, some
+friend, give me an arm.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>And so they led him to his carriage, and took him home a corpse. Once
+more the code of the time had found its victim.</p>
+
+<p>Law turned away from the coach of his smitten opponent, turned away with
+a face stern and full of trouble. Many things revolved themselves in his
+mind as he stepped slowly towards the carriage, in which his brother
+still sat wringing his hands in an agony of perturbation.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Jack, Jack!&quot; cried Will Law, &quot;Oh, heavens! You have killed him! You
+have killed a man! What shall we do?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Law raised his head and looked his brother in the face, but seemed
+scarce to hear him. Half mechanically he was fumbling in the side pocket
+of his coat. He drew forth from it now a peculiar object, at which he
+gazed intently and half in curiosity, It was the little beaded shoe of
+the Indian woman, the very object over which this ill-fated quarrel had
+arisen, and which now seemed so curiously to intermingle itself with his
+affairs.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Twas a slight shield enough,&quot; he said slowly to himself, &quot;yet it
+served. But for this little piece of hide, methinks there might be two
+of us going home to-day to take somewhat of rest.&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='CHAPTER_XII'></a><h3>CHAPTER XII</h3>
+
+<h4>FOR FELONY</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>Late in the afternoon of the day following the encounter in Bloomsbury
+Square, a little group of excited loiterers filled the entrance and
+passage way at 59 Bradwell Street, the former lodgings of the two young
+gentlemen from Scotland. The motley assemblage seemed for the most part
+to make merry at the expense of a certain messenger boy, who bore a long
+wicker box, which presently he shifted from his shoulder to a more
+convenient resting place on the curb.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Do 'ee but look at un,&quot; said one ancient dame. &quot;He! he! Hath a parcel
+of fine clothes for the tall gentleman was up in third floor! He! he!
+Clothes for Mr. Law, indeed!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Fine clothes, eh?&quot; cried another, a portly dame of certain years. &quot;Much
+fine clothes he'll need where he'm gone.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, indeed, that he will na. Bad luck 'twas to Mary Cullen as took un
+into her house. Now she's no lodging money for her rooms, and her
+lodgers be both in Newgate; least ways, one of un.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah now, 'tis a pity for Mary Cullen, she do need the money so much&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Shut ye all your mouths, the lot o' you,&quot; cried Mary Cullen herself,
+appearing at the door. &quot;'Tis not she is needing the little money, for
+she has it right here in the corner of her apron. Every stiver Mary
+Cullen's young men said they'd pay they paid, like the gentlemen they
+were. I'll warrant the raggle of ye would do well to make out fine as
+Mary Cullen hath.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh now, is that true, Mary Cullen?&quot; said a voice. &quot;'Twas said that
+these two were noble folk come here for the sport of it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What else but true? Do you never know the look of gentry? My fakes,
+I'll warrant the young gentleman is back within a fortnight. His
+brother, the younger one, said to me hisself but this very morn, his
+brother was hinnocent as a child; that he was obliged to strike the
+other man for fear of his own life. Now, what can judge do but turn un
+loose? Four sovereigns he gave me this very morn. What else can judge do
+but turn un free? Tell me that, now!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Let's see the fine clothes,&quot; said the first old lady to the apprentice
+boy, reaching out a hand and pulling at the corner of the box-lid. The
+youth was nothing loath to show, with professional pride, the quality of
+his burden, and so raised the lid.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Land save us! 'Tis gentry sure enough they are,&quot; cried the inquisitive
+one. &quot;Do-a look in there! Such clothes and laces, such a brand new wig,
+such silken hose! Law o' land! Must have cost all of forty crowns. Mary
+Cullen, right ye are; 'twas quality ye had with ye, even if 'twas but
+for little while.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And them gone to prison, him on trial for his life! I saw un ride out
+this very yesterday, fast as though the devil was behind un, and a finer
+body of a man never did I look at in my life. What pity 'tis, what pity
+'tis!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well,&quot; said the apprentice, with a certain superiority in his air. &quot;I
+dare wait no longer. My master said the gentleman was to have the
+clothes this very afternoon. So if to prison he be gone, to prison must
+I go too.&quot; Upon which he set off doggedly, and so removed one of the
+main causes for the assemblage at the curb.</p>
+
+<p>The apprentice was hungry and weary enough before he reached the somber
+portals, yet his insistence won past gate-keeper and turnkey, one after
+another, till at length he reached the jailer who adjudged himself fit
+to pass upon the stolid demand that the messenger be admitted with the
+parcel for John Law, Esquire, late of Bradwell Street, marked urgent,
+and collect fifty sovereigns. The humor of all this appealed to the
+jailer mightily.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Send him along,&quot; he said. And the boy came in, much dismayed but still
+faithful to his trust.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Please, sir,&quot; said the youth, &quot;I would know if ye have John Law,
+Esquire, in this place; and if so, I would see him. Master said I was
+not to bring back this parcel till that I had seen John Law, Esquire,
+and got from him fifty sovereigns. 'Tis for his wedding, sir, and the
+clothes are of the finest.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The jailer smiled grimly. &quot;Mr. Law gets presents passing soon,&quot; said he.
+&quot;Set down your box. It might be weapons or the like.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Some clothes,&quot; said the apprentice. &quot;Some very fine clothes. They are
+of our best.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ha! ha!&quot; roared the jailer. &quot;Here indeed be a pretty jest. Much need
+he'll have of fine clothes here. He'll soon take his coat off the rack
+like the rest, and happen it fits him, very well. Take back your box,
+boy&mdash;or stay, let's have a look in't.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The jailer was a man not devoid of wisdom. Fine clothes sometimes went
+with a long purse, and a long purse might do wonders to help the comfort
+of any prisoner in London, as well as the comfort of his keeper. Truly
+his eyes opened wide as he saw the contents of the box. He felt the
+lapel of the coat, passing it approvingly between his thumb and finger.
+&quot;Well, e'en set ye down the box, lad,&quot; said he, &quot;and wait till I see
+where Mr. Law has gone. Hum, hum! What saith the record? Charged that
+said prisoner did kill&mdash;hum, hum! Taken of said John Law six sovereigns,
+three shillings and sixpence. Item, one snuff-box, gilt. Hour of
+admission, five o'clock of the afternoon. We shall see, we shall see.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir,&quot; said the jailer, approaching the prisoner and his brother, who
+both remained in the detention room, &quot;a lad hath arrived bearing a
+parcel for John Law, Esquire. 'Tis not within possibility that you have
+these goods, but we would know what disposition we shall make of them.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;By my faith!&quot; cried Law, &quot;I had entirely forgot my haberdasher.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The jailer stood on one foot and gave a cough, unnecessarily loud but
+sufficiently significant. It was enough for the quick wit of Law.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There was fifty sovereigns on the charge list,&quot; said the jailer.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sixty sovereigns, I heard you say distinctly,&quot; replied Law. &quot;Will, give
+me thy purse, man!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Will Law obeyed automatically.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There,&quot; said John Law to the jailer. &quot;I am sure the garments will be
+very proper. Is it not all very proper?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The turnkey looked calmly into the face of his prisoner and as calmly
+replied: &quot;It is, sir, as you say, very proper.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It would be much relief,&quot; said John Law, as the turnkey again appeared,
+bearing the box in his own hands, &quot;if I might don my new garments. I
+would liefer make a good showing for thy house, friend, and can not, in
+this garb.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sirrah,&quot; said the jailer, &quot;there be rules of this place, as you very
+well know. Your little chamber was to have been in corridor number four,
+number twelve of the left aisle. But, sir, as perhaps you know, there be
+rules which are rules, and rules which are not so much&mdash;that is to
+say&mdash;rules, as you might put it, sir. The main thing is that I produce
+your body on the day of the hearing, which cometh soon. Meantime, since
+you seem a gentleman, and are in for no common felony, but charged, as I
+might say, with a light offense, why, sir, in such a case, I might say
+that a gentleman like yourself, if he cared to wear a bit of good
+clothes and wear it here in the parlor like, why, sir, I can see no harm
+in it. And that's competent to prove, as the judge says.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Very well, then,&quot; said Law, &quot;I'll e'en deck out with the gear I should
+have had to-night had I been free; though I fear my employment this
+evening will scarce be pleasing as that which I had planned. Will, had I
+had but one more night at the Green Lion, we'd e'en have needed a
+special chair to carry home my winnings of their English gold.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Enter then, a few moments later, &quot;Beau&quot; Law, &quot;Jessamy&quot; Law, late of
+Edinboro', gentleman, and a right gallant figure of a man. Tall he was
+indeed, and, so clad, making a picture of superb manhood. Ease and grace
+he showed in every movement. His long fingers closed lightly at top of a
+lacquered cane which he had found within the box. Deep ruffles of white
+hung down from his wrists, and a fall of wide lace drooped from the
+bosom of his ruffled shirt. His wig, deep curled and well whitened, gave
+a certain austerity to his mien. At his instep sparkled new buckles of
+brilliants, rising above which sprang a graceful ankle, a straight and
+well-rounded leg. The long lapels of his rich coat hung deep, and the
+rich waistcoat of plum-colored satin added slimness to a torso not too
+bulky in itself. Neat, dainty, fastidious, &quot;Jessamy&quot; Law, late of
+Edinboro', for some weeks of London, and now of a London prison, scarce
+seemed a man about to be put on trial for his life.</p>
+
+<p>He advanced from the door of the side room with ease and dignity.
+Reaching out a snuff-box which he had found in the silken pocket of his
+new garment, he extended it to the turnkey with an indifferent gesture.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Kindly have it filled with maccaboy,&quot; he said. &quot;See, 'tis quite empty,
+and as such, 'tis useless.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Certainly, Captain Law,&quot; said the turnkey. &quot;I am a man as knows what a
+gentleman likes, and many a one I've had here in my day, sir. As it
+chances, I've a bit of the best in my own quarters, and I'll see that
+you have what you like.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Will,&quot; said Law to his brother, who had scarce moved during all this,
+&quot;come, cheer up! One would think 'twas thyself was to be inmate here,
+and not another.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Will Law burst into tears.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;God knows, 'twere better myself, and not thee, Jack,&quot; he said.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Pish! boy, no more of that! 'Twas as chance would have it. I'm never
+meant for staying here. Come, take this letter, as I said, and make
+haste to carry it. 'Twill serve nothing to have you moping here. Fare
+you well, and see that you sleep sound.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Will Law turned, obedient as ever to the commands of the superior mind.
+He passed out through the heavily-guarded door as the turnkey swung it
+for him; passed out, turned and looked back. He saw his brother standing
+there, easy, calm, indifferent, a splendid figure of a man.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='CHAPTER_XIII'></a><h3>CHAPTER XIII</h3>
+
+<h4>THE MESSAGE</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>To Will Law, as he turned away from the prison gate upon the errand
+assigned to him, the vast and shapeless shadows of the night-covered
+city took the form of appalling monsters, relentless, remorseless,
+savage of purpose. He passed, as one in some hideous dream, along
+streets that wound and wound until his brain lost distance and
+direction. It might have been an hour, two hours, and the clock might
+have registered after midnight, when at last he discovered himself in
+front of the dark gray mass of stone which the chairmen assured him was
+his destination. It was with trepidation that he stepped to the
+half-lighted door and fumbled for the knocker. The door slowly swung
+open, and he was confronted by the portly presence of a lackey who stood
+in silence waiting for his word.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;A message for Lady Catharine Knollys,&quot; said Will, with what courage he
+could summon. &quot;'Tis of importance, I make no doubt.&quot; For it was to the
+Lady Catharine that John Law had first turned. His heart craved one
+more sight of the face so beloved, one more word from the voice which so
+late had thrilled his soul. Away from these&mdash;ah! that was the prison for
+him, these were the bars which to him seemed imperatively needful to be
+broken. Aid he did not think of asking. Only, across London, in the
+night, he had sent the cry of his heart: &quot;Come to me!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The Lady Catharine is not in at this hour,&quot; said the butler, with, some
+asperity, closing the door again in part.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But 'tis important. I doubt if 'twill bear the delay of a night.&quot;
+Indeed, Will Law had hitherto hardly paused to reflect how unusual was
+this message, from such a person, to such address, and at such an hour.</p>
+
+<p>The butler hesitated, and so did the unbidden guest at the door. Neither
+heard at first the light rustle of garments at the head of the stair,
+nor saw the face bent over the balustrade in the shadows of the hall.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What is it, James?&quot; asked a voice from above.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;A message for the Lady Catharine,&quot; replied the servant. &quot;Said to be
+important. What should I do?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lady Catharine Knollys is away,&quot; said the soft voice of Mary Connynge,
+speaking from the stair. Her voice came nearer as she now descended and
+appeared at the first landing.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;We may crave your pardon, sir,&quot; said she, &quot;that we receive you so ill,
+but the hour is very late. Lady Catharine is away, and Sir Charles is
+forth also, as usual, at this time. I am left proxy for my entertainers,
+and perhaps I may serve you in this case. Therefore pray step within.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Reluctantly the butler swung open the door and admitted the visitor.
+Will Law stood face to face with Mary Connynge, just from her boudoir,
+and with time for but half care as to the details of her toilet; yet
+none the less Mary Connynge, Eve-like, bewitching, endowed with all the
+ancient wiles of womankind. Will Law gazed, since this was his fate.
+Unconsciously the sorcery of the sight enfolded the youth as he stood
+there uncertainly. He saw the round throat, the heavy masses of the dark
+hair, the full round form. He noted, though he could not define; felt,
+though he could not classify. He was young. Utterly helpless might have
+been even an older man in the hands of Mary Connynge at a time like
+this, Mary Connynge deliberately seeking to ensnare.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Pardon this robe, but half concealing,&quot; said her drooping eye and her
+half uplifted hands which caught the defining folds yet closer to her
+bosom. &quot;'Tis in your chivalry I trust. I would not so with others.&quot; This
+to the beholder meant that he was the one man on earth to whom so much
+could be conceded.</p>
+
+<p>Therefore, following to his own undoing, as though led by some actual
+command, while but bidden gently by the softest voice in all the
+kingdom, the young man entered the great drawing-room and waited as the
+butler lessened the shadows by the aid of candles. He saw the smallest
+foot in London just peep in and out, suddenly withdrawn as Mary Connynge
+sat her down.</p>
+
+<p>She held the message now in her hand. In her soul sat burning
+impatience, in her heart contempt for the callow youth before her. Yet
+to that youth her attitude seemed to speak naught but deference for
+himself and doubt for this unusual situation.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir, I am in some hesitation,&quot; said Mary Connynge. &quot;There is indeed
+none in the house except the servants. You say your message is of
+importance&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It has indeed importance,&quot; responded Will. &quot;It comes from my brother.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Your brother, Mr. Law?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;From my brother, John Law. He is in trouble. I make no doubt the
+message will set all plain.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis most grievous that Lady Catharine return not till to-morrow.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Mary Connynge shifted herself upon her seat, caught once more with swift
+modesty at the robe which fell from her throat. She raised her eyes and
+turned them full upon the visitor. Never had the spell of curve and
+color, never had the language of sex addressed this youth as it did now.
+Intoxicating enough was this vague, mysterious speech even at this
+inappropriate time. The girl knew that the mesh had fallen well. She but
+caught again at her robe, and cast down again her eyes, and voiced again
+her assumed anxiety. &quot;I scarce know what to do,&quot; she murmured.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;My brother did not explain&mdash;&quot; said Will.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;In that case,&quot; said Mary Connynge, her voice cool, though her soul was
+hot with impatience, &quot;it might perhaps be well if I took the liberty of
+reading the message in Lady Catharine's absence. You say your brother is
+in trouble?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Of the worst. Madam, to make plain with you, he is in prison, charged
+with the crime of murder.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Mary Connynge sank back into her chair. The blood fled from her cheek.
+Her hands caught each other in a genuine gesture of distress.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;In prison! John Law! Oh heaven! tell me how?&quot; Her voice was trembling
+now.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;My brother slew Mr. Wilson in a duel not of his own seeking. It
+happened yesterday, and so swift I scarce can tell you. He took up a
+quarrel which I had fixed to settle with Mr. Wilson myself. We all met
+at Bloomsbury Square, my brother coming in great haste. Of a sudden,
+after his fashion, he became enraged. He sprang from the carriage and
+met Mr. Wilson. And so&mdash;they passed a time or so, and 'twas done. Mr.
+Wilson died a few moments later. My brother was taken and lodged in
+jail. There is said to be bitter feeling at the court over this custom
+of dueling, and it has long been thought that an example would be made.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And this letter without doubt bears upon all this? Perhaps it might be
+well if I made both of us owners of its contents.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Assuredly, I should say,&quot; replied Will, too distracted to take full
+heed.</p>
+
+<p>The girl tore open the inclosure. She saw but three words, written
+boldly, firmly, addressed to no one, and signed by no one.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Come to me!&quot; Thus spoke the message. This was the summons that had
+crossed black London town that night.</p>
+
+<p>Mary Connynge rose quickly to her feet, forgetting for the time the man
+who stood before her. The instant demanded all the resources of her
+soul. She fought to remain mistress of herself. A moment, and she
+passed Will Law with swift foot, and gained again the stairway in the
+hall, the letter still fast within her hand. Will Law had not time to
+ask its contents.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There is need of haste,&quot; said she. &quot;James, have up the calash at once.
+Mr. Law, I crave your excuse for a time. In a moment I shall be ready to
+go with you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>In two minutes she was sobbing alone, her face down upon the bed. In
+five, she was at the door, dressed, cloaked, smiling sweetly and ready
+for the journey. And thus it was that, of two women who loved John Law,
+that one fared on to see him for whom he had not sent.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='CHAPTER_XIV'></a><h3>CHAPTER XIV</h3>
+
+<h4>PRISONERS</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>The turnkey at the inner door was slothful, sleepy and ill disposed to
+listen when he heard that certain callers would be admitted to the
+prisoner John Law.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Tis late,&quot; said he, &quot;and besides, 'tis contrary to the rules. Must not
+a prison have rules? Tell me that!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;We have come to arrange for certain matters regarding Mr. Law's
+defense,&quot; said Mary Connynge, as she threw back her cloak and bent upon
+the turnkey the full glance of her dark eye. &quot;Surely you would not deny
+us.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The turnkey looked at Will Law with a hesitation in his attitude. &quot;Why,
+this gentleman I know,&quot; he began.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes; let us in,&quot; cried Will Law, with sudden energy. &quot;'Tis time that we
+took steps to set my brother free.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;True, so say they all, young master,&quot; replied the turnkey, grinning.
+&quot;'Tis easy to get ye in, but passing hard to get ye out again. Yet,
+since the young man ye wish to see is a very decent gentleman, and
+knoweth well the needs of a poor working body like myself, we will take
+the matter under advisement, as the court saith, forsooth.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>They passed through the heavy gates, down a narrow and heavy-aired
+passage, and finally into a naked room. It was here, in such somber
+surroundings, that Mary Connynge saw again the man whose image had been
+graven on her heart ever since that morn at Sadler's Wells. How her
+heart coveted him, how her blood leaped for him&mdash;these things the Mary
+Connynges of the world can tell, they who own the primeval heart of
+womankind.</p>
+
+<p>When John Law himself at length entered the room, he stepped forward at
+first confidently, eagerly, though with surprise upon his face. Then,
+with a sudden hesitation, he looked sharply at the figure which he saw
+awaiting him in the dingy room. His breath came sharp, and ended in a
+sigh. For a half moment his face flushed, his brow showed question and
+annoyance. Yet rapidly, after his fashion, he mastered himself.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Will,&quot; said he, calmly, to his brother, &quot;kindly ask the coachman to
+wait for this lady.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He stood for a moment gazing after the form of his brother as it
+disappeared in the outer shadows. For this half-moment he took swift
+counsel of himself. It was a face calm and noncommittal that he turned
+toward the girl who sat now in the darkest corner of the room, her head
+cast down, her foot beating a signal of perturbation upon the floor.
+From the corner of her eye Mary Connynge saw him, a tall and manly man,
+superbly clad, faultless in physique and raiment from top to toe. He
+stood as though ready to step into his carriage for some voyage to rout
+or ball. Youth, vigor, self-reliance, confidence, this was the whole
+message of the splendid figure. The blood of Mary Connynge, this
+survival, this half-savage woman, unregulated, unsubdued, leaped high
+within her bosom, fled to her face, gave color to her cheek and
+brightness to her eye. Her breath shortened after feline fashion. Deep
+was calling unto deep, ancient unto ancient, primitive unto primitive.
+Without the gate of London prison there was one abject prisoner. Within
+its gates there were two prisoners, and one of them was slave for life!</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Madam,&quot; said John Law, in deep and vibrant tone, &quot;you will pardon me if
+I say that it gives me surprise to see you here.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes; I have come,&quot; said the girl, not logically.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You bring, perhaps, some message?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I&mdash;I brought a message.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It is from the Lady Catharine?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Mary Connynge was silent for a moment. It was necessary that, at least
+for a moment, the poison of some &aelig;ons should distil. There was need of
+savagery to say what she proposed to say. The voice of training, of
+civilization, of unselfishness, of friendship raised a protest. Wait
+then for a moment. Wait until the bitterness of an ambitious and
+unrounded life could formulate this evil impulse. Wait, till Mary
+Connynge could summon treachery enough to slay her friend. And yet, wait
+only until the primitive soul of Mary Connynge should become altogether
+imperative in its demands! For after all, was not this friend a woman,
+and is not the earth builded as it is? And hath not God made male and
+female its inhabitants; and as there is war of male and male, is there
+not war of female and female, until the end of time?</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I came from the Lady Catharine,&quot; said Mary Connynge, slowly, &quot;but I
+bring no message from her of the sort which perhaps you wished.&quot; It was
+a desperate, reckless lie, a lie almost certain of detection yet it was
+the only resource of the moment, and a moment later it was too late to
+recall. One lie must now follow another, and all must make a deadly
+coil.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Madam, I am sorry,&quot; said John Law, quietly, yet his face twitched
+sharply at the impact of these cutting words. &quot;Did you know of my letter
+to her?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Am I not here?&quot; said Mary Connynge.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;True, and I thank you deeply. But how, why-pray you, understand that I
+would be set right. I would not undergo more than is necessary. Will you
+not explain?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There is but little to explain&mdash;little, though it may mean much. It
+must be private. Your brother&mdash;he must never know. Promise me not to
+speak to him of this.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;This means much to me, I doubt not, my dear lady,&quot; said John Law. &quot;I
+trust I may keep my counsel in a matter which comes so close to me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, truly,&quot; replied Mary Connynge, &quot;if you had set your heart upon a
+kindly answer.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What! You mean, then, that she&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Do you promise?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The brows of Law settled deeper and deeper into the frown which marked
+him when he was perturbed. The blood, settled back, now slowly mounted
+again into his face, the resentful, fighting blood of the Highlander.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I promise,&quot; he cried. &quot;And now, tell me what answer had the Lady
+Catharine Knollys.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;She declined to answer,&quot; said Mary Connynge, slowly and evenly.
+&quot;Declined to come. She said that she was ill enough pleased to hear of
+your brawling. Said that she doubted not the law would punish you, nor
+doubted that the law was just.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>John Law half whirled upon his heel, smote his hands together and
+laughed loud and bitterly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Madam,&quot; said he, &quot;I had never thought to say it to a woman, but in very
+justice I must tell you that I see quite through this shallow
+falsehood.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir,&quot; said Mary Connynge, her hands clutching at the arms of her chair,
+&quot;this is unusual speech to a lady!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But your story, Madam, is most unusual.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Tell me, then, why should I be here?&quot; burst out the girl. &quot;What is it
+to me? Why should I care what the Lady Catharine says or does? Why
+should I risk my own name to come of this errand in the night? Now let
+me pass, for I shall leave you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Tho swift jealous rage of Mary Connynge was unpremeditated, yet nothing
+had better served her real purpose. The stubborn nature of Law was ever
+ready for a challenge. He caught her arm, and placed her not unkindly
+upon the chair.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;By heaven, I half believe what you say is true!&quot; said he, as though to
+himself.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yet you just said 'twas false,&quot; said the girl, her eyes flashing.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I meant that what you add is true, and hence the first also must be
+believed. Then you saw my message?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I did, since it so fell out.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But you did not read the real message. I asked no aid of any one for my
+escape. I but asked her to come. In sheer truth, I wished but to see
+her.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And by what right could you expect that?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I asked her as my affianced wife,&quot; replied John Law.</p>
+
+<p>Mary Connynge stood an inch taller, as she sprang to her feet in sudden
+scorn and bitterness.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Your affianced wife!&quot; cried she. &quot;What! So soon! Oh, rare indeed must
+be my opinion of this Lady Catharine!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It was never my way to waste time on a journey,&quot; said John Law, coolly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Your wife, your affianced wife?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;As I said.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes,&quot; cried Mary Connynge, bitterly, and again, unconsciously and in
+sheer anger, falling upon that course which best served her purpose.
+&quot;And what manner of affianced wife is it would forsake her lover at the
+first breath of trouble? My God! 'tis then, it seems to me, a woman
+would most swiftly fly to the man she loved.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>John Law turned slowly toward her, his eyes scanning her closely from
+top to toe, noting the heaving of her bosom, the sparkling of her
+gold-colored eye, now darkened and half ready to dissolve in tears. He
+stood as though he were a judge, weighing the evidence before him,
+calmly, dispassionately.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Would you do so much as that, Mary Connynge?&quot; asked John Law.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I, sir?&quot; she replied. &quot;Then why am I here to-night myself? But, God pity
+me, what have I said? There is nothing but misfortune in all my life!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>It was one rebellious, unsubdued nature speaking to another, and of the
+two each was now having its own sharp suffering. The instant of doubt is
+the time of danger. Then comes revulsion, bitterness, despair, folly.
+John Law trod a step nearer.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;By God! Madam,&quot; cried he, &quot;I would I might believe you. I would I might
+believe that you, that any woman, would come to me at such a time! But
+tell me&mdash;and I bethink me my message was not addressed, was even
+unsigned&mdash;whom then may I trust? If this woman scorns my call at such a
+time, tell me, whom shall I hold faithful? Who would come to me at any
+time, in any case, in my trouble? Suppose my message were to you?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Mary Connynge stirred softly under her deep cloak. Her head was lifted
+slightly, the curve of cheek and chin showing in the light that fell
+from the little lamp. The masses of her dark hair lay piled about her
+face, tumbled by the sweeping of her hood. Her eyes showed tremulously
+soft and deep now as he looked into them. Her little hands half twitched
+a trifle from her lap and reached forward and upward. Primitive she
+might have been, wicked she was, sinfully sweet; and yet she was woman.
+It was with the voice of tears that she spoke, if one might claim
+vocalization for her speech.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Have I not come?&quot; whispered she.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;By God! Mary Connynge, yes, you have come!&quot; cried Law. And though there
+was heartbreak in his voice, it sounded sweet to the ear of her who
+heard it, and who now reached up her arms about his neck.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah, John Law,&quot; said Mary Connynge, &quot;when a woman loves&mdash;when a woman
+loves, she stops at nothing!&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='CHAPTER_XV'></a><h3>CHAPTER XV</h3>
+
+<h4>IF THERE WERE NEED</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>Time wore on in the ancient capital of England. The tramp of troops
+echoed in the streets, and the fleets of Britain made ready to carry her
+sons over seas for wars and for adventures. The intrigues of party
+against party, of church against church, of Parliament against king; the
+loves, the hates, the ambitions, the desires of all the city's hurrying
+thousands went on as ever. Who, then, should remember a single prisoner,
+waiting within the walls of England's jail? The hours wore on slowly
+enough for that prisoner. He had faced a jury of his peers and was
+condemned to face the gallows. Meantime he had said farewell to love and
+hope and faithfulness, even as he bade farewell to life. &quot;Since she has
+forsaken me whom I thought faithful,&quot; said he to himself, &quot;why, let it
+end, for life is a mockery I would not live out.&quot; And thenceforth,
+haggard but laughing, pale but with unbroken courage, he trod on his way
+through his few remaining days, the wonder of those who saw him.</p>
+
+<p>As for Mary Connynge, surely she had matters enough which were best kept
+secret in her own soul. While Lady Catharine was hoping, and praying,
+and dreaming and believing, even as the roses left her cheek and the
+hollows fell beneath her eyes, she saw about her in the daily walks of
+life Mary Connynge, sleek and rounded as ever. They sat at table
+together, and neither did the one make sign to the other of her own
+anxiety, nor did that other give sign of her own treachery. Mary
+Connynge, false guest, false friend, false woman, deceived so perfectly
+that she left no indication of deceit. She herself knew, and blindly
+satisfied herself with the knowledge, that she alone now came close into
+the life of &quot;Beau&quot; Law, the convict; &quot;Jessamy&quot; Law, the student, the
+financier, the thinker; John Law, her lord and master. Herein she found
+the sole compensation possible in her savage nature. She had found the
+master whom she sought!</p>
+
+<p>Cynically mirthful or irreverently indifferent, yet never did her
+master's strength forsake him, never did his heart lose its
+undauntedness. And when he bade Mary Connynge do this or that she obeyed
+him; when he bade her arise she arose; at his word she came or departed.
+A dozen nights in the month she was absent from the house of Knollys. A
+dozen nights Will Law was cozened into frenzy, alternating between a
+heaven of delight and a hell of despair, and ignorant of her twofold
+duplicity. A dozen nights John Law knew well enough where Mary Connynge
+was, though no one else might know. There was feminine triumph now in
+full in the heart of this Mary Connynge, who had gone white with rage at
+the sight of a rose offered across her face to another woman. Had she
+not her master? Was he not hers, all hers, belonging in no wise to any
+other?</p>
+
+<p>For the future, Mary Connynge did not ponder it. An ephemera, once
+buried generations deep in the mire and slime of lower conditions, and
+now craving blindly but the sunlight of the day, she would have sought
+the deadly caress of life even though at that moment it had sealed her
+doom. Foolish or wise, she was as she was; since, under our frail
+society, life is as it is.</p>
+
+<p>Only at night, on those nights when she was sleepless on her own couch
+beneath the roof of Catharine Knollys, did Mary Connynge allow herself
+to think. Tell, then, ye who may, whether or not she was a mere survival
+of some forgotten day of the forest and the glade, as she lay with her
+hands clasped in brief moments of emotion. Surely she hoped, as all
+women hope who love, that this might endure for her forever. Yet the
+next moment there came the thought that inevitably it all must end, and
+soon. Then her hand clenched, her eyes grew dry and brilliant. She said
+to herself: &quot;There is no hope. He can not be saved! For this short
+period of his life he shall be mine, all mine! He shall not be set free!
+He shall not go away, to belong, at any time, in any part, to any other
+woman! Though he die, yet shall he love me to the end; me, Mary
+Connynge, and no other woman!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Now, under this same roof of Knollys, separated by but a few yards of
+space, there lay another woman, thinking also of this convict behind the
+prison bars. But this was a woman of another and a nobler mold. Into the
+heart of Catharine Knollys there came no mere mad selfishness of desire,
+yearn though she did in every fiber of her being since that first time
+she felt the mastering kiss of love. There was born in her soul emotion
+of a higher sort. The Lady Catharine Knollys prayed, and her prayer was
+not that her lover should die, but that he might live; that he might be
+free.</p>
+
+<p>Nor was this hope left to wither unnourished in the mind of the
+high-bred and courageous English girl. Alone, without confidant to
+counsel her, with no woman friend to aid her, the Lady Catharine
+Knollys backed her own hopes and wishes with resource and energy. There
+came a time, perilously late, when a faint rose showed once more in her
+cheek, long so worn, a faintly brighter light glowed in her deep eye.</p>
+
+<p>When Sir Arthur Pembroke received a message from the Lady Catharine
+Knollys advising him that the latter would receive him at her home, it
+was left for the impulses, the hopes, the imaginings of that modest
+young nobleman to establish a reason for the message. Puzzling all along
+his rapid way in answer to the summons, Sir Arthur found the answer
+which best suited his hopes in the faint flush, the brightened eye of
+the young woman who received him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lady Catharine,&quot; he began, impetuously, &quot;I have come, and let me hope
+that 'tis at last to have my answer. I have waited&mdash;each moment has been
+a year that I have spent away from you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Now, that is very pretty said.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But I am serious.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And that is why I do not like you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But, Lady Catharine!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I should like it better did you but continue as in the past. We have
+met on the Row, at the routs and drums, in the country; and always I
+have felt free to ask any favor of Sir Arthur Pembroke. Why could it not
+be always thus?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You might ask my very life, Lady Catharine.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah, there it is! When a man offers his life, 'tis time for a woman to
+ask nothing.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>She turned from the open window, her attitude showing an unwonted
+weakness and dejection. Sir Arthur still stood near by, his own face
+frowning and uncertain.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lady Catharine,&quot; he broke out at length, &quot;for years, as you know, I
+have sought your favor. I have dared think that sometime the day would
+come when&mdash;my faith! Lady Catharine, the day has come now when I feel it
+my right to demand the cause of anything which troubles you. And that
+you are troubled is plain enough. Ever since this man Law&mdash;&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There,&quot; cried Lady Catharine, raising her hand. &quot;I beg you to say no
+more.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But I will say more! There must be a reason for this.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The face of the young woman flushed in spite of herself, as Pembroke
+strode closer and gazed at her with sternness.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lady Catharine,&quot; said he, slowly, &quot;I am a friend of your family.
+Perhaps now I may be of aid to you. Prove me, and at the last, ask who
+was indeed your friend.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;We have had misfortunes, we of the family of the Knollys,&quot; said Lady
+Catharine. &quot;This is, perhaps, but the fate of the house of Knollys. It
+is my fate.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Your fate!&quot; said Sir Arthur, slowly. &quot;Your fate! Lady Catharine, I
+thank you. It is at least as well to know the truth.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Pick out the truth, then, Sir Arthur, as you like it. I am not on the
+witness stand before you, and you are not my judge. There has been
+forsworn testimony enough already in this town. Were it not for that,
+Mr. Law would at this moment be free as you or I.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Sir Arthur struck his hands together in despair, and turning away,
+strode down the room.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, I see it all well enough,&quot; cried he. &quot;You are mad as any who have
+hitherto had dealings with this madman from the North.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The girl rose to her full height and stood before him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It may be I am mad,&quot; said she. &quot;It may be the old Knollys madness. If
+so, why should I struggle against it? It may be that I am mad. But I
+venture to say to you that Mr. Law is not born to die in Newgate yards.
+My life! sir, if I love him, who should say me nay? Now, say to
+yourself, and to your friends&mdash;to all London, if you like, since you
+have touched me to this point&mdash;that Catharine Knollys is friend to Mr.
+Law, and believes in him, and declares that he shall be freed from his
+prison, and that within short space! Say that, Sir Arthur; tell them
+that! And if they argue somewhat from it, why, let them reason it as
+best they may.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The young man stood, his lips close together, his head still turned
+away. The girl continued with growing energy.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I have sent for you to tell you that Mr. Law's life has a value in my
+eyes. And now, I say to you, Sir Arthur, that you must aid me in his
+escape.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>A beautiful picture she made, tearful, pleading, a lock of her soft
+red-brown hair falling unnoticed across her tear-wet cheek. It had been
+ill task, indeed, to make refusal of any sort to a woman so gloriously
+feminine, so noble, now so beseeching.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lady Catharine,&quot; said the young man, turning toward her, &quot;this illness,
+this anxiety&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No, I know perfectly well whereof I speak! Listen, and I'll tell you
+somewhat of news. Montague, chancellor of the exchequer, is my warrant
+for what I say to you when I tell you that Mr. Law is to be free.
+Montague himself has said to me, in this very room, that Mr. Law was
+like to be half the salvation of England in these uncertain times. I
+could tell you more, but may not. Only look you, Sir Arthur, John Law
+does not rest in Newgate more than one week from this time!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Sir Arthur took snuff, his voice at length regaining that composure for
+which he had sought.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis very excellent,&quot; he said. &quot;For myself, two centuries have been
+spent in my family to teach me to love like a gentleman, and to deserve
+you like a man. What does this young man need? A few days of bluster, of
+assertion! A few weeks of gaming and of roistering, of self-asserted
+claims! Gad! Lady Catharine, this is passing bitter! And now you ask me
+to help him.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I wish you to help him,&quot; said Lady Catharine, slowly, &quot;only in that I
+ask you to help me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And if I did?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And if you did, you should dwell in a part of my heart forever! Let it
+be as you like.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then,&quot; cried the young man, flushing suddenly and hotly as he strode
+toward her, &quot;do with me as you like! Let me be fool unspeakable!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And do you promise?&quot; said Lady Catharine, rising and advancing toward
+him. Her face was sad and appealing. Her eyes swam in tears, her lips
+were trembling.</p>
+
+<p>Sir Arthur held out his hand. The Lady Catharine extended both her own,
+and he bent and kissed them, tears springing in his eyes. For a time the
+room was silent. Then the girl turned, her own lashes wet. She stepped
+at length to a cabinet and took from an inner drawer a paper.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir Arthur, look at this,&quot; she Said.</p>
+
+<p>He took it from her and scrutinized it carefully.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, this seems to be a street bill, a placard for posting upon the
+walls,&quot; said he.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Read it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, well&mdash;so, so. 'Five hundred pounds reward for information
+regarding the escaped felon, Captain John Law, convicted of murder and
+under sentence of death of the King's Bench. The same Law escaped from
+Newgate prison on the night of'&mdash;hum&mdash;well&mdash;well&mdash;'May be known by this
+description: Is tall, of dark complexion, spare of build, raw-boned,
+face hath deep pock-marks. Eyes dark; hair dark and scanty. Speaketh
+broad and loud.' How&mdash;how, why my dear Lady Catharine, this is the last
+proof that thou'rt stark, staring mad! This no more tallies with the
+true John Law than it does with my hunting horse!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And but few would know him by this description?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;None, absolutely none.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;None could tell 'twas he, even did they meet him full face to face&mdash;no
+one would know it was Mr. Law?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, assuredly not. 'Tis as unlike him as it could be.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then it is well!&quot; said Lady Catharine.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well? Very badly done, I should say.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, my poor Sir Arthur, where are your wits? 'Tis very well because
+'tis very ill, this same description.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah, ha!&quot; said he, a sudden light dawning upon him. &quot;Then you mean to
+tell me that this description was misconceived deliberately?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What would you think?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Did you do this work yourself?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Guess for yourself. Montague, as you know, was once of a pretty
+imagination, ere he took to finance. If he and the poet Prior could
+write such conceits as they have created, could not perhaps Montague&mdash;or
+Prior&mdash;or some one else&mdash;have conceived this description of Mr. Law?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The young man threw himself into a seat, his head between his hands.
+&quot;'Tis like a play,&quot; said he. &quot;And surely the play of fortune ever runs
+well enough for Mr. Law.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir Arthur,&quot; said Lady Catharine, rising uneasily and standing before
+him, &quot;I must confess to you that I bear a certain active part in private
+plans looking to the escape of Mr. Law. I have come to you for aid. Sir
+Arthur, I pray God that we may be successful.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The young man also rose and began to pace the floor.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Even did Law escape,&quot; he began, &quot;it would mean only his flight from
+England.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;True,&quot; said the Lady Catharine, &quot;that is all planned. The ship even now
+awaits him in the Pool. He is to take ship at once upon leaving prison,
+and he sails at once from England. He goes to France.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But, my dear Lady Catharine, this means that he must part from you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Of course, it means our parting.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, but you said&mdash;but I thought&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But I said&mdash;but you thought&mdash;Sir Arthur, do not stand there prating
+like a little boy!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You do not, then, keep your prisoner bound by other fetters after he
+escapes from Newgate?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I do nothing unwomanly, and I do nothing, I trust, ignoble. I go to
+meet the Knollys fate, whatever it may be.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lady Catharine,&quot; cried Pembroke, passionately, &quot;I have said I loved
+you. Never in my life did I love you as I do now!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I like to hear your words,&quot; said the girl, frankly. &quot;There shall always
+be your corner in my heart&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yet you will do this thing?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I will do this thing. I shall not whimper nor repine. I am sending him
+away forever, but 'tis needful for his sake. I shall be ready for
+whatever fate hath for me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Tell me, then,&quot; said Pembroke, his face haggard and unhappy, &quot;how am I
+to serve you in this matter.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;In this way: To-morrow night call here with your coach. My household,
+if they note it, may take your coach for my own, and may perhaps
+understand that I go to the rout of my Lady Swearingsham. We shall go,
+instead, to Newgate. For the night, Sir Arthur Pembroke shall serve as
+coachman. You must drive the carriage to Newgate jail.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And 'tis there,&quot; said Pembroke, slowly, &quot;that the Lady Catharine
+Knollys, the dearest woman of all England, would take the man who
+honorably loves her&mdash;to Newgate, to feloniously set free a felon? Is it
+there, then, Lady Catharine, you would go to meet your lover?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The tall figure of the girl straightened up to its full height. A shade
+of color came to her cheeks, but her voice was firm, though tears came
+to her eyes as she answered:</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Aye, sir, I would go to Newgate if there were need!&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='CHAPTER_XVI'></a><h3>CHAPTER XVI</h3>
+
+<h4>THE ESCAPE</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>On a certain morning a messenger rode in hot haste up to the prison
+gate. He bore the livery of Montague. Turnkey after turnkey admitted
+him, until finally he stood before the cell of John Law and delivered
+into his hand, as he had been commanded, the message that he bore. That
+afternoon this same messenger paused at the gate of the house of
+Knollys. Here, too, he was admitted promptly. He delivered into the
+hands of the Lady Catharine Knollys a certain message. This was of a
+Wednesday. On the following Friday it was decreed that the gallows
+should do its work. Two more days and there would be an end of &quot;Jessamy&quot;
+Law.</p>
+
+<p>That Wednesday night a covered carriage came to the door of the house of
+Knollys. Its driver was muffled in such fashion that he could hardly
+have been known. There stepped from the house the cloaked figure of a
+woman, who entered the carriage and herself pulled shut the door. The
+vehicle was soon lost among the darkling streets.</p>
+
+<p>Catharine Knollys had heard the summons of her fate. She now sat
+trembling in the carriage.</p>
+
+<p>When finally the vehicle stopped at the curb of the walk which led to
+the prison gate, a second carriage, as mysterious as the first, came
+down the street and stopped at a little distance, but close to the curb
+on the side nearest to the gate. The driver of the first carriage,
+evidently not liking the close neighborhood at the time, edged a trifle
+farther down the way. The second carriage thereupon drew up into the
+spot just vacated, and the two, not easily distinguishable at the hour
+and in the dark and unlighted street, stood so, each apparently watchful
+of the other, each seemingly without an occupant.</p>
+
+<p>Lady Catharine had left her carriage before this interchange, and had
+passed the prison gate alone. Her steps faltered. It was hardly
+consciously that she finally found her way into the court, through the
+gate, down the evil-smelling corridors, past the sodden and leering
+constables, up to the last gate which separated her from him whom she
+had come to see.</p>
+
+<p>She had been admitted without demur as far as this point, and even now
+her coming seemed not altogether a matter of surprise. The burly turnkey
+at the last door stood ready to meet her. With loud commands, he drove
+out of the corridor the crowd of prison attendants. He approached Lady
+Catharine, hat in hand and bowing deeply.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I presume you are the man whom I would see,&quot; said she, faintly, almost
+unequal to the task imposed upon her.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Aye, Madam, I doubt not, with my best worship for you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I was to come&quot;&mdash;said Lady Catharine. &quot;I was to speak to you&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Aye,&quot; replied the turnkey. &quot;You were to come, and you were to speak.
+And now, what were you to say to me? Was there no given word?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There was such a word,&quot; she said. &quot;You will understand. It is in the
+matter of Mr. Law.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;True,&quot; said the turnkey. &quot;But I must have the countersign. There are
+heads to lose in this, yours and mine, if there be mistake.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lady Catharine raised her head proudly. &quot;It was for Faith,&quot; said she,
+&quot;for Love, and for Hope! These were the words.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Saying which, as though she had called to her aid the last atom of her
+strength, she staggered back and half fell against the wall near the
+inner gate. The rude jailer sprang forward to steady her.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, yes,&quot; he whispered, eagerly. &quot;'Tis all proper. Those be the
+words. Pray you, have courage, lady.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>There came into the corridor a murmur of voices, and there was audible
+also the sound of a man's footfalls approaching along the flags.
+Catharine Knollys looked through the bars of the gate which the turnkey
+was already beginning to throw open for her. She looked, and there
+appeared upon her vision, a sight which caused her heart to stop, which
+confounded all her reason. From a side door there advanced John Law,
+magnificently clad, walking now as though he trod the floor of some
+great hall or banquet room.</p>
+
+<p>The woman waiting without the gate reached out her arms. She would have
+cried aloud. Then she fell back against the wall, whereat had she not
+grasped she must have sunk down to the floor.</p>
+
+<p>Upon the arm of John Law, and looking up to him as she walked, there
+hung the clinging figure of a woman, half-hidden by the flickering
+shadows of the torches. A deep cloak fell back from her shoulders. It
+might have been the light fabric of the aborigine. Upon the foot of Mary
+Connynge, twinkling in and out as she walked, showed the crudely
+garnished little shoe of the Indian princess over seas, dainty, bizarre,
+singular, covering the smallest foot in all London town.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;By all the saints!&quot; Law was saying, &quot;you might be the very maker of
+this little slipper yourself. I have won the forty crowns, I swear!
+Perforce, I'll leave them to you in my will.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The shock of the light speech made even Mary Connynge wince. For the
+moment she averted her eyes from the handsome face above her. She
+looked, and saw what gave her greater shock. Law, too, stared, as her
+own startled gaze grew fixed. He advanced close to the gate, only to
+start back in a horror of surprise which racked even his steeled
+composure.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Madam!&quot; he cried; and then, &quot;Catharine!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Catharine Knollys made no answer to him, though she looked straight and
+calmly into his face, seeming not in the least to see the woman near
+him. Her eyes were wide and shining. &quot;Sir,&quot; said she, &quot;keep fast to
+Hope! This was for Faith, and for Love!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The jailer with one quick gesture swung wide the gate. &quot;Haste, haste!&quot;
+he cried. &quot;Quick and begone! This night may mean my ruin! Get ye gone,
+all of ye, and give me time to think. Out with ye all, for I must lock
+the gate!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>John Law passed as one stupefied, the slender form of Mary Connynge
+still upon his arm. Hands of men hurried them. &quot;Quick! Into the
+carriage!&quot; one cried.</p>
+
+<p>And now the sounds of feet and voices approaching along the corridor
+were heard. The jailer swiftly swung the heavy gate to and locked it.
+Catharine Knollys caught his last gesture, which bade her begone as fast
+as might be. Her feet were strangely heavy, in spite of her. She reached
+the curb in time to hear only the whir of wheels as a carriage sped away
+over the stones of the street. She stood alone, irresolute for half an
+instant as the crunch of wheels spun up to the curb again. A hand
+reached out and beckoned; involuntarily she obeyed the summons. Her
+wrist was seized, and she was half pulled through the door of the
+carriage.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What!&quot; cried a voice. &quot;You, Lady Catharine! Why, how is this?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>It was the voice of Will Law, whom she knew, but who certainly was not
+the one who had brought her hither. The Lady Catharine accepted this
+last situation as one no longer able to reason. She sank down in the
+carriage seat, shivering.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Is all well?&quot; asked Will Law, eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;He is safe,&quot; said Lady Catharine Knollys. &quot;It is done. It is finished.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What does this mean?&quot; exclaimed Will.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;His carriage&mdash;there it is. It goes to the ship&mdash;to the Pool. He and
+Mary Connynge are only just ahead of us. You may hear the wheels. Do you
+not hear them?&quot; She spoke with leaden voice, and her head sank heavily.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What! My brother&mdash;Mary Connynge&mdash;in that carriage&mdash;what can you mean?
+My God! Lady Catharine, tell me, what do you mean?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I do not know,&quot; said Catharine Knollys. All things now seemed very far
+away from her. Her head sank gently forward, and she heard not the words
+of the man who frantically sought to awaken her to speech.</p>
+
+<p>From the prison to London Pool was a journey of some distance across the
+streets of London. Will Law called out to the driver with savagery in
+his voice. He shouted, cursed, implored, promised, and betimes held one
+hand under the soft, heavy tresses of the head now sunk so humbly
+forward.</p>
+
+<p>The mad ride ended at the quay on Thames side, where the shadows of the
+tall buildings lay rank and thick upon the earth, where tarry smells and
+evil odors filled the heavy air, penetrated none the less by the savor
+of the keen salt air. More than one giant form was outlined in the broad
+stream, vessels tall and ghost-like in the gloom, shadowy, suggestive,
+bearing imprint and promise of far lands across the sea.</p>
+
+<p>Here was the initial point of England's greatness. Here on this heavy
+stream had her captains taken ship. Thence had sailed her admirals to
+encompass all the world. In these dark massed shadows, how much might
+there not be of fate and mystery! Whither might not these vessels carry
+one! To France, to the far-off Indies, to the new-owned islands, to
+America with its little half-grown ports. Whence and whither? What might
+not one do, here at this gateway of the world?</p>
+
+<p>&quot;To the brigantine beyond!&quot; cried Will Law to the wherryman who came up.
+&quot;We want Captain McMasters, of the Polly Perkins. For God's sake, quick!
+There's that afoot must be caught up within the moment, do you hear!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The wherryman touched his cap and quickly made ready his boat. Will Law,
+understanding naught of this swift coil of events, and not daring to
+leave Lady Catharine behind him at the carriage, made down the stairway,
+half carrying the drooping figure which now leaned weakly upon his
+shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Pull now, man! Pull as you never did before!&quot; cried he, and the
+wherryman bent hard to his oars.</p>
+
+<p>Yet great as was the haste of those who put forth into the foggy
+Thames, it was more than equalled by that of one who appeared upon the
+dock, even as the creak of the oars grew fainter in the gloom. There
+came the rattle of wheels upon the quay, and the sound of a driver
+lashing his horses. A carriage rolled up, and there sprang from the box
+a muffled figure which resolved itself into the very embodiment of
+haste.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Hold the horses, man!&quot; he cried to the nearest by-stander, and sprang
+swiftly to the head of the stairs, where a loiterer or two stood idly
+gazing out into the mist which overhung the water.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Saw you aught of a man,&quot; he demanded hastily, &quot;a man and a woman, a
+tall young woman&mdash;you could not mistake her? 'Twas the Polly Greenway
+they should have found. Tell me, for God's sake, has any boat put out
+from this stair?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, sir,&quot; replied one of the wherrymen who stood near by, pipe in
+mouth and hand in pocket, &quot;since you mention it, there was a boat
+started but this instant for midstream. They sought McMaster's
+brigantine, the Polly Perkins, that lies waiting for the tide. 'Twas, as
+you say, a young gentleman, and with him was a young woman. I misdoubt
+the lady was ill.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Get me a boat!&quot; cried the new-comer. &quot;A sovereign, five sovereigns, ten
+sovereigns, a hundred&mdash;but that ship must not weigh anchor until I
+board her, do you hear!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The ring of the imperative voice, and moreover the ring of good English
+coin, set all the dock astir. Straightway there came up another wherry
+with two lusty fellows, who laid her at the stair where stood the
+impatient stranger.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Hurry, men!&quot; he cried. &quot;'Tis life and death&mdash;'tis more than life and
+death!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>And such fortune attended Sir Arthur Pembroke that forsooth he went over
+the side of the Polly Perkins, even as the gray dawn began to break over
+the narrow Thames, and even as the anchor-song of the crew struck up.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='CHAPTER_XVII'></a><h3>CHAPTER XVII</h3>
+
+<h4>WHITHER</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>A few hours later a coppery sun slowly dispersed the morning mists above
+the Thames. The same sun warmed the court-yards of the London jail,
+which lately had confined John Law, convicted of the murder of Beau
+Wilson, gentleman. It was discovered that the said John Law had, in some
+superhuman fashion, climbed the spiked walls of the inner yard. The
+jailer pointed out the very spot where this act had been done. It was
+not so plain how he had passed the outer gates of the prison, yet those
+were not wanting who said that he had overpowered the turnkey at the
+gate, taken from him his keys, and so forced his way out into London
+city.</p>
+
+<p>Far and wide went forth the proclamation of reward for the apprehension
+of this escaped convict. The streets of London were placarded broadcast
+with bills bearing this description of the escaped prisoner:</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Five hundred pounds reward for information regarding the escaped
+felon, John Law, convicted in the King's Bench of murder and under
+sentence of death. The same Law escaped from prison on the night of 20
+July. May be known by the following description: Is tall, of dark
+complexion, spare of build, raw-boned, face hath deep pock-marks. Eyes
+dark, hair dark and scanty. Speaks broad and loud. Carries his shoulders
+stooped, and is of mean appearance.</p>
+
+<span style='margin-left: 15em;'>&quot;WESTON, High Sheriff.</span><br />
+<span style='margin-left: 15em;'>Done at Newgate prison, this 21 July.&quot;</span><br />
+
+<p>Yet though the authorities of the law made full search in London, and
+indeed in other of the principal cities of England, they got no word of
+the escaped prisoner.</p>
+
+<p>The clouded dawn which broke over the Thames below the Pool might have
+told its own story. There sat upon the deck of the good ship Polly
+Greenway, outbound from Thames' mouth, this same John Law. He regarded
+idly the busy scenes of the shipping about him. His gaze, dull and
+listless, looked without joy upon the dawn, without inquiry upon the far
+horizon. For the first time in all his life John Law dropped his head
+between his hands.</p>
+
+<p>Not so Mary Connynge. &quot;Good sir,&quot; cried she, merrily, &quot;'tis morning.
+Let's break our fast, and so set forth proper on our voyage.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;So now we are free,&quot; said Law, dully. &quot;I could swear there were
+shackles on me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, we are free,&quot; said Mary Connynge, &quot;and all the world is before us.
+But saw you ever in all your life a man so dumfounded as was Sir Arthur
+when he discovered 'twas I, and not the Lady Catharine, had stepped into
+the carriage? That confusion of the carriages was like to have cost us
+everything. I know not how your brother made such mistake. He said he
+would fetch me home the night. Gemini! It sure seems a long way about!
+And where may be your brother now, or Sir Arthur, or the Lady
+Catharine&mdash;why, 'tis as much confused as though 'twere all in a play!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But Sir Arthur cried that my ship was for France. Yet here they tell me
+that this brigantine is bound for the mouth of the St. Lawrence, in
+America! What then of this other, and what of my brother&mdash;what of
+us&mdash;what of&mdash;?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, I think this,&quot; said Mary Connynge, calmly. &quot;That you do very well
+to be rid of London jail; and for my own part, 'tis a rare appetite the
+salt air ever gives me!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Upon the same morning tide there was at this very moment just setting
+aloft her sails for the first high airs of dawn the ship of McMasters,
+the Polly Perkins, bound for the port of Brest.</p>
+
+<p>She came down scarce a half-dozen cable lengths behind the craft which
+bore the fugitives now beginning their journey toward another land. Upon
+the deck of this ship, even as upon the other, there were those who
+waited eagerly for the dawn. There were two men here, Will Law and Sir
+Arthur Pembroke, and whether their conversation had been more eager or
+more angry, were hard to tell. Will Law, broken and dejected, his heart
+torn by a thousand doubts and a thousand pains, sat listening, though
+but half comprehending.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Every plan gone wrong!&quot; cried Sir Arthur. &quot;Every plan gone wrong, and
+out of it all we can only say that he has escaped from prison for whom
+no prison could be enough of hell! Though he be your brother, I tell it
+to your face, the gallows had been too good for John Law! Look you
+below. See that girl, pure as an angel, as noble and generous a soul us
+ever breathed&mdash;what hath she done to deserve this fate? You have brought
+her from her home, and to that home she can not now return unsmirched.
+And all this for a man who is at this moment fleeing with the woman whom
+she deemed her friend! What is there left in life for her?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Will Law groaned and buried his own head deeper in his hands. &quot;What is
+there left for any of us?&quot; said he. &quot;What is there left for me?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;For you?&quot; said Sir Arthur, questioningly. &quot;Why, the next ship back from
+Brest, or from any other port of France. 'Tis somewhat different with a
+woman.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You do not understand,&quot; said Will Law. &quot;The separation means somewhat
+for me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Surely you do not mean&mdash;you have no reference to Mary Connynge?&quot; cried
+Sir Arthur.</p>
+
+<p>Will bowed his head abjectly and left the other to guess that which sat
+upon his mind. Sir Arthur drew a long breath and stopped his angry
+pacing up and down.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It ran on for weeks,&quot; said Will Law. &quot;We were to have been married. I
+had no thought of this. 'Twas I who took her to and from the prison
+regularly, and 'twas thus that we met. She told me she was but the
+messenger of the Lady Catharine.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Sir Arthur drew a long, slow breath. &quot;Then I may say to you,&quot; said he,
+&quot;that your brother, John Law, is a hundred times more traitor and felon
+than even now I thought him. Yonder he goes&quot;&mdash;and he shook his fist into
+the enveloping mist which hung above the waters. &quot;Yonder he goes,
+somewhere, I give you warning, where he deems no trail shall be left
+behind him. But I promise you, whatever be your own wish, I shall follow
+him into the last corner of the earth, but he shall see me and give
+account for this! There is none of us he has not deceived, utterly, and
+like a black-hearted villain. He shall account for it, though it be
+years from now.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>So now, inch by inch, fathom after fathom, cable length after cable
+length, soon knot after knot, there sped two English ships out into the
+open seaway. Before long they began to toss restlessly and to pull
+eagerly at the helm as the scent of the salt seas came in. Yet neither
+knew fully the destination of the other, and neither knew that upon the
+deck of that other there was full solution of those questions which now
+sat so heavily upon these human hearts. Thus, silently, slowly,
+steadily, the two drew outward and apart, and before that morn was done,
+both were tossing widely upon the swell of that sea beyond which there
+lay so much of fate and mystery.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='BOOK_II'></a><h2>BOOK II</h2>
+
+<h3>AMERICA </h3>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='BOOK_II_CHAPTER_I'></a><h3>CHAPTER I</h3>
+
+<h4>THE DOOR OF THE WEST</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>&quot;Nearly a league farther, Du Mesne, and the sun but an hour high. Come,
+let us hasten!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You are right, Monsieur L'as,&quot; replied the one addressed, as the first
+speaker seated himself on the thwart of the boat in whose bow he had
+been standing. &quot;Bend to it, <i>mes amis!</i>&quot;</p>
+
+<p>John Law turned about on the seat, gazing back over the length of the
+little ship which had brought him and his comrades thus far on the
+wildest journey he had ever undertaken. Six paddlers there were for this
+great <i>canot du Nord</i>, and steadily enough they sent the thin-shelled
+craft along over the curling blue waves of the great inland sea. And now
+their voices in one accord fell into the cadences of an ancient
+boat-song of New France:</p>
+
+<span style='margin-left: 2em;'>&quot;<i>En roulant ma boule, roulant,</i></span><br />
+<span style='margin-left: 2.25em;'><i>Roulant, rouler, ma boule roulant</i>.&quot;</span><br />
+
+<p>The ictus of the measure marked time for the sweeping paddles, and
+under the added impetus the paper shell, reinforced as it was by
+close-laid splints of cedar, and braced by the fiber-fastened thwarts,
+fairly yielded to the rush of the waves as the stalwart paddlers sent it
+flying forward. A tiny blur of white showed about the bows, and now and
+again a splash of spray came inboard, as some little curling white cap
+was divided by the rush of the swiftly moving prow.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;We shall not arrive too soon, my friend,&quot; rejoined the captain of the
+<i>voyageurs</i>, casting an eye back across the great lake, which lay black
+and ominous under a threatening sky, the sweep and swirl of its white
+caps ever racing hard after the frail craft, as though eager to break
+through its paper sides and tear away the human beings who thus fled on
+so lightly.</p>
+
+<p>This boat, mysteriously appearing as though it were some spirit craft
+railed from the ancient deeps, was far from the beginning of its wild
+journey. Wide as the eye might reach, there arose no fleck of snowy
+canvas, nor showed the dark line of any similar craft propelled by oar
+or paddle. They were alone, these travelers. Before them, at the
+entrance of the wide arm of the great lake Michiganon, lay the point
+even at that early day known as the Door of the West, the beginning of
+the winding water-way which led on into the interior of that West, then
+so alluring and unknown. The eyes of all were fixed on the low,
+white-fronted bluffs, crowned by dark forest growth, which guarded the
+bay at either hand. This spot, so wild, so remote, so significant&mdash;it
+was home for these <i>voyageurs</i> as much as any; as much, too, for Law and
+the woman who lay back, pale-faced and wide-eyed, among the bales in the
+great canoe.</p>
+
+<p>In time the graceful craft approached the beach, on which the long waves
+rolled and curled, now gently, now with imposing force. With the water
+yet half-leg deep, Du Mesne and two of the paddlers sprang bodily
+overboard and held the boat back from the pebbles, so that its tender
+shell might not be damaged. Law himself was as soon as they in the
+water, and he waded back along the gunwale until he reached the stern,
+the water nearly up to his hips. Reaching out his arms, he picked up
+Mary Connynge from her seat and carried her dry-shod ashore, bending
+down to catch some whispered word. Not so gallant was Du Mesne, the
+leader of the <i>voyageurs</i>. He uttered a few short words of semi-command
+to the Indian woman, who had been seated on the floor of the canoe, and
+she, without protest, crawled forward over the thwarts and the heaped
+bundles until she reached the bow, and then went ankle deep into the
+creaming flood. The great canoe, left empty and anchored safe from the
+pebbles of the beach, tossed light as a cork on the incoming waves.</p>
+
+<p>A little open space was quickly found at the edge of the cove in which
+the disembarkation was made, and here Du Mesne and his followers soon
+kicked away the twigs and leveled out a smooth place upon the grass.
+Each man produced from his belt a broad-bladed knife, and for the moment
+disappeared in the deep fringe of evergreens which lined the shore.
+Fairly in the twinkling of an eye a rude frame of bent poles was made,
+above which were spread strips of unrolled birch bark from the cargo of
+the canoe. Over the spaces left uncovered by the supply of bark sheets
+there were laid down long mats made by Indian hands from dried reeds and
+bulrushes, affording no inconsiderable protection against the weather.
+Inside the lodge, bales of goods and packages of provisions were quickly
+arranged in comfortable fashion. Gaudy blankets were spread upon layers
+of soft skins of the buffalo. The Indian woman had meantime struck a
+fire, whose faint blue smoke curled lakeward in the soft evening air.
+Quickly, and with the system of experienced campaigners, the evening
+bivouac had been prepared; and wildly picturesque it must have seemed
+to a bystander, had there been indeed any possible spectator within many
+leagues.</p>
+
+<p>Far enough was this from the turmoil of London, which Law and his
+companion had left nearly a year before; far enough still from the wild
+capital of New France, where they had spent the winter, after landing,
+as much by chance as through any plan, at the port of the St. Lawrence.
+Ever a demon of unrest drove Law forward; ever there beckoned to him
+that irresistible West, of which he was one of the earliest to feel the
+charm. Farther and farther westward, swift and swifter than ever the
+boats of the fur traders had made the journey before, he and his party,
+led by Du Mesne, the ex-galley-slave and wanderer whom Law had by chance
+met again, and gladly, at Montr&eacute;al, had made the long and dangerous run
+up the lakes, past Michilimackinac, down the lake of Michiganon, headed
+toward the interior of a new continent which was then, as for
+generations after then, the land of wondrous distances, of grand
+enterprises, of magnificent promises and immense fulfilments. The bales
+and bundles of this bivouac belonged to John Law, bought by gold from
+the gaming tables of Montr&eacute;al and Quebec, and ventured in the one great
+hazard which appealed to him most irresistibly, the hazard of life and
+fortune in a far land, where he might live unneighbored, and where he
+might forget. Gambler in England, gambler again in New France, now
+trading fur-merchant and <i>voyageur</i>, he was, as always, an adventurer.
+Du Mesne and his hardy crew hailed him already as a new captain of the
+trails, a new <i>coureur</i>, won from the Old World by the savage witchery
+of the New. He was their brother; and had he indeed owned longer years
+of training, his keenness of eye, his strength of arm, his tirelessness
+of limb could hardly have been greater than they seemed in his first
+voyage to the West.</p>
+
+<span style='margin-left: 2em;'>&quot;<i>Tous les printemps,</i></span><br />
+<span style='margin-left: 2.25em;'><i>Tant des nouvelles</i>&quot;</span><br />
+
+<p>hummed Du Mesne, as he busied himself about the camp, casting the while
+a cautious eye to note the progress of the threatening storm.</p>
+
+<span style='margin-left: 2em;'>&quot;<i>Tous les amants</i></span><br />
+<span style='margin-left: 2.25em;'><i>Changent des ma&icirc;tresses.</i></span><br />
+<span style='margin-left: 2.25em;'><i>Jamais le bon vin n'endort&mdash;</i></span><br />
+<span style='margin-left: 2.25em;'><i>L'amour me r&eacute;veille!</i>&quot;</span><br />
+
+<p>&quot;The best is before us now, Monsieur L'as,&quot; said Du Mesne, joining Law,
+at length. &quot;Assuredly the best is always that which is ahead and which
+is unknown; but in point of fact the hardest of our journey is over,
+for henceforth we may stretch our legs ashore, and hunt and fish, and
+make good camps for madame, who, as we both perceive, is much in need of
+ease and care. We shall make all safe and comfortable for this night,
+doubt not.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Meantime,&quot; continued he, &quot;let us see that all is well with our men and
+arms, for henceforth we must put out guards. Attention, comrades!
+Present your pieces and answer the roll-call! Pierre Berthier!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;<i>Ici!</i> Monsieur,&quot; replied the one better known as Pierre Noir, a tall
+and dark-visaged Canadian, clad in the common costume, half-Indian and
+half-civilized, which marked his class. A shirt of soft dressed buckskin
+fell about his thighs; his legs were encased in moose-skin leggings,
+deeply fringed at the seams. About his middle was a broad sash, once
+red, and upon his head a scanty cap of similar color was pushed back. At
+his belt hung the great hunting knife of the <i>voyageur</i>, balanced by a
+keen steel tomahawk such as was in common use among the Indians. In his
+hand he supported a long-barreled musket, which he now examined
+carefully in the presence of the captain of the <i>voyageurs</i>.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Robert Challon!&quot; next commanded Du Mesne, and in turn the one addressed
+looked over his piece, the captain also scrutinizing the flint and
+priming with careful eye.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Naturally, <i>mes enfants</i>,&quot; said he, &quot;your weapons are perfect, as ever.
+Kataikini, and you, Kabayan, my brothers, let me see,&quot; said he to the
+two Indians, the former a Huron and the latter an Ojibway, both from the
+shores of Superior. The Indians arose silently, and without protest
+submitted to the scrutiny which ever seemed to them unnecessary.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Jean Breboeuf!&quot; called Du Mesne; and in response there arose from the
+shadows a wiry little Frenchman, who might have been of any age from
+twenty to forty-five, so sun-burnt and wrinkled, yet so active and
+vigorous did he seem.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;<i>Mon ami</i>,&quot; said Du Mesne to him, chidingly, &quot;see now, here is your
+flint all but out of its engagement. Pray you, have better care of your
+piece. For this you shall stand the long watch of the night. And now let
+us all to bed.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>One by one the little party was lost to view within the dark interior of
+the hut which they had arranged for themselves. Du Mesne retired a
+distance from the fire and seated himself upon a fallen log, his pipe
+glowing like a coal in the enveloping darkness.</p>
+
+<p>Law himself did not so soon leave the outer air. He remained gazing out
+at the wild scene about him, at the rolling waves dashing on the shore,
+their crests whitening in the glare of the lightning, now approaching
+more closely. He harkened to the roll of the far-off thunder re&euml;nforced
+by the thunder of the waves upon the shore, and noted the sweep of the
+black forest about, of the black sky overhead, unlit save for one
+far-off, faint and feeble star.</p>
+
+<p>It was a new world, this that lay around him, a new and savage world. If
+there were a world behind him, a world which once held sunlight and
+flowers, and love and hope&mdash;why then, it was a world lost and gone
+forever, and it was very well that this new world should be so different
+and so stern.</p>
+
+<p>In the darkness John Law heard a voice, the voice of a woman in terror.
+Swiftly he stepped to the door of the rude lodge.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Don't let them sing it again&mdash;never any more&mdash;that song.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And what, Madam?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That one&mdash;'<i>Tous les amants changent des ma&icirc;tresses!</i>'&quot;</p>
+
+<p>A moment later she whispered, &quot;I am afraid.&quot;</p>
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='BOOK_II_CHAPTER_II'></a><h3>CHAPTER II</h3>
+
+<h4>THE STORM</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>Marshaling to the imperious orders of the tempest, and crowding close
+upon the flaming standards of the lightning, the armies of the clouds
+came on. The sea-wide surface of the lake went dull, and above it bent a
+sky appalling in its blackness. The wind at first was light, then fitful
+and gusty, like the rising choler of a man affronted and nursing his own
+anger. It gained in volume and swept on across the tops of the forest
+trees, as though with a hand contemptuous in its strength, forbearing
+only by reason of its own whimsy. Now and again the cohorts of the
+clouds just hinted at parting, letting through a pale radiance from the
+western sky, where lingered the departing day. This light, as did the
+illuminating glare of the forked flames above, disclosed the white
+helmets of the trooping waters, rushing on with thunderous unison of
+tread; and the rattling thunder-shocks, intermittent, though coming
+steadily nearer, served but to emphasize these foot strokes of the
+waves. The heavens above and the waters under the earth&mdash;these
+conspired, these marched together, to assail, to overwhelm, to utterly
+destroy.</p>
+
+<p>To destroy what? Why this wild protest of the wilderness? Was it this
+wide-blown, scattered fire, whose sparks and ashes were sown broadcast,
+till but stubborn remnants clung under the sheltering back-log of the
+bivouac hearth? Was it this frail lodge, built upon pliant, yielding
+poles, covered cunningly with mats and bark, carpeted with robe of elk
+and buffalo? Yet why should the elements rage at a tiny fire, and why
+should they tear at a little house of nomad man, since these things were
+old upon the earth? Was it somewhat else that incited this elemental
+rage? This might have been; for surely, builder of this hearth-fire
+which would not quench, master of this house which would not yield,
+there was now come up to the door of the wilderness the white man, risen
+from the sea, heralding the day which the tribes had for generations
+blindly prophesied! The white man, stern, stubborn, fruitful, had come
+to despoil the West of its secrets!</p>
+
+<p>Let all the elements therefore join in riotous revolt! Let earth and sea
+and sky make common cause! Rage, waves, and blaze, ye fiery tongues,
+and threaten, forests, with all your ominous voices! Smite, destroy, or
+terrify into swift retreat this little band! Crush out their tenement!
+Loosen and brush off this feeble finger-grasp at the ancient threshold!
+With banners of flame, with armies of darkness, with shoutings of the
+captains of the storms, assail, denude, destroy, if even by the agony of
+their terrors, these feeble folk now come hither! And by this more
+especially, since they would set the seal of fruitfulness upon the land,
+and bring upon the earth a generation yet to follow. Hover about this
+bed in the frail and swaying lodge of bark and boughs, all ye most
+terrifying spirits! Let not this thing be!</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Mother of God!&quot; cried Jean Breboeuf, bending low and pulling his tunic
+tighter by the belt, as he came gasping into the faint circle of light
+which still remained at the fire log. &quot;'Tis murderous, this storm! Ah,
+Monsieur du Mesne, we are dead men! But what matter? 'Tis as well now as
+later. Said I not so to you all the way down Michiganon from the
+Straits? A rabbit crossed my path at the last camp before
+Michilimackinac, and when we took boat to leave the mission at the
+Straits, three crows flew directly across our way. Did I not beseech you
+to turn back? Did I not tell you, most of all, that we had no right,
+honest <i>voyageurs</i> that we are, to leave for the woods without
+confessing to the good father? 'Tis two years now since I have been
+proper shriven, and two years is too long for a <i>voyageur</i> to remain
+unabsolved. Mother of God! When I see the lightnings and listen to that
+wind, I bethink me of my sins&mdash;my sins! I vow a bale of beaver&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Pish! Jean,&quot; responded Du Mesne, who had come in from the cover of the
+wood and was casting about in the darkness as best he might to see that
+all was made secure. &quot;Thou'lt feel better when the sun shines again.
+Call Pierre Noir, and hurry, or our canoe will pound to bits upon the
+beach. Come!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>All three went now knee-deep in the surf, and Du Mesne, clinging to the
+gunwale as he passed out, was soon waist deep, and time and again lost
+his footing in the flood.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Pull!&quot; he cried at last. &quot;Now, <i>en avant!</i>&quot; He had flung himself over
+the stern, and with his knife cut the hide rope of the anchor-stone.
+Overboard again in an instant, he joined the others in their rush up the
+beach, and the three bore their ship upon their shoulders above the
+reach of the waves.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Myself,&quot; said Pierre Noir, &quot;shall sleep beneath the boat to-night, for
+since she sheds water from below, she may do as well from above.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Even so, Pierre Noir,&quot; said Du Mesne, &quot;but get you the boat farther
+toward your own camp to-night. Do you not see that Monsieur L'as is not
+with us?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;<i>Eh bien?</i>&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And were he not surely with us at such time, unless&mdash;?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, <i>assur&eacute;ment!</i>&quot; replied Pierre Noir. &quot;Jean Breboeuf, aid me in
+taking the boat back to our camp in the woods.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Now came the rain. Not in steady and even downpour, not with
+intermittent showers, but in a sidelong, terrifying torrent, drenching,
+biting, cutting in its violence. The swift weight of the rain gave to
+the trees more burden than they could bear. As before the storm, when
+all was still, there had come time and again the warning boom of a
+falling tree, stricken with mysterious mortal dread of that which was to
+come, so now, in the riot of that arrived danger, first one and then
+another wide-armed monarch of the wood crashed down, adding with its
+downfall to the testimony of the assailing tempest's strength and fury.
+The lightning now came not only in ragged blazes and long ripping lines
+of light, but in bursts and shocks, and in bomb-like balls, exploding
+with elemental detonations. Balls of this tense surcharged essence
+rolled out over the comb of the bluff, fell upon the shadows of the
+water, and seemed to bound from crest to white-capped crest, till at
+last they split and burst asunder like some ominous missiles from
+engines of wrath and destruction.</p>
+
+<p>And now, suddenly, all grew still again. The sky took on a lighter,
+livid tone, one of pure venom. There came a whisper, a murmur, a rush as
+of mighty waters, a sighing as of an army of the condemned, a shrieking
+as of legions of the lost, a roaring as of all the soul-felt tortures of
+a world. From the forest rose a continuous rending crash. The whiplash
+of the tempest cracked the tree trunks as a child beheads a row of
+daisies. Piled up, falling, riven asunder, torn out by the wind, the
+giant trees joined the toys which the cynic storm gathered in its hands
+and bore along until such time as it should please to crush and drop
+them.</p>
+
+<p>There passed out over the black sea of Michiganon a vast black wraith; a
+thing horrible, tremendous, titanic in organic power. It howled,
+execrated, menaced; missed its aim, and passed. The little swaying house
+still stood! Under the sheltered log some tiny sparks of fire still
+burned, omen of the unquenchable hearthstones which the land was yet to
+know!</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Holy God! what was it? What was that which passed?&quot; cried Jean
+Breboeuf, crawling out from beneath his shelter. &quot;Saint Mary defend us
+all this night! 'Twas the great Canoe of the Damned, running <i>au large</i>
+across the sky! Mary, Mother of God, hear my vow! From this time Jean
+Breboeuf shall lead a better life!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The storm, baffled, passed on. The rain, unsatisfied, sullenly ceased in
+its attack. The waves, hopeless but still vindictive, began to call back
+their legions from the narrow shore. The lightnings, unsated in their
+wrath, flared and flickered on and out across the eastward sea. With
+wild laughter and shrieks and imprecations, the spirit of the tempest
+wailed on its furious way. The red West had raised its hand to smite,
+but it had not smitten sure.</p>
+
+<p>In the silence of the night, in the hush following the uproar of the
+storm, there came a little wailing cry; so faint, so feeble, yet so
+mighty, so conquering, this sign of the coming generation, the voice of
+the new-born babe. At this little human voice, born of sorrow and sin,
+born to suffering and to knowledge, born to life in all its wonders and
+to death in all its mystery&mdash;the elements perchance relented and averted
+their fury. Not yet was there to be punished sin, or wrong, or doubt, or
+weakness. Not at once would justice punish the parents of this babe and
+blot out at once the record of their fault. Storm and lightning,
+darkness and the night yielded to the voice of the infant and allowed
+the old story of humanity and sin, and hope and mercy to run on.</p>
+
+<p>The babe wailed faintly in the silence of the night. Under the
+hearth-log there still endured the fire. And then the red West, seeing
+itself conquered, smiled and flung wide its arms, and greeted them with
+the burgeoning dawn, and the voices of birds, with a sky blue and
+repentant, a sun smiling and not unkind.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='BOOK_II_CHAPTER_III'></a><h3>CHAPTER III</h3>
+
+<h4>AU LARGE</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>It was weeks after the night of the great storm, and the camp of the
+<i>voyageurs</i> still held its place on the shore of the great Green Bay.
+The wild game and the abundant fishes of the lake gave ample provender
+for the party, and the little bivouac had been rendered more comfortable
+in many ways best known to those dwellers of the forest. The light jest,
+the burst of laughter, the careless ease of attitude showed the
+light-hearted <i>voyageurs</i> content with this, their last abode, nor for
+the time did any word issue which threatened to end their tarrying.</p>
+
+<p>Law one morning strolled out from the lodge and seated himself on a bit
+of driftwood at the edge of the forest's fringe of cedars, where,
+seemingly half forgetting himself in the witchery of the scene, he gazed
+out idly over the wide prospect which lay before him. He was the same
+young man as ever. Surely, this increased gauntness was but the result
+of long hours at the paddle, the hollow cheeks but betokened hard fare
+and the defining winds of the outdoor air. If the eye were a trace more
+dim, that could be due but to the reflectiveness induced by the quiet
+scene and hour. Yet why should John Law, young and refreshed, drop chin
+in hand and sit there moodily looking ahead of him, comprehending not at
+all that which he beheld?</p>
+
+<p>Indeed there appeared now to the eye of this young man not the white
+shores and black crowned bluffs and distant islands, not the sweep of
+broad-winged birds circling near the waters, nor the shadow of the
+high-poised eagle drifting far above. He felt not the soft wind upon his
+cheek, nor noted the warmth of the on-coming sun. In truth, even here,
+on the very threshold of a new world and a new life, he was going back,
+pausing uncertainly at the door of that life and of that world which he
+had left behind. There appeared to him not the rolling undulations of
+the black-topped forest, not the tossing surface of the inland sea, nor
+the white-pebbled beach laved by its pulsing waters. He saw instead a
+white and dusty road, lined by green English hedge-rows. Back, over
+there, beyond these rolling blue waves, back of the long water trail
+over which he had come, there were chapel and bell and robed priest, and
+the word which made all fast forever. But back of the wilderness
+mission, back of the straggling settlements of Montr&eacute;al and Quebec, back
+of the blue waters of the ocean, there, too, were church and minister;
+and there dwelt a woman whose figure stood now before his eyes, part of
+this mental picture of the white road lined with the hedges of green.</p>
+
+<p>A hand was laid on his shoulder, and he half started up in sudden
+surprise. Before him, the sun shining through her hair, her eyes dark in
+the shadow, stood Mary Connynge. A fair woman indeed, comely, round of
+form, soft-eyed, and light of touch, she might none the less have been a
+very savage as she stood there, clad no longer in the dress of
+civilization, but in the soft native garb of skins, ornamented with the
+stained quills of the porcupine and the bizarre adornments of the native
+bead work; in her hair dull metal bands, like any Indian woman, upon her
+feet little beaded moccasins&mdash;the very moccasin, it might have been,
+which Law had first seen in ancient London town and which had played so
+strange a part in his life since then.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You startled me,&quot; said Law, simply. &quot;I was thinking.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>A sudden jealous wave of woman's divining intuition came upon the woman
+at his side. &quot;I doubt not,&quot; said she, bitterly, &quot;that I could name the
+subject of your thought! Why? Why sit here and dream of her, when here
+am I, who deserve everything that you can give?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>She stood erect, her eyes flashing, her arms outstretched, her bosom
+panting under the fringed garments, her voice ringing as it might have
+been with the very essence of truth and passion. Law looked at her
+steadily. But the shadow did not lift from his brow, though he looked
+long and pondered.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Come,&quot; said he, at length, gently. &quot;None the less we are as we are. In
+every game we take our chances, and in every game we pay our debts. Let
+us go back to the camp.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>As they turned back down the beach Law saw standing at a little distance
+his lieutenant, Du Mesne, who hesitated as though he would speak.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What is it, Du Mesne?&quot; asked Law, excusing himself with a gesture and
+joining the <i>voyageur</i> where he stood.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, Monsieur L'as,&quot; said Du Mesne, &quot;I am making bold to mention it,
+but in good truth there was some question in my mind as to what might be
+our plans. The spring, as you know, is now well advanced. It was your
+first design to go far into the West, and there to set up your station
+for the trading in furs. Now there have come these little incidents
+which have occasioned us some delay. While I have not doubted your
+enterprise, Monsieur, I bethought me perhaps it might be within your
+plans now to go but little farther on&mdash;perhaps, indeed, to turn back&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;To go back?&quot; said Law.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, yes; that is to say, Monsieur L'as, back again down the Great
+Lakes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Have you then known me so ill as this, Du Mesne?&quot; said Law. &quot;It has not
+been my custom to set backward foot on any sort of trail.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, well, to be sure, Monsieur, that I know quite well,&quot; replied Du
+Mesne, apologetically. &quot;I would only say that, if you do go forward, you
+will do more than most men accomplish on their first voyage <i>au large</i>
+in the wilderness. There comes to many a certain shrinking of the heart
+which leads them to find excuse for not faring farther on. Yonder, as
+you know, Monsieur, lie Quebec and Montr&eacute;al, somewhat better fitted for
+the abode of monsieur and madame than the tents of the wilderness. Back
+of that, too, as we both very well know, Monsieur, lie London and old
+England; and I had been dull of eye indeed did I not recognize the
+opportunities of a young gallant like yourself. Now, while I know
+yourself to be a man of spirit, Monsieur L'as, and while I should
+welcome you gladly as a brother of the trail, I had only thought that
+perhaps you would pardon me if I did but ask your purpose at this time.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Law bent his head in silence for a moment. &quot;What know you of this
+forward trail, Du Mesne?&quot; said he. &quot;Have you ever gone beyond this point
+in your own journeyings?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Never beyond this,&quot; replied Du Mesne, &quot;and indeed not so far by many
+hundred miles. For my own part I rely chiefly upon the story of my
+brother, Greysolon du L'hut, the boldest soul that ever put paddle in
+the St. Lawrence. My brother Greysolon, by the fire one night, told me
+that some years before he had been at the mouth of the Green
+Bay&mdash;perhaps near this very spot&mdash;and that here he and his brothers
+found a deserted Indian camp. Near it, lying half in the fire, where he
+had fallen in exhaustion, was an old, a very old Indian, who had been
+abandoned by his tribe to die&mdash;for that, you must know, Monsieur, is one
+of the pleasant customs of the wilderness.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Greysolon and his men revived this savage in some fashion, and meantime
+had much speech with him about this unknown land at whose edge we have
+now arrived. The old savage said that he had been many moons north and
+west of that place. He knew of the river called the Blue Earth, perhaps
+the same of which Father Hennepin has told. And also of the Divine
+River, far below and tributary to the Messasebe. He said that his father
+was once of a war party who went far to the north against the Ojibways,
+and that his people took from the Ojibways one of their prisoners, who
+said that he came from some strange country far to the westward, where
+there was a very wide plain, of no trees. Beyond that there were great
+mountains, taller than any to be found in all this region hereabout.
+Beyond these mountains the prisoner did not know what there might be,
+but these mountains his people took to be the edge of the world, beyond
+which could live only wicked spirits. This was what the prisoner of the
+Ojibways said. He, too, was an old man.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The captive of my brother Greysolon was an Outagamie, and he said that
+the Outagamies burned this prisoner of the Ojibways, for they knew that
+he was surely lying to them. Without doubt they did quite right to burn
+him, for the notion of a great open country without trees or streams is,
+of course, absurd to any one who knows America. And as for mountains,
+all men know that the mountains lie to the east of us, not to the
+westward.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Twould seem much hearsay,&quot; said Law, &quot;this information which comes at
+second, third and fourth hand.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;True,&quot; said Du Mesne, &quot;but such is the source of the little we know of
+the valley of the Messasebe, and that which lies beyond it. None the
+less this idea offers interest.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yet you ask me if I would return.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Twas but for yourself, Monsieur. It is there, if I may humbly confess
+to you, that it is my own ambition some day to arrive. Myself&mdash;this
+West, as I said long ago to the gentlemen in London&mdash;appeals to me,
+since it is indeed a land unoccupied, unowned, an empire which we may
+have all for ourselves. What say you, Monsieur L'as?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>John Law straightened and stiffened as he stood. For an instant his eye
+flashed with the zeal of youth and of adventure. It was but a transient
+cloud which crossed his face, yet there was sadness in his tone as he
+replied.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;My friend,&quot; said he, &quot;you ask me for my answer. I have pondered and I
+now decide. We shall go on. We shall go forward. Let us have this West,
+my friend. Heaven helping us, let me find somewhere, in some land, a
+place where I may be utterly lost, and where I may forget!&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='BOOK_II_CHAPTER_IV'></a><h3>CHAPTER IV</h3>
+
+<h4>THE PATHWAY OF THE WATERS</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>The news of the intended departure was received with joy by the crew of
+<i>voyageurs</i>, who, on the warning of an instant, fell forthwith to the
+simple tasks of breaking camp and storing the accustomed bales and
+bundles in their places in the great <i>canot du Nord</i>.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;<i>La voil&agrave;!</i>&quot; said T&ecirc;te Gris. &quot;Here she sits, this canoe, eager to go
+on. 'Tis forward again, <i>mes amis!</i> Forward once more; and glad enough
+am I for this day. We shall see new lands ere long.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;For my part,&quot; said Jean Breboeuf, &quot;I also am most anxious to be away,
+for I have eaten this white-fish until I crave no more. I had bethought
+me how excellent are the pumpkins of the good fathers at the Straits;
+and indeed I would we had with us more of that excellent fruit, the
+bean.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Bah! Jean Breboeuf,&quot; retorted Pierre Noir. &quot;'Tis but a poor-hearted
+<i>voyageur</i> would hang about a mission garden with a hoe in his hand
+instead of a gun. Perhaps the good sisters at the Mountain miss thy
+skill at pulling weeds.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Nay, now, I can live as long on fish and flesh as any man,&quot; replied
+Jean Breboeuf, stoutly, &quot;nor do I hold myself, Monsieur T&ecirc;te Gris, one
+jot in courage back of any man upon the trail.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Of course not, save in time of storm,&quot; grinned T&ecirc;te Gris. &quot;Then, it is
+'Holy Mary, witness my vow of a bale of beaver!' It is&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, so be it,&quot; said Jean Breboeuf, stoutly. &quot;'Tis sure a bale of
+beaver will come easily enough in these new lands; and&mdash;though I insist
+again that I have naught of superstition in my soul&mdash;when a raven sits
+on a tree near camp and croaks of a morning before breakfast&mdash;as upon my
+word of honor was the case this morning&mdash;there must be some ill fate in
+store for us, as doth but stand to reason.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But say you so?&quot; said T&ecirc;te Gris, pausing at his task, with his face
+assuming a certain seriousness.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Assuredly,&quot; said Jean Breboeuf. &quot;'Tis as I told you. Moreover, I insist
+to you, my brothers, that the signs have not been right for this trip at
+any time. For myself, I look for nothing but disaster.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The humor of Jean Breboeuf's very gravity appealed so strongly to his
+older comrades that they broke out into laughter, and so all fell again
+to their tasks, in sheer light-heartedness forgetting the superstitions
+of their class.</p>
+
+<p>Thus at length the party took ship again, and in time made the head of
+the great bay within whose arms they had been for some time encamped.
+They won up over the sullen rapids of the river which came into the bay,
+toiling sometimes waist-deep at the <i>cordelle</i>, yet complaining not at
+all. So in time they came out on the wide expanse of the shallow lake of
+the Winnebagoes, which body of water they crossed directly, coming into
+the quiet channel of the stream which fell in upon its western shore. Up
+this stream in turn steadily they passed, amid a panorama filled with
+constant change. Sometimes the gentle river bent away in long curves,
+with hardly a ripple upon its placid surface, save where now and again
+some startled fish sprang into the air in fright or sport, or in the
+rush upon its prey. Then the stream would lead away into vast seas of
+marsh lands, waving in illimitable reaches of rushes, or fringed with
+the unspeakably beautiful green of the graceful wild rice plant.</p>
+
+<p>In these wide levels now and again the channel divided, or lost itself
+in little <i>cul de sacs</i>, from which the paddlers were obliged to retrace
+their way. All about them rose myriads of birds and wild fowl, which
+made their nests among these marshes, and the babbling chatter of the
+rail, the high-keyed calling of the coot, or the clamoring of the
+home-building mallard assailed their ears hour after hour as they passed
+on between the leafy shores. Then, again, the channel would sweep to one
+side of the marsh, and give view to wide vistas of high and rolling
+lands, dotted with groves of hardwood, with here and there a swamp of
+cedar or of tamarack. Little herds of elk and droves of deer fed on the
+grass-covered slopes, as fat, as sleek and fearless of mankind as though
+they dwelt domesticated in some noble park.</p>
+
+<p>It was a land obviously but little known, even to the most adventurous,
+and as chance would have it, they met not even a wandering party of the
+native tribes. Clearly now the little boat was climbing, climbing slowly
+and gently, yet surely, upward from the level of the great Lake
+Michiganon. In time the little river broadened and flattened out into
+wide, shallow expanses, the waters known as the Lakes of the Foxes; and
+beyond that it became yet more shallow and uncertain, winding among
+quaking bogs and unknown marshes; yet still, whether by patience, or by
+cheerfulness, or by determination, the craft stood on and on, and so
+reached that end of the waterway which, in the opinion of the more
+experienced Du Mesne, must surely be the place known among the Indian
+tribes as the &quot;Place for the carrying of boats.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Here they paused for a few days, at that mild summit of land which marks
+the portage between the east bound and the west bound waters; yet,
+impelled ever by the eager spirit of the adventurer, they made their
+pause but short. In time they launched their craft on the bright, smooth
+flood of the river of the Ouisconsins, stained coppery-red by its
+far-off, unknown course in the north, where it had bathed leagues of the
+roots of pine and tamarack and cedar. They passed on steadily westward,
+hour after hour, with the current of this great stream, among little
+islands covered with timber; passed along bars of white sand and flats
+of hardwood; beyond forest-covered knolls, in the openings of which one
+might now and again see great vistas of a scenery now peaceful and now
+bold, with turreted knolls and sweeping swards of green, as though some
+noble house of old England were set back secluded within these wide and
+well-kept grounds. The country now rapidly lost its marshy character,
+and as they approached the mouth of the great stream, it being now well
+toward the middle of the summer, they reached, suddenly and without
+forewarning, that which they long had sought.</p>
+
+<p>The sturdy paddlers were bending to their tasks, each broad back
+swinging in unison forward and back over the thwart, each brown throat
+bared to the air, each swart head uncovered to the glare of the midday
+sun, each narrow-bladed paddle keeping unison with those before and
+behind, the hand of the paddler never reaching higher than his chin,
+since each had learned the labor-saving fashion of the Indian canoeman.
+The day was bright and cheery, the air not too ardent, and across the
+coppery waters there stretched slants of shadow from the embowering
+forest trees. They were alone, these travelers; yet for the time at
+least part of them seemed care-free and quite abandoned to the sheer
+zest of life. There arose again, after the fashion of the <i>voyageurs</i>,
+the measure of the paddling song, without which indeed the paddler had
+not been able to perform his labor at the thwart.</p>
+
+<span style='margin-left: 2em;'>&quot;<i>Dans mon chemin j'ai rencontr&eacute;</i>&mdash;&quot;</span><br />
+
+<p>chanted the leader; and voices behind him responded lustily with the
+next line:</p>
+
+<span style='margin-left: 2em;'>&quot;<i>Trois cavaliers bien mont&eacute;</i>s&mdash;&quot;</span><br />
+<span style='margin-left: 2em;'>&quot;<i>Trois cavaliers bien mont&eacute;</i>s&mdash;&quot;</span><br />
+
+<p>chanted the leader again.</p>
+
+<span style='margin-left: 2em;'>&quot;<i>L'un &agrave; cheval et l'autre &agrave; pied</i>&mdash;&quot;</span><br />
+
+<p>came the response; and then the chorus:</p>
+
+<span style='margin-left: 2em;'>&quot;<i>Lon, lon laridon daine</i>&mdash;</span><br />
+<span style='margin-left: 2.25em;'><i>Lon, lon laridon dai!</i>&quot;</span><br />
+
+<p>The great boat began to move ahead steadily and more swiftly, and bend
+after bend of the river was rounded by the rushing prow. None knew this
+country, nor wist how far the journey might carry him. None knew as of
+certainty that he would ever in this way reach the great Messasebe; or
+even if he thought that such would be the case, did any one know how far
+that Messasebe still might be. Yet there came a time in the afternoon of
+that day, even as the chant of the <i>voyageurs</i> still echoed on the
+wooded bluffs, and even as the great birch-bark ship still responded
+swiftly to their gaiety, when, on a sudden turn in the arm of the river,
+there appeared wide before them a scene for which they had not been
+prepared. There, rippling and rolling under the breeze, as though itself
+the arm of some great sea, they saw a majestic flood, whose real nature
+and whose name each man there knew on the instant and instinctively.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Messasebe! Messasebe!&quot; broke out the voices of the paddlers.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Stop the paddles!&quot; cried Du Mesne. &quot;<i>Voil&agrave;!</i>&quot;</p>
+
+<p>John Law rose in the bow of the boat and uncovered his head. It was a
+noble prospect which lay before him. His was the soul of the adventurer,
+quick to respond to challenge. There was a fluttering in his throat as
+he stood and gazed out upon this solemn, mysterious and tremendous
+flood, coming whence, going whither, none might say. He gazed and gazed,
+and it was long before the shadow crossed his face and before he drew a
+sigh.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Madam,&quot; said he, at length, turning until he faced Mary Connynge, &quot;this
+is the West. We have chosen, and we have arrived!&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='BOOK_II_CHAPTER_V'></a><h3>CHAPTER V</h3>
+
+<h4>MESSASEBE</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>The boat, now lacking its propelling power, drifted on and out into the
+clear tide of the mighty stream. The paddlers were idle, and silence had
+fallen upon all. The rush of this majestic flood, steady, mysterious,
+secret-keeping, created a feeling of awe and wonder. They gazed and
+gazed again, up the great waterway, across to its farther shore, along
+its rolling course below, and still each man forgot his paddle, and
+still the little ship of New France drifted on, just rocking gently in
+the mimic waves which ruffled the face of the mighty Father of the
+Waters.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;By our Lady!&quot; cried Du Mesne, at length, and tears stood in his
+tan-framed eyes as he turned, &quot;'tis true, all that has been said! Here
+it is, Messasebe, more mighty than any story could have told! Monsieur
+L'as, 'tis big enough to carry ships.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Twill carry fleets of them one day, Du Mesne,&quot; replied John Law. &quot;'Tis
+a roadway fit for a nation. Ah, Du Mesne! our St. Lawrence, our New
+France&mdash;they dwindle when compared to this new land.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Aye! and 'tis all our own!&quot; cried Du Mesne. &quot;Look; for the last ten
+days we have scarce seen even the smoke of a wigwam, and, so far as I
+can tell, there is not in all this valley now the home of a single white
+man. My friend Du L'hut&mdash;he may be far north of the Superior to-day for
+aught we know, or somewhere among the Sauteur people. If there he any
+man below us, let some one else tell who that may be. Sir, I promise
+you, when I see this big water going on so fast and heading so far away
+from home&mdash;well, I admit it causes me to shiver!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis much the same,&quot; said Law, &quot;where home may be for me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah, but 'tis different on the Lakes,&quot; said Du Mesne, &quot;for there we
+always knew the way back, and knew that 'twas down stream.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;He says well,&quot; broke in Mary Connynge. &quot;There is something in this big
+river that chills me. I am afraid.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And what say you, T&ecirc;te Gris, and you, Pierre Noir?&quot; asked Law.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, myself,&quot; replied the former, &quot;I am with the captain. It matters
+not. There must always be one trail from which one does not return.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;<i>Oui</i>,&quot; said Pierre Noir. &quot;To be sure, we have passed as good beaver
+country as heart of man could ask; but never was land so good but there
+was better just beyond.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;They say well, Du Mesne,&quot; spoke John Law, presently; &quot;'tis better on
+beyond. Suppose we never do return? Did I not say to you that I would
+leave this other world as far behind me as might be?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;<i>Eh bien</i>, Monsieur L'as, you reply with spirit, as ever,&quot; replied Du
+Mesne, &quot;and it is not for me to stand in the way. My own fortune and
+family are also with me, and home is where my fire is lit.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Very well,&quot; replied Law. &quot;Let us run the river to its mouth, if need
+be. 'Tis all one to me. And whether we get back or not, 'tis another
+tale.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, I make no doubt we shall win back if need be,&quot; replied Du Mesne.
+&quot;'Tis said the savages know the ways by the Divine River of the Illini
+to the foot of Michiganon; and that, perhaps, might be our best way back
+to the Lakes and to the Mountain with our beaver. We shall, provided we
+reach the Divine River, as I should guess by the stories I have heard,
+be then below the Illini, the Ottawas and the Miamis, with I know not
+what tribes from west of the Messasebe. 'Tis for you to say, Monsieur
+L'as, but for my own part&mdash;and 'tis but a hazard at best&mdash;I would say
+remain here, or press on to the river of the Illini.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis easy of decision, then,&quot; replied Law, after a moment of
+reflection. &quot;We take that course which leads us farther on at least.
+Again the paddles, my friends! To-night we sup in our own kingdom.
+Strike up the song, Du Mesne!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>A shout of approval broke from the hardy men along the boat side, and
+even Jean Breboeuf tossed up his cap upon his paddle shaft.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Forward, then, <i>mes amis!</i>&quot; cried Du Mesne, setting his own
+paddle-blade deep into the flood. &quot;<i>En roulant ma boule, roulant</i>&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Again the chorus rose, and again the hardy craft leaped onward into the
+unexplored.</p>
+
+<p>Day after day following this the journey was resumed, and day after day
+the travelers with eager eyes witnessed a prospect of continual change.
+The bluffs, bolder and more gigantic, towered more precipitous than the
+banks of the gentler streams which they had left behind. Forests ranged
+down to the shores, and wide, green-decked islands crept into view, and
+little timbered valleys of lesser streams came marching down to the
+imposing flood of Messasebe. Again the serrated bluffs broke back and
+showed vast vistas of green savannas, covered with tall, waving grasses,
+broken by little rolling hills, over which crossed herds of elk, and
+buffalo, and deer.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis a land of plenty,&quot; said Du Mesne one day, breaking the habitual
+silence into which the party had fallen. &quot;'Tis a great land, and a
+mighty. And now, Monsieur, I know why the Indians say 'tis guarded by
+spirits. Sure, I can myself feel something in the air which makes my
+shoulder-blades to creep.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis a mighty land, and full of wonders,&quot; assented Law, who, in
+different fashion, had felt the same mysterious spell of this great
+stream. For himself, he was nearer to reverence than ever yet he had
+been in all his wild young life.</p>
+
+<p>Now so it happened that at length, after a long though rapid journey
+down the great river, they came to that stream which they took to be the
+river of the Illini. This they ascended, and so finally, early in one
+evening, at the bank of a wide and placid bayou, shaded by willows and
+birch trees, and by great elms that bore aloft a canopy of clinging
+vines, they made a landing for the bivouac which was to prove their
+final tarrying place. The great <i>canot du Nord</i> came to rest at the foot
+of a timbered hill, back of which stretched high, rolling prairies,
+dotted with little groves and broken with wide swales and winding
+sloughs. The leaders of the party, with T&ecirc;te Gris and Pierre Noir,
+ascended the bluffs and made brief exploration; not more, as was tacitly
+understood, with view to choosing the spot for the evening encampment
+than with the purpose of selecting a permanent stopping place. Du Mesne
+at length turned to Law with questioning gaze. John Law struck the earth
+with his heel.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Here!&quot; said he. &quot;Here let us stop. 'Tis as well as any place. There are
+flowers and trees, and meadows and hedges, like to those of England.
+Here let us stay!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah, you say well indeed!&quot; cried Du Mesne, &quot;and may fortune send us
+happy enterprises.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But then, for the houses,&quot; continued Law. &quot;I presume we must keep close
+to this little stream which flows from the bluff. And yet we must have a
+place whence we can obtain good view. Then, with stout walls to protect
+us, we might&mdash;but see! What is that beyond? Look! There is, if I mistake
+not, a house already builded!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis true, as I live!&quot; cried Du Mesne, lowering his voice
+instinctively, as his quick eye caught the spot where Law was pointing.
+&quot;But, good God! what can it mean?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>They advanced cautiously into the little open space beyond them, a glade
+but a few hundred yards across and lined by encircling trees. They saw
+indeed a habitation erected by human hands, apparently not altogether
+without skill. There were rude walls of logs, reinforced by stakes
+planted in the ground. From the four corners of the inclosure projected
+overhanging beams. There was an opening in the inclosure, as they
+discovered upon closer approach, and entering at this rude door, the
+party looked about them curiously.</p>
+
+<p>Du Mesne shut his lips tight together. This was no house built by the
+hands of white men. There were here no quarters, no shops, no chapel
+with its little bell. Instead there stood a few dried and twisted poles,
+and all around lay the litter of an abandoned camp.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Iroquois, by the living Mother of God!&quot; cried Pierre Noir.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Look!&quot; cried T&ecirc;te Gris, calling them again outside the inclosure. He
+stood kicking in the ashes of what had been a fire-place. He disclosed,
+half buried in the charred embers, an iron kettle into which he gazed
+curiously. He turned away as John Law stepped up beside him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There must have been game here in plenty,&quot; said Law. &quot;There are bones
+scattered all about.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Du Mesne and T&ecirc;te Gris looked at each other in silence, and the former
+at length replied:</p>
+
+<p>&quot;This is an Iroquois war house, Monsieur L'as,&quot; said he. &quot;They lived
+here for more than a month, and, as you say, they fed well. But these
+bones you see are not the bones of elk or deer. They are the bones of
+men, and women, and children.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Law stood taking in each detail of the scene about him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Now you have seen what is before us,&quot; resumed Du Mesne. &quot;The Iroquois
+have gone, 'tis true. They have wiped out the villages which were here.
+There are the little cornfields, but I warrant you they have not seen a
+tomahawk hoe for a month or more. The Iroquois have gone, yet the fact
+that they have been here proves they may come again. What say you, T&ecirc;te
+Gris; and what is your belief, Pierre?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>T&ecirc;te Gris remained silent for some moments. &quot;'Tis as Monsieur says,&quot;
+replied he at length. &quot;'Tis all one to me. I go or stay, as it shall
+please the others. There is always the one trail over which one does not
+return.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And you, Pierre?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I stay by my friends,&quot; replied Pierre Noir, briefly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And you, Monsieur L'as?&quot; asked Du Mesne.</p>
+
+<p>Law raised his head with the old-time determination. &quot;My friends,&quot; said
+he, &quot;we have elected to come into this country and take its conditions
+as we find them. If we falter, we lose; of that we may rest assured.
+Let us not turn back because a few savages have been here and have
+slaughtered a few other savages. For me, there seems but one opinion
+possible. The lightning has struck, yet it may not strike again at the
+same tree. The Iroquois have been here, but they have departed, and they
+have left nothing to invite their return. Now, it is necessary that we
+make a pause and build some place for our abode. Here is a post already
+half builded to our hands.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But if the savages return?&quot; said Du Mesne.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then we will fight,&quot; said John Law.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And right you are,&quot; replied Du Mesne. &quot;Your reasoning is correct. I
+vote that we build here our station.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Myself also,&quot; said T&ecirc;te Gris. And Pierre Noir nodded his assent in
+silence.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='BOOK_II_CHAPTER_VI'></a><h3>CHAPTER VI</h3>
+
+<h4>MAIZE</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>&quot;Ola! Jean Breboeuf,&quot; called out Du Mesne to that worthy, who presently
+appeared, breathing hard from his climb up the river bluff. &quot;Know you
+what has been concluded?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No; how should I guess?&quot; replied Jean Breboeuf. &quot;Or, at least, if I
+should guess, what else should I guess save that we are to take boat at
+once and set back to Montr&eacute;al as fast as we may? But that&mdash;what is this?
+Whose house is that yonder?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis our own, <i>mon enfant</i>,&quot; replied Du Mesne, dryly. &quot;'Twas perhaps
+the property of the Iroquois a moon ago. A moon before that time the
+soil it stands on belonged to the Illini. To-day both house and soil
+belong to us. See; here stood the village. There are the cornfields, cut
+and trampled by the Iroquois. Here are the kettles of the natives&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But, but&mdash;why&mdash;what is all this? Why do we not hasten away?&quot; broke in
+Jean Breboeuf.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Pish! We do not go away. We remain where we are.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Remain? Stay here, and be eaten by the Iroquois? Nay! not Jean
+Breboeuf.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Du Mesne smiled broadly at his terrors, and a dry grin even broke over
+the features of the impassive old trapper, T&ecirc;te Gris.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Not so fast with your going away, Jean, my brother,&quot; said Du Mesne.
+&quot;Thou'rt ever hinting of corn and the bean; now see what can be done in
+this garden-place of the Iroquois and the Illini. You are appointed head
+gardener for the post!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Messieurs, <i>me voil&agrave;</i>,&quot; said Jean Breboeuf, dropping his hands in
+despair. &quot;Were I not the bravest man in all New France I should leave
+you at this moment. It is mad, quite mad you are, every one of you! I,
+Jean Breboeuf, will remain, and, if necessary, will protect. Corn, and
+perhaps the bean, ye shall have; perhaps even some of those little roots
+that the savages dig and eat; but, look you, this is but because you are
+with one who is brave. <i>Enfin</i>, I go. I bend me to the hoe, here in this
+place, like any peasant.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;An excellent hoe can be made from the blade bone of an elk, as the
+woman Wabana will perhaps show you if you like,&quot; said Pierre Noir,
+derisively, to his comrade of the paddle.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Even so,&quot; said Jean Breboeuf. &quot;I make me the hoe. Could I have but
+thee, old Pierre, to sit on a stump and fright the crows away, I make no
+doubt that all would go well with our husbandry. I had as lief go
+<i>censitaire</i> for Monsieur L'as as for any seignieur on the Richelieu; of
+that be sure, old Pierre.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Faith,&quot; replied the latter, &quot;when it comes to frightening crows, I'll
+even agree to sit on a stump with my musket across my knees and watch
+you work. 'Tis a good place for a sentinel&mdash;to keep the crows from
+picking yet more bones than these which will embarrass you in your
+hoeing, Jean Breboeuf.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;He says the Richelieu, Du Mesne,&quot; broke in John Law, musingly. &quot;Very
+far away it sounds. I wonder if we shall ever see it again, with its
+little narrow farms. But here we have our own trails and our own lands,
+and let us hope that Monsieur Jean shall prosper in his belated farming.
+And now, for the rest of us, we must look presently to the building of
+our houses.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Thus began, slowly and in primitive fashion, the building of one of the
+first cities of the vast valley of the Messasebe; the seeds of
+civilization taking hold upon the ground of barbarism, the one
+supplanting the other, yet availing itself of that other. As the white
+men took over the crude fields of the departed savages, so also they
+appropriated the imperfect edifice which the conquerors of those savages
+had left for them. It was in little the story of old England herself,
+builded upon the races and the ruins of Briton, and Roman, and Saxon, of
+Dane and Norman.</p>
+
+<p>Under the direction of Law, the walls of the old war house were
+strengthened with an inner row of palisades, supporting an embankment of
+earth and stone. The overlap of the gate was extended into a re-entrant
+angle, and rude battlements were erected at the four corners of the
+inclosure. The little stream of unfailing water was led through a corner
+of the fortress. In the center of the inclosure they built the houses; a
+cabin for Law, one for the men, and a larger one to serve as store room
+and as trading place, should there be opportunity for trade.</p>
+
+<p>It was in these rude quarters that Law and his companion established
+that which was the nearest approach to a home that either for the time
+might claim; and it was thus that both undertook once more that old and
+bootless human experiment of seeking to escape from one's own self.
+Silent now, and dutifully obedient enough was this erstwhile English
+beauty, Mary Connynge; yet often and often Law caught the question of
+her gaze. And often enough, too, he found his own questioning running
+back up the water trails, and down the lakes and across the wide ocean,
+in a demand which, fiercer and fiercer as it grew, he yet remained too
+bitter and too proud to put to the proof by any means now within his
+power. Strange enough, savage enough, hopeless enough, was this wild
+home of his in the wilderness of the Messasebe.</p>
+
+<p>The smoke of the new settlement rose steadily day by day, but it gave
+signal for no watching enemy. All about stretched the pale green ocean
+of the grasses, dotted by many wild flowers, nodding and bowing like
+bits of fragile flotsam on the surface of a continually rolling sea. The
+little groves of timber, scattered here and there, sheltered from the
+summer sun the wild cattle of the plains. The shorter grasses hid the
+coveys of the prairie hens, and on the marsh-grown bayou banks the wild
+duck led her brood. A great land, a rich, a fruitful one, was this that
+lay about these adventurers.</p>
+
+<p>A soberness had come over the habit of the master mind of this little
+colony. His hand took up the ax, and forgot the sword and gun. Day after
+day he stood looking about him, examining and studying in little all the
+strange things which he saw; seeking to learn as much as might be of
+the timorous savages, who in time began to straggle back to their ruined
+villages; talking, as best he might, through such interpreting as was
+possible, with savages who came from the west of the Messasebe, and from
+the South and from the far Southwest; hearing, and learning and
+wondering of a land which seemed as large as all the earth, and various
+as all the lands that lay beneath the sun&mdash;that West, so glorious, so
+new, so boundless, which was yet to be the home of countless
+hearth-fires and the sites of myriad fields of corn. Let others hunt,
+and fish, and rob the Indians of their furs, after the accepted fashion
+of the time; as for John Law, he must look about him, and think, and
+watch this growing of the corn.</p>
+
+<p>He saw it fairly from its beginning, this growth of the maize, this
+plant which never yet had grown on Scotch or English soil; this tall,
+beautiful, broad-bladed, tender tree, the very emblem of all
+fruitfulness. He saw here and there, dropped by the careless hand of
+some departed Indian woman, the little germinating seeds, just thrusting
+their pale-green heads up through the soil, half broken by the tomahawk.
+He saw the clustering green shoots&mdash;numerous, in the sign of plenty&mdash;all
+crowding together and clamoring for light, and life, and air, and room.
+He saw the prevailing of the tall and strong upthrusting stalks, after
+the way of life; saw the others dwarf and whiten, and yet cling on at
+the base of the bolder stem, parasites, worthless, yet existing, after
+the way of life.</p>
+
+<p>He saw the great central stalks spring boldly up, so swiftly that it
+almost seemed possible to count the successive leaps of progress. He saw
+the strong-ribbed leaves thrown out, waving a thousand hands of cheerful
+welcome and assurance&mdash;these blades of the corn, so much mightier than
+any blades of steel. He saw the broad beckoning banners of the pale
+tassels bursting out atop of the stalk, token of fecundity and of the
+future. He caught the wide-driven pollen as it whitened upon the earth,
+borne by the parent West Wind, mother of increase. He saw the thickening
+of the green leaf at the base, its swelling, its growth and expansion,
+till the indefinite enlargement showed at length the incipient ear.</p>
+
+<p>He noted the faint brown of the ends of the sweetly-enveloping silk of
+the ear, pale-green and soft underneath the sheltering and protecting
+husk. He found the sweet and milk-white tender kernels, row upon row,
+forming rapidly beneath the husk, and saw at length the hardening and
+darkening of the husk at its free end, which told that man might pluck
+and eat.</p>
+
+<p>And then he saw the fading of the tassels, the darkening of the silk
+and the crinkling of the blades; and there, borne on the strong parent
+stem, he noted now the many full-rowed ears, protected by their husks
+and heralded by the tassels and the blades. &quot;Come, come ye, all ye
+people! Enter in, for I will feed ye all!&quot; This was the song of the
+maize, its invitation, its counsel, its promise.</p>
+
+<p>Under the warped lodge frames which the fires of the Iroquois had
+spared, there were yet visible clusters of the ears of last year's corn.
+Here, under his own eye, were growing yet other ears, ripe for the
+harvesting and ripe for the coming growth. A strange spell fell upon the
+soul of Law. Visions crossed his mind, born in the soft warm air of
+these fecundating winds, of this strange yet peaceful scene.</p>
+
+<p>At times he stood and looked out from the door of the palisade, when the
+prairie mists were rising in the morning at the mandate of the sun, and
+to his eyes these waving seas of grasses all seemed beckoning fields of
+corn. These smokes, coming from the broken tepees of the timid
+tribesmen, surely they arose from the roofs of happy and contented
+homes! These wreaths and wraiths of the twisting and wide-stalking
+mists, surely these were the captains of a general husbandry! Ah, John
+Law, John Law! Had God given thee the right feeling and contented
+heart, happy indeed had been these days in this new land of thine own,
+far from ignoble strivings and from fevered dreams, far from aimless
+struggles and unregulated avarice, far from oppression and from misery,
+far from bickerings, heart-burnings and envyings! Ah, John Law! Had God
+but given thee the pure and well-contented heart! For here in the
+Messasebe, that Mind which made the universe and set man to be one of
+its little inhabitants&mdash;surely that Mind had planned that man should
+come and grow in this place, tall and strong, and fruitful, useful to
+all the world, even as this swift, strong growing of the maize.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='BOOK_II_CHAPTER_VII'></a><h3>CHAPTER VII</h3>
+
+<h4>THE BRINK OF CHANGE</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>The breath of autumn came into the air. The little flowers which had
+dotted the grassy robe of the rolling hills had long since faded away
+under the ardent sun, and now there appeared only the denuded stalks of
+the mulleins and the flaunting banners of the goldenrod. The wild grouse
+shrank from the edges of the little fields and joined their numbers into
+general bands, which night and morn crossed the country on sustained and
+strong-winged flight. The plumage of the young wild turkeys, stalking in
+droves among the open groves, began to emulate the iridescent splendors
+of their elders. The marshes above the village became the home of yet
+more numerous thousands of clamoring wild fowl, and high up against the
+blue there passed, on the south-bound journey, the harrow of the wild
+geese, wending their way from North to South across an unknown empire.</p>
+
+<p>A chill came into the waters of the river, so that the bass and pike
+sought out the deeper pools. The squirrels busily hoarded up supplies
+of the nuts now ripening. The antlers of the deer and the elk which
+emerged from the concealing thickets now showed no longer ragged strips
+of velvet, and their tips were polished in the preliminary fitting for
+the fall season of love and combat. There came nights when the white
+frost hung heavy upon all the bending grasses and the broad-leafed
+plants, a frost which seared the maize leaves and set aflame the foliage
+of the maples all along the streams, and decked in a hundred flamboyant
+tones the leaves of the sumach and all the climbing vines.</p>
+
+<p>As all things now presaged the coming winter, so there approached also
+the time when the little party, so long companions upon the Western
+trails, must for the first time know division. Du Mesne, making ready
+for the return trip over the unknown waterways back to the Lakes, as had
+been determined to be necessary, spoke of it as though the journey were
+but an affair of every day.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Make no doubt, Monsieur L'as,&quot; said he, &quot;that I shall ascend this river
+of the Illini and reach Michiganon well before the snows. Once at the
+mission of the Miamis, or the village at the river Chicaqua, I shall be
+quite safe for the winter, if I decide not to go farther on. Then, in
+the spring, I make no doubt, I shall be able to trade our furs at the
+Straits, if I like not the long run down to the Mountain. Thus, you see,
+I may be with you again sometime within the following spring.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I hope it may be so, my friend,&quot; replied Law, &quot;for I shall miss you
+sadly enough.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis nothing, Monsieur; you will be well occupied. Suppose I take with
+me Kataikini and Kabayan, perhaps also T&ecirc;te Gris. That will give us four
+paddlers for the big canoe, and you will still have left Pierre Noir and
+Jean, to say nothing of our friends the Illini hereabout, who will be
+glad enough to make cause with you in case of need. I will leave Wabana
+for madame, and trust she may prove of service. See to it, pray you,
+that she observes the offices of the church; for methinks, unless
+watched, Wabana is disposed to become careless and un-Christianized.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;This I will look to,&quot; said Law, smiling.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then all is well,&quot; resumed Du Mesne, &quot;and my absence will be but a
+little thing, as we measure it on the trails. You may find a winter
+alone in the wilderness a bit dull for you, mayhap duller than were it
+in London, or even in Quebec. Yet 'twill pass, and in time we shall meet
+again. Perhaps some good father will be wishing to come back with me to
+set up a mission among the Illini. These good fathers, they so delight
+in losing fingers, and ears, and noses for the good of the
+Church&mdash;though where the Church be glorified therein I sometimes can not
+say. Perhaps some leech&mdash;mayhap some artisan&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Nay, 'tis too far a spot, Du Mesne, to tempt others than ourselves.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Upon the contrary rather, Monsieur L'as. It is matter for laughter to
+see the efforts of Louis and his ministers to keep New France chained to
+the St. Lawrence! Yet my good lord governor might as well puff out his
+cheeks against the north wind as to try to keep New France from pouring
+west into the Messasebe; and as much might be said for those good rulers
+of the English colonies, who are seeking ever to keep their people east
+of the Alleghanies.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis the Old World over again, there in the St. Lawrence,&quot; said Law.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Right you are, Monsieur L'as,&quot; exclaimed Du Mesne. &quot;New France is but
+an extension of the family of Louis. The intendant reports everything to
+the king. Monsieur So-and-so is married. Very well, the king must know
+it! Monsieur's eldest daughter is making sheep's eyes at such and such a
+soldier of the regiment of the king. Very well, this is weighty matter,
+of which the king must be advised! Monsieur's wife becomes expectant of
+a son and heir. 'Tis meet that Louis the Great should be advised of
+this! Mother of God! 'Tis a pretty mess enough back there on the St.
+Lawrence, where not a hen may cackle over its new-laid egg but the king
+must know it, and where not a family has meat enough for its children to
+eat nor clothes enough to cover them. My faith, in that poor medley of
+little lords and lazy vassals, how can you wonder that the best of us
+have risen and taken to the woods! Yet 'tis we who catch their beaver
+for them; and if God and the king be willing, sometime we shall get a
+certain price for our beaver&mdash;provided God and the king furnish currency
+to pay us; and that the governor, the priest and the intendant ratify
+the acts of God and the king!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Law smiled at the sturdy vehemence of the other's speech, yet there was
+something of soberness in his own reply.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir,&quot; said he, &quot;you see here my little crooked rows of maize. Look you,
+the beaver will pass away, but the roots of the corn will never be torn
+out. Here is your wealth, Du Mesne.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The sturdy captain scratched his head. &quot;I only know, for my part,&quot; said
+he, &quot;that I do not care for the settlements. Not that I would not be
+glad to see the king extend his arm farther to the West, for these
+sullen English are crowding us more and more along our borders. Surely
+the land belongs to him who finds it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Perhaps better to him who can both find and hold it. But this soil will
+one day raise up a people of its own.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yet as to that,&quot; rejoined Du Mesne, as the two turned and walked back
+to the stockade, &quot;we are not here to handle the affairs of either Louis
+or William. Let us e'en leave that to monsieur the intendant, and
+monsieur the governor, and our friends, the gray owls and the black
+crows, the Recollets and the Jesuits. I mind to call this spot home with
+you, if you like. I shall be back as soon as may be with the things we
+need, and we shall plant here no starving colony, but one good enough
+for the home of any man. Monsieur, I wish you very well, and I may
+congratulate you on your daughter. A heartier infant never was born
+anywhere on the water trail between the Mountain and the Messasebe. What
+name have you chosen for the young lady, Monsieur?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I have decided,&quot; said John Law, &quot;to call her Catharine.&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='BOOK_II_CHAPTER_VIII'></a><h3>CHAPTER VIII</h3>
+
+<h4>TOUS SAUVAGES</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>Had nature indeed intended Law for the wild life of the trail, and had
+he indeed spent years rather than months among these unusual scenes, he
+could hardly have been better fitted for the part. Hardy of limb, keen
+of eye, tireless of foot, with a hand which any weapon fitted, his
+success as hunter made his companions willing enough to assign to him
+the chase of the bison or the stag; so that he became not only patron
+but provider for the camp.</p>
+
+<p>Some weeks after the departure of Du Mesne, Law was returning from the
+hunt some miles below the station. His tall and powerful figure,
+hardened by continued outdoor exercise, was scarce bowed by the weight
+of the wild buck which he bore across his shoulders. His eye, accustomed
+to the instant readiness demanded in the <i>voyageur's</i> life, glanced
+keenly about, taking in each item of the scene, each movement of the
+little bird on the tree, the rustling of the grass where a rabbit
+started from its form, the whisk of the gray squirrel's tail on the
+limb far overhead.</p>
+
+<p>The touch of autumn was now in the air. The leaves of the wild grapevine
+were falling. The oaks had donned garments of somber brown, the
+hickories had lost their leaves, while here and there along the river
+shores the flaming sentinels of the maples had changed their scarlet
+uniform for one of duller hue. The wild rice in the marshes had shed its
+grain upon the mud banks. The acorns were loosening in their cups. Fall
+in the West, gorgeous, beautiful, had now set in, of all the seasons of
+the year, that most loved by the huntsman.</p>
+
+<p>This tall, lean man, clad in buckskin like a savage, brown almost as a
+savage, as active and as alert, seemed to fit not ill with these
+environments, nor to lack either confidence or contentment. He walked on
+steadily, following the path along the bayou bank, and at length paused
+for a moment, throwing down his burden and stooping to drink at the tiny
+pool made by the little rivulet which trickled down the face of the
+bluff. Here he bathed his face and hands in the cool stream, for the
+moment abandoning himself to that rest which the hunter earns. It was
+when at length he raised his head and turned to resume his burden that
+his suspicious eye caught a glimpse of something which sent him in a
+flash below the level of the grasses, and thence to the cover of a tree
+trunk.</p>
+
+<p>As he gazed from his hiding-place he saw the tawny waters of the bayou
+broken into a long series of advancing ripples. Passing the fringe of
+wild rice, swimming down beneath the heavy cordage of the wild
+grapevines, there came on two canoes, roughly made of elm bark, in
+fashion which would have shown an older frontiersman full proof of their
+Western origin.</p>
+
+<p>In the bow of the foremost boat, as Law could now clearly see, sat a
+slender young man, clad in the uniform, now soiled and faded, of a
+captain in the British army. His boat was propelled by four dusky
+paddlers, Indians of the East. Stalwart, powerful, silent, they sent the
+craft on down stream, their keen eyes glancing swiftly from one point to
+the other of the ever-changing panorama, yet finding nothing that would
+seem to warrant pause. Back of the first boat by a short distance came a
+kindred craft, its crew comprising two white men and two Indian
+paddlers. Of the white men, one might have been a petty officer, the
+other perhaps a private soldier.</p>
+
+<p>It was, then, as Du Mesne had said. Every party bound into the West must
+pass this very point upon the river of the Illini. But why should these
+be present here? Were they friends or foes? So queried the watcher,
+tense and eager as a waiting panther, now crouched with straining eye
+behind the sheltering tree.</p>
+
+<center>
+<img src="images/img3.jpg" height="383" width="300"
+alt="Illustration">
+</center>
+
+<p>As the leading boat swung clear of the shadows, the man in the prow
+turned his face, scanning closely the shore of the stream. As he did so,
+Law half started to his feet, and a moment later stepped from his
+concealment. He gazed again and again, doubting what he saw. Surely
+those clean-cut, handsome features could belong to no man but his former
+friend, Sir Arthur Pembroke!</p>
+
+<p>Yet how could Sir Arthur be here? What could be his errand, and how had
+he been guided hither? These sudden questions might, upon the instant,
+have confused a brain ready as that of this observer, who paused not to
+reflect that this meeting, seemingly so impossible, was in fact the most
+natural thing in the world; indeed, could scarce have been avoided by
+any one traveling with Indian guides down the waterway to the Messasebe.</p>
+
+<p>The keen eyes of the red paddlers caught sight of the crushed grasses at
+the little landing on the bayou bank, even as Law rose from his
+hiding-place. A swift, concerted sweep of the paddles sent the boat
+circling out into midstream, and before Law knew it he was covered by
+half a dozen guns. He hardly noticed this. His own gun he left leaning
+against a tree, and his hand was thrown out high, in front of him as he
+came on, calling out to those in the stream. He heard the command of the
+leader in the boat, and a moment later both canoes swung inshore.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Have down your guns, Sir Arthur,&quot; cried Law, loudly and gaily. &quot;We are
+none but friends here. Come in, and tell me that it is yourself, and not
+some miracle of mine eyes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The young man so surprisingly addressed half started from the thwart in
+his amazement. His face bent into an incredulous frown, scarce carrying
+comprehension, even as he approached the shore. As he left the boat, for
+an instant Pembroke's hand was half extended in greeting, yet a swift
+change came over his countenance, and his body stiffened.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Is it indeed you, Mr. Law?&quot; he said. &quot;I could not have believed myself
+so fortunate.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis myself and no one else,&quot; replied Law. &quot;But why this melodrama, Sir
+Arthur? Why reject my hand?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I have sworn to extend to you no hand but that bearing a weapon, Mr.
+Law!&quot; said Pembroke. &quot;This may be accident, but it seems to me the
+justice of God. Oh, you have run far, Mr. Law&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What mean you, Sir Arthur?&quot; exclaimed Law, his face assuming the dull
+red of anger. &quot;I have gone where I pleased, and asked no man's leave for
+it, and I shall live as I please and ask no man's leave for that. I
+admit that it seems almost a miracle to meet you here, but come you one
+way or the other, you come best without riddles, and still better
+without threats.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You are not armed,&quot; said Sir Arthur. He gazed at the bronzed figure
+before him, clad in fringed tunic and leggings of deer hide; at the belt
+with little knife and ax, at the gun which now rested in the hollow of
+his arm. Law himself laughed keenly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, as to that,&quot; said he, &quot;I had thought myself well enough equipped.
+But as for a sword, 'tis true my hand is more familiar, these days, with
+the ax and gun.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The late Jessamy Law shows change in his capacity of renegade,&quot; said
+Pembroke, raspingly. His face displayed a scorn which jumped ill with
+the nature of the man before him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I am what I am, Sir Arthur,&quot; said Law, &quot;and what I was. And always I am
+at any man's service who is in search of what you call God's justice, or
+what I may call personal satisfaction. I doubt not we shall find my
+other trinkets in good order not far away. But meantime, before you
+turn my hospitality into shame, bring on your men and follow me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>His face working with emotion, Law turned away. He caught up the body of
+the dead buck, and tossing it across his shoulders, strode up the
+winding pathway.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Come, Gray, and Ellsworth,&quot; said Pembroke. &quot;Get your men together. We
+shall see what there is to this.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>At the summit of the river-bluff Law awaited their arrival. He noted in
+silence the look of surprise which crossed Pembroke's face as at length
+they came into view of the little panorama of the stockade and its
+surroundings.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;This is my home, Sir Arthur,&quot; said he simply. &quot;These are my fields. And
+see, if I mistake not, yonder is some proof of the ability of my people
+to care for themselves.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He pointed to the gateway, from the loop-holes guarding which there
+might now be seen protruding two long dark barrels, leveled in the
+direction of the approaching party. There came a call from within the
+palisade, and the sound of men running to take their places along the
+wall. Law raised his hand, and the barrels of the guns were lowered.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;This, then, is your hiding-place!&quot; said Pembroke.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I call it not such. 'Tis public to the world.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Tush! You lack not in the least of your old conceit and assurance, Mr.
+Law!&quot; said Pembroke.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Nay, I lack not so much in assurance of myself,&quot; said Law, &quot;as in my
+patience, which I find, Sir Arthur, now begins to grow a bit short about
+its breath. But since the courtesy of the trail demands somewhat, I say
+to you, there is my home. Enter it as friend if you like, but if not,
+come as you please. Did you indeed come bearing war, I should be obliged
+to signify to you, Sir Arthur, that you are my prisoner. You see my
+people.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir,&quot; replied Sir Arthur, blindly, &quot;I have vowed to find you no matter
+where you should go.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It would seem that your vow is well fulfilled. But now, since you deal
+in mysteries, I shall even ask you definitely, Sir Arthur, who and what
+are you? Why do you come hither, and how shall we regard you?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I am, in the first place,&quot; said Sir Arthur, &quot;messenger of my Lord
+Bellomont, governor at Albany of our English colonies. I add my chief
+errand, which has been to find Mr. Law, whom I would hold to an
+accounting.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, granted,&quot; replied Law, flicking lightly at the cuff of his tunic,
+&quot;yet your errand still carries mystery.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You have at least heard of the Peace of Ryswick, I presume?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No; how should I? And why should I care?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;None the less, the king of England and the king of France are no longer
+at war, nor are their colonies this side of the water. There are to be
+no more raids between the colonies of New England and New France. The
+Hurons are to give back their English prisoners, and the Iroquois are to
+return all their captives to the French. The Western tribes are to
+render up their prisoners also, be they French, English, Huron or
+Iroquois. The errand of carrying this news was offered to me. It agreed
+well enough with my own private purposes. I had tracked you, Mr. Law, to
+Montr&eacute;al, lost you on the Richelieu, and was glad enough to take up this
+chance of finding you farther to the West. And now, by the justice of
+heaven, as I have said, I have found you easily.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And has Sir Arthur gone to sheriffing? Has my friend become constable?
+Is Sir Arthur a spy? Because, look you, this is not London, nor yet New
+France, nor Albany. This is Messasebe! This is my valley. I rule here.
+Now, if kings, or constables, or even spies, wish to find John
+Law&mdash;why, here is John Law. Now watch your people, and go you carefully
+here, else that may follow which will be ill extinguished.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Pembroke flung down his sword upon the ground in front of him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You are lucky, Mr. Law,&quot; said he, &quot;lucky as ever. But surely, never was
+man so eminently deserving of death as yourself.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You do me very much honor, Sir Arthur,&quot; replied Law. &quot;Here is your
+sword, sir.&quot; Stooping, he picked it up and handed it to the other. &quot;I
+did but ill if I refused to accord satisfaction to one bringing me such
+speech as that. 'Tis well you wear your weapons, Sir Arthur, since you
+come thus as emissary of the Great Peace! I know you for a gentleman,
+and I shall ask no parole of you to-night; but meantime, let us wait
+until to-morrow, when I promise you I shall be eager as yourself. Come!
+We can stand here guessing and talking no longer. I am weary of it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>They came now to the gate of the stockade, and there Pembroke stood for
+a moment in surprise and perplexity. He was not prepared to meet this
+dark-haired, wide-eyed girl, clad in native dress of skin, with tinkling
+metals at wrist and ankle, and on her feet the tiny, beaded shoes. For
+her part, Mary Connynge, filled with woman's curiosity, was yet less
+prepared for that which appeared before her&mdash;an apparition, as ran her
+first thought, come to threaten and affright.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir Arthur!&quot; she began, her trembling tongue but half forming the
+words. Her eyes stared in terror, and beneath her dark skin the blood
+shrank away and left her pale. She recoiled from him, her left hand
+carrying behind her instinctively the babe that lay on her arm.</p>
+
+<p>Sir Arthur bowed, but found no word. He could only look questioningly at
+Law.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Madam,&quot; said the latter, &quot;Sir Arthur Pembroke journeys through as the
+messenger of Lord Bellomont, governor at Albany, to spread peace among
+the Western tribes. He has by mere chance blundered upon our valley, and
+will delay over night. It seemed well you should be advised.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Mary Connynge, gray and pale, haggard and horrified, dreading all things
+and knowing nothing, found no manner of reply. Without a word she turned
+and fled back into the cabin.</p>
+
+<p>Sir Arthur once more looked about him. Motioning to the others of the
+party to remain outside the gate, Law led him within the stockade. On
+one hand stood Pierre Noir, tall, silent, impassive as a savage, leaning
+upon his gun and fixing on the red coat of the English uniform an eye
+none too friendly. Jean Breboeuf, his piece half ready and his voluble
+tongue half on the point of breaking over restraint, Law quieted with a
+gesture. Back of these, ranged in a silent yet watchful group, their
+weapons well in hand, stood numbers of the savage allies of this new
+war-lord. Pembroke turned to Law again.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You are strongly stationed, sir; but I do not understand.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It is my home.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But yet&mdash;why?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;As well this as any, where one leaves an old life and begins a new,&quot;
+said Law. &quot;'Tis as good a place as any if one would leave all behind,
+and if he would forget.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And this&mdash;that is to say&mdash;madam?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Sir Arthur stumbled in his speech. John Law looked him straight in the
+eye, a slow, sad smile upon his face.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Had we here the plank of poor La Salle his ship,&quot; said he, &quot;we might
+nail the message of that other renegade above our door&mdash;'<i>Nous sommes
+tous sauvages!</i>'&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='BOOK_II_CHAPTER_IX'></a><h3>CHAPTER IX</h3>
+
+<h4>THE DREAM</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>That night John Law dreamed as he slept, and it was in some form the
+same haunting and familiar dream. In his vision he saw not the low roof
+nor the rude walls about him. To his mind there appeared a little dingy
+room, smaller than this in which he lay, with walls of stone, with door
+of iron grating and not of rough-hewn slabs. He saw the door of the
+prison cell swing open; saw near it the figure of a noble young girl,
+with large and frightened eyes and lips half tremulous. To this vision
+he outstretched his hands. He was almost conscious of uttering some word
+supplicatingly, almost conscious of uttering a name.</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps he slept on. We little know the ways of the land of dreams. It
+might have been half an instant or half an hour later that he suddenly
+awoke, finding his hand clapped close against his side, where suddenly
+there had come a sharp and burning pain. His own hand struck another. He
+saw something gleaming in the light of the flickering fire which still
+survived upon the hearth. The dim rays lit up two green, glowing,
+venomous balls, the eyes of the woman whom he found bending above him.
+He reached out his hand in the instinct of safety. This which glittered
+in the firelight was the blade of a knife, and it was in the hand of
+Mary Connynge!</p>
+
+<p>In a moment Law was master of himself. &quot;Give it to me, Madam, if you
+please,&quot; he said, quietly, and took the knife from fingers which
+loosened under his grasp. There was no further word spoken. He tossed
+the knife into a crack of the bunk beyond him. He lay with his right arm
+doubled under his head, looking up steadily into the low ceiling, upon
+which the fire made ragged masses of shadows. His left arm, round, full
+and muscular, lay across the figure of the woman whom he had forced down
+upon the couch beside him. He could feel her bosom rise and pant in
+sheer sobs of anger. Once he felt the writhing of the body beneath his
+arm, but he simply tightened his grasp and spoke no word.</p>
+
+<p>It was not far from morning. In time the gray dawn came creeping in at
+the window, until at length the chinks between the logs in the little
+square-cut window and the ill-fitting door were flooded with a sea of
+sunlight. As this light grew stronger, Law slowly turned and looked at
+the face beside him. Out of the tangle of dark hair there blazed still
+two eyes, eyes which looked steadily up at the ceiling, refusing to turn
+either to the right or to the left. He calmly pulled closer to him, so
+that it might not stain the garments of the woman beside him, the
+blood-soaked shirt whose looseness and lack of definition had perhaps
+saved him from a fatal blow. He paid no attention to his wound, which he
+knew was nothing serious. So he lay and looked at Mary Connynge, and
+finally removed his arm.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Get up,&quot; said he, simply, and the woman obeyed him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The fire, Madam, if you please, and breakfast.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>These had been the duties of the Indian woman, but Mary Connynge obeyed.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Madam,&quot; said Law, calmly, after the morning meal was at last finished
+in silence, &quot;I shall be very glad to have your company for a few
+moments, if you please.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Mary Connynge rose and followed him into the open air, her eyes still
+fixed upon the dark-crusted stain which had spread upon his tunic. They
+walked in silence to a point beyond the cabin.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You would call her Catharine!&quot; burst out Mary Connynge. &quot;Oh! I heard
+you in your very sleep. You believe every lying word Sir Arthur tells
+you. You believe&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>John Law looked at her with the simple and direct gaze which the tamer
+of the wild beast employs when he goes among them, the look of a man not
+afraid of any living thing.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Madam,&quot; said he, at length, calmly and evenly, as before, &quot;what I have
+said, sleeping or waking, will not matter. You have tried to kill me.
+You did not succeed. You will never try again. Now, Madam, I give you
+the privilege of kneeling here on the ground before me, and asking of
+me, not my pardon, but the pardon of the woman you have foully stabbed,
+even as you have me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The figure before him straightened up, the blazing yellow eyes sought
+his once, twice, thrice, behind them all the fury of a savage soul. It
+was of no avail. The cool blue eyes looked straight into her heart. The
+tall figure stood before her, unyielding. She sought to raise her eyes
+once more, failed, and so would have sunk down as he had said, actually
+on her knees before him.</p>
+
+<p>John Law extended a hand and stopped her. &quot;There,&quot; said he. &quot;It will
+suffice. I can not demean you. There is the child.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You called her Catharine!&quot; broke out the woman once more in her
+ungovernable rage. &quot;You would name my child&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Madam, get up!&quot; said John Law, sharply and sternly. &quot;Get up on your
+feet and look me in the face. The child shall be called for her who
+should have been its mother. Let those forgive who can. That you have
+ruined my life for me is but perhaps a fair exchange; yet you shall say
+no word against that woman whose life we have both of us despoiled.&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='BOOK_II_CHAPTER_X'></a><h3>CHAPTER X</h3>
+
+<h4>BY THE HILT OF THE SWORD</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>Law passed on out at the gate of the stockade and down to the bivouac,
+where Pembroke and his men had spent the night.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Now, Sir Arthur,&quot; said he to the latter, when he had found him, &quot;come.
+I am ready to talk with you. Let us go apart.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Pembroke joined him, and the two walked slowly away toward the
+encircling wood which swept back of the stockade. Law turned upon him at
+length squarely.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir Arthur,&quot; said he, &quot;I think you would tell me something concerned
+with the Lady Catharine Knollys. Do you bring any message from her?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The face of Pembroke flamed scarlet with sudden wrath. &quot;Message!&quot; said
+he. &quot;Message from Lady Catharine Knollys to you? By God! sir, her only
+message could be her hope that she might never hear your name again.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You have still your temper, Sir Arthur, and you speak harsh enough.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Harsh or not,&quot; rejoined Pembroke, &quot;I scarce can endure her name upon
+your lips. You, who scouted her, who left her, who took up with the
+lewdest woman in all Great Britain, as it now appears&mdash;you who would
+consort with this creature&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;In this matter,&quot; said John Law, simply, &quot;you are not my prisoner, and I
+beg you to speak frankly. It shall be man and man between us.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;How you could have stooped to such baseness is what mortal man can
+never understand,&quot; resumed Sir Arthur, bitterly. &quot;Good God! to abandon a
+woman like that so heartlessly&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir Arthur,&quot; said John Law, his voice trembling, &quot;I do myself the very
+great pleasure of telling you that you lie!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>For a moment the two stood silent, facing each other, the face of each
+stony, gone gray with the emotions back of it.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There is light,&quot; said Pembroke, &quot;and abundant space.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>They turned and paced back farther toward the open forest glade. Yet now
+and again their steps faltered and half paused, and neither man cared to
+go forward or to return. Pembroke's face, stern as it had been, again
+took on the imprint of a growing hesitation.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Mr. Law,&quot; said he, &quot;there is something in your attitude which I admit
+puzzles me. I ask you in all honor, I ask you on the hilt of that sword
+which I know you will never disgrace, why did you thus flout the Lady
+Catharine Knollys? Why did you scorn her and take up with this woman
+yonder in her stead?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir Arthur,&quot; said John Law, with trembling lips, &quot;I must be very low
+indeed in reputation, since you can ask me question such as this.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But you must answer!&quot; cried Sir Arthur, &quot;and you must swear!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;If you would have my answer and my oath, then I give you both. I did
+not do what you suggest, nor can I conceive how any man should think me
+guilty of it. I loved Lady Catharine Knollys with all my heart. 'Twas my
+chief bitterness, keener than even the thought of the gallows itself,
+that she forsook me in my trouble. Then, bitter as any man would be, I
+persuaded myself that I cared naught. Then came this other woman. Then
+I&mdash;well, I was a man and a fool&mdash;a fool, Sir Arthur, a most miserable
+fool! Every moment of my life since first I saw her, I have loved the
+Lady Catharine; and, God help me, I do now!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Sir Arthur struck his hand upon the hilt of his sword. &quot;You were more
+lucky than myself, as I know,&quot; said he, and from his lips broke half a
+groan.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Good God!&quot; broke out Law. &quot;Let us not talk of it. I give you my word of
+honor, there has been no happiness to this. But come! We waste time. Let
+us cross swords!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Wait. Let me explain, since we are in the way of it. You must know that
+'twas within the plans of Montague that Lady Catharine Knollys should be
+the agent of your freedom. I was pledged to the Lady Catharine to assist
+her, though, as you may perhaps see, sir,&quot; and Pembroke gulped in his
+throat as he spoke, &quot;'twas difficult enough, this part that was assigned
+to me. It was I, Mr. Law, who drove the coach to the gate, the coach
+which brought the Lady Catharine. 'Twas she who opened the door of
+Newgate jail for you. My God! sir, how could you walk past that woman,
+coming there as she did, with such a purpose!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>At hearing these words, the tall figure of the man opposed to him
+drooped and sank, as though under some fearful blow. He staggered to a
+near-by support and sank weakly to a seat, his head falling between his
+hands, his whole face convulsed.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah!&quot; said he, &quot;you did right to cross seas in search of me! God hath
+indeed found me out and given me my punishment. Yet I ask God to bear
+me witness that I knew not the truth. Come, Sir Arthur! Come, I beseech
+you! Let us fall to!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I shall be no man's executioner for his sentence on himself. I could
+not fight you now.&quot; His eye fell by chance upon the blotch in Law's
+bloodstained tunic. &quot;And here,&quot; he said; &quot;see! You are already wounded.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Twas but one woman's way of showing her regard,&quot; said Law. &quot;'Twas Mary
+Connynge stabbed me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But why?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Nay, I am glad of it; since it proves the truth of all you say, even as
+it proves me to be the most unworthy man in all the world. Oh, what had
+it meant to me to know a real love! God! How could I have been so
+blind?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis the ancient puzzle.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes!&quot; cried Law. &quot;And let us make an end of puzzles! Your quarrel, sir,
+I admit is just. Let us go on.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And again I tell you, Mr. Law,&quot; replied Sir Arthur, &quot;that I will not
+fight you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then, sir,&quot; said Law, dropping his own sword upon the grass and
+extending his hand with a broken smile, &quot;'tis I who am your prisoner!&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='BOOK_II_CHAPTER_XI'></a><h3>CHAPTER XI</h3>
+
+<h4>THE IROQUOIS</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>Even as Sir Arthur and John Law clasped hands, there came a sudden
+interruption. A half-score yards deeper in the wood there arose a
+sudden, half-choked cry, followed by a shrill whoop. There was a
+crashing as of one running, and immediately there pressed into the open
+space the figure of an Indian, an old man from the village of the
+Illini. Even as his staggering footsteps brought him within gaze, the
+two startled observers saw the shaft which had sunk deep within his
+breast. He had been shot through by an Indian arrow, and upon the
+instant it was all too plain whose hand had sped the shaft. Following
+close upon his heels there came a stalwart savage, whose face, hideously
+painted, appeared fairly demoniacal as he came bounding on with uplifted
+hatchet, seeking to strike down the victim already impaled by the silent
+arrow.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Quick!&quot; cried Law, in a flash catching the meaning of this sudden
+spectacle. &quot;Into the fort, Sir Arthur, and call the men together!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Not stopping to relieve the struggles of the victim, who had now fallen
+forward gasping, Law sprang on with drawn blade to meet the advancing
+savage. The latter paused for an uncertain moment, and then with a
+shrill yell of defiance, hurled the keen steel hatchet full at Law's
+head. It shore away a piece of his hat brim, and sank with edge deep
+buried in the trunk of a tree beyond. The savage turned, but turned too
+late. The blade of the swordsman passed through from rib to rib under
+his arm, and he fell choking, even as he sought again to give vent to
+his war-cry.</p>
+
+<p>And now there arose in the woods beyond, and in the fields below the
+hill, and from the villages of the neighboring Indians, a series of
+sharp, ululating yells. Shots came from within the fortress, where the
+loop-holes were already manned. There were borne from the nearest
+wigwams of the Illini the screams of wounded men, the shrieks of
+terrified women. In an instant the peaceful spot had become the scene of
+a horrible confusion. Once more the wolves of the woods, the Iroquois,
+had fallen on their prey!</p>
+
+<p>Swift as had been Law's movements, Pembroke was but a pace behind him as
+he wrenched free his blade. The two turned back together and started at
+speed for the palisade. At the gate they met others hurrying in,
+Pembroke's men joining in the rush of the frightened villagers. Among
+these the Iroquois pressed with shrill yells, plying knife and bow and
+hatchet as they ran, and the horrified eyes of those within the palisade
+saw many a tragedy enacted.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Watch the gate!&quot; cried Pierre Noir, from his station in the corner
+tower. As he spoke there came a rush of screaming Iroquois, who sought
+to gain the entrance.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Now!&quot; cried Pierre Noir, discharging his piece into the crowded ranks
+below him; and shot after shot followed his own. The packed brown mass
+gave back and resolved itself into scattered units, who broke and ran
+for the nearest cover.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;They will not come on again until dark,&quot; said Pierre Noir, calmly
+leaning his piece against the wall. &quot;Therefore I may attend to certain
+little matters.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He passed out into the entry-way, where lay the bodies of three
+Iroquois, abandoned, under the close and deadly fire, by their
+companions where they had fallen. When Pierre Noir returned and calmly
+propped up again the door of slabs which he had removed, he carried in
+his hand three tufts of long black hair, from which dripped heavy gouts
+of blood.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Good God, man!&quot; said Pembroke. &quot;You must not be savage as these
+Indians!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Speak for yourself, Monsieur Anglais,&quot; replied Pierre, stoutly. &quot;You
+need not save these head pieces if you do not care for them. For myself,
+'tis part of the trade.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Assuredly,&quot; broke in Jean Breboeuf. &quot;We keep these trinkets, we
+<i>voyageurs</i> of the French. Make no doubt that Jean Breboeuf will take
+back with him full tale of the Indians he has killed. Presently I go
+out. Zip! goes my knife, and off comes the topknot of Monsieur Indian,
+him I killed but now as he ran. Then I shall dry the scalp here by the
+fire, and mount it on a bit of willow, and take it back for a present to
+my sweetheart, Susanne Duch&eacute;ne, on the seignieury at home.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Bravo, Jean!&quot; cried out the old Indian fighter, Pierre Noir, the old
+baresark rage of the fighting man now rising hot in his blood. &quot;And
+look! Here come more chances for our little ornaments.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Pierre Noir for once had been mistaken and underestimated the courage of
+the warriors of the Onondagos. Lashing themselves to fury at the thought
+of their losses, they came on again, now banding and charging in the
+open close up to the walls of the palisade. Again the little party of
+whites maintained a steady fire, and again the Iroquois, baffled and
+enraged, fell back into the wood, whence they poured volley after volley
+rattling against the walls of the sturdy fortress.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I am sorry, sir,&quot; said Sergeant Gray to Pembroke, &quot;but 'tis all up with
+me.&quot; The poor fellow staggered against the wall, and in a few moments
+all was indeed over with him. A chance shot had pierced his chest.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;<i>Peste!</i> If this keeps up,&quot; said Pierre Noir, &quot;there will not be many
+of us left by morning. I never saw them fight so well. 'Tis a good watch
+we'll need this night.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>In fact, all through the night the Iroquois tried every stratagem of
+their savage warfare. With ear-splitting yells they came close up to the
+stockade, and in one such charge two or three of their young men even
+managed to climb to the tops of the pointed stakes, though but to meet
+their death at the muzzles of the muskets within. Then there arose
+curving lines of fire from without the walls, half circles which
+terminated at last in little jarring thuds, where blazing arrows fell
+and stood in log, or earth, or unprotected roof. These projectiles,
+wrapped with lighted birch bark, served as fire brands, and danger
+enough they carried. Yet, after some fashion, the little garrison kept
+down these incipient blazes, held together the terrified Illini,
+repulsed each repeated charge of the Iroquois, and so at last wore
+through the long and fearful night.</p>
+
+<p>The sun was just rising across the tops of the distant groves when the
+Iroquois made their next advance. It came not in the form of a concerted
+attack, but of an appeal for peace. A party of the savages left their
+cover and approached the fortress, waving their hands above their heads.
+One of them presently advanced alone.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What is it, Pierre?&quot; asked Law. &quot;What does the fellow want?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I care not what he wants,&quot; said Pierre Noir, carefully adjusting the
+lock of his piece and steadily regarding the savage as he approached;
+&quot;but I'll wager you a year's pay he never gets alive past yonder stump.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Stay!&quot; cried Pembroke, catching at the barrel of the leveled gun. &quot;I
+believe he would talk with us.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What does he say, Pierre?&quot; asked Law. &quot;Speak to him, if you can.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;He wants to know,&quot; said Pierre, as the messenger at length stopped and
+began a harangue, &quot;whether we are English or French. He says something
+about there being a big peace between Corlaer and Onontio; by which he
+means, gentlemen, the governor at New York and the governor at Quebec.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Tell him,&quot; cried Pembroke, with a sudden thought, &quot;that I am an
+officer of Corlaer, and that Corlaer bids the Iroquois to bring in all
+the prisoners they have taken. Tell him that the French are going to
+give up all their prisoners to us, and that the Iroquois must leave the
+war path, or my Lord Bellomont will take the war trail and wipe their
+villages off the earth.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Something in this speech as conveyed to the savage seemed to give him a
+certain concern. He retired, and presently his place was taken by a tall
+and stately figure, dressed in the full habiliments of an Iroquois
+chieftain. He came on calmly and proudly, his head erect, and in his
+extended hand the long-stemmed pipe of peace. Pierre Noir heaved a deep
+sigh of relief.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Unless my eyes deceive me,&quot; said he, &quot;'tis old Teganisoris himself, one
+of the head men of the Onondagos. If so, there is some hope, for
+Teganisoris is wise enough to know when peace is best.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>It was, indeed, that noted chieftain of the Iroquois who now advanced
+close up to the wall. Law and Pembroke stepped out to meet him beyond
+the palisade, the old <i>voyageur</i> still serving as interpreter from the
+platform at their back.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;He says&mdash;listen, Messieurs!&mdash;he says he knows there is going to be a
+big peace; that the Iroquois are tired of fighting and that their
+hearts are sore. He says&mdash;a most manifest lie, I beg you to observe,
+Messieurs&mdash;that he loves the English, and that, although he ought to
+kill the Frenchmen of our garrison, he will, since some of us are
+English, and hence his friends, spare us all if we will cease to fight.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Pembroke turned to Law with question in his eye.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There must be something done,&quot; said the latter in a low tone. &quot;We were
+short enough of ammunition here even before Du Mesne left for the
+settlements, and your own men have none too much left.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Reflect! Bethink yourselves, Englishmen!' he says to us,&quot; continued
+Pierre Noir. &quot;'We came to make war upon the Illini. Our work here is
+done. 'Tis time now that we went back to our villages. If there is to be
+a big peace, the Iroquois must be there; for unless the Iroquois demand
+it, there can be no peace at all.' And, gentlemen, I beg you to remember
+it is an Iroquois who is talking, and that the truth is not in the
+tongue of an Iroquois.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis a desperate chance, Mr. Law,&quot; said Pembroke. &quot;Yet if we keep up
+the fight here, there can be but one end.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis true,&quot; said Law; &quot;and there are others to be considered.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>It was hurriedly thus concluded. Law finally advanced toward the tall
+figure of the Iroquois headman, and looked him straight in the face.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Tell him,&quot; said he to Pierre Noir, &quot;that we are all English, and that
+we are not afraid; and that if we are harmed, the armies of Corlaer will
+destroy the Iroquois, even as the Iroquois have the Illini. Tell him
+that we will go back with him to the settlements because we are willing
+to go that way upon a journey which we had already planned. We could
+fight forever if we chose, and he can see for himself by the bodies of
+his young men how well we are able to make war.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It is well,&quot; replied Teganisoris. &quot;You have the word of an Iroquois
+that this shall be done, as I have said.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The word of an Iroquois!&quot; cried Pierre Noir, slamming down the butt of
+his musket. &quot;The word of a snake, say rather! Jean Breboeuf, harken you
+to what our leaders have agreed! We are to go as prisoners of the
+Iroquois! Mary, Mother of God, what folly! And there is madame, and <i>la
+pauvre petite</i>, that infant so young. By God! Were it left to me, Pierre
+Berthier would stand here, and fight to the end. I know these Iroquois!&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='BOOK_II_CHAPTER_XII'></a><h3>CHAPTER XII</h3>
+
+<h4>PRISONERS OF THE IROQUOIS</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>The faith of the Iroquois was worse than Punic, nor was there lacking
+swift proof of its real nature. Law and Pembroke, the moment they had
+led their little garrison beyond the gate, found themselves surrounded
+by a ring of tomahawks and drawn bows. Their weapons were snatched away
+from them, and on the instant they found themselves beyond all
+possibility of that resistance whose giving over they now bitterly
+repented. Teganisoris regarded them with a sardonic smile.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I see you are all English,&quot; said he, &quot;though some of you wear blue
+coats. These we may perhaps adopt into our tribe, for our boys grow up
+but slowly, and some of the blue coats are good fighters. These dogs of
+Illini we shall of course burn. As for your war house, you will no
+longer need it, since you are now friends of the Iroquois, and are going
+to their villages. You may say to Corlaer that you well know the
+Iroquois have no prisoners.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The horrid significance of this threat was all too soon made plain. In
+an hour the little stockade was but a mass of embers and ashes. In
+another hour the little valley had become a Gehenna of anguish and
+lamentations, with whose riot of grief and woe there mingled the savage
+exultations of a foe whose treachery was but surpassed by his cruelty.
+Again the planting-ground of the Illini was utterly laid waste, to mark
+it naught remaining but trampled grain, and heaps of ashes, and remnants
+of blackened and incinerated bones. By nightfall the party of prisoners
+had begun a wild journey through the wilderness, whose horrors surpassed
+any they had supposed to be humanly endurable.</p>
+
+<p>Day after day, week after week, for more than a month, and much of the
+time in winter weather, they toiled on, part of the way by boat, the
+remainder of the journey on foot, crossing snow-clogged forest, and
+tangled thicket and frozen morass, yet daring not to drop out for rest,
+since to lag might mean to die. It was as though after some frightful
+nightmare of suffering and despair that at length they reached the
+villages of the Five Nations, located far to the east, at the foot of
+the great waterway which Law and his family had ascended more than a
+year before.</p>
+
+<p>Yet if that which had gone before seemed like some bitter dream, surely
+the day of awakening promised but little better hope. From village to
+village, footsore and ill, they were hurried without rest, at each new
+stopping place the central figures of a barbarous triumph; and nowhere
+did they meet the representatives of either the French or the English
+government, whose expected presence had constituted their one ground of
+hope.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Where is your big peace?&quot; asked Teganisoris of Pembroke. &quot;Where are the
+head men of Corlaer? Who brings presents to the Iroquois, and who is to
+tell us that Onontio has carried the pipe of peace to Corlaer? Here are
+our villages as when we left them, and here again are we, save for the
+absent ones who have been killed by your young men. It is no wonder that
+my people are displeased.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Indeed those of the Iroquois who had remained at home clamored
+continually that some of the prisoners should be given over to them.
+Thus, in doubt, uncertainty and terror the party passed through the
+villages, moving always eastward, until at length they arrived at the
+fortified town where Teganisoris made his home, a spot toward the foot
+of Lake Ontario, and not widely removed from that stupendous cataract
+which, from the beginning of earth, had uplifted its thunderous
+diapason here in the savage wilderness&mdash;Ontoneagrea, object of
+superstitious awe among all the tribes.</p>
+
+<p>Time hung heavy on the hands of the savages. It was winter, and the
+parties had all returned from the war trails. The mutterings arose yet
+more loudly among families who had lost most heavily in these Western
+expeditions. The shrewd mind of Teganisoris knew that some new thing
+must be planned. He announced his decision at his own village, after the
+triumphal progress among the tribes had at length been concluded.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Since they have sent us no presents,&quot; said he, with that daring
+diplomacy which made him a leader in red statesmanship, &quot;let those who
+stayed at home be given some prisoner in pay for those of their people
+who have been killed. Moreover, let us offer to the Great Spirit some
+sacrifice in propitiation; since surely the Great Spirit is offended.&quot;
+Such was the conclusion of this head man of the Onondagos, and fateful
+enough it was to the prisoners.</p>
+
+<p>The great gorge through which poured the vast waters of the Northern
+seas was a spot not always visited by those passing up the Great Lakes
+for the Western stations, nor down the Lakes to the settlements of the
+St. Lawrence. Yet there was a trail which led around the great cataract,
+and the occasional <i>coureurs de bois</i>, or the passing friars, or the
+adventurous merchants of the lower settlements now and again left that
+trail, and came to look upon the tremendous scene of the great falling
+of the waters. Here where the tumult ascended up to heaven, and where
+the white-blown wreaths of mist might indeed, even in an imagination
+better than that of a savage, have been construed into actual forms of
+spirits, the Indians had, from time immemorial, made their offerings to
+the genius of the cataract&mdash;strips of rude cloth, the skin of the beaver
+and the otter, baskets woven of sweet grasses, and, after the advent of
+the white man, pieces of metal or strings of precious beads. Such valued
+things as these were in rude adoration placed upon rocks or uplifted
+scaffolds near to the brink of the abyss. This was the spot most
+commonly chosen by the medicine man in the pursuit of his incantations.
+It was the church, the wild and savage cathedral of the red men.</p>
+
+<p>Following now the command of their chieftain, the Iroquois left their
+stationary lodges and moved in a body, pitching a temporary camp at a
+spot not far from the Falls. Here, in a great council lodge, the older
+men sat in deliberation for a full day and night. The dull drum sounded
+continually, the council pipe went round, and the warriors besought the
+spirits to give them knowledge. The savage hysteria, little by little,
+yet steadily, arose higher and higher, until at length it reached that
+point of frenzy where naught could suffice save some terrible, some
+tremendous thing.</p>
+
+<p>Enforced spectators of these curious and ominous ceremonies, the
+prisoners looked on, wondering, imagining, hesitating and fearing.
+&quot;Monsieur,&quot; said Pierre Noir, turning at last to Law, &quot;it grieves me to
+speak, yet 'tis best for you to know the truth. It is to be you or
+Monsieur Pembroke. They will not have me. They say that it must be one
+of you two great chiefs, for that you were brave, your hearts were
+strong, and that hence you would find favor as the adopted child of the
+Great Spirit who has been offended.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Law looked at Pembroke, and they both regarded Mary Connynge and the
+babe. &quot;At least,&quot; said Law, &quot;they spare the woman and the child. So far
+very well. Sir Arthur, we are at the last hazard.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I have asked them to take me,&quot; said Pierre Noir, &quot;for I am an old man
+and have no family. But they will not listen to me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Pembroke passed his hand wearily across his face. &quot;I have behind me so
+long a memory of suffering,&quot; said he, &quot;and before me so small an amount
+of promise, that for myself I am content to let it end. It comes to all
+sooner or later, according to our fate.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You speak,&quot; said Law, &quot;as though it were determined. Yet Pierre says it
+will not be both of us, but one.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Pembroke smiled sadly. &quot;Why, sir,&quot; said he, &quot;do you think me so sorry a
+fellow as that? Look!&quot; and he pointed to Mary Connynge and the child.
+&quot;There is your duty.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Law followed his gaze, and his look was returned dumbly by the woman who
+had played so strange a part in the late passages of his life. Never a
+word with her had Law spoken regarding his plans or concerning what he
+had learned from Pembroke. As to this, Mary Connynge had been afraid to
+ask, nor dare ask even now.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Besides,&quot; went on Pembroke later, as he called Law aside, &quot;there is
+something to be done&mdash;not here, but over there, in England, or in
+France. Your duty is involved not only with this woman. You must find
+sometime the other woman. You must see the Lady Catharine Knollys.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Law sunk his head between his hands and groaned bitterly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Go you rather,&quot; said he, &quot;and spend your life for her. I choose that it
+should end at once, and here.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I have not been wont to call Mr. Law a coward,&quot; said Pembroke, simply.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I should be a coward if I should stand aside and allow you to sacrifice
+yourself; nor shall I do so,&quot; replied the other.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;They say,&quot; broke in Pierre Noir, who had been listening to the excited
+harangues of first one warrior and then another, &quot;that both warriors are
+great chiefs, and that both should go together. Teganisoris insists that
+only one shall be offered. This last has been almost agreed; but which
+one of you 'tis to be has not yet been determined.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Dawn came through the narrow door and open roof holes of the lodge. The
+rising of the sun seemed to bring conviction to the Iroquois. All at
+once the savage council broke up and scattered into groups, which
+hurried to different parts of the village. Presently these reappeared at
+the central lodge. There sounded a concerted savage chant. A ragged
+column appeared, whose head was faced toward the cataract. There were
+those who bore strings of beads and strips of fur, even the prized
+treasures of the tufted scalp locks, whose tresses, combed smooth, were
+adorned with colored cloth and feathers.</p>
+
+<p>Pierre Noir was silent; yet, as the captives looked, they needed no
+advice that the sacrificial procession was now forming.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;They said,&quot; began Pierre Noir, at length, with trembling voice, turning
+his eyes aside as he spoke, &quot;that it could not be myself, that it must
+be one of you, and but one. They are going to cast lots for it. It is
+Teganisoris who has proposed that the lots shall be thrown by&mdash;&quot; Pierre
+Noir faltered, unwilling to go on.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And by whom?&quot; asked Law, quietly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;By&mdash;by the woman&mdash;by madame!&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='BOOK_II_CHAPTER_XIII'></a><h3>CHAPTER XIII</h3>
+
+<h4>THE SACRIFICE</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>There was sometimes practised among the Iroquois a game which bore a
+certain resemblance to the casting of dice, as the latter is known among
+civilized peoples. The method of the play was simple. Two oblong
+polished bones, of the bigness of a man's finger, were used as the dice.
+The ends of these were ground thin and were rudely polished. One of the
+dice was stained red, the other left white. The players in the game
+marked out a line on the hard ground, and then each in turn cast up the
+two dice into the air, throwing them from some receptacle. The game was
+determined by the falling of the red bone, he who cast this colored bone
+closer to the line upon the ground being declared the winner. The game
+was simple, and depended much upon chance. If the red die fell flat upon
+its face at a point near to the line, it was apt to lie close to the
+spot where it dropped. On the other hand, did it alight upon either end,
+it might bound back and fall at some little distance upon one side of
+the line.</p>
+
+<p>It was this game which, in horrible fashion, Teganisoris now proposed to
+play. He offered to the clamoring medicine man and his ferocious
+disciples one of these captives, whose death should appease not only the
+offended Great Spirit, but also the unsated vengeance of the tribe. He
+offered, at the same time, the spectacle of a play in which a human life
+should be the stake. He used as practical executioner the woman who was
+possessed by one of them, and who, in the crude notions of the savages,
+was no doubt coveted by both. It must be the hand of this woman that
+should cast the dice, a white one and a red one for each man, and he
+whose red die fell closer to the line was winner in the grim game of
+life and death.</p>
+
+<p>Jean Breboeuf and Pierre Noir stood apart, and tears poured from the
+eyes of both. They were hardened men, well acquainted with Indian
+warfare; they had seen the writhings of tortured victims, and more than
+once had faced such possibilities themselves; yet never had they seen
+sight like this.</p>
+
+<p>Near the two men stood Mary Connynge, the bright blood burning in her
+cheeks, her eyes dry and wide open, looking from one to the other. God,
+who gives to this earth the few Mary Connynges, alone knows the nature
+of those elements which made her, and the character of the conflict
+which now went on within her soul. Tell such a woman as Mary Connynge
+that she has a rival, and she will either love the more madly the man
+whom she demands as her own, or with equal madness and with greater
+intensity will hate her lover with a hatred undying and unappeasable.</p>
+
+<p>Mary Connynge stood, her eyes glancing from one to the other of the men
+before her. She had seen them both proved brave men, strong of arm,
+undaunted of heart, both gallant gentlemen. God, who makes the Mary
+Connynges of this earth, only can tell whether or not there arose in the
+heart of this savage woman, this woman at bay, scorned, rebuked,
+mastered, this one question: Which? If Mary Connynge hated John Law, or
+if she loved him&mdash;ah! how must have pulsed her heart in agony, or in
+bitterness, as she took into her hand those lots which were the arbiters
+of life and death!</p>
+
+<p>Teganisoris looked about him and spoke a few rapid words. He caught Mary
+Connynge roughly by the shoulder and pulled her forward. The two men
+stood with faces set and gray in the pitiless light of morn. Their arms
+were fast bound behind their backs. Eagerly the crowding savages
+pressed up to them, gesticulating wildly, and peering again and again
+into their faces to discover any sign of weakness. They failed. The
+pride of birth, the strength of character, the sheer animal vigor of
+each man stood him in stead at this ultimate trial. Each had made up his
+mind to die. Each proposed, not doubting that he would be the one to
+draw the fatal lot, to die as a man and a gentleman.</p>
+
+<p>Teganisoris would play this game with all possible mystery and
+importance. It should be told generations hence about the council fires,
+how he, Teganisoris, devised this game, how he played it, how he drew it
+out link by link to the last atom of its agony. There was no receptacle
+at hand in which the dice could be placed. Teganisoris stooped, and
+without ceremony wrenched from Mary Connynge's foot the moccasin which
+covered it&mdash;the little shoe&mdash;beaded, beautiful, and now again fateful.
+Sir Arthur smiled as though in actual joy.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;My friend,&quot; said he, &quot;I have won! This might be the very slipper for
+which we played at the Green Lion long ago.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Law turned upon him a face pale and solemn. &quot;Sir,&quot; said he, &quot;I pray God
+that the issue may not be as when we last played. I pray God that the
+dice may elect me and not yourself.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You were ever lucky in the games of chance,&quot; replied Pembroke.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Too lucky,&quot; said Law. &quot;But the winner here is the loser, if it be
+myself.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Teganisoris roughly took from Mary Connynge's hand the little bits of
+bone. He cast them into the hollow of the moccasin and shook them
+dramatically together, holding them high above his head. Then he lowered
+them and took out from the receptacle two of the dice. He placed his
+hand on Law's shoulder, signifying that his was to be the first cast.
+Then he handed back the moccasin to the woman.</p>
+
+<p>Mary Connynge took the shoe in her hand and stepped forward to the line
+which had been drawn upon the ground. The red spots still burned upon
+her cheeks; her eyes, amber, feline, still flamed hard and dry. She
+still glanced rapidly from one to the other, her eye as lightly quick
+and as brilliant as that of the crouched cat about to spring.</p>
+
+<p>Which? Which would it be? Could she control this game? Could she elect
+which man should live and which should die&mdash;this woman, scorned, abased,
+mastered? Neither of these sought to read the riddle of her set face and
+blazing eyes. Each as he might offered his soul to his Creator.</p>
+
+<p>The hand of Mary Connynge was raised above her head. Her face was
+turned once more to John Law, her master, her commander, her repudiator.
+Slowly she turned the moccasin over in her hand. The white bone fell
+first, the red for a moment hanging in the soft folds of the buckskin.
+She shook it out. It fell with its face nearly parallel to the ground
+and alighted not more than a foot from the line, rebounding scarce more
+than an inch or so. Low exclamations arose from all around the thickened
+circle.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;As I said, my friend,&quot; cried Sir Arthur, &quot;I have won! The throw is
+passing close for you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Teganisoris again caught Mary Connynge by the shoulder, and dragged her
+a step or so farther along the line, the two dice being left on the
+ground as they had fallen. Once more, her hand arose, once more it
+turned, once more the dice were cast.</p>
+
+<p>The goddess of fortune still stood faithful to this bold young man who
+had so often confidently assumed her friendship. His life, later to be
+so intimately concerned with this same new savage country, was to be
+preserved for an ultimate opportunity.</p>
+
+<p>The white and the red bone fell together from the moccasin. Had it been
+the white that counted, Sir Arthur had been saved, for the white bone
+lay actually upon the line. The red fell almost as close, but alighted
+on its end. As though impelled by some spirit of evil, it dropped upon
+some little pebble or hard bit of earth, bounded into the air, fell, and
+rolled quite away from the mark!</p>
+
+<p>Even on that crowd of cruel savages there came a silence. Of the whites,
+one scarce dared look at the other. Slowly the faces of Pembroke and Law
+turned one toward the other.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Would God I could shake you by the hand,&quot; said Pembroke. &quot;Good by.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;As for you, dogs and worse than dogs,&quot; he cried, turning toward the red
+faces about him, &quot;mark you! where I stand the feet of the white man
+shall stand forever, and crush your faces into the dirt!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Whether or not the Iroquois understood his defiance could not be
+determined. With a wild shout they pressed upon him. Borne struggling
+and stumbling by the impulse of a dozen hands, Pembroke half walked and
+half was carried over the distance between the village and the brink of
+the chasm of Niagara.</p>
+
+<p>Until then it had not been apparent what was to be the nature of his
+fate, but when he looked upon the sliding floor of waters below him, and
+heard beyond the thunderous voices of the cataract, Pembroke knew what
+was to be his final portion.</p>
+
+<p>There was, at some distance above the great falls, a spot where descent
+was possible to the edge of the water. Pembroke's feet were loosened and
+he was compelled to descend the narrow path. A canoe was tethered at the
+shore, and the face of the young Englishman went pale as he realized
+what was to be the use assigned it. Bound again hand and foot, helpless,
+he was cast into this canoe. A strong arm sent the tiny craft out toward
+midstream.</p>
+
+<p>The hands of the great waters grasped the frail cockleshell, twisted it
+about, tossed it, played with it, and claimed it irrevocably for their
+own. For a few moments it was visible as it passed on down with the
+resistless current of the mighty stream. Almost at the verge of the
+plunge, the eyes watching from the shore saw at a distance the struggle
+made by the victim. He half raised himself in the boat and threw himself
+against its side. It was overset. For one instant the cold sun shone
+glistening on the wet bark of the upturned craft. It was but a moment,
+and then there was no dot upon the solemn flood.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='BOOK_II_CHAPTER_XIV'></a><h3>CHAPTER XIV</h3>
+
+<h4>THE EMBASSY</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>&quot;Monsieur! Madame! Pierre Noir! Listen to me! I have saved you! I, Jean
+Breboeuf, I have rescued you!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>So spoke Jean Breboeuf, thrusting his head within the door of the lodge
+in which were the remaining prisoners of the Iroquois.</p>
+
+<p>It was indeed Jean Breboeuf who, strolling beyond the outer edge of the
+village, had been among the first to espy an approaching party of
+visitors. Of any travelers possible, none could have been more important
+to the prisoners. Too late, yet welcome even now, the embassy from New
+France among the Iroquois had arrived. In an instant the village was in
+an uproar.</p>
+
+<p>The leader of this embassy from Quebec was one Captain Joncaire, at that
+time of the French settlements, but in former years a prisoner among the
+Onondagos, where he was adopted into the tribe and much respected.
+Joncaire was accompanied by a priest of the Jesuit brotherhood, by a
+young officer late of the regiment Carignan, and by two or three petty
+Canadian officials, as well as a struggling retinue of savages picked up
+on the way between Lake George and the Indian villages. He advanced now
+at the head of his little party, bearing in his hand a wampum belt. He
+pushed aside the young men, and demanded that he be brought to the chief
+of the village. Teganisoris himself presently advanced to meet him, and
+of him Joncaire demanded that there should at once be called a full
+council of the tribe; with which request the chief of the Onondagos
+hastened to comply.</p>
+
+<p>Fully accustomed to such ceremonies, Joncaire sat in the council calmly
+listening to the speeches of its orators, and at length arose for his
+own reply. &quot;Brothers,&quot; said he, &quot;I have here&quot;&mdash;and he drew from his
+tunic a copy of the decree of Louis XIV declaring peace between the
+French and the English colonies&mdash;&quot;a talking paper. This is the will of
+Onontio, whom you love and fear, and it is the will of the great father
+across the water, whom Onontio loves and fears. This talking paper says
+that our young men of the French colonies are no longer to go to war
+against Corlaer. The hatchet has been buried by the two great fathers.
+Brothers, I have come to tell you that it is time for the Iroquois also
+to bury the hatchet, and to place upon it heavy stones, so that it
+never again can be dug up.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Brothers, as you know, the great canoes from across the sea are
+bringing more and more white men. Look about you, and tell me where are
+your fathers and your brothers and your sons? Half your fighting men are
+gone; and if you turn to the West to seek out strong young men from the
+other tribes, which of them will come to sit by your fires and be your
+brothers? The war trails of the Nations have gone to the West as far as
+the Great River. All the country has been at war. The friends of Onontio
+beyond Michilimackinac have been so busy fighting that they have
+forgotten to take the beaver, or if they have taken it, they have been
+afraid to bring it down the water trail to us, lest the Iroquois or the
+English should rob them.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Brothers, a great peace is now declared. Onontio, the father of all the
+red men, has taken the promises of his children, the Hurons, the
+Algonquins, the Miamis, the Illini, the Outagamies, the Ojibways, all
+those peoples who live to the west, that they will follow the war trail
+no more. Next summer there will be a great council. Onontio and Corlaer
+have agreed to call the tribes to meet at the Mountain in the St.
+Lawrence. Onontio says to you that he will give you back your prisoners,
+and now he demands that you in return give back those whom you may have
+with you. This is his will; and if you fail him, you know how heavy is
+his hand.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Brothers, I see that you have prisoners here, white prisoners. These
+must be given up to us. I will take them with me when I return. For your
+Indian captives, it is the will of Onontio that you bring them all to
+the Great Peace in the summer, and that you then, all of you, help to
+dig the great hill under which the hatchet is going to be buried. Then
+once more our rivers will not be red, and will look more like water. The
+sun will not shine red, but will look as the sun should look. The sky
+will again be blue. Our women and our children will no longer be afraid,
+and you Iroquois can go to sleep in your houses and not dread the arms
+of the French. Brothers, I have spoken. Peace is good.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Teganisoris replied in the same strain as that chosen by Joncaire,
+assuring him that he was his brother; that his heart went out to him;
+that the Iroquois loved the French; and that if they had gone to war
+with them, it was but because the young men of Corlaer had closed their
+eyes so that they could not see the truth. &quot;As to these prisoners,&quot; said
+he, &quot;take them with you. We do not want them with us, for we fear they
+may bring us harm. Our medicine man counseled us to offer up one of
+these prisoners as a sacrifice to the Great Spirit. We did so. Now our
+medicine man has a bad dream. He says that the white men are going to
+come and tear down our houses and trample our fields. When the time
+comes for the peace, the Iroquois will be at the Mountain. Brother, we
+will bury the hatchet, and bury it so deep that henceforth none may ever
+again dig it up.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It is well,&quot; said Joncaire, abruptly. &quot;My brothers are wise. Now let
+the council end, for my path is long and I must travel back to Onontio
+at once.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Joncaire knew well enough the fickle nature of these savages, who might
+upon the morrow demand another council and perhaps arrive at different
+conclusions. Hearing there were no white prisoners in the villages
+farther to the west, he resolved to set forth at once upon the return
+with those now at hand. Hurrying, therefore, as soon as might be, to
+their leader, he urged him to make ready forthwith for the journey back
+to the St. Lawrence.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Unless I much mistake, Monsieur,&quot; said he to Law, &quot;you are that same
+gentleman who so set all Quebec by the ears last winter. My faith! The
+regiment Carignan had cause to rejoice when you left for up river, even
+though you took with you half the ready coin of the settlement. Yet come
+you once more to meet the gentlemen of France, and I doubt not they
+will be glad as ever to stake you high, as may be in this
+poverty-stricken region. You have been far to the westward, I doubt not.
+You were, perhaps, made prisoner somewhere below the Straits.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Far below; among the tribe of the Illini, in the valley of the
+Messasebe.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You tell me so! I had thought no white man left in that valley for this
+season. And madame&mdash;this child&mdash;surely 'twas the first white infant born
+in the great valley.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And the most unfortunate.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Nay, how can you say that, since you have come more than half a
+thousand miles and are all safe and sound to-day? Glad enough we shall
+be to have you and madame with us for the winter, if, indeed, it be not
+for longer dwelling. I can not take you now to the English settlements,
+since I must back to the governor with the news. Yet dull enough you
+would find these Dutch of the Hudson, and worse yet the blue-nosed
+psalmodists of New England. Much better for you and your good lady are
+the gayer capitals of New France, or <i>la belle France</i> itself, that
+older France. Monsieur, how infinitely more fit for a gentleman of
+spirit is France than your dull England and its Dutch king! Either New
+France or Old France, let me advise you; and as to that new West, let
+me counsel that you wait until after the Big Peace. And, in speaking,
+your friend, Du Mesne, your lieutenant, the <i>coureur</i>&mdash;his fate, I
+suppose, one need not ask. He was killed&mdash;where?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Law recounted the division of his party just previous to the Iroquois
+attack, and added his concern lest Du Mesne should return to the former
+station during the spring and find but its ruins, with no news of the
+fate of his friends.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, as to that&mdash;'twould be but the old story of the <i>voyageurs</i>,&quot; said
+Joncaire. &quot;They are used enough to journeying a thousand miles or so, to
+find the trail end in a heap of ashes, and to the tune of a scalp dance.
+Fear not for your lieutenant, for, believe me, he has fended for himself
+if there has been need. Yet I would warrant you, now that this word for
+the peace has gone out, we shall see your friend Du Mesne as big as life
+at the Mountain next summer, knowing as much of your history as you
+yourself do, and quite counting upon meeting you with us on the St.
+Lawrence, and madame as well. As to that, methinks madame will be better
+with us on the St. Lawrence than on the savage Messasebe. We have none
+too many dames among us, and I need not state, what monsieur's eyes have
+told him every morning&mdash;that a fairer never set foot from ship from
+over seas. Witness my lieutenant yonder, Raoul de Ligny! He is thus soon
+all devotion! Mother of God! but we are well met here, in this
+wilderness, among the savages. <i>Voil&agrave;</i>, Monsieur! We take you again
+captive, and 'tis madame enslaves us all!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>There had indeed ensued conversation between the young French officer
+above named and Mary Connynge; yet prompt as might have been the former
+with gallant attentions to so fair a captive, it could not have been
+said that he was allowed the first advances. Mary Connynge, even after a
+month of starving foot travel and another month of anxiety at the
+Iroquois villages, had lost neither her rounded body, her brilliance of
+eye and color, nor her subtle magnetism of personality. It had taken
+stronger head than that of Raoul de Ligny to withstand even her slight
+request. How, then, as to Mary Connynge supplicating, entreating,
+craving of him protection?</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah, you brave Frenchmen,&quot; said she to De Ligny, advancing to him as he
+stood apart, twisting his mustaches and not unmindful of this very
+possibility of a conversation with the captive. &quot;You brave Frenchmen,
+how can we thank you for our salvation? It was all so horrible!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It is our duty to save all, Madame,&quot; rejoined De Ligny; &quot;our happiness
+unspeakable to save such as Madame. I swear by my sword, I had as soon
+expected to find an angel with the Iroquois as to meet there Madame!
+Quebec&mdash;all Quebec has told me who Madame was and is. And I am your
+slave.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, sir, could you but mean that!&quot; and there was turned upon him the
+full power of a gaze which few men had ever been able to withstand. The
+blood of De Ligny tingled as he bowed and replied.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;If Madame could but demand one proof.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Mary Connynge stepped closer to him. &quot;Hush!&quot; she said. &quot;Speak low! Do
+not let it seem that we are interested. Keep your own counsel. Can you
+do this?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The eyes of the young officer gleamed. He was bold enough to respond.
+This his temptress noted.</p>
+
+<p>He nodded.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You see that man&mdash;the tall one, John Law? Listen! It is from him I ask
+you to save me. Oh, sir, there is my captivity!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What! Your husband?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;He is not my husband.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;<i>Mais</i>&mdash;a thousand pardons. The child&mdash;your pardon.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Pish! 'Tis the child of an Indian woman.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh!&quot; The blood again came to the young gallant's forehead.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Listen, I tell you! I have been scarce better than a prisoner in this
+man's hands. He has abused me, threatened me, would have beaten me&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Madame&mdash;Mademoiselle!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis true. We have been far in the West, and I could not escape. Good
+Providence has now brought my rescue&mdash;and you, Monsieur! Oh! tell me
+that it has brought me safety, and also a friend&mdash;that it has brought me
+you!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>With every pulse a-tingle, every vein afire, what could the young
+gallant do? What but yield, but promise, but swear, but rage?</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Hush!&quot; said Mary Connynge, her own eyes gleaming. &quot;Wait! The time will
+come. So soon as we reach the settlements, I leave him, and forever!
+Then&mdash;&quot; Their hands met swiftly. &quot;He has abandoned me,&quot; murmured Mary
+Connynge. &quot;He has not spoken to me for weeks, other than words of 'Yes,'
+or 'No,' 'Do this,' or 'Do that!' Wait! Wait! How soon shall we be at
+Montr&eacute;al?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Less than a month. 'Twill seem an age, I swear!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Madam,&quot; interrupted Law, &quot;pardon, but Monsieur Joncaire bids us be
+ready. Come, help me arrange the packs for our journey. Perhaps
+Lieutenant de Ligny&mdash;for so I think they name you, sir&mdash;will pardon us,
+and will consent to resume his conversation later.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Assuredly,&quot; said De Ligny. &quot;I shall wait, Monsieur.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;So, Madam,&quot; said Law to Mary Connynge, as they at last found themselves
+alone in the lodge, arranging their few belongings for transport, &quot;we
+are at last to regain the settlements, and for a time, at least, must
+forego our home in the farther West. In time&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, in time! What mean you?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, we may return.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Never! I have had my fill of savaging. That we are left alive is mighty
+merciful. To go thither again&mdash;never!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And if I go?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;As you like.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Meaning, Madam&mdash;?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What you like.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Law seated himself on the corded pack, bringing the tips of his fingers
+together.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then my late sweetheart has somewhat changed her fancy?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I have no fancy left. What I was once to you I shall not recall more
+than I can avoid in my own mind. As to what you heard from that lying
+man, Sir Arthur&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Listen! Stop! Neither must you insult the dead nor the absent. I have
+never told you what I learned from Sir Arthur, though it was enough to
+set me well distraught.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I doubt not that he told you 'twas I who befooled Lady Catharine; that
+'twas I who took the letter which you sent&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Stay! No. He told me not so much as that. But he and you together have
+told me enough to show me that I was the basest wretch on earth, the
+most gullible, the most unspeakably false and cruel. How could I have
+doubted the faith of Lady Catharine&mdash;how, but for you? Oh, Mary
+Connynge, Mary Connynge! Would God a man were so fashioned he might
+better withstand the argument of soft flesh and shining eyes! I admit, I
+believed the disloyal one, and doubted her who was loyalty itself.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And you would go back into the wilderness with one who was as false as
+you say.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Never!&quot; replied John Law, swiftly. &quot;'Tis as you yourself say. 'Tis all
+over. Hell itself hath followed me. Now let it all go, one with the
+other, little with big. I did not forget, nor should I though I tried
+again. Back to Europe, back to the gaming tables, to the wheels and
+cards I go again, and plunge into it madder than ever did man before.
+Let us see if chance can bring John Law anything worse than what he has
+already known. But, Madam, doubt not. So long as you claim my
+protection, here or anywhere on earth&mdash;in the West, in France, in
+England&mdash;it is yours; for I pay for my folly like a man, be assured of
+that. The child is ours, and it must be considered. But once let me find
+you in unfaithfulness&mdash;once let me know that you resign me&mdash;then John
+Law is free! I shall sometime see Catharine Knollys again. I shall give
+her my heart's anguish, and I shall have her heart's scorn in return.
+And then, Mary Connynge, the cards, dice, perhaps drink&mdash;perhaps gold,
+and the end. Madam, remember! And now come!&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='BOOK_II_CHAPTER_XV'></a><h3>CHAPTER XV</h3>
+
+<h4>THE GREAT PEACE</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>Of the long and bitter journey from the Iroquois towns to Lake St.
+George, down the Richelieu and thence through the deep snows of the
+Canadian winter, it boots little to make mention; neither to tell of
+that devotion of Raoul de Ligny to the newly-rescued lady, already
+reputed in camp rumor to be of noble English family.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That <i>sous-lieutenant</i>; he is <i>t&ecirc;te mont&eacute;e</i> regarding madame,&quot; said
+Pierre Noir one evening to Jean Breboeuf. &quot;As to that&mdash;well, you know
+Monsieur L'as. Pouf! So much for yon monkey, <i>par comparaison</i>.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;He is a great <i>capitaine</i>, Monsieur L'as,&quot; said Jean Breboeuf. &quot;Never a
+better went beyond the Straits.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But very sad of late.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, <i>oui</i>, since the death of his friend, Monsieur <i>le Capitaine</i>
+Pembroke&mdash;may Mary aid his spirit!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Monsieur L'as goes not on the trail again,&quot; said Pierre Noir. &quot;At
+least not while this look is in his eye.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The more the loss, Pierre Noir; but some day the woods will call to him
+again. I know not how long it may be, yet some day Mother Messasebe will
+raise her finger and beckon to Monsieur L'as, and say: 'Come, my son!'
+'Tis thus, as you know, Pierre Noir.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Yet at length the straggling settlements at Montr&eacute;al were reached, and
+here, after the fashion of the frontier, some sort of <i>m&eacute;nage</i> was
+inaugurated for Law and his party. Here they lived through the rest of
+the winter and through the long, slow spring.</p>
+
+<p>And then set on again the heats of summer, and there came apace the time
+agreed upon, in the month of August, for the widely heralded assembling
+of the tribes for the Great Peace; one of the most picturesque, as it
+was one of the most remarkable and significant meetings of widely
+diverse human beings, that ever took place within the ken of history.</p>
+
+<p>They came, these savages, now first owning the strength of the invading
+white men, from all the far and unknown corners of the Western
+wilderness. They came afoot, and with little trains of dogs, in single
+canoes, in little groups and growing flotillas and vast fleets of
+canoes, pushing on and on, down stream, following the tide of the furs
+down this pathway of more than a thousand miles. The Iroquois, for once
+mindful of a promise, came in a compact fleet, a hundred canoes strong,
+and they stalked about the island for days, naked, stark, gigantic,
+contemptuous of white and red men, of friend and foe alike. The
+scattered Algonquins, whose villages had been razed by these same savage
+warriors, came down by scores out of the Northern woods, along little,
+unknown streams, and over paths with which none but themselves were
+acquainted. From the North, group joined group, and village added itself
+to village, until a vast body of people had assembled, whose numbers
+would have been hard to estimate, and who proved difficult enough to
+accommodate. Yet from the farther West, adding their numbers to those
+already gathered, came the fleets of the driven Hurons, and the
+Ojibways, and the Miamis, and the Outagamies, and the Ottawas, the
+Menominies and the Mascoutins&mdash;even the Illini, late objects of the
+wrath of the Five Nations. The whole Western wilderness poured forth its
+savage population, till all the shores of the St. Lawrence seemed one
+vast aboriginal encampment. These massed at the rendezvous about the
+puny settlement of Montr&eacute;al in such numbers that, in comparison, the
+white population seemed insignificant. Then, had there been a Pontiac or
+a Tecumseh, had there been one leader of the tribes able to teach the
+strength of unity, the white settlements of upper America had indeed
+been utterly destroyed. Naught but ancient tribal jealousies held the
+savages apart.</p>
+
+<p>With these tribesmen were many prisoners, captives taken in raids all
+along the thin and straggling frontier; farmers and artisans, peasants
+and soldiers, women raped from the farms of the Richelieu <i>censitaires</i>,
+and wood-rangers now grown savage as their captors and loth to leave the
+wild life into which they had so naturally grown. It was the first
+reflex of the wave, and even now the bits of flotsam and jetsam of wild
+life were fain to cling to the Western shore whither they had been
+carried by the advancing flood. This was the meeting of the ebb with the
+sea that sent it forward, the meeting of civilized and savage; and
+strange enough was the nature of those confluent tides. Whether the red
+men were yielding to civilization, or the whites all turning
+savage&mdash;this question might well have arisen to an observer of this
+tremendous spectacle. The wigwams of the different tribes and clans and
+families were grouped apart, scattered along all the narrow shore back
+of the great hill, and over the Convent gardens; and among these
+stalked the native French, clad in coarse cloth of blue, with gaudy belt
+and buckskins, and cap of fur and moccasins of hide, mingling
+fraternally with their tufted and bepainted visitors, as well as with
+those rangers, both envied and hated, the savage <i>coureurs de bois</i> of
+the far Northern fur trade; men bearded, silent, stern, clad in
+breech-clout and leggings like any savage, as silent, as stoical, as
+hardy on the trail as on the narrow thwart of the canoe.</p>
+
+<p>Savage feastings, riotings and drunkenness, and long debaucheries came
+with the Great Peace, when once the word had gone out that the fur trade
+was to be resumed. Henceforth there was to be peace. The French were no
+longer to raid the little cabins along the Kennebec and the Penobscot.
+The river Richelieu was to be no longer a red war trail. The English
+were no longer to offer arms and blankets for the beaver, belonging by
+right of prior discovery to those who offered French brandy and French
+beads. The Iroquois were no longer to pursue a timid foe across the
+great prairies of the valley of the Messasebe. The Ojibways were not to
+ambush the scattered parties of the Iroquois. The unambitious colonists
+of New England and New York were to be left to till their stony farms in
+quiet. Meantime, the fur trade, wasteful, licentious, unprofitable, was
+to extend onward and outward in all the marches of the West. From one
+end of the Great River of the West to the other the insignia of France
+and of France's king were to be erected, and France's posts were to hold
+all the ancient trails. Even at the mouth of the Great River,
+forestalling these sullen English and these sluggish English colonists,
+far to the south in the somber forests and miasmatic marshes, there was
+to be established one more ruling point for the arms of Louis the Grand.
+It was a great game this, for which the continent of America was in
+preparation. It was a mighty thing, this gathering of the Great Peace,
+this time when colonists and their king were seeing the first breaking
+of the wave on the shore of an empire alluring, wonderful, unparalleled.</p>
+
+<p>Into this wild rabble of savages and citizens, of priest and soldier and
+<i>coureur</i>, Law's friends, Pierre Noir and Jean Breboeuf, swiftly
+disappeared, naturally, fitly and unavoidably. &quot;The West is calling to
+us, Monsieur,&quot; said Pierre Noir one morning, as he stood looking out
+across the river. &quot;I hear once more the spirits of the Messasebe.
+Monsieur, will you come?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Law shook his head. Yet two days later, as he stood at that very point,
+there came to him the silent feet of two <i>coureurs</i> instead of one. Once
+more he heard in his ear the question: &quot;Monsieur L'as, will you come?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>At this voice he started. In an instant his arms were about the neck of
+Du Mesne, and tears were falling from the eyes of both in the welcome of
+that brotherhood which is admitted only by those who have known together
+arms and danger and hardship, the touch of the hard ground and the sight
+of the wide blue sky.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Du Mesne, my friend!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Monsieur L'as!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It is as though you came from the depths of the sea, Du Mesne!&quot; said
+Law.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And as though you yourself arose from the grave, Monsieur!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;How did you know&mdash;?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, easily. You do not yet understand the ways of the wilderness,
+where news travels as fast as in the cities. You were hardly below the
+foot of Michiganon before runners from the Illini had spread the news
+along the Chicaqua, where I was then in camp. For the rest, the runners
+brought also news of the Big Peace. I reasoned that the Iroquois would
+not dare to destroy their captives, that in time the agents of the
+Government would receive the captives of the Iroquois&mdash;that these
+captives would naturally come to the settlements on the St. Lawrence,
+since it was the French against whom the Iroquois had been at war; that
+having come to Montr&eacute;al, you would naturally remain here for a time. The
+rest was easy. I fared on to the Straits this spring, and then on down
+the Lakes. I have sold our furs, and am now ready to account to you with
+a sum quite as much as we should have expected.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Now, Monsieur,&quot; and Du Mesne stretched out his arm again, pointing to
+the down-coming flood of the St. Lawrence, &quot;Monsieur, will you come? I
+see not the St. Lawrence, but the Messasebe. I can hear the voices
+calling!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Law dashed his hand across his eyes and turned his head away. &quot;Not yet,
+Du Mesne,&quot; said he. &quot;I do not know. Not yet. I must first go across the
+waters. Perhaps sometime&mdash;I can not tell. But this, my comrades, my
+brothers, I do know; that never, until the last sod lies on my grave,
+will I forget the Messasebe, or forget you. Go back, if you will, my
+brothers; but at night, when you sit by your fireside, think of me, as I
+shall think of you, there in the great valley. My friends, it is the
+heart of the world!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But, Monsieur&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There, Du Mesne&mdash;I would not talk to-day. At another time. Brothers,
+adieu!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Adieu, my brother,&quot; said the <i>coureur</i>, his own emotion showing in his
+eyes; and their hands met again.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Monsieur is cast down,&quot; said Du Mesne to Pierre Noir later, as they
+reached the beach. &quot;Now, what think you?</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Usually, as you know, Pierre, it is a question of some woman. It
+reminds me, Wabana was remiss enough when I left her among the Illini
+with you. Now, God bless my heart, I find her&mdash;how think you? With her
+crucifix lost, cooking for a dirty Ojibway!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Mary Mother!&quot; said Pierre Noir, &quot;if it be a matter of a woman&mdash;well,
+God help us all! At least 'tis something that will take Monsieur L'as
+over seas again.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis mostly a woman,&quot; mused Du Mesne; &quot;but this passeth my wit.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;True, they pass the wit of all. Now, did I ever tell thee about the
+mission girl at Michilimackinac&mdash;but stay! That for another time. They
+tell me that our comrade, Greysolon du L'hut, is expected in to-morrow
+with a party from the far end of Superior. Come, let us have the news.&quot;</p>
+
+<span style='margin-left: 2em;'>&quot;<i>Tous les printemps</i>,</span><br />
+<span style='margin-left: 2.25em;'><i>Tant des nouvelles</i>,&quot;</span><br />
+
+<p>hummed Du Mesne, as he flung his arm above the shoulder of the other;
+and the two so disappeared adown the beach.</p>
+
+<p>Dully, apathetically, Law lived on his life here at Montr&eacute;al for yet a
+time, at the edge of that wilderness which had proved all else but Eden.
+Near to him, though in these guarded times guest by necessity of the
+good sisters of the Convent, dwelt Mary Connynge. And as for these two,
+it might be said that each but bided the time. To her Law might as well
+have been one of the corded Sulpician priests; and she to him, for all
+he liked, one of the nuns of the Convent garden. What did it all mean;
+where was it all to end? he asked himself a thousand times; and a
+thousand times his mind failed him of any answer. He waited, watching
+the great encampment disappear, first slowly, then swiftly and suddenly,
+so that in a night the last of the lodges had gone and the last canoe
+had left the shore. There remained only the hurrying flood of the St.
+Lawrence, coming from the West.</p>
+
+<p>The autumn came on. Early in November the ships would leave for France.
+Yet before the beginning of November there came swiftly and sharply the
+settlement of the questions which racked Law's mind. One morning Mary
+Connynge was missing from the Convent, nor could any of the sisters, nor
+the mother superior, explain how or when she had departed!</p>
+
+<p>Yet, had there been close observers, there might have been seen a boat
+dropping down the river on the early morning of that day. And at Quebec
+there was later reported in the books of the intendant the shipping,
+upon the good bark Dauphine, of Lieutenant Raoul de Ligny, sometime
+officer of the regiment Carignan, formerly stationed in New France; with
+him a lady recently from Montr&eacute;al, known very well to Lieutenant de
+Ligny and his family; and to be in his care <i>en voyage</i> to France; the
+name of said lady illegible upon the records, the spelling apparently
+not having suited the clerk who wrote it, and then forgot it in the
+press of other things.</p>
+
+<p>Certain of the governor's household, as well as two or three <i>habitants</i>
+from the lower town, witnessed the arrival of this lady, who came down
+from Montr&eacute;al. They saw her take boat for the bark Dauphine, one of the
+last ships to go down the river that fall. Yes, it was easily to be
+established. Dark, with singular, brown eyes, <i>petite</i>, yet not over
+small, of good figure&mdash;assuredly so much could be said; for obviously
+the king, kindly as he might feel toward the colony of New France, could
+not send out, among the young women supplied to the colonists as wives,
+very many such demoiselles as this; otherwise assuredly all France
+would have followed the king's ships to the St. Lawrence.</p>
+
+<p>John Law, a grave and saddened man, yet one now no longer lacking in
+decision, stood alone one day at the parapet of the great rock of
+Quebec, gazing down the broad expanse of the stream below. He was alone
+except for a little child, a child too young to know her mother, had
+death or disaster at that time removed the mother. Law took the little
+one up in his arms and gazed hard upon the upturned face.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Catharine!&quot; he said to himself. &quot;Catharine! Catharine!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Pardon, Monsieur,&quot; said a voice at his elbow. &quot;Surely I have seen you
+before this?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Law turned. Joncaire, the ambassador of peace, stood by, smiling and
+extending his hand.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Naturally, I could never forget you,&quot; said Law.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Monsieur looks at the shipping,&quot; said Joncaire, smiling. &quot;Surely he
+would not be leaving New France, after so luckily escaping the worst of
+her dangers?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Life might be the same for me over there as here,&quot; replied Law. &quot;As for
+my luck, I must declare myself the most unfortunate man on earth.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Your wife, perhaps, is ill?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Pardon, I have none.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Pardon, in turn, Monsieur&mdash;but, you see&mdash;the child?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It is the child of a savage woman,&quot; said Law.</p>
+
+<p>Joncaire pulled aside the infant's hood. He gave no sign, and a nice
+indifference sat in his query: &quot;<i>Une belle sauvage?</i>&quot;</p>
+
+<p><i>&quot;Belle sauvage!&quot;</i> </p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='BOOK_III'></a><h2>BOOK III</h2>
+
+<h3>FRANCE </h3>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='BOOK_III_CHAPTER_I'></a><h3>CHAPTER I</h3>
+
+<h4>THE GRAND MONARQUE</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>On a great bed of state, satin draped, flanked with ancient tapestries,
+piled sickeningly soft with heaps of pillows, there lay a thin, withered
+little man&mdash;old, old and very feeble. His face was shrunken and drawn
+with pain; his eyes, once bright, were dulled; his brow, formerly
+imperious, had lost its arrogance. Under the coverings which, in the
+unrest of illness, he now pulled high about his face, now tossed
+restlessly aside, his figure lay, an elongated, shapeless blot, scarce
+showing beneath the silks. One limb, twitched and drawn up convulsively,
+told of a definite seat of pain. The hands, thin and wasted, lay out
+upon the coverlets; and the thumbs were creeping, creeping ever more
+insistently, under the cover of the fingers, telling that the battle for
+life was lost, that the surrender had been made.</p>
+
+<p>It was a death-bed, this great bed of state; a death-bed situated in the
+heart of the greatest temple of desire ever built in all the world. He
+who had been master there, who had set in order those miles of stately
+columns, those seas of glittering gilt and crystal, he who had been
+magician, builder, creator, perverter, debaser&mdash;he, Louis of France, the
+Grand Monarque, now lay suffering like any ordinary human being, like
+any common man.</p>
+
+<p>Last night the four and twenty violins, under the king's command, had
+shrilled their chorus, as had been their wont for years while the master
+dined. This morning the cordon of drums and hautboys had pealed their
+high and martial music. Useless. The one or the other music fell upon
+ears too dull to hear. The formal tribute to the central soul for a time
+continued of its own inertia; for a time royalty had still its worship;
+yet the custom was but a lagging one. The musicians grimaced and made
+what discord they liked, openly, insolently, scorning this weak and
+withered figure on the silken bed. The cordon of the white and blue
+guards of the Household still swept about the vast pleasure grounds of
+this fairy temple; yet the officers left their posts and conversed one
+with the other. Musicians and guards, spectators and populace, all were
+waiting, waiting until the end should come. Farther out and beyond,
+where the peaked roofs of Paris rose, back of that line which this
+imperious mind had decreed should not be passed by the dwellings of
+Paris, which must not come too near this temple of luxury, nor disturb
+the king while he enjoyed himself&mdash;back of the perfunctorily loyal
+guards of the Household, there reached the ragged, shapeless masses of
+the people of Paris and of France, waiting, smiling, as some animal
+licking its chops in expectation of some satisfying thing. They were
+waiting for news of the death of this shrunken man, this creature once
+so full of arrogant lust, then so full of somber repentance, now so full
+of the very taste of death.</p>
+
+<p>On the great tapestry that hung above the head of the curtained bed
+shone the double sun of Louis the Grand, which had meant death and
+devastation to so much of Europe. It blazed, mimicking the glory that
+was gone; but toward it there was raised no sword nor scepter more in
+vow or exaltation. The race was run, the sun was sinking to its setting.
+Nothing but a man&mdash;a weary, worn-out, dying man&mdash;was Louis, the Grand
+Monarque, king for seventy-two years of France, almost king of Europe.
+This death-bed lay in the center of a land oppressed, ground down,
+impoverished. The hearts and lives of thousands were in these
+colonnades. The people had paid for their king. They had fed him fat and
+kept him full of loves. In return, he had trampled the people into the
+very dust. He had robbed even their ancient nobles of honors and
+consideration. Blackened, ruined, a vast graveyard, a monumental
+starving-ground, France lay about his death-bed, and its people were but
+waiting with grim impatience for their king to die. What France might do
+in the future was unknown; yet it was unthinkable that aught could be
+worse than this glorious reign of Louis, the Grand Monarque, this
+crumbling clod, this resolving excrescence, this phosphorescent,
+disintegrating fungus of a diseased life and time.</p>
+
+<p>Seventy-two years a king; thirty years a libertine; twenty years a
+repentant. Son, grandson, great-grandson, all gone, as though to leave
+not one of that once haughty breed. For France no hope at all; and for
+the house of Bourbon, all the hope there might be in the life of a
+little boy, sullen, tiny, timid. Far over in Paris, busy about his games
+and his loves, a jesting, long-curled gallant, the Duke of Orl&eacute;ans,
+nephew of this king, was holding a court of his own. And from this court
+which might be, back to the court which was, but which might not be
+long, swung back and forth the fawning creatures of the former court.
+This was the central picture of France, and Paris, and of the New World
+on this day of the year 1715.</p>
+
+<p>In the room about the bed of state, uncertain groups of watchers
+whispered noisily. The five physicians, who had tried first one remedy
+and then another; the rustic physician whose nostrum had kept life
+within the king for some unexpected days; the ladies who had waited upon
+the relatives of the king; some of the relatives themselves; Villeroy,
+guardian of the young king soon to be; the bastard, and the wife of that
+bastard, who hoped for the king's shoes; the mistress of his earlier
+years, for many years his wife&mdash;Maintenon, that peerless hypocrite of
+all the years&mdash;all these passed, and hesitated, and looked, waiting, as
+did the hungry crowds in Paris toward the Seine, until the double sun
+should set, and the crawling thumbs at last should find their shelter.
+The Grand Monarque was losing the only time in all his life when he
+might have learned human wisdom.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Madame!&quot; whispered the dry lips, faintly.</p>
+
+<p>She who was addressed as madame, this woman Maintenon, pious murderer,
+unrivaled hypocrite, unspeakably self-contained dissembler, the woman
+who lost for France an empire greater than all France, stepped now to
+the bed-side of the dying monarch, inclining her head to hear what he
+might have to say. Was Maintenon, the outcast, the widow, the wife of
+the king, at last to be made ruler of the Church in France? Was she to
+govern in the household of the king even after the king had departed?
+The woman bent over the dying man, the covetousness of her soul showing
+in her eyes, struggle as she might to retain her habitual and
+unparalleled self-control.</p>
+
+<p>The dying man muttered uneasily. His mind was clouded, his eyes saw
+other things. He turned back to earlier days, when life was bright, when
+he, Louis, as a young man, had lived and loved as any other.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Louise,&quot; he murmured. &quot;Louise! Forgive! Meet me&mdash;Louise&mdash;dear one. Meet
+me yonder&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>An icy pallor swept across the face of the arch hypocrite who bent over
+him. Into her soul there sank like a knife this consciousness of the
+undying power of a real love. La Valli&egrave;re, the love of the youth of
+Louis, La Valli&egrave;re, the beautiful, and sweet, and womanly, dead and gone
+these long years since, but still loved and now triumphant&mdash;she it was
+whom Louis now remembered.</p>
+
+<p>Maintenon turned from the bed-side. She stood, an aged and unhappy
+woman, old, gray and haggard, not success but failure written upon every
+lineament. For one instant she stood, her hands clenched, slow anger
+breaking through the mask which, for a quarter of a century, she had so
+successfully worn.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Bah!&quot; she cried. &quot;Bah! 'Tis a pretty rendezvous this king would set
+for me!&quot; And then she swept from the room, raged for a time apart, and
+so took leave of life and of ambition.</p>
+
+<p>At length even the last energies of the once stubborn will gave way. The
+last gasp of the failing breath was drawn. The herald at the window
+announced to the waiting multitude that Louis the Fourteenth was no
+more.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Long live the king!&quot; exclaimed the multitude. They hailed the new
+monarch with mockery; but laughter, and sincere joy and feasting were
+the testimonials of their emotions at the death of the king but now
+departed.</p>
+
+<p>On the next day a cheap, tawdry and unimposing procession wended its way
+through the back streets of Paris, its leader seeking to escape even the
+edges of the mob, lest the people should fall upon the somber little
+pageant and rend it into fragments. This was the funeral cort&egrave;ge of
+Louis, the Grand Monarque, Louis the lustful, Louis the bigot, Louis the
+ignorant, Louis the unhappy. They hurried him to his resting-place,
+these last servitors, and then hastened back to the palaces to join
+their hearts and voices to the rising wave of joy which swept across all
+France at the death of this beloved ruler.</p>
+
+<p>Now it happened that, as the funeral procession of the king was
+hurrying through the side streets near the confines of the old city of
+Paris, there encountered it, entering from the great highway which led
+from the east up to the city gates, the carriage of a gentleman who
+might, apparently with justice, have laid some claim to consequence. It
+had its guards and coachmen, and was attended by two riders in livery,
+who kept it company along the narrow streets. This equipage met the head
+of the hurrying funeral cort&egrave;ge, and found occasion for a moment to
+pause. Thus there passed, the one going to his grave, the other to his
+goal, the two men with whom the France of that day was most intimately
+concerned.</p>
+
+<p>There came from the window of the coach the voice of one inquiring the
+reason of the halt, and there might have been seen through the upper
+portion of the vehicle's door the face of the owner of the carriage. He
+seemed a man of imposing presence, with face open and handsome, and an
+eye bright, bold and full of intelligence. His garb was rich and
+elegant, his air well contained and dignified.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Guillaume,&quot; he called out, &quot;what is it that detains us?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It is nothing, Monsieur L'as,&quot; was the reply, &quot;They tell me it is but
+the funeral of the king.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;<i>Eh bien!</i>&quot; replied Law, turning to one who sat beside him in the
+coach. &quot;Nothing! 'Tis nothing but the funeral of the king!&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='BOOK_III_CHAPTER_II'></a><h3>CHAPTER II</h3>
+
+<h4>EVER SAID SHE NAY</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>The coach proceeded steadily on its way, passing in toward that quarter
+where the high-piled, peaked roofs and jagged spires betokened ancient
+Paris. On every hand arose confused sounds from the streets, now filled
+with a populace merry as though some pleasant carnival were just
+beginning. Shopkeeper called across to his neighbor, tradesman gossiped
+with gallant. Even the stolid faces of the plodding peasants, fresh past
+the gate-tax and bound for the markets to seek what little there
+remained after giving to the king, bore an unwonted look, as though hope
+might yet succeed to their surprise.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh&eacute;! Marie,&quot; called one stout dame to another, who stood smiling in her
+doorway near by. &quot;See the fine coach coming. That is the sort you and I
+shall have one of these days, now that the king is dead. God bless the
+new king, and may he die young! A plague to all kings, Marie. And now
+come and sit with my man and me, for we've a bottle left, and while it
+lasts we drink freedom from all kings!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You speak words of gold, Suzanne,&quot; was the reply. &quot;Surely I will drink
+with you, and wish a pleasant and speedy death to kings.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But now, Marie,&quot; said the other, argumentatively, &quot;as to my good duke
+regent, that is otherwise. It goes about that he will change all things.
+One is to amuse one's self now and then, and not to work forever for the
+taxes and the conscription. Long live the regent, then, say I!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, and let us hope that regents never turn to kings. There are to be
+new days here in France. We people, aye, my faith! We people, so they
+say, are to be considered. True, we shall have carriages one day, Marie,
+like that of my Lord who passes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>John Law and his companions heard broken bits of such speech as this as
+they passed on.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah, they talk,&quot; replied he at last, turning toward his companions, &quot;and
+this is talk which means something. Within the year we shall see Paris
+upside down. These people are ready for any new thing. But&quot;&mdash;and his
+face lost some of its gravity&mdash;&quot;the streets are none too safe to-day, my
+Lady. Therefore you must forgive me if I do not set you down, but keep
+you prisoner until you reach your own gates. 'Tis not your fault that
+your carriage broke down on the road from Marly; and as for my brother
+Will and myself, we can not forego a good fortune which enables us at
+last to destroy a certain long-standing debt of a carriage ride given
+us, once upon a time, by the Lady Catharine Knollys.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;At least, then, we shall be well acquit on both sides,&quot; replied the
+soft voice of the woman. &quot;I may, perhaps, be an unwilling prisoner for
+so short a time.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Madam, I would God it might be forever!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>It was the same John Law of old who made this impetuous reply, and
+indeed he seemed scarce changed by the passing of these few years of
+time. It was the audacious youth of the English highway who now looked
+at her with grave face, yet with eyes that shone.</p>
+
+<p>Some years had indeed passed since Law, turning his back upon the appeal
+of the wide New World, had again set foot upon the shores of England,
+from which his departure had been so singular. Driven by the goads of
+remorse, it had been his first thought to seek out the Lady Catharine
+Knollys; and so intent had he been on this quest, that he learned almost
+without emotion of the king's pardon which had been entered, discharging
+him of further penalty of the law of England. Meeting Lady Catharine, he
+learned, as have others since and before him, that a human soul may
+have laws inflexible; that the iron bars of a woman's resolve may bar
+one out, even as prison doors may bar him in. He found the Lady
+Catharine unshakeable in her resolve not to see him or speak with him.
+Whereat he raged, expostulated by post, waited, waylaid, and so at
+length gained an interview, which taught him many things.</p>
+
+<p>He found the Lady Catharine Knollys changed from a light-hearted girl to
+a maiden tall, grave, reserved and sad, offering no reproaches,
+listening to no protestations. Told of Sir Arthur Pembroke's horrible
+death, she wept with tears which his survivor envied. Told at length of
+the little child, she sat wide-eyed and silent. Approached with words of
+remorse, with expostulations, promises, she shrank back in absolute
+horror, trembling, so that in very pity the wretched young man left her
+and found his way out into a world suddenly grown old and gray.</p>
+
+<p>After this dismissal, Law for many months saw nothing, heard nothing of
+this woman whom he had wronged, even as he received no sign from the
+woman who had forsaken him over seas. He remained away as long as might
+be, until his violent nature, geyser-like, gathered inner storm and fury
+by repression, and broke away in wild eruption.</p>
+
+<p>Once more he sought the presence of the woman whose face haunted his
+soul, and once more he met ice and adamant stronger than his own fires.
+Beaten, he fled from London and from England, seeking still, after the
+ancient and ineffective fashion of man, to forget, though he himself had
+confessed the lesson that man can not escape himself, but takes his own
+hell with him wherever he goes.</p>
+
+<p>Rejected, as he was now, by the new ministry of England, none the less
+every capital of Europe came presently to know John Law, gambler,
+student and financier. Before every ruler on the continent he laid his
+system of financial revolution, and one by one they smiled, or shrugged,
+or scoffed at him. Baffled once more in his dearest purpose, he took
+again to play, play in such colossal and audacious form as never yet had
+been seen even in the gayest courts of a time when gaming was a vice to
+be called national. No hazard was too great for him, no success and no
+reverse sufficiently keen to cause him any apparent concern. There was
+no risk sharp enough to deaden the gnawing in his soul, no excitement
+strong enough to wipe away from his mind the black panorama of his past.</p>
+
+<p>He won princely fortunes and cast them away again. With the figure and
+the air of a prince, he gained greater reputation than any prince of
+Europe. Upon him were spent the blandishments of the fairest women of
+his time. Yet not this, not all this, served to steady his energies, now
+unbalanced, speeding without guidance. The gold, heaped high on the
+tables, was not enough to stupefy his mind, not enough though he doubled
+and trebled it, though he cast great golden markers to spare him trouble
+in the counting of his winnings. Still student, still mathematician, he
+sought at Amsterdam, at Paris, at Vienna, all new theories which offered
+in the science of banking and finance, even as at the same time he
+delved still further into the mysteries of recurrences and chance.</p>
+
+<p>In this latter such was his success that losers made complaint, unjust
+but effectual, to the king, so that Law was obliged to leave Paris for a
+time. He had dwelt long enough in Paris, this double-natured man, this
+student and creator, this gambler and gallant, to win the friendship of
+Philippe of Orl&eacute;ans, later to be regent of France; and gay enough had
+been the life they two had led&mdash;so gay, so intimate, that Philippe gave
+promise that, should he ever hold in his own hands the Government of
+France, he would end Law's banishment and give to him the opportunity he
+sought, of proving those theories of finance which constituted the
+absorbing ambition of his life.</p>
+
+<p>Meantime Law, ever restless, had passed from one capital of Europe to
+another, dragging with him from hotel to hotel the young child whose
+life had been cast in such feverish and unnatural surroundings. He
+continued to challenge every hazard, fearless, reckless, contemptuous,
+and withal wretched, as one must be who, after years of effort, found
+that he could not banish from his mind the pictures of a dark-floored
+prison, and of a knife-stab in the dark, and of raging, awful waters,
+and of a girl beautiful, though with sealed lips and heart of ice. From
+time to time, as was well known, Law returned to England. He heard of
+the Lady Catharine Knollys, as might easily be done in London; heard of
+her as a young woman kind of heart, soft of speech, with tenderness for
+every little suffering thing; a beautiful young woman, whose admirers
+listed scores; but who never yet, even according to the eagerest gossip
+of the capital, had found a suitor to whom she gave word or thought of
+love.</p>
+
+<p>So now at last the arrogant selfishness of his heart began to yield. His
+heart was broken before it might soften, but soften at last it did. And
+so he built up in his soul the image of a grave, sweet saint, kindly and
+gentle-voiced, unapproachable, not to be profaned. To this image&mdash;ah,
+which of us has not had such a shrine!&mdash;he brought in secret the homage
+of his life, his confessions, his despairs, his hopes, his resolutions;
+guiding thereby all his life, as well as poor mortal man may do, failing
+ever of his own standards, as all men do, yet harking ever back to that
+secret sibyl, reckoning all things from her, for her, by her.</p>
+
+<p>There came at length one chastened hour when they met in calmness, when
+there was no longer talk of love between them, when he stood before her
+as though indeed at the altar of some marble deity. Always her answer
+had been that the past had been a mistake; that she had professed to
+love a man, not knowing what that man was; that she had suffered, but
+that it was better so, since it had brought understanding. Now, in this
+calmer time, she begged of him knowledge of this child, regretting the
+wandering life which had been its portion, saying that for Mary Connynge
+she no longer felt horror and hatred. Thus it was that in a hasty moment
+Law had impulsively begged her to assume some sort of tutelage over that
+unfortunate child. It was to his own amazement that he heard Lady
+Catharine Knollys consent, stipulating that the child should be placed
+in a Paris convent for two years, and that for two years John Law should
+see neither his daughter nor herself. Obedient as a child himself he had
+promised.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Now, go away,&quot; she then had said to him. &quot;Go your own way. Drink,
+dice, game, and waste the talents God hath given you. You have made ruin
+enough for all of us. I would only that it may not run so far as to
+another generation.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>So both had kept their promises; and now the two years were done, years
+spent by Law more manfully than any of his life. His fortune he had
+gathered together, amounting to more than a million livres. He had sent
+once more for his brother Will, and thus the two had lived for some time
+in company in lower Europe, the elder brother still curious as ever in
+his abstruse theories of banking and finance&mdash;theories then new, now
+outlived in great part, though fit to be called a portion of the great
+foundation of the commercial system of the world. It was a wiser and
+soberer and riper John Law, this man who had but recently received a
+summons from Philippe of Orl&eacute;ans to be present in Paris, for that the
+king was dying, and that all France, France the bankrupt and distracted,
+was on the brink of sudden and perhaps fateful change.</p>
+
+<p>With a quick revival of all his Highland superstition, Law hailed now as
+happy harbinger the fact that, upon his entry into Paris, the city once
+more of his hopes, he had met in such fashion this lady of his dreams,
+even at such time as the seal of silence was lifted from his lips. It
+was no wonder that his eye gleamed, that his voice took on the old
+vibrant tone, that every gesture, in thought or in spite of thought,
+assumed the tender deference of the lover.</p>
+
+<p>It was a fair woman, this chance guest of the highway whom he now
+accosted&mdash;bronze-haired, blue-eyed, soft of voice, queenly of mien,
+gentle, calm and truly lovable. Oh, what waste that those arms should
+hold nothing, that lips such as those should know no kisses, that eyes
+like those should never swim in love! What robbery! What crime! And this
+man, thief of this woman's life, felt his heart pinch again in the old,
+sharp anguish of remorse, bitterest because unavailing.</p>
+
+<p>For the Lady Catharine herself there had been also many changes. The
+death of her brother, the Earl of Banbury, had wrought many shifts in
+the circumstances of a house apparently pursued by unkind fate. Left
+practically alone and caring little for the life of London, even after
+there had worn away the chill of suspicion which followed upon the
+popular knowledge of her connection with the escape of Law from London,
+Lady Catharine Knollys turned to a life and world suddenly grown vague
+and empty. Travel upon the continent with friends, occasional visits to
+the old family house in England, long sojourns in this or the other
+city&mdash;such had been her life, quiet, sweet, reproachless and
+unreproaching. For the present she had taken an h&ocirc;tel in the older part
+of Paris, in connection with her friend, the Countess of Warrington,
+sometime connected with the embassy of that Lord Stair who was later to
+act as spy for England in Paris, now so soon to know tumultuous scenes.
+With these scenes, as time was soon to prove, there was to be most
+intimately connected this very man who, now bending forward attentively,
+now listening respectfully, and ever gazing directly and ardently, heard
+naught of plots or plans, cared naught for the Paris which lay about,
+saw naught but the beautiful face before him, felt naught but some deep,
+compelling thrill in every heart-string which now reaching sweet accord
+in spite of fate, in spite of the past, in spite of all, went singing on
+in a deep melody of joy. This was she, the idol, the deity. Let the
+world wag. It was a moment yet ere paradise must end!</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Madam, I would God it might be forever!&quot; said Law again. The old
+stubborn nature was showing once more, but under it something deeper,
+softer, tenderer.</p>
+
+<p>A sudden panic fear called at the heart of her to whom he spoke. Two
+rosy spots shone in her cheeks, and as she gazed, her eyes showed the
+veiled softening of woman's gentleness. There fell a silence.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Madam, I could feel that this were Sadler's Wells over again,&quot; said Law
+a moment later.</p>
+
+<p>But now the carriage had arrived at the destination named by Lady
+Catharine. Law sprang out, hat in hand, and assisted Lady Catharine to
+the curb. A passing flower girl, gaily offering her wares, paused as the
+carriage drew up. Law turned quickly and caught from her as many roses
+as his hand could grasp, handing her in return half as much coin as her
+smaller palm could hold. He turned to the Lady Catharine, and bowed with
+that grace which was the talk of a world of gallants. In his hand he
+extended a flower.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Madam, as before!&quot; he said.</p>
+
+<p>There was a sob in his voice. Their eyes met fairly, unmasked as they
+had not been for years. Tears came into the man's eyes, the first that
+had ever sat there; tears for the past, tears for that sweetness which
+once might have been.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis for the king! They weep for the king!&quot; sang out the hard voice of
+the flower girl, ironically, as she skipped away. &quot;Oh&eacute;, for the king,
+for the king!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Nay, for the queen!&quot; said John Law, as he gazed into the eyes of
+Catharine Knollys.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='BOOK_III_CHAPTER_III'></a><h3>CHAPTER III</h3>
+
+<h4>SEARCH THOU MY HEART</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>&quot;Only believe me, Lady Catharine, and I shall do everything I promised
+years ago&mdash;I shall lay all France at your feet. But if you deny me thus
+always, I shall make all France a mockery.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Monsieur is fresh from the South of France,&quot; replied the Lady Catharine
+Knollys. &quot;Has Gascon wine perhaps put Gascon speech into his mouth?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, laugh if you like,&quot; exclaimed Law, rising and pacing across the
+great room in which these two had met. &quot;Laugh and mock, but we shall
+see!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Granted that Mr. Law is well within his customary modesty,&quot; replied
+Lady Catharine, &quot;and granted even that Mr. Law has all France in the
+hollow of his hand to-day, to do with as he likes, I must confess I see
+not why France should suffer because I myself have found it difficult to
+endorse Mr. Law's personal code of morals.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>It was the third day after Law's entry into Paris, and the first time
+for more than two long years that he found himself alone with the Lady
+Catharine Knollys. His eagerness might have excused his impetuous and
+boastful speech.</p>
+
+<p>As for the Lady Catharine, that one swift, electric moment at the street
+curb had well-nigh undone more than two years of resolve. She had heard
+herself, as it were in a dream, promising that this man might come. She
+had found herself later in her own apartments, panting, wide-eyed,
+afraid. Some great hand, unseen, uninvited, mysterious, had swept
+ruthlessly across each chord of womanly reserve and resolution which so
+long she had held well-ordered and absolutely under control. It was
+self-distrust, fear, which now compelled her to take refuge in this
+woman's fence of speech with him. &quot;Surely,&quot; argued she with herself, &quot;if
+love once dies, then it is dead forever, and can never be revived.
+Surely,&quot; she insisted to herself, &quot;my love is dead. Then&mdash;ah, but then
+was it dead? Can my heart grow again?&quot; asked the Lady Catharine of
+herself, tremblingly. This was that which gave her pause. It was this
+also which gave to her cheek its brighter color, to her eye a softer
+gleam; and to her speech this covering shield of badinage.</p>
+
+<p>Yet all her defenses were in a way to be fairly beaten down by the
+intentness of the other. All things he put aside or overrode, and would
+speak but of himself and herself, of his plans, his opportunities, and
+of how these were concerned with himself and with her.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There are those who judge not so harshly as yourself, Madam,&quot; resumed
+Law. &quot;His Grace the regent is good enough to believe that my studies
+have gone deeper than the green cloth of the gaming table. Now, I tell
+you, my time has come&mdash;my day at last is here. I tell you that I shall
+prove to you everything which I said to you long ago, back there in old
+England. I shall prove to you that I have not been altogether an idler
+and a trifler. I shall bring to you, as I promised you long ago, all the
+wealth, all the distinction&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But such speech is needless, Mr. Law,&quot; came the reply. &quot;I have all the
+wealth I need, nor do I crave distinction, save of my own selection.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But you do not dream! This is a day unparalleled. There will be such
+changes here as never yet were known. Within a week you shall hear of my
+name in Paris. Within a month you shall hear of it beyond the gates of
+Paris. Within a year you shall hear nothing else in Europe!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;As I hear nothing else here now, Monsieur?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Like a horse restless under the snaffle, the man shook his head, but
+went on. &quot;If you should be offered wealth more than any woman of Paris,
+if you had precedence over the proudest peers of France&mdash;would these
+things have no weight with you?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You know they would not.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Law cast himself restlessly upon a seat across the room from her. &quot;I
+think I do,&quot; said he, dejectedly. &quot;At times you drive me to my wit's
+end. What then, Madam, would avail?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, nothing, so far as the past is to be reviewed for you and me. Yet,
+I should say that, if there were two here speaking as you and I, and if
+they two had no such past as we&mdash;then I could fancy that woman saying to
+her friend, 'Have you indeed done all that lay within you to do?'&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Is it not enough&mdash;?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There is nothing, sir, that is enough for a woman, but all!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I have given you all.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;All that you have left&mdash;after yourself.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sharp, sharp indeed are your words, my Lady. And they are most sharp
+because they come with justice.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh,&quot; broke out the woman, &quot;one may use sharp words who has been scorned
+for her own false friend! You would give me all, Mr. Law, but you must
+remember that it is only what remains after that&mdash;that&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But would you, could you, have cared had there been no 'that'? Had I
+done all that lay in me to do, could you then have given me your
+confidence, and could you have thought me worthy of it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, 'if!'&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, 'if!' 'If,' and 'as though,' and 'in that case'&mdash;these are all we
+have to console us in this life. But, sweet one&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir, such words I have forbidden,&quot; said Lady Catharine, the blood for
+one cause or another mounting again into her cheek.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You torture me!&quot; broke out Law.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;As much as you have me? Is it so much as that, Mr. Law?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He rose and stood apart, his head falling in despair. &quot;As I have done
+this thing, so may God punish me!&quot; said he. &quot;I was not fit, and am not.
+Yet I was bold enough to hope that there could be some atonement, some
+thing&mdash;if my suffering&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There are things, Mr. Law, for which no suffering atones. But why cause
+suffering longer for us both? You come again and again. Could you not
+leave me for a time untroubled?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;How can I?&quot; blazed the man, his forehead furrowed up into a frown, the
+moist beads on his brow proving his own intentness. &quot;I can not! I can
+not! That is all I know. Ask me not why. I can not; that is all.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir,&quot; said Lady Catharine, &quot;this seems to me no less than terrible.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It is indeed no less than terrible. Yet I must come and come again,
+bound some day to be heard, not for what I am, but for what I might be.
+'Tis not justice I would have, dear heart, but mercy, a woman's mercy!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And you would bully me to agree with you, as I said, in regard to your
+own excellent code of morals, Mr. Law?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You evade, like any woman, but if you will, even have it so. At least
+there is to be this battle between us all our lives. I will be loved,
+Lady Catharine! I must be loved by you! Look in my heart. Search beneath
+this man that you and others see. Find me my own fellow, that other self
+better than I, who cries out always thus. Look! 'Tis not for me as I am.
+No man deserves aught for himself. But find in my heart, Lady Catharine,
+that other self, the man I might have been! Dear heart, I beseech you,
+look!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Impulsively, he even tore apart the front of his coat, as though indeed
+to invite such scrutiny. He stood before her, trembling, choking. The
+passion of his speech caused the color again to rush to the Lady
+Catharine's face. For a moment her bosom rose and fell tumultuously,
+deep answering as of old unto deep, in the ancient, wondrous way.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Is it the part of manhood to persecute a woman, Mr. Law?&quot; she asked,
+her own uncertitude now showing in her tone.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I do not know,&quot; he answered.</p>
+
+<p>Lady Catharine looked at him curiously.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Do you love me, Mr. Law?&quot; she asked, directly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I have no answer.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Did you love that other woman?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>It took all his courage to reply. &quot;I am not fit to answer,&quot; said he.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And you would love me, too, for a time and in a way?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I will not answer. I will not trifle.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And I am to think Mr. Law better than himself, better than other men;
+since you say no man dare ask actual justice?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Worse than other men, and yet a man. A man&mdash;my God! Lady Catharine&mdash;a
+man unworthy, yet a man seized fatally of that love which neither life
+nor death can alter!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>As one fascinated, Lady Catharine sat looking at him. &quot;Then,&quot; said she,
+&quot;any man may say to any woman&mdash;Mr. Law says to me&mdash;'I have cared for
+such, and so many other women to the extent, let us say, of so many
+pounds sterling. But I love you to the extent of twice as many pounds,
+shillings and pence?' Is that the dole we women may expect, Mr. Law?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Have back your own words!&quot; he cried. &quot;Nothing is enough but all! And as
+God witnesseth in this hour, I have loved you with all my heart-beats,
+with all my prayers. I call upon you now, in the name of that love I
+know you once bore me&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Upon the face of the Lady Catharine there blazed the red mark of the
+shame of Knollys. Covering her face with her hands, she suddenly bent
+forward, and from her lips there broke a sob of pain.</p>
+
+<p>In a flash Law was at her side, kneeling, seeking to draw away her
+fingers with hands that trembled as much as her own.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Do not! Do not!&quot; he cried. &quot;I am not worth it! It shall be as you like.
+Let me go away forever. This I can not endure!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah, John Law, John Law!&quot; murmured Catharine Knollys, &quot;why did you break
+my heart!&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='BOOK_III_CHAPTER_IV'></a><h3>CHAPTER IV</h3>
+
+<h4>THE REGENT'S PROMISE</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>&quot;Tell me, then, Monsieur L'as, of this new America. I would fain have
+some information at first hand. There was rumor, I know not how exact,
+that you once traveled in those regions.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Thus spake his Grace Philippe, Duke of Orl&eacute;ans, regent of France, now,
+in effect, ruler of France. It was the audience which had been arranged
+for John Law, that opportunity for which he had waited all his life.
+Before him now, as he stood in the great council chamber, facing this
+man whose ambitions ended where his own began&mdash;at the convivial board
+and at the gaming table&mdash;he saw the path which led to the success that
+he had craved so long. He, Law of Lauriston, sometime adventurer and
+gambler, was now playing his last and greatest game.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Your Grace,&quot; said he, &quot;there be many who might better than I tell you
+of that America.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There are many who should be able, and many who do,&quot; replied the
+regent. &quot;By the body of the Lord! we get nothing but information
+regarding these provinces of New France, and each advice is worse than
+the one preceding it. The gist of it all is that my Lord Governor and my
+very good intendant can never agree, save upon one point or so. They
+want more money, and they want more soldiers&mdash;ah, yes, to be sure, they
+also want more women, though we sent them out a ship load of choice
+beauties not more than a six-month ago. But tell me, Monsieur L'as, is
+it indeed true that you have traveled in America?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;For a short time.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I have heard nothing regarding you from the intendant at Quebec.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Your Grace was not at that time caring for intendants. 'Twas many years
+ago, and I was not well known at Quebec by my own name.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;<i>Eh bien?</i> Some adventure, then, perhaps? A woman at the bottom of it,
+I warrant.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Your Grace is right.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Twas like you, for a fellow of good zest. May God bless all fair
+dames. And as to what you found in thus following&mdash;or was it in
+fleeing&mdash;your divinity?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I found many things. For one, that this America is the greatest country
+of the world. Neither England nor France is to be compared with it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The regent fell back in his chair and laughed heartily.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Monsieur, you are indeed, as I have ever found you, of most excellent
+wit. You please me enormously.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But, your Grace, I am entirely serious.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, come, spoil not so good a jest by qualifying, I beseech you!
+England or France, indeed&mdash;ah, Monsieur L'as, Monsieur L'as!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Your own city of New Orl&eacute;ans, Sire, will lie at the gate of a realm
+greater than all France. Your Grace will hand to the young king, when he
+shall come of age, a realm excellently worth the ownership of any king.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You say rich. In what way?&quot; asked the regent. &quot;We have not had so much
+of returns after all. Look at Crozat? Look at&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh fie, Crozat! Your Grace, he solved not the first problem of real
+commerce. He never dreamed the real richness of America.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Philippe sat thoughtful, his finger tips together. &quot;Why have we not
+heard of these things?&quot; said he.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Because of men like Crozat, of men like your governors and intendants
+at Quebec. Because, your Grace, as you know very well, of the same
+reason which sent me once from Paris, and kept me so long from laying
+before you these very plans of which I now would speak.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And that cause?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Maintenon.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, ah! Indeed&mdash;that is to say&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Louis would hear naught of me, of course. Maintenon took care that he
+should find I was but heretic.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;As for myself,&quot; said Philippe the regent, &quot;heretic or not heretic makes
+but small figure. 'Twill take France a century to overcome her late
+surfeit of religion. For us, 'tis most a question of how to keep the
+king in the saddle and France underneath.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Precisely, your Grace.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Frankly, Monsieur L'as, I take it fittest now not so much to ponder
+over new worlds as over how to keep in touch with this Old World yet
+awhile. France has danced, though for years she danced to the tune of
+Louis clad in black. Now France must pay for the music. My faith, I like
+not the look of things. This joyful France to-day is a hideous thing.
+These people laugh! I had sooner see a lion grin. Now to govern those
+given us by Providence to govern,&quot; and the regent smiled grimly at the
+ancient fiction, &quot;it is most meet that the governed should produce
+somewhat of funds in order that they may be governed.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, and the error has been in going too far,&quot; said Law. &quot;These people
+have been taxed beyond the taxation point. Now they laugh.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes; and by God, Monsieur L'as, when France laughs, beware!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Your Grace admits that France has no further resources.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Assuredly.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then tax New France!&quot; cried Law, his hand coming down hard upon the
+table, his eyes shining. &quot;Mortgage where the security doubles every
+year, where the soil itself is security for wealth greater than all
+Europe ever owned.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, very well, Monsieur; though later I must ask you to explain.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You admit that no more money can be forced from the people of France.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ask the farmers of the taxes. Ask Chamillard of the Treasury. My faith,
+look out of the window! Listen! Do I not tell you that France is
+laughing?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Very well. Let us also laugh. Let us all laugh together. There is money
+in France, more money in Europe. I assure you these people can be
+brought to give you cheerfully all they have.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It sounds well, Monsieur L'as, but let me ask you how?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;France is bankrupt&mdash;this is brutal, but none the less true. France must
+repudiate her obligations unless something be swiftly done. It is not
+noble to repudiate, your Grace. Yet, if we cancel and not repudiate, if
+we can obtain the gold of France, of Europe&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Body of God! but you speak large, my friend.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Not so large. All subjects shrink as we come close to them by study.
+'Tis easy to see that France has not money enough for her own business.
+If we had more money in France, we should have more production, and if
+we had more production, we might have taxes. Thereby we might have
+somewhat in our treasury wherewith to keep the king in the saddle, and
+not under foot.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then, if I follow you,&quot; said Philippe, leaning slightly forward and
+again placing his finger tips judicially together, &quot;you would coin
+greater amounts of money. Then, I would ask you, where would you get
+your gold for the coinage?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It is not gold I would coin,&quot; said Law, &quot;but credit.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The kingdom hath been run on credit for these many years.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No, 'tis not that kind of credit that I mean. I mean the credit which
+comes of confidence. It is fate, necessity, which demands a new system.
+The world has grown too much for every man to put his sixpence into the
+other man's hand, and carry away in a basket what he buys. We are no
+longer savages, to barter beads for hides. Yet we were as savages, did
+we not come to realize that this insufficient coin must be replaced in
+the evolution of affairs, just as barter has long ago been, replaced.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And by what?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;As I said, by credit.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Do not annoy me by things too deep, but rather suggest some definite
+plan, if that may be.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;First of all, then, as I said to you years ago, we need a bank, a bank
+in which all the people of France shall have absolute confidence.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You would, then, wish a charter of some sort?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Only provided your Grace shall please. I have of my own funds a half
+million livres or more. This I would put into a bank of general nature,
+if your Grace shall please. That should be some small guarantee of my
+good faith in these plans.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Monsieur L'as would seem to have followed play to his good fortune.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Never to so good fortune as when first I met your Grace,&quot; replied Law.
+&quot;I have given to games of chance the severest thought and study. Just
+as much more have I given thought and study to this enterprise which I
+propose now to lay before you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And you ask the patent of the Crown for your bank?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It were better if the institution received that open endorsement.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>A slow frown settled upon the face of the other. &quot;That is, at the
+beginning, impossible, Monsieur L'as,&quot; said the regent. &quot;It is you who
+must prove these things which you propose.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Let it be so, then,&quot; said Law, with conviction. &quot;I make no doubt I
+shall obtain subscriptions for the shares. Remember my words. Within a
+few months you shall see trebled the energies of France. Money is the
+only thing which we have not in France. Why, your Grace, suppose the
+collectors of taxes in the South of France succeed in raising the king's
+levies. That specie must come by wheeled vehicle all the way to Paris.
+Consider what loss of time is there, and consider what hindrance to the
+trade of the provinces from which so much specie is taken bodily, and to
+which it can return later only a little at a time. Is it any wonder that
+usury is eating up France? There is not money enough&mdash;it is the one
+priceless thing; by which I mean only that there is not belief, not
+confidence, not credit enough in France. Now, given a bank which holds
+the confidence of the people, and I promise the king his taxes, even as
+I promise to abolish usury. You shall see money at work, money begetting
+money, and that begetting trade, and that producing comfort, and comfort
+making easier the collection of the king's taxes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;By heaven! you begin to make it somewhat more plain to me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;One thing I beg you to observe most carefully, your Grace,&quot; said Law,
+&quot;nor must it ever be forgotten in our understanding. The shares of this
+bank must have a fixed value in regard to the coin of the realm. There
+must be no altering of the value of our coin. Grant that the coin does
+not fluctuate, and I promise you that my bank <i>actions</i>, notes of the
+chief bank of Paris, shall soon be found better than gold or silver in
+the eyes of France. Moreover, given a greater safety to foreign gold,
+and I promise you that too shall pour into Paris in such fashion as has
+never yet been seen. Moreover, the people will follow their coin. Paris
+will be the greatest capital of Europe. This I promise you I can do.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;In effect,&quot; said the regent, smiling, &quot;you promise me that you can
+build a new Paris, a new world! Yet much of this I can in part believe
+and understand. Let that be as it may. The immediate truth is that
+something must be done, and done at once.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Obviously.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Our public debt is twenty-six hundred millions of livres. Its annual
+interest is eighty millions of livres. We can not pay this interest
+alone, not to speak of the principal. Obviously, as you say, the matter
+admits of no delay. Your bank&mdash;why, by heaven, let us have your bank!
+What can we do without your bank? Lastly, how quickly can we have it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sire, you make me the happiest man in all the world!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The advantage is quite otherwise, sir. But my head already swims with
+figures. Now let us set the rest aside until to-morrow. Meantime, I must
+confess to you, my dear friend, there is somewhat else that sits upon my
+mind.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>A change came upon the demeanor of his Grace the regent. Laying aside
+the dignity of the ruler with the questions of state, he became again
+more nearly that Philippe of Orl&eacute;ans, known by his friends as gay, care
+free and full of <i>camaraderie</i>.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Your Grace, could I be of the least personal service, I should be too
+happy,&quot; said Law.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, then, I must admit to you that this is a question of a diamond.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, a diamond?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The greatest diamond in the world. Indeed, there is none other like it,
+and never will be. This Jew hounds me to death, holding up the thing
+before mine eyes. Even Saint Simon, that priggish little duke of ours,
+tells me that France should have this stone, that it is a dignity which
+should not be allowed to pass away from her. But how can France,
+bankrupt as she is, afford a little trifle which costs three million
+francs? Three million francs, when we can not pay eighty millions annual
+interest on our debts!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis as you say, somewhat expensive,&quot; said Law.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Naturally, for I say to you that this stone had never parallel in the
+history of the world. It seems that this overseer in the Golconda mines
+got possession of it in some fashion, and escaped to Europe, hiding the
+stone about his person. It has been shown in different parts of Europe,
+but no one yet has been able to meet the price of this extortioner who
+owns it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And yet, as Saint Simon says, there is no dignity too great for the
+throne of France.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yet, meantime, the king will have no use for it for several years to
+come. There is the Sancy stone&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And, as your Grace remembers, this new stone would look excellent well
+upon a woman?&quot; said Law. He gazed, calm and unsmiling, directly into the
+eyes of Philippe of Orl&eacute;ans.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Monsieur L'as, you have the second sight!&quot; cried the latter,
+unblushingly. &quot;You have genius. May God strike me blind if ever I have
+seen a keener mind than thine!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;All warm blood is akin,&quot; replied John Law. &quot;This stone is perhaps for
+your Grace's best beloved?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Eh&mdash;ah&mdash;which? As you know&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah! Perhaps for La Parab&egrave;re. Richly enough she deserves it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah, Monsieur L'as, even your mind is at fault now,&quot; cried the regent,
+shaking his finger exultingly. &quot;I covet this new stone, not for Parab&egrave;re
+nor for any one of those dear friends whom you might name, and whom you
+may upon occasion have met at some of my little suppers. It is for
+another, whose name or nature you can not guess.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Not that mysterious beauty of whom rumor goes about this week, the
+woman rated surpassing fair, who has lately come into the acquaintance
+of your Grace, and whom your Grace has concealed as jealously as though
+he feared to lose her by some highway robbery?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It is the same, I must admit!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Law remained thoughtful for a time. &quot;I make no doubt that the Hebrew
+would take two million francs for this stone,&quot; said he.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Perhaps, but two millions is the same as three millions,&quot; said
+Philippe. &quot;The question is, where to get two millions.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;As your Grace has said, I have been somewhat fortunate at play,&quot;
+replied Law, &quot;but I must say that this sum is beyond me, and that both
+the diamond and the bank I can not compass. Yet, your Grace has at
+disposal the crown jewels of France. Now, beauty is the sovereign of all
+sovereigns, as Philippe of Orl&eacute;ans must own. To beauty belongs the use
+of these crown jewels. Place them as security, and borrow the two
+millions. For myself, I shall take pride in advancing the interest on
+the sum for a certain time, until such occasion as the treasury may
+afford the price of this trinket. In a short time it will be able to do
+so, I promise your Grace; indeed able to buy a dozen such stones, and
+take no thought of the matter.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Monsieur L'as, do you actually believe these things?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I know them.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And you can secure for me this gem?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Assuredly. We shall have it. Let it be called the 'Regent's Diamond,'
+after your Grace of Orl&eacute;ans. And when the king shall one day wear it,
+let us hope that he will place it as fitly as I am sure your Grace will
+do, on the brow of beauty&mdash;even though it be beauty unknown, and kept
+concealed under princely prerogative!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah! You are too keen, Monsieur L'as, too keen to see my new discovery.
+Not for a little time shall I take the risk of introducing this fair
+friend to one so dangerous as yourself; but one of these times, my very
+good friend, if you can secure for me this diamond, you shall come to a
+very little supper, and see where for a time I shall place this gem, as
+you say, on the brow of beauty. For the sake of Monsieur L'as, head
+magician of France my mysterious alien shall then unmask.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And then I am to have my bank?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Good God, yes, a thousand banks!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It is agreed?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It is agreed.&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='BOOK_III_CHAPTER_V'></a><h3>CHAPTER V</h3>
+
+<h4>A DAY OF MIRACLES</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>The regent of France kept his promise to Law, and the latter in turn
+fulfilled his prophecy to the regent. Moreover, he swiftly went far
+toward verifying his boast to the Lady Catharine Knollys; for in less
+than a month his name was indeed on every tongue in Paris. The Banque
+G&eacute;n&eacute;rale de L'as et Compagnie was seized upon by the public, debtor and
+creditor alike, as the one new thing, and hence as the only salvation.
+As ever, it pleased Paris to be mystified. In some way the rumor spread
+about that Monsieur L'as was <i>philosophique</i>; that the Banque G&eacute;n&eacute;rale
+was founded upon &quot;philosophy.&quot; It was catch-word sufficient for the
+time.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;<i>Vive</i> Jean L'as, <i>le philosophe</i>&mdash;Monsieur L'as, he who has saved
+France!&quot; So rang the cry of the shallow-witted people of an age splendid
+even in its contradictions. And meantime the new bank, crudely
+experimental as it was, flourished as though its master spirit had
+indeed in his possession the philosopher's stone, turning all things to
+gold.</p>
+
+<p>One day, shortly after the beginning of that brilliantly spectacular
+series of events destined so soon to make Paris the Mecca of the world,
+there sat at table, in a little, obscure <i>cabaret</i> of the gay city, a
+group of persons who seemed to have chosen that spot for purposes of
+privacy. Yet privacy was difficult where all the curious passers-by
+stared in amaze at the great coach near the door, half filling the
+narrow and unclean street&mdash;a vehicle bearing the arms of no less a
+person than that august and unscrupulous representative of the French
+nobility, the Prince de Conti. No less a person than the prince himself,
+thin-faced, aquiline and haughty, sat at this table, looking about him
+like any common criminal to note whether his speech might be overheard.
+Next to him sat a hook-nosed Jew from Austria, Fraslin by name, one of
+many of his kind gathered so quickly within the last few weeks in Paris,
+even as the scent of carrion fetches ravens to the feast. Another of the
+party was a man of middle age, of handsome, calm, patrician features and
+an unruffled mien&mdash;that De la Chaise, nephew of the confessor of Louis
+the Grand, who was later to represent the young king in the provinces of
+Louisiana.</p>
+
+<p>Near by the latter, and indeed the central figure of this gathering, was
+one less distinguished than either of the above, evidently neither of
+churchly ancestry nor civic distinction&mdash;Henri Varenne, sometime clerk
+for the noted Paris Fr&egrave;res, farmers of the national revenues. Varenne,
+now serving but as clerk in the new bank of L'as et Compagnie, could
+have been called a man of no great standing; yet it was he whose
+presence had called hither these others to this unusual meeting. In
+point of fact, Varenne was a spy, a spy chosen by the jealous Paris
+Fr&egrave;res, to learn what he might of the internal mechanism of this new and
+startling institution which had sprung into such sudden prominence.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;As to the bank of these brothers L'as,&quot; said the Prince de Conti,
+rapping out emphasis with his sword hilt on the table, &quot;it surely has
+much to commend it. Here is one of its notes, and witness what it says.
+'The bank promises to pay to the bearer at sight the sum of fifty livres
+in coin of the weight and standard of this day.' That is to say, of this
+date which it bears. Following these, are the words 'value received.'
+Now, my notary tells me that these words make this absolutely safe, so
+that I know what it means in coin to me at this day, or a year from now.
+Is it not so, Monsieur Fraslin?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The Jew reached out his hand, took the note, and peered over it in close
+scrutiny.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis no wonder, Monsieur le Prince,&quot; said he, presently, &quot;that orders
+have been given by the Government to receive this note without discount
+for the payment of the general taxes. Upon my reputation, I must say to
+you that these notes will pass current better than your uncertain coin.
+The specie of the king has been changed twice in value by the king's
+orders. Yet this bases itself upon a specie value which is not subject
+to any change. Therein lies its own value.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It is indeed true,&quot; broke in Varenne. &quot;Not a day goes by at this new
+bank but persons come to us and demand our notes rather than coin of the
+realm of France.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, yes,&quot; broke in the prince, &quot;we are agreed as to all this, but
+there is much talk about further plans of this Monsieur L'as. He has the
+ear of his Grace the regent, surely. Now, sir, tell us what you know of
+these future affairs.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The rumor is, as I understand it,&quot; answered Varenne, &quot;that he is to
+take over control of the Company of the West&mdash;to succeed, in short, to
+the shoes of Anthony Crozat. There come curious stories of this province
+of Louisiana.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Of course,&quot; resumed the prince, with easy wisdom, &quot;we all of us know of
+the voyage of L'Huillier, who, with his four ships, went up this great
+river Messasebe, and who, as is well known, found that river of Blue
+Earth, described by early writers as abounding in gold and gems.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Aye, and there comes the strange part of it, and this is what I would
+lay before your Lordships, as bearing upon the value of the shares of
+this new bank, since it is taking over the charter of the Company of the
+West. It is news not yet known upon the street. The story goes that the
+half has not been told of the wealth of these provinces.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Now, as you say, L'Huillier had with him four ships, and it is well
+known that his gentlemen had with them certain ladies of distinction,
+among these a mysterious dame reported to have earlier traveled in
+portions of New France. The name of this mysterious female is not known,
+save that she is reported to have been a good friend of a
+<i>sous-lieutenant</i> of the regiment Carignan, sometime dweller at Quebec
+and Montr&eacute;al, and who later became a lieutenant under L'Huillier. It is
+said that this same mysterious fair, having returned from America and
+having cast aside her lieutenant, has come under protection of no less a
+person than his Grace Philippe of Orl&eacute;ans, the regent. Now, as you know,
+the bank is the best friend of the regent, and this mysterious dame, as
+we are advised by servants of his Grace's household, hath told his Grace
+such stories of the wealth of the Messasebe that he has secretly and
+quickly made over the control of the trade of those provinces to this
+new bank. There is story also that his Grace himself will not lack
+profit in this movement!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The hand of Conti smote hard upon the table. &quot;By heaven! it were strange
+thing,&quot; said he, &quot;if this foreign traveler should prove the same
+mysterious beauty Philippe is reported to have kept in hiding. My faith,
+is it indeed true that we are come upon a time of miracles?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Listen!&quot; broke in again Varenne, his ardor overcoming his
+obsequiousness. &quot;These are some of the tales brought back&mdash;and reported
+privately, I can assure you, gentlemen, now for the first time and to
+yourselves. The people of this country are said to be clad in beauteous
+raiment, made of skins, of grasses, and of the barks of trees. Their
+ornaments are made of pure, yellow gold, and of precious gems which they
+pick up from the banks of the streams, as common as pebbles here in
+France. The climate is such that all things grow in the most unrivaled
+fruitfulness. There is neither too much sun nor too much rain. The lakes
+and rivers are vast and beautiful, and the forests are filled with
+myriads of strange and sweet-voiced birds. 'Tis said that the dream of
+Ponce de Leon hath been realized, and that not only one, but scores of
+fountains of youth have been discovered in this great valley. The people
+are said never to grow old. Their personal beauty is of surpassing
+nature, and their disposition easy and complaisant to the last degree&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;My faith, say on!&quot; broke in De la Chaise. &quot;'Tis surely a story of
+paradise which you recount.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But, listen, gentlemen! The story goes yet farther. As to mines of gold
+and silver, 'twas matter of report that such mines are common in all the
+valley of the Messasebe. Indeed the whole surface of the earth, in some
+parts, is covered with lumps of gold, so that the natives care nothing
+for it. The bottoms of the streams, the beaches of the lakes, carry as
+many particles of gold as they have pebbles and little stones. As for
+silver, none take note of it. 'Tis used as building stone.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;In the name of Jehovah, is there support for these wonders you have
+spoken?&quot; broke in Fraslin the Jew, his eyes shining with suppressed
+excitement.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Assuredly. Yet I am telling not half of the news which came to my
+knowledge this very morning&mdash;the story is said to have emanated from the
+Palais Royal itself, and therefore, no doubt, is to be traced to this
+same unknown queen of the Messasebe. She reports, so it is said, that
+beyond the country where L'Huillier secured his cargo of blue earth,
+there is a land where grows a most peculiar plant. The meadows and
+fields are covered with it, and it is said that the dews of night, which
+gather within the petals of these flowers, become, in the course of a
+single day, nothing less than a solid diamond stone! From this in time
+the leaves drop down, leaving the diamond exposed there, shining and
+radiant.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah, bah!&quot; broke in Fraslin the Jew. &quot;Why believe such babblings? We all
+know that the diamond is a product not of the vegetable but of the
+mineral world!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;So have we known many things,&quot; stoutly replied Varenne, &quot;only to find
+ourselves frequently mistaken. Now for my part, a diamond is a diamond,
+be it born in a flower or broken from a rock. And as for the excellence
+of these stones, 'tis rumored that the lady hath abundant proof. 'Tis no
+wonder that the natives of the valley of the Messasebe robe themselves
+in silks, and that they deck themselves carelessly with precious stones,
+as would a peasant of ours with a chain of daisy blossoms. Now, if there
+be such wealth as this, is it not easy to see the profit of a bank which
+controls the trade with such a province? True, there have been some
+discoveries in this valley, but nothing thorough. 'Tis but recent the
+thing hath been done thorough.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The Prince de Conti sat back in his chair and drew a long breath. &quot;If
+these things be true,&quot; said he, &quot;then this Monsieur L'as is not so bad a
+leader to follow.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But listen!&quot; exclaimed Varenne once more. &quot;I have not even yet told you
+the most important thing, and this is rumor which perhaps your Grace has
+caught. 'Tis whispered that the bank of the brothers L'as is within a
+fortnight to be changed.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What is that?&quot; queried Fraslin quickly. &quot;'Tis not to be abandoned?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;By no means. Abandoned would be quite the improper word. 'Tis to be
+improved, expanded, increased, magnified! My Lords, there is the
+opportunity of a life-time for every one of us here!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Say on, man, say on!&quot; commanded the prince, the covetousness of his
+soul shining in his eyes as he leaned forward.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I mean to say this,&quot; and the spy lowered his voice as he looked
+anxiously about. &quot;The regent hath taken a fancy to be chief owner
+himself of an enterprise so profitable. In fine, the Banque G&eacute;n&eacute;rale is
+to become the Banque Royale. His Majesty of France, represented by his
+Grace the regent, is to become the head banker of France and Europe!
+Monsieur L'as is to be retained as director-general of this Banque
+Royale. There are to be branches fixed in different cities of the realm,
+at Lyons, at Tours, at Amiens, at Rochelle, at Orl&eacute;ans&mdash;in fact, all
+France is to go upon a different footing.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The glances of the Prince de Conti and the Austrian met each other. The
+Jew drew a long breath as he sat back in his chair, his hands grasping
+at the edge of the table. Try as he might, he scarce could keep his chin
+from trembling. He licked out his tongue to moisten his lips.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There is so much,&quot; resumed Varenne, &quot;that 'tis hard to tell it all. But
+you must know that this Banque Royale will be still more powerful than
+the old one. There will be incorporated with it, not only the Company of
+the West, but also the General Company of the Indies, as you know, the
+most considerable mercantile enterprise of France. Now listen! Within
+the first year the Banque Royale will issue one thousand million livres
+in notes. This embodiment of the Compagnie G&eacute;n&eacute;rale of the Indies will
+warrant, as I know by the secret plans of the bank, the issue of notes
+amounting to two billion livres. Therefore, as Monsieur de la Chaise
+signifies, he who is lucky enough to-day to own a few <i>actions</i> of the
+Banque Royale, or even the old <i>actions</i> of Monsieur L'as' bank, which
+will be redeemed by its successor, is in a way to gain greater sums than
+were ever seen on the face of any investment from the beginning of the
+world until to-day! Now, as I was about to ask of you, Monsieur
+Fraslin&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The speaker turned in his chair to where Fraslin had been but a moment
+before. The chair was empty.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Our friend stepped to the door but on the instant,&quot; said De la Chaise.
+&quot;He is perhaps&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That he has,&quot; cried Varenne. &quot;He is the first of us to profit! Monsieur
+le Prince, in virtue of what I have said to you, if you could favor me
+with an advance of a few hundred louis, I could assure my family of
+independence. Monsieur le Prince! Monsieur le Prince&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Monsieur le Prince, however, was not so far behind the Austrian! Varenne
+followed him, tugging at his coat, but Conti shook him off, sprang into
+his carriage and was away.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;To the Place Vend&ocirc;me!&quot; he cried to his coachman, &quot;and hasten!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>De la Chaise, aristocratic, handsome and thick-witted, remained alone at
+the table, wondering what was the cause of this sudden commotion.
+Varenne re-appeared at the door wringing his hands.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What is it, my friend?&quot; asked De la Chaise. &quot;Why all this haste? Why
+this confusion?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Nothing!&quot; exclaimed Varenne, bitterly, &quot;except that every minute of
+this day is worth a million francs. Man, do you know?&quot;&mdash;and in his
+frenzy he caught De la Chaise by the collar and half shook him out of
+his usual calm&mdash;&quot;man, can you not see that Jean L'as has brought
+revolution into Paris? Oh! This L'as, this devil of a L'as! A thousand
+louis, my friend, a hundred, ten&mdash;give me but ten louis, and I will make
+you rich! A day of miracles is here!&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='BOOK_III_CHAPTER_VI'></a><h3>CHAPTER VI</h3>
+
+<h4>THE GREATEST NEED</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>There sprang now with incredible swiftness upward and outward an Aladdin
+edifice of illusion. It was as though indeed this genius who had waved
+his wand and bidden this fairy palace of chimera to arise, had used for
+his material the intangible, iridescent film of bubbles, light as air.
+Wider and wider spread the balloon of phantasm. Higher and higher it
+floated, on it fixed the eyes of France. And France laughed, and asked
+that yet other bubbles should be blown.</p>
+
+<p>All France was mad, and to its madness there was joined that of all
+Europe. The population of Paris doubled. The prices of labor and
+commodities trebled in a day. There was now none willing to be called
+artisan. Every man was broker in stocks. Bubbles, bubbles, dreams,
+fantasies&mdash;these were the things all carried in their hands and in their
+hearts. These made the object of their desire, of their pursuit
+unimaginably passionate and frenzied.</p>
+
+<p>With a leap from the somberness of the reign of Louis, all France went
+to the extreme of levity. Costumes changed. Manners, but late devout,
+grew debonair. Morals, once lax, now grew yet more lax. The blaze and
+tinsel, the music and the rouge, the wine, the flowing, uncounted
+gold&mdash;all Paris might have been called a golden brothel of delirious
+delight, tenanted by a people utterly gone mad.</p>
+
+<p>It was a house made of bubbles. Its domes were of bubbles. Its roof was
+of bubbles, and its walls. Its windows were of that nacreous film. Even
+its foundations had naught in them more substantial than an evanescent
+dream of gauze-like web, frail as the spider's house upon the dew-hung
+grasses.</p>
+
+<p>Yet as to this latter, there should be somewhat of qualification. The
+wizard who created this fairy structure saw it swiftly grow beyond its
+original plan, saw unforeseen results spring from those causes which
+were first well within his comprehension.</p>
+
+<p>Berated by later generations as an adventurer, a schemer, a charlatan,
+Law originally deserved anything but such a verdict of his public.
+Dishonest he was not, insincere he never was; and as a student of
+fundamentals, he was in advance of his age, which is ever to be
+accursed. His method was but the forerunner of the modern commercial
+system, which is of itself to-day but a tougher faith bubble, as may be
+seen in all the changing cycles of finance and trade. His bank was but
+a portion of a nobler dream. His system was but one vast belief, one
+glorious hope.</p>
+
+<p>The Company of the West&mdash;this it was that made John Law's heart throb.
+America&mdash;its trade&mdash;its future! John Law, dead now and gone&mdash;he was the
+colossal pioneer! He saw in his dreams what we see to-day in reality;
+and no bubble of all the frenzied Paris streets equaled this splendid
+dream of a renewed and revived humanity that is a fact to-day.</p>
+
+<p>But there came to this dreamer and doer, at the very door of his
+success, that which arrested him even upon his entering in. There came
+the preliminary blow which in a flash his far-seeing mind knew was to
+mean ultimate ruin. In a word, the loose principles of a dissolute man
+were to ruin France, and with it one who had once saved France from
+ruin.</p>
+
+<p>Philippe of Orl&eacute;ans found it ever difficult to say no to a friend, and
+more so if that friend were a woman; and of the latter sort, none had
+more than he. Men and women alike, these could all see only this
+abundance of money made of paper. What, then, was to prevent the regent,
+all powerful, from printing more and yet more of it, and giving it to
+his friends? The regent did so. Never were mistresses better paid than
+those of Philippe of Orl&eacute;ans, receiving in effect faithlessness in
+return for insincerity.</p>
+
+<p>Philippe of Orl&eacute;ans could not see why, since credit based on specie made
+possible a great volume of accepted notes, a credit based on all France
+might not warrant an indefinite issue of such notes. He offered his
+director-general all the concessions which the crown could give, all the
+revenue-producing elements of France&mdash;in effect, all France itself, as
+security. In return he asked but the small privilege of printing for
+himself as much money as he chose and whenever he saw fit!</p>
+
+<p>The notes of the private bank of Law were an absolute promise to pay a
+certain and definite sum, not a changeable or indefinite sum; and Law
+made it a part of his published creed that any banker was worthy of
+death who issued notes without having the specie wherewith to pay them.
+He insisted that the payment should mean specie in the value of the day
+on which the note was issued. This item the regent liked little, as
+being too irksome for his temper. Was it not of record how Louis, the
+Grand Monarque, had twice made certain millions for himself by the
+simple process of changing the value of the coin? Dicing, drinking,
+amorous Philippe, easy-going, shallow-thinking, truly wert thou better
+fitted for a throne than for a banker's chair!</p>
+
+<p>The royal bank, which the regent himself hastened to foster when he saw
+the profits of the first private bank of circulation and discount France
+had ever known, issued notes against which Law entered immediately his
+firm protest. He saw that their tenor spelled ruin for the whole system
+of finance which, at such labor, he had erected. These notes promised to
+pay, for instance, fifty livres &quot;in silver coin,&quot; not &quot;in coin of the
+weight and standard of this day,&quot; as had the honester notes of Law's
+bank. That is to say, the notes meant nothing sure and nothing definite.
+They might be money for a time, but not forever; and this the
+director-general was too shrewd a man not to know.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But under this issue you shall have all France,&quot; said the regent to him
+one day, as they renewed their discussion yet again upon this scheme.
+&quot;You shall have the farming of the taxes. I will give you all the
+foreign trade as monopoly, if you like&mdash;will give you the mint&mdash;will
+give you, in effect, as I have said, all France. But, Monsieur my
+director-general, I must have money. It is for that purpose that I
+appoint you director-general&mdash;because I find you the most remarkable man
+in all the world.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Your Grace,&quot; said Law, &quot;print your notes thus, and print them to such
+extent as you wish, and France is again worse than bankrupt! Then,
+indeed, you have worse than repudiated the debts of France.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah bah! <i>mon dr&ocirc;le!</i> You are ill to-day. You have a <i>migraine</i>,
+perhaps? What folly for you to speak thus. France hath swiftly grown so
+strong that she can never again be ruined. What ails my magician, my
+Prince of Golconda, this morning? France bankrupt! Even were it so, does
+that relieve me of this begging of De Prie, of Parab&egrave;re, and all the
+others? My God, Monsieur L'as, they are like leeches! They think me made
+of money.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And your Grace thinks France made of money.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Nay; I only think my director-general is made of money, or can make it
+as he likes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>And this was ever the end of Law's reproaches and his expostulations.
+This, then, was to be the end of his glorious enterprises, thought he,
+as he sat one morning, staring out of the window when left alone. This
+sordid love for money for its own sake&mdash;this was to be the limit of an
+ambition which dealt in theories, in men, in nations, and not in livres
+and louis d'or! Law smiled bitterly. For an instant he was not the
+confident man of action and of affairs, not the man claiming with
+assurance the perpetual protection of good fortune. He sat there, alone,
+feeling nothing but the great human craving for sympathy and trust. A
+line of carriages swept back across the street at his window, and
+streams of nobles besought entrance at his door. And the man who had
+called out all these, the man for whose friendship all Europe
+clamored&mdash;that man sat with aching heart, longing, craving, begging now
+of fortune only the one thing&mdash;a friend!</p>
+
+<p>At last he arose, his face showing lean and haggard. He passed into
+another room.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Will,&quot; said he, &quot;I am at a place where I am dizzy and need a hand. You
+know what hand it means for me. Can you go&mdash;will you take her, as you
+did once before for me, a message? I can not go. I can not venture into
+her presence. Will you go? Tell her it is the last time! Tell her it is
+the last!&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='BOOK_III_CHAPTER_VII'></a><h3>CHAPTER VII</h3>
+
+<h4>THE MIRACLE UNWROUGHT</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>&quot;You do not know my brother, Lady Catharine.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Thus spoke Will Law, who had been admitted but a half hour since at the
+great door of the private hotel where dwelt the Lady Catharine Knollys.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Twould seem, then, 'tis by no fault of his,&quot; replied Lady Catharine,
+hotly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And is that not well? There are many in Paris who would fain change
+places with you, Lady Catharine.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Would heaven they might!&quot; exclaimed she. &quot;Would that my various
+friends, or the prefect of police, or heaven knows who that may have
+spread the news of my acquaintance with your brother, would take me out
+of that acquaintance!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;They might hold his friendship a high honor,&quot; said Will.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, an honor! Excellent well comes this distinguished honor. Sirrah,
+carriages block my street, filled with those who beseech my introduction
+to John Law. I am waylaid if I step abroad, by women&mdash;persons of
+quality, ladies of the realm, God knoweth what&mdash;and they beg of me the
+favor of an introduction to John Law! There seems spread, I know not
+how, a silly rumor of the child Kate. And though I did scarce more than
+name a convent for her attendance, there are now out all manner of
+reports of Monsieur John Law's child, and&mdash;what do I say&mdash;'tis
+monstrous! I protest that I have come closer than I care into the public
+thoughts with this prodigy, this John Law, whose favor is sought by
+every one. Honor!&mdash;'tis not less than outrage!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis but argument that my brother is a person not without note.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But granted. 'We have seen his carriage at your curb,' they say. I
+insist that it is a mistake. 'But we saw him come from your door at such
+and such an hour.' If he came, 'twas but for meeting such answer as I
+have always given him. Will they never believe&mdash;will your brother
+himself never believe that, though did he have, as he himself says, all
+France in the hollow of his hand, he could be nothing to me? Now I will
+make an end to this. I will leave Paris.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Madam, you might not be allowed to go.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What! I not allowed to go! And what would hinder a Knollys of Banbury
+from going when the hour shall arrive?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The regent.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And why the regent?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Because of my brother.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Your brother!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Assuredly. My brother is to-day king of Paris. If he liked he could
+keep you prisoner in Paris. My brother does as he chooses. He could
+abolish Parliament to-morrow if he chose. My brother can do all
+things&mdash;except to win from you, Lady Catharine, one word of kindness, of
+respect. Now, then, he has come to the end. He told me to come to you
+and bear his word. He told me to say to you that this is the last time
+he will importune, the last time that he will implore. Oh, Lady
+Catharine! Once before I carried to you a message from John Law&mdash;from
+John Law, not in distress then more than he is now, even in this hour of
+his success.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lady Catharine paled as she sank back into her seat. Her white hand
+caught at the lace at her throat. Her eyes grew dark in their emotion.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, Madam,&quot; went on Will Law, tears shining in his own eyes, &quot;'twas I,
+an unfaithful messenger, who, by an error, wrought ruin for my brother
+and for yourself, even as I did for myself. Madam, hear me! I would be a
+better messenger to-day.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lady Catharine sat still silent, her bosom heaving, her eyes gone wide
+and straining.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I have seen my brother weep,&quot; said Will, going on impulsively. &quot;I have
+seen him walk the floor at night, have heard him cry out to himself.
+They call him crazed. Indeed he is crazed. Yet 'tis but for one word
+from you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir,&quot; said Lady Catharine, struggling to gain self-control, and in
+spite of herself softened by this appeal, &quot;you speak well.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;If I do, 'tis but because I am the mouth-piece of a man who all his
+life has sought to speak the truth; who has sought&mdash;yes, I say to you
+even now, Lady Catharine&mdash;who has sought always to live the truth. This
+I say in spite of all that we both know.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>There came no reply from the woman, who sat still looking at him, not
+yet moved by the voice of the proxy as she might then have been by the
+voice of that proxy's principal. Vehemently the young man, ordinarily so
+timid and diffident, approached her.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Look you!&quot; exclaimed he. &quot;If my brother said he could lay France at
+your feet, by heaven! he can well-nigh do so now. See! Here are some of
+the properties he has lately purchased in the realm of France. The
+Marquisat d'Effiat&mdash;'tis worth eight hundred thousand livres; the estate
+of Rivière&mdash;worth nine hundred thousand livres; the estate of
+Roissy&mdash;worth six hundred and fifty thousand livres; the estates of
+Berville, of Fontaine, of Yville, of Gerponville, of Tancarville, of
+Guermande&mdash;the tale runs near a score! Lately my brother has purchased
+the H&ocirc;tel Mazarin, and the property at Rue Vivienne, paying for them one
+million two hundred thousand livres. He has other city properties,
+houses in Paris, estates here and there, running not into the hundreds
+of thousands, but into the millions of livres in actual value. Among
+these are some of the estates of the greatest nobles of France. Their
+value is more than any man can compute. Is this not something? Moreover,
+there goes with it all the dignity of the most stupendous personal
+success ever made by a single man since the world began. 'Tis all yours,
+Lady Catharine. And unless you share it, it has no value to my brother.
+I know myself that he will fling it all away, calling it worthless,
+since he can not have that greatest fortune which he craves!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sirrah, I have entertained much speech of both yourself and your
+brother, because I would not seem ungracious nor forgetful. Yet this
+paying of court by means of figures, by virtue of lists of estates&mdash;do
+you not know how ineffectual this must seem?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;If you could but understand!&quot; cried Will. &quot;If you could but believe
+that there is none on earth values these less than my brother. Under
+all this he has yet greater dreams. His ambition is to awaken an old
+world and to build a new one. By heaven! Lady Catharine, I am asked to
+speak for my brother, and so I shall! These are his ambitions. First of
+all, Lady Catharine, you. Second, America. Third, a people for
+America&mdash;a people who may hope! Oh, I admit all the folly of his life.
+He played deep, yet 'twas but to forget you. He drank, but 'twas to
+forget you. Foolish he was, as are all men. Now he succeeds, and finds
+he can not forget you. I have told you his ambitions, Madam, and though
+others may never know nor acknowledge them, you, at least, must do so.
+And I beg you to remember, Madam, that of all his ambitions, 'twas you,
+Lady Catharine, your favor, your kindness, your mercy, that made his
+first and chief desire.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;As for that,&quot; said the woman, somewhat scornfully, &quot;if you please, I
+had rather I received my protestations direct; and your brother knows I
+forbid him further protestations. He has, it is true, raised some
+considerable noise by way of enterprises. That I might know, even did I
+not see this horde of dukes and duchesses and princes of the blood,
+clamoring for the recognition of even his remotest friends. I know,
+too, that he is accepted as a hero by the people.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And well he may be. Coachmen and valets have liveries of their own
+these days. Servants now eat from plate, and clerks have their own
+coaches. Paris is packed with people, and, look you, they are people no
+longer clamoring for bread. Who has done this? Why, my brother, John Law
+of Lauriston, Lady Catharine, who loves you, and loves you dearly.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The old wrinkle of perplexity gathered between the brows of the woman
+before him. Her face was clouded, the changeful eyes now deep covered by
+their lids.</p>
+
+<p>Lacking the precise word for that crucial moment, Will Law broke further
+on into material details. &quot;To be explicit, as I have said,&quot; resumed he,
+&quot;everything seems to center about my brother, the director-general of
+finance. He took the old notes of the government, worth not half their
+face, and in a week made them treble their face value. The king owes him
+over one hundred million livres to-day. My brother has taken over the
+farming of the royal taxes. And now he forms a little Company of the
+Indies; and to this he adds the charter of the Senegal Company. Not
+content, he adds the entire trade of the Indies, of China and the South
+Seas. He has been given the privilege of the royal farming of tobacco,
+for which he pays the king the little trifle of two hundred million
+livres, and assures to the king certain interest moneys, which, I need
+not say, the king will actually obtain. In addition to these things, he
+has lately been given the mint of France. The whole coinage of the realm
+has been made over to this Company of the Indies. My brother pays the
+king fifty million livres for this privilege, and this he will do within
+fifteen months. All France is indeed in the hands of my brother. Now,
+call John Law an adventurer, a gambler, if you will, and if you can; but
+at least admit that he has given life and hope to the poor of France,
+that he has given back to the king a people which was despoiled and
+ruined by the former king. He has trebled the trade of France, he has
+saved her honor, and opened to her the avenues of a new world. Are these
+things nothing? They have all been done by my brother, this man whom you
+believe incapable of faith and constancy. Good God! It surely seems that
+he has at least been constant to himself!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, I hear talk of it all. I hear that a share in the new company
+promises dividends of two hundred livres. I hear talk of shares and
+'sub-shares,' called 'mothers,' and 'daughters,' and 'granddaughters,'
+and I know not what. It seems as though half the coin were divided into
+centimes, and as though each centime had been planted by your brother
+and had grown to be worth a thousand pounds. I admit somewhat of
+knowledge of these miracles.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;True, Lady Catharine. Can there not be one miracle more?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lady Catharine Knollys bent her face forward upon her hands, unhappiness
+in every gesture.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir,&quot; said she, &quot;it grieves my heart to say it; yet this answer you
+must take to your brother, John Law. That miracle hath not yet been
+wrought which can give us back the past again.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;This,&quot; said Will Law, sadly, &quot;is this all the message I may take?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It is all.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Though it is the last?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It is the last.&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='BOOK_III_CHAPTER_VIII'></a><h3>CHAPTER VIII</h3>
+
+<h4>THE LITTLE SUPPER OF THE REGENT</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>Paris, city of delights, Paris drunk with gold, mad with the delirium of
+excesses, Paris with no aim except joy, no method but extravagance, held
+within her gilded gates one citadel of sensuality which remained ever an
+object of mystery, a source of curiosity even in that dissipated and
+pleasure-sated city. In the Palais Royal, back of the regally beautiful
+gardens, back of the noble rows of trees, beyond the gates of iron and
+the guards in uniform, lived France's regent, in a city of libertines
+the prince of libertines. In a city where there were more mistresses
+than wives, he it was who led the list of the licentious. In a city of
+unregulated vice and yet of exquisitely ordered taste, he it was who
+accorded to himself daily pleasures which were admittedly beyond
+approach. How unspeakably unbridled, how delightfully wicked, how
+temptingly ingenious in their features the little suppers of the regent
+might be&mdash;these were matters of curious interest to all, of intimate
+knowledge to but few.</p>
+
+<p>It was to one of these famous yet mysterious gatherings that the regent
+of France had invited the master of that great and glittering bubble
+house, wherein dwelt so insecurely the affairs of France. John Law,
+director-general of the finances, controller of the Company of the
+Indies, was chosen by Philippe of Orl&eacute;ans for a position not granted to
+the crafty Dubois or to the shrewd D'Argenson, the last of that strange
+trinity who made his council. John Law, gallant, graceful, owner of a
+reputation as wit and beau scarce behind that of his sudden fame as
+financier, was admitted not only to the business affairs of the gay
+duke, but to his pleasures as well. To him and his brother Will, still
+associated in large measure in the stupendous operations of the
+director-general, there came the invitation of the regent, practically
+the command of the king, to join the regent after the opera for a little
+supper at the Palais Royal.</p>
+
+<p>Law would have excused himself from this unsought honor. &quot;Your Grace
+will observe,&quot; said he, &quot;that my time is occupied to the full. The
+people scarcely suffer me to rest at night. Perhaps your Grace might not
+care for company so dull as mine.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Fie! my friend, my very good friend,&quot; replied Philippe. &quot;Have you
+become <i>d&eacute;vot?</i> Whence this sudden change? Consider; 'tis no hardship to
+meet such ladies as Madame de Sabran, or Madame de Prie&mdash;designer
+though I fear De Prie is for the domestic felicity of the youthful
+king&mdash;nor indeed my good friend, La Parab&egrave;re, somewhat pale and pensive
+though she groweth. And what shall I say for Madame de Tencin, the
+<i>spirituelle</i>, who is to be with us; or Madame de Caylus, niece of
+Maintenon, but the very opposite of Maintenon in every possible way?
+Moreover, we are promised the attendance of Mademoiselle A&iuml;ss&eacute;. She hath
+become devout of late, and thinks it a sin even to powder her hair, but
+A&iuml;ss&eacute; devout is none the less A&iuml;ss&eacute; the beautiful.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Surely your Grace hath never lacked in excellent taste, and that is the
+talk of Paris,&quot; replied Law.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, well, long training bringeth perfection in due time,&quot; replied
+Philippe of Orl&eacute;ans, composedly, it having no ill effect with him to
+call attention to his numerous intrigues. &quot;It should hardly be called a
+poor privilege, after all, to witness the results of that highly
+cultivated taste, as it shall be displayed this evening, not to mention
+the privilege you will have of meeting one or two other gentlemen; and
+lastly, of course, myself, if you be not tired of such company.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Your Grace,&quot; replied Law, &quot;you both honor and flatter me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, sir, you speak as if this were a new experience for you. Now, in
+the days&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis true; but of late years I have grown grave in the cares of state,
+as your Grace may know.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And most efficiently,&quot; replied the regent. &quot;But stay! I have kept until
+the last my main attraction. You shall witness there, I give you my
+word, the making public of the secret of the fair unknown who is reputed
+to have been especially kind to Philippe of Orl&eacute;ans for these some
+months past. Join us at the little enterprise, my friend, and you shall
+see, I promise you, the most beautiful woman in Paris, crowned with the
+greatest gem of all the world. The regent's diamond, that great gem
+which you have made possible for France, shall, for the first time, and
+for one evening at least, adorn the forehead of the regent's queen of
+beauty!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>As the gay words of the regent fell upon his ears, there came into Law's
+heart a curious tension, a presentiment, a feeling as though some great
+and curious thing were about to happen. Yet ever the challenge of danger
+was one to draw him forward, not to hold him back. If for a moment he
+had hesitated, his mind was now suddenly resolved.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Your Grace,&quot; said he, &quot;your wish is for me command, and certainly in
+this instance is peculiarly agreeable.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;As I thought,&quot; replied the regent. &quot;Had you hesitated, I should have
+called your attention to the fact that the table of the Palais Royal is
+considered to possess somewhat of character. The Vicomte de B&eacute;chamel is
+at the very zenith of his genius, and he daily produces dishes such as
+all Paris has not ever dreamed. Moreover, we have been fortunate in some
+recent additions of most excellent <i>vin d'Ai</i>. I make no doubt, upon the
+whole, we shall find somewhat with which to occupy ourselves.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Thus it came about that, upon that evening, there gathered at the
+entrance of the Palais Royal, after an evening with Lecouvreur at the
+Th&eacute;&acirc;tre Fran&ccedil;ais, some scattered groups of persons evidently possessing
+consequence. The chairs of others, from more distant locations,
+threading their way through the narrow, dark and unlighted streets of
+the old, crude capital of France, brought their passengers in time to a
+scene far different from that of the gloomy streets.</p>
+
+<p>The little supper of the regent, arranged in the private <i>salle</i>, whose
+decorations had been devised for the special purpose, was more
+entrancing than even the glitter of the mimic world of the Th&eacute;&acirc;tre
+Fran&ccedil;ais. There extended down the center of the room, though filling but
+a small portion of its vast extent, the grand table provided for the
+banquet, a reach of snowy linen, broken at the upper end by the arm of
+an abbreviated cross. At each end of this cross-arm stood magnificent
+candelabra, repeated at intervals along the greater extension of the
+board. Noble epergnes, filled with the choicest plants, found their
+reflections in plates of glass cunningly inlaid here and there upon the
+surface of the table. Vast mirrors, framed in wreaths of roses and
+surmounted by little laughing cupids, gleamed in the walls of the room,
+and in the faces of these mirrors were reflected the beams of the
+many-colored tapers, carried in brackets of engraved gold and silver and
+many-colored glasses. The ceiling of the room was a soft mass of silken
+draperies, depending edgewise from above, thousands of yards of the most
+expensive fabrics of the world. From these, as they were gently swayed
+by the breath of invisible fans, there floated delicious, languorous
+perfumes, intoxicating to the senses. On any hand within the great room,
+removed at some distance from the table, were rich, luxurious couches
+and divans.</p>
+
+<p>As one trod within the door of this temple of the senses, surely it must
+have seemed to him that he had come into another world, which at first
+glance might have appeared to be one of an unrighteous ease, an
+unprincipled enjoyment and an unmanly abandonment to embowered vice.
+Yet here it was that Philippe of Orl&eacute;ans, ruler of France, spent those
+hours most dear to him. If he gave thought to affairs of state during
+the day it was but that these affairs of state might give to him the
+means to indulge fancies of his own. Alike shrewd and easy, alike
+haughty and sensuous, here it was that Philippe held his real court.</p>
+
+<p>These young gentlemen of France, these <i>rou&eacute;s</i> who have come to meet
+Philippe at his little supper&mdash;how different from the same beings under
+the rule of the Grand Monarque. Their coats are no longer dark in hue.
+Their silks and velvets have blossomed out, even as Paris has blossomed
+since the death of Louis the Grand. Jabots of lace are shown in full
+abundance, and so far from the abolishment of jewels from their garb,
+rubies, sapphires, diamonds sparkle everywhere, from the clasp of the
+high ruffles of the neck to the buckles of the red-heeled shoes. Powder
+sparkles on the head coverings of these new gallants of France. They
+step daintily, yet not ungracefully, into this brilliantly-lighted room,
+these creatures, gracious and resplendent, sparkling, painted,
+ephemeral, not unsuited to the place and hour.</p>
+
+<p>For the ladies, witness the attire, for instance, of that Madame de
+Tencin, the wonder of the wits of Paris. A full blue costume, with
+pannier more than five yards in circumference, under a skirt of silver
+gauze, trimmed with golden gauze and pink crape, and a train lying six
+yards upon the floor, showing silver embroideries with white roses. The
+sleeves are half-draped, as is the skirt, and each caught up with
+diamonds, showing folds lying above and below the silk underneath.
+Madame wears a necklace of rubies and of diamonds, and above the pannier
+a belt of diamonds and rubies. Her hair is dressed, following the mental
+habit of madame, in the Greek style, and abundantly trimmed with roses
+and gems and bits of silver gauze. There is a little crown upon the top
+of madame's coiffure. Her bodice, cut sufficiently low, is seen to be of
+light silken weave. From her hair depends a veil of light gauze covered
+with gold spangles, and it is secured upon the left side by a hand's
+grasp of pink and white feathers, surmounted by a magnificent heron
+plume of long and silken whiteness. The gloves of madame are white silk,
+and so also, as she is not reluctant to advise, are her stockings,
+picked out with pink and silver clocks. Her shoes, made by the
+celebrated <i>cordonnier</i>, Raveneau, show heels three inches in height. As
+madame enters she casts aside the camlet coat which has covered her
+costume. She sweeps back the veil, endangering its confining clasp of
+plumes. Madame makes a deliberate and open inspection of her face in her
+little looking-glass to discover whether her <i>mouches</i> are well placed.
+She carefully arranges the patch upon the middle of her cheek. She would
+be &quot;gallant&quot; to-night, would lay aside things <i>spirituelle</i>. She twirls
+carelessly her fan, a creation of ivory and mother of pearl, elaborately
+carved, tipped with gold and silver and set with precious stones.</p>
+
+<p>Close at the elbow of Madame de Tencin steps a figure of different type,
+a woman not accustomed to please by brilliance of mind or vivacity of
+speech, but by sheer femininity of face and form. Tall, slender, yet
+with figure divinely proportioned, this beautiful girl, Haide&eacute;, or
+Mademoiselle A&iuml;ss&eacute;, reputed to be of Turkish or Circassian birth, and
+possessed of a history as strange as her own personality is attractive,
+would seem certainly as pure as angel of the skies. Not so would say the
+gossips of Paris, who whisper that mademoiselle is not happy from her
+<i>chevalier</i>&mdash;who speak of a certain visit to England, and a little child
+born across seas and not acknowledged by its parent. A&iuml;ss&eacute;, the devout,
+the beautiful, is no better than others of her sex in this gay city.
+True, she has abandoned all artificial aids to the complexion and
+appears distinct among her flattering rivals, the clear olive of her
+skin showing in strange contrast to the heightened colors of her
+sisters. Yet A&iuml;ss&eacute;, the toast of Europe and the text of poets, proves
+herself not behind the others in the loose gaiety of this occasion.</p>
+
+<p>And there came others: Madame de Prie, later to hold such intimate
+relations with the fortunes of France in the selection of a future queen
+for the boy king; De Sabran, plain, gracious and good-natured; Parab&egrave;re,
+of delicately oval face, of tiny mouth, of thin high nose and large
+expressive eyes, her soft hair twined with a deep flushed rose, and over
+her corsage drooping a continuous garland of magnificent flowers. Also
+Caylus the wit, Caylus the friend of Peter the Great, by duty and by
+devotion a <i>religieuse</i>, but by thought and training a gay woman of the
+world&mdash;all these butterflies of the bubble house of Paris came swimming
+in as by right upon this exotic air.</p>
+
+<p>And all of these, as they advanced into the room, paused as they met,
+coming from the head of the apartment, the imposing figure of their
+host. Philippe of Orl&eacute;ans, his powdered wig drawn closely into a
+half-bag at the nape of the neck, his full eye shining with merriment
+and good nature, his soft, yet not unmanly figure appearing to good
+advantage in his well-chosen garments, advances with a certain dignity
+to meet his guests. He is garbed in a coat made of watered silk, its
+straight collar faced with dark-green material edged with gold. A green
+and gold shoulder knot sets off the garment, which is provided with
+large opal buttons set in brilliants, this same adornment appearing on
+the hilt of his sword, which he lays aside as he approaches. From the
+sides of his wig depend two carefully-arranged locks, dusted with a
+tan-colored powder. His small-clothes, of lighter hue than the coat,
+display fitly the proportions of his lower limbs. The high-heeled shoes
+blaze with the glare of reflected lights as the diamonds change their
+angles during the calm advance down the room.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Welcome, my very dear ladies,&quot; exclaimed Philippe, advancing to the
+head of the board and at once setting all at ease, if any there needed
+such encouragement, by the grace and good feeling of his air. &quot;You do me
+much honor, ladies. If I be not careful, the fair Adrienne will become
+jealous, since I fear you have deserted the pomp of the play full early
+for the table of Philippe. Ladies, as you know, I am your devoted slave.
+Myself and the Vicomte de B&eacute;chamel have labored, seriously labored, for
+your welfare this day. I promise you something of the results of those
+painstaking efforts, which we both hope will not disappoint you.
+Meantime, that the moments may not lag, let me recommend, if I am
+allowed, this new vintage of Ai, which B&eacute;chamel advises me we have
+never yet surpassed in all our efforts. Madame de Tencin, let me beg of
+you to be seated close to my arm. Not upon this side, Mademoiselle
+Haid&eacute;e, if you please, for I have been wheedled into promising that
+station this night to another. Who is it to be, my dear Caylus? Ah, that
+is my secret! Presently we shall see. Have I not promised you an
+occasion this evening? And did Philippe ever fail in his endeavors to
+please? At least, did he ever cease to strive to please his angels? Now,
+my children, accept the blessing of your father Philippe, your friend,
+who, though years may multiply upon him, retains in his heart, none the
+less, for each and all of you, those sentiments of passion and of
+admiration which constitute for him his dearest memories! Ladies, I pray
+you be seated. I pray you tarry not too long before proving the judgment
+of B&eacute;chamel in regard to this new vintage of Ai.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah, your Grace,&quot; exclaimed De Tencin, &quot;were it not Philippe of Orl&eacute;ans,
+we women might not be apt to sit in peace together. Yet, as we have
+earlier proved your hospitality, we may perhaps not scruple to
+continue.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Philippe smiled blandly. The remark was not ill-fitted to the actual
+case. Though the regent counted his sweethearts by scores, he dismissed
+the one with the same air of interest as he welcomed the other, and
+indeed ended by retaining all as his friends.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Madame de Tencin, in admiration there can be no degrees,&quot; said he. &quot;In
+love there can be no rank.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, then, do you place as your chief guest this other, this unknown?&quot;
+pouted Mademoiselle A&iuml;ss&eacute;, as she seated herself, turning upon her host
+the radiance of her large, dark eyes. &quot;Is this stranger, then, so
+passing fair?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Not so fair as you, my lovely Haid&eacute;e, that I may swear, and safely,
+since she is not yet present. Yet I announce to you that she is <i>tr&egrave;s
+int&eacute;ressante</i>, my unknown queen of beauty, my <i>belle sauvage</i> from
+America. But see! Here she comes. 'Tis time for her to appear, and not
+keep our guests in waiting.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>There sounded at the back of the great hall the tinkle of a little bell
+of some soft metal. It approached, and with it the sweeping stir of
+heavy silken garb. The door opened, admitting a still greater blaze of
+light, and there swept into the hall, as though swimming upon the flood
+of this added brilliance, a figure striking enough to arouse attention
+even at that time and place, even among the beauties of the court of
+France. There advanced, calm and stately, with the gliding ease of a
+perfect carriage, the figure of a woman, slender, with full bright eyes
+and somber hair&mdash;so much might be seen at a glance. Yet the newcomer
+left somewhat of query in the mind of womankind accustomed to view in
+detail any costume.</p>
+
+<p>The stranger was enveloped in a wide and undefining garment, a sweeping
+robe fit for any duchess of the realm, whose flowing folds showed a
+magnificent tissue of silver embroidery covered with golden flowers,
+below the plum-color and green. The high corsage of the white robe
+covered the bosom fully, and was caught at the throat with a bunch of
+blazing jewels. Under these soft draperies, tinkling in time with the
+movements of an otherwise noiseless tread, there sounded ever the faint
+note of the little bell. At the toe of shoes otherwise silent, there
+peeped in and out the flash of diamonds, and in the dark masses of her
+hair, shifting as she trod beneath each new sconce in turn, and catching
+more and more brilliance as she advanced, there smoldered the flame of a
+mass of scintillating gems. A queen's raiment was that of this unknown
+beauty, and she herself might have been a queen as she swept down the
+great hall, scornfully careless of the eyes of those other beauties.</p>
+
+<p>She stepped to the place at the regent's right hand, with head high and
+eyes undrooping. For a dramatic instant she paused, as though in the
+rehearsal of a part&mdash;a part of which it might be said that the regent
+was not alone the author. This triumph of woman over other women, this
+triumph of vice over other vice, of effrontery over effrontery
+akin&mdash;this could not have been so planned and executed by any but a
+woman. One another these beauties might tolerate, knowing one another's
+frailties as they did; yet the elegance, the disdain, the indifference
+of this newcomer&mdash;this they could not support. Hatred sat in the bosom
+of each woman there as she swept her courtesy to the new guest of the
+regent, who took her place as of right at the head of the board and near
+the regent's arm.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Our gentlemen are somewhat late this evening,&quot; exclaimed Philippe.
+&quot;'Tis too bad the Abb&eacute; Dubois could not be with us to-night to
+administer clerical consolation.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah! <i>le dr&ocirc;le</i> Dubois!&quot; exclaimed Madame de Tencin.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And that vagabond, the Due de Richelieu&mdash;but we may not wait. Again
+ladies, the glasses, or B&eacute;chamel will be aggrieved. And finally, though
+I perceive most of you have graciously unmasked, let me say that the
+moment has now arrived when we make plain all secrets.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He turned his gaze upon the woman at his right. As though at a signal,
+she half rose, unclasped the circlet of gems at her throat, and swept
+back across the arm of her chair the soft garment which enveloped her.</p>
+
+<p>A sigh, a long breath of amazement broke from those other dames of
+Paris. Not one of them but was sated with the blaze of diamonds, the
+rich, red light of rubies and the fathomless radiance of sapphires.
+Silks and satins and cloth of gold and silver had few novelties for
+them. The costumers of Paris, center of the world of art, even in those
+times of unrivaled extravagance and unbridled self-gratification, held
+no new surprise for these beauties, possessed so long of all that their
+imagination required or that princely liberality could supply. Yet here
+indeed was a surprise.</p>
+
+<p>As she stood at the regent's right, calmly and composedly looking down
+the long board as she arranged her drapery before reseating herself,
+this new favorite of the regent appeared in the full costume of the
+American native! A long soft tunic of exquisitely dressed white leather
+fell below her hips, intricately embroidered in the native bead work of
+America, and stained with great blotches of colors done in the quills of
+the porcupine&mdash;heavy reds, sprightly yellows, and deep blues. Down the
+seams of this loose-fitting tunic depended little waving fringes. The
+belt which caught it at the waist was wrought likewise in beads. Beneath
+the level of the table, as she stood, the inquiring eyes might not so
+clearly see; yet the white leggings, fringed and beaded, and covered by
+a sweeping blanket of snowy buckskin, might have been seen to finish at
+the ankle and blend in texture and ornamentation with tiny shoes, which
+covered the smallest foot yet seen in Paris&mdash;shoes at the side of which
+there dangled the little bells of metal whose tones had told her coming.</p>
+
+<p>Here and there upon the bead work of the native artist, who had made
+this attire at the expense of so much patient effort, there blazed the
+changing rays of real gems, diamonds, rubies, emeralds&mdash;every stone
+known as precious. As the full bosom of the scornful beauty rose and
+fell there were cast about in sprays of light the reflections of these
+gems. Bracelets of dull, beaten metal hung about her wrists. In her hair
+were ornaments of some dull blue stone. Barbaric, beautiful,
+fascinating, savage she surely seemed as she met unruffled the startled
+gaze of these beautiful women of the court, who never, at even the most
+fanciful <i>bal masque</i> in all Paris, had seen costume like to this.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ladies, <i>la voil&agrave;!</i>&quot; spoke the regent. &quot;<i>Ma belle sauvage!</i>&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The newcomer swept a careless courtesy as she took her seat. As yet she
+had spoken no word. The door at the lower end of the hall opened.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;His Grace le Duc de Richelieu,&quot; announced the attendant, who stood
+beneath the board.</p>
+
+<p>There advanced into the room, with slouchy, ill-bred carriage, a young
+man whose sole reputation was that of being the greatest rake in Paris,
+the Duc de Richelieu, half-gamin, half-nobleman, who counted more
+victims among titled ladies than he had fingers on his hands, whose sole
+concern of living was to plan some new impassioned avowal, some new and
+pitiless abandonment. This creature, meeting the salute of the regent,
+and catching at the same moment a view of the regent's guest, found eyes
+for nothing else, and stood boldly gazing at the face of her whom Paris
+knew for the first time and under no more definite title than that of
+&quot;<i>Belle Sauvage</i>.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Pray you, be seated, Monsieur le Duc,&quot; said the regent, calmly, and the
+latter was wise enough to comply.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Your Grace,&quot; said Madame de Sabran, &quot;was it not understood that we were
+to meet to-night none less than the wizard, Monsieur L'as?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Monsieur L'as will be with us, and his brother,&quot; replied Philippe.
+&quot;But now I ask you to bear witness to the shrewdness of your friend
+Philippe in entertainment. I bethought me that, as we were to have with
+us the master of the Messasebe, it were well to have with us also the
+typified genius of that same Messasebe. 'Twas but a little conceit of my
+own. And why&mdash;<i>mon enfant</i>, what is it to you? What do you know of our
+controller of finance?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The face of the woman at his right had suddenly gone white with a pallor
+visible even beneath its rouge and patches. She half turned, as though
+to push back her chair from the board, would have arisen, would have
+spoken perhaps; yet act and gesture were at the time unnoticed.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;His Excellency, Monsieur Jean L'as, <i>le contr&ocirc;leur-g&eacute;n&eacute;ral</i>,&quot; came the
+soft tones of the attendant near the door. &quot;Monsieur Guillaume L'as,
+brother of the <i>contr&ocirc;leur-g&eacute;n&eacute;ral</i>.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The eyes of all were turned toward the door. Every petted belle of
+Paris there assembled shifted bodily in her seat, turning her gaze upon
+that man whose reputation was the talk of all the realm of France.</p>
+
+<p>There appeared now the tall, erect and vigorous form of a man owning a
+superb physical beauty. Powerful, yet not too heavy for ease, his figure
+retained that elasticity and grace which had won him favor in more than
+one court of Europe. He himself might have been king as he advanced
+steadily up the brilliantly-illuminated room. His costume, simply made,
+yet of the richest materials of the time; his wig, highly powdered
+though of modest proportions; his every item of apparel appeared alike
+of great simplicity and barren of pretentiousness. As much might be said
+for the garb of his brother, who stepped close behind him, a figure less
+self-contained than that of the man who now occupied the absorbed
+attention of the public mind, even as he now filled the eager eyes of
+those who turned to greet his entrance.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah, Monsieur L'as, Monsieur L'as!&quot; exclaimed Philippe of Orl&eacute;ans,
+stepping forward to welcome him and taking the hand of Law in both his
+own. &quot;You are welcome, you are very welcome indeed. The soup will be
+with us presently, and the wine of Ai is with us now. You and your
+brother are with us; so all at last is well. These ladies are, as I
+believe, all within your acquaintance. You have been present at the
+<i>salon</i> of Madame de Tencin. You know her Grace the Duchesse de Falari,
+recently Madame d'Artague? Mademoiselle de Caylus you know very well,
+and of course also Mademoiselle A&iuml;ss&eacute;, <i>la belle Circassienne</i>&mdash;But
+what? <i>Diable!</i> Have you too gone mad? Come, is the sight of my guest
+too much for you also, Monsieur L'as?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>There was irritation in the tone with which the regent uttered this
+protest, yet he continued.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Monsieur L'as, 'tis but a little surprise I had planned for you.
+Mademoiselle, my princess of the Messasebe, let me present Monsieur Jean
+L'as, king of the Messasebe, and hence your sovereign! This is my fair
+unknown, whose face I have promised you should see to-night&mdash;this,
+Monsieur L'as, is my princess, the one whom I have seen fit to honor
+this evening by the wearing of the chief gem of France.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The regent fumbled for an instant at his fob. He stepped to the side of
+the faltering figure which stood arrayed in all its savage finery. One
+movement, and upon the dark locks which fell about her brow there blazed
+the unspeakable fires of a stone whose magnificence brought forth
+exclamations of awe from every person present.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;See!&quot; cried Philippe of Orl&eacute;ans. &quot;'Twas on the advice and by the aid of
+Monsieur L'as that I secured the gem, whose like is not known in all the
+world. 'Tis chief of the crown jewels of the realm of France, this
+stone, now to be known as the regent's diamond. And now, as regent of
+France and master for a day of her jewels, I place this gem upon the
+brow of her who for this night is to be your queen of beauty!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The wine of Ai had already done part of its work. There were brightened
+eyes, easy gestures and ready compliance as the guests arose to quaff
+the toast to this new queen.</p>
+
+<p>As for the queen herself, she stood faltering, her eyes averted, her
+limbs trembling. John Law, tall, calm, self-possessed, did not take his
+seat, but stood with set, fixed face, gazing at the woman who held the
+place of honor at the table of the regent.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Come! Come!&quot; cried the latter, testily, his wine working in his brain.
+&quot;Why stand you there, Monsieur L'as, gazing as though spellbound?
+Salute, sir, as I do, the chief gem of France, and her who is most fit
+to wear it!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>John Law stood, as though he had not heard him speak. There swept
+through the softly brilliant air, over the flash and glitter of the
+great banquet board, across the little group which stood about it, a
+sudden sense of a strange, tense, unfamiliar situation. There came to
+all a presentiment of some unusual thing about to happen. Instinctively
+the hands paused, even as they raised the bright and brimming glasses.
+The eyes of all turned from one to the other, from the stern-faced man
+to the woman decked in barbaric finery, who now stood trembling,
+drooping, at the head of the table.</p>
+
+<p>Law for a moment removed his gaze from the face of the regent's guest.
+He flicked lightly at the deep cuff of lace which hung about his hands.
+&quot;Your Grace is not far wrong,&quot; said he. &quot;I regret that you do not have
+your way in planning for me a surprise. Yet I must say to you, that I
+have already met this lady.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What?&quot; cried the regent. &quot;You have met her? Impossible! Incredible!
+How, Monsieur L'as? We will admit you wizard enough, and owner of the
+philosopher's stone&mdash;owner of anything you like, except this secret of
+mine own. According to mademoiselle's own words, it would have been
+impossible.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;None the less, what I have said is true,&quot; said John Law, calmly, his
+voice even and well-modulated, vibrating a little, yet showing no trace
+of anger nor of emotional uncontrol.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But I tell you it could not be!&quot; again exclaimed the regent.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No, it is impossible,&quot; broke in the young Duc de Richelieu. &quot;I would
+swear that had such beauty ever set foot in Paris before now, the news
+would so have spread that all France had been at her feet.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Law looked at the impudent youth with a gaze that seemed to pass
+through him, seeing him not. Then suddenly this scene and its
+significance, its ultimate meaning seemed to take instant hold upon him.
+He could feel rising within his soul a flood of irresistible emotions.
+All at once his anger, heritage of an impetuous youth, blazed up hot and
+furious. He trod a step farther forward, after his fashion advancing
+close to that which threatened him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;This lady, your Grace,&quot; said he, &quot;has been known to me for years. Mary
+Connynge, what do you masquerading here?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>A sudden silence fell, a silence broken at length by the voice of the
+regent himself.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Surely, Monsieur L'as,&quot; said Philippe, &quot;surely we must accept your
+statements. But Monsieur must remember that this is the table of the
+regent, that these are the friends of the regent. We bring no
+recollections here which shall cut short the joy of any person. Sir, I
+would not reprimand you, but I must beg that you be seated and be calm!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Yet the imperious nature of the other brooked not even so pointed a
+rebuke. As though he had not heard, Law stepped yet a pace nearer to the
+woman, upon whom he now bent the blaze of his angered eyes. He looked
+neither to right nor left, but visually commanded the woman until in
+turn her eyes sought his own.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;This woman, your Grace,&quot; said Law, at length, &quot;was for some time in
+effect my wife. This I do not offer as matter of interest. What I would
+say to your Grace is this&mdash;she was also my slave!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sirrah!&quot; cried the regent.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah, Dame!&quot; exclaimed the Duc de Richelieu. And even from the women
+about there came little murmurs of expostulation. Indeed there might
+have been pity, even in this assemblage, for the agony now visible upon
+the brow of Mary Connynge.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Monsieur, the wine has turned your head,&quot; said the regent scornfully.
+&quot;You boast!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I boast of nothing,&quot; cried Law, savagely, his voice now ringing with a
+tone none present had ever known it to assume. &quot;I say to you again, this
+woman was my slave, and that she will again do as I shall choose. Your
+Grace, she would come and wipe the dust from my shoes if I should
+command it! She would kneel at my feet, and beg of me, if I should
+command it! Shall I prove this, your Grace?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, assuredly!&quot; replied the regent, with a sarcasm which now seemed his
+only relief. &quot;Assuredly, if Monsieur L'as should please. We here in
+Paris are quite his humble servants.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Law said nothing. He stood with his biting blue eyes still fixed upon
+Mary Connynge, whose own eyes faltered, trying their utmost to escape
+from his; whose fingers, resting just lightly on the snowy Hollands of
+the table cloth, moved tremulously; whose limbs appeared ready to sink
+beneath her.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Come, then, Mary Connynge!&quot; cried Law at last, his teeth setting
+savagely together. &quot;Come, then, traitress and slave, and kneel before
+me, as you did once before!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Then there ensued a strange and horrible spectacle. A hush as of death
+fell upon the group. Mary Connynge, trembling, halting, yet always
+advancing, did indeed as her master had bidden! She passed from the head
+of the table, back of the chair of the regent, who stood gazing with
+horror in his eyes; she passed the chair of A&iuml;ss&eacute;, near which Law now
+stood; she paused in front of him, and stood as though in a dream. Her
+knees would have indeed sunk beneath her. She drew from her bosom a
+silken kerchief, as though she would indeed have performed the ignoble
+service which had been threatened for her. There came neither voice nor
+motion to those who saw this thing. The sheer force of one strong
+nature, terrible in the intensity of one supreme moment&mdash;this might have
+been the spell which commanded at the table of the regent. Yet this did
+occur.</p>
+
+<p>There came a sound which broke the silence, which caused all to start as
+with swift relief. A sob, short, dry, hard, as from one whose heart is
+broken, came from beyond the place where Law stood facing the trembling
+woman. The eyes of all turned upon Will Law, from whom had burst this
+irrepressible exclamation of agony. Will Law, as one grown swiftly old,
+haggard, broken-down, stood gazing in wide-eyed horror at this woman, so
+humiliated in the presence of all in this brilliantly-lighted hall;
+before the blazing mirrors which should have reflected back naught but
+beauty and joy; under the twining roses, which should have been the
+signs manual of undying love; under the smiling cherubs, which should
+have typified the deities of happy love. Will Law, too, had loved.
+Perhaps still he loved.</p>
+
+<p>This sharp sound served to break also the spell under which Law himself
+seemed held. He cast aloft his arms, as in remorse or in despair. Then
+he extended a hand to the woman who would have sunk before him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;God forgive me! Madam,&quot; he cried. &quot;I had forgot. Savage indeed you are
+and have been, but 'tis not for me to treat you brutally.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Your Grace,&quot; said he, turning toward the regent, &quot;I crave your
+pardon. Our explanations shall reach you on the morrow.&quot;</p>
+
+<center>
+<img src="images/img4.jpg" height="384" width="300"
+alt="Illustration">
+</center>
+
+<p>He turned, and taking his brother by the arm, advanced toward the door
+at which he had recently entered, pausing not to look behind him. Had
+his eye been more curious as he and his half-fainting brother bowed
+before passing through the door, it might have seen that which he must
+long have borne in memory.</p>
+
+<p>Mary Connynge, trembling, pallid, utterly broken, never found her way
+back to the right hand of the regent. She half stumbled into a chair
+near the foot of the table. Her bosom fluttered at the base of the
+throat. Half blindly she reached out her hand toward a glass of wine
+which stood near by, foaming and sparkling, its gem-like drops of keen
+pungency swimming continuously up to the surface. Her hand caught at the
+slender stem of the glass. Leaning upon her left arm, she half rose as
+though to put it to her lips. Her head moved, as though she would follow
+the retreating figure of the man who had thus scornfully used her. All
+at once, slowly, and then with a sudden crash, she sank down upon her
+seat and fell forward across the table. The fragile glass snapped in her
+fingers. The amber wine rushed in swift flood across the linen. In the
+broadening stain there fell and lay blazing the great gem of France.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='BOOK_III_CHAPTER_IX'></a><h3>CHAPTER IX</h3>
+
+<h4>THE NEWS</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>&quot;Lady Kitty! Lady Kitty! Have you heard the news?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Thus, breathless, the Countess of Warrington, Lady Catharine's English
+neighbor in exile, who burst into the drawing-room early in the morning,
+not waiting for announcement of her presence.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Nay, not yet, my dear,&quot; said Lady Catharine, advancing and embracing
+her. &quot;What is it, pray? Has the poodle swallowed a bone, or the baby
+perhaps cut another tooth? And, forsooth, how is the little one?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lady Emily Warrington, slender, elegant, well clad, and for the most
+part languorously calm, was in a state of excitement quite without her
+customary <i>aplomb</i>. She sank into a seat, fanning herself with a vigor
+which threatened ruin to the precious slats of a fan which bore the
+handiwork of Watteau.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The streets are full of it,&quot; said she. &quot;Have you not heard, really?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I must say, not yet. But what is it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, the quarrel between the regent and his director-general, Mr.
+Law.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No, I have not heard of it.&quot; Lady Catharine sought refuge behind her
+own fan. &quot;But tell me&quot; she continued.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But that is not all. 'Twas the reason for the quarrel. Paris is all
+agog. 'Twas about a woman!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You mean&mdash;there was&mdash;a woman?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, it all happened last night, at the Palais Royal. The woman is
+dead&mdash;died last night. 'Tis said she fell in a fit at the very
+table&mdash;'twas at a little supper given by the regent&mdash;and that when they
+came to her she was quite dead.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But Mr. Law&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Twas he that killed her!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Good God! What mean you?&quot; cried Lady Catharine, her own face blanching
+behind her protecting fan. The blood swept back upon her heart, leaving
+her cold as a statue.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why,&quot; continued the caller, in her own excitement to tell the news
+scarce noting what went on before her, &quot;it seems that this mysterious
+beauty of the regent's, of whom there has been so much talk, proved to
+be none other than a former mistress of this same Mr. Law, who is
+reputed to have been somewhat given to that sort of thing, though of
+late monstrous virtuous, for some cause or other. Mr. Law came suddenly
+upon her at the table of the regent, arrayed in some kind of savage
+finery&mdash;for 'twas in fashion a mask that evening, as you must know. And
+what doth my director-general do, so high and mighty? Why, in spite of
+the regent and in spite of all those present, he upbraids her, taunts
+her, reviles her, demanding that she fall on her knees before him, as it
+seems indeed she would have done&mdash;as, forsooth, half the dames of Paris
+would do to-day! Then, all of a sudden, my Lord Director changes, and he
+craves pardon of the woman and of the regent, and so stalks off and
+leaves the room! And now then the poor creature walks to the table,
+would lift a glass of wine, and so&mdash;'tis over! 'Twas like a play! Indeed
+all Paris is like a play nowadays. Of course you know the rest.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>A gesture of negative came from the hand that lay in Lady Catharine's
+lap. The busy gossip went on.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The regent, be sure, was angry enough at this cheapening of his own
+wares before all, and perhaps 'tis true he had a fancy for the woman. At
+any rate, 'tis said that this very morning he quarreled hotly with Mr.
+Law. The latter gave back words hot as he received, and so they had it
+violent enough. 'Tis stated on the Quinquempoix that another must take
+Mr. Law's place. But if Mr. Law goes, what will become of the System?
+And what would the System be without Mr. Law? And what would Paris be
+without the System? Why, listen, Lady Catharine! I gained fifty thousand
+livres yesterday, and my coachman, the rascal, in some manner seems to
+have done quite as well for himself. I doubt not he will yet build a
+mansion of his own, and perhaps my husband may drive for him! These be
+strange days indeed. I only hope they may continue, in spite of what my
+husband says.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And what says he?&quot; asked Lady Catharine, her own voice sounding to her
+unfamiliar and far away.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, that the city is mad, and that this soon must end&mdash;this
+Mississippi bubble, as my Lord Stair calls it at the embassy.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yet I have heard all France is prosperous.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, yes indeed. 'Tis said that but yesterday the kingdom paid four
+millions of its debt to Bavaria, three millions of its debt to
+Sweden&mdash;yet these are not the most pressing debts of France.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Meaning&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, the debts of the regent to his friends&mdash;those are the important
+things. But the other day he gave eighty thousand livres to Madame
+Ch&acirc;teauthiers, as a little present. He gave two hundred thousand livres
+to the Abb&eacute; Something-or-other, who asked for it, and another thousand
+livres to that rat Dubois. The thief D'Argenson ever counsels him to
+give in abundance now that he hath abundance, and the regent is ready
+with a vengeance with his compliance. Saint Simon, that priggish duke,
+has had a million given him to repay a debt his father took on for the
+king a generation ago. To the captain of the guard the regent gives six
+hundred thousand livres, for carrying the fan of the regent's forgotten
+wife; to the Prince Courtenay, two hundred thousand, most like because
+the prince said he had need of it; a pension of two hundred thousand
+annually to the Marquise de Bellefonte, the second such sum, because
+perhaps she once made eyes at him; a pension of sixty thousand livres to
+a three-year-old relative to the Prince de Conti, because Conti cried
+for it; one hundred thousand livres to Mademoiselle Haid&eacute;e, because she
+has a consumption; and as much more to the Duchesse de Falari, because
+she has not a consumption. Bah! The credit of France might indeed, as my
+husband says, be called leaking through the slats of fans.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But, look you!&quot; she went on, &quot;how Mr. Law feathers his own nest. He
+bought lately, for a half million livres, the house of the Comte de
+Tesse; and on the same day, as you know, the H&ocirc;tel Mazarin. There is no
+limit to his buying of estates. This, so says my husband, is the great
+proof of his honesty. He puts his money here in France, and does not
+send it over seas. He seems to have no doubt, and indeed no fear, of
+anything.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lady Warrington paused, half for want of breath. Silence fell in the
+great room. A big and busy fly, deep down in the crystal <i>cylindre</i>
+which sheltered a taper on a near-by table, buzzed out a droning
+protest. The face of Lady Catharine was averted.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You did not tell me, Lady Emily,&quot; said she, with woman's feigned
+indifference, &quot;what was the name of this poor woman of the other
+evening.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, so I had forgot&mdash;and 'tis said that Mr. Law, after all, comported
+himself something of the gentleman. No one knows how far back the affair
+runs, nor how serious it was. And indeed I have seen no one who ever
+heard of the woman before.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And the name?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Twas said Mr. Law called her Mary Connynge.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The big fly, deep down in the crystal cage, buzzed on audibly; and to
+one who heard it, the drone of the lazy wings seemed like the roars of a
+thousand tempests.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='BOOK_III_CHAPTER_X'></a><h3>CHAPTER X</h3>
+
+<h4>MASTER AND MAN</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>John Law, idle, preoccupied, sat gazing out at the busy scenes of the
+street before him. The room in which he found himself was one of a suite
+in that magnificent H&ocirc;tel de Soisson, bought but recently of the Prince
+de Carignan for the sum of one million four hundred thousand livres,
+which had of late been chosen as the temple of Fortuna. The great
+gardens of this distinguished site were now filled with hundreds of
+tents and kiosks, which offered quarters for the wild mob of speculators
+which surged and swirled and fought throughout the narrow avenues,
+contending for the privilege of buying the latest issue of the priceless
+shares of the Company of the Indies.</p>
+
+<p>The System was at its height. The bubble was blown to its last limit.
+The popular delirium had grown to its last possible degree.</p>
+
+<p>From the window these mad mobs of infuriated human beings might have
+seemed so many little ants, running about as though their home had been
+destroyed above their heads. They hastened as though fleeing from the
+breath of some devouring flame. Surely the point of flame was there, at
+that focus of Paris, this focus of all Europe; and thrice refined was
+the quality of this heat, burning out the hearts of those distracted
+ones.</p>
+
+<p>Yet it was a scene not altogether without its fascinations. Hither came
+titled beauties of Paris, peers of the realm, statesmen, high officials,
+princes of the blood; all these animated but by one purpose&mdash;to bid and
+outbid for these bits of paper, which for the moment meant wealth,
+luxury, ease, every imaginable desire. It seemed indeed that the world
+was mad. Tradesmen, artisans, laborers, peasants, jostled the princes
+and nobility, nor met reproof. Rank was forgotten. Democracy, for the
+first time on earth, had arrived. All were equal who held equal numbers
+of these shares. The mind of each was blank to all but one absorbing
+theme.</p>
+
+<p>Law looked over this familiar scene, indifferent, calm, almost moody,
+his cheek against his hand, his elbow on his chair. &quot;What was the call,
+Henri,&quot; asked he, at length, of the old Swiss who had, during these
+stormy times, been so long his faithful attendant. &quot;What was the last
+quotation that you heard?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Your Honor, there are no quotations,&quot; replied the attendant. &quot;'Tis
+only as one is able to buy. The <i>actions</i> of the last issue, three
+hundred thousand in all, were swept away at a breath at fifteen thousand
+livres the share.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ninety times what their face demands,&quot; said Law, impassively.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;True, some ninety times,&quot; said the Swiss. &quot;'Tis said that of this issue
+the regent has taken over one-third, or one hundred thousand, himself.
+'Tis this that makes the price of the other two-thirds run the higher,
+since 'tis all that the public has to buy.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lucky regent,&quot; said Law, sententiously. &quot;Plenty would seem to have been
+his fortune!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He grimly turned again to his study of the crowds which swarmed among
+the pavilions before his window. Outside his door he heard knockings and
+cries, and impatient footfalls, but neither he nor the impassive Swiss
+paid to these the least attention. It was to them an old experience.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Your Honor, the Prince de Conti is in the antechamber and would see
+you,&quot; at length ventured the attendant, after listening for some time
+with his ear at an aperture in the door.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Let the Prince de Conti wait,&quot; said Law, &quot;and a plague take him for a
+grasping miser! He has gained enough. Time was when I waited at his
+door.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The Abb&eacute; Dubois&mdash;here is his message pushed beneath the door.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;My dearest enemy,&quot; replied Law, calmly. &quot;The old rat may seek another
+burrow.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The Duchesse de la Rochefoucauld.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah, then, she hath overcome her husband's righteousness of resolution,
+and would beg a share or so? Let her wait. I find these duchesses the
+most tiresome animals in the world.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The Madame de Tencin.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I can not see the Madame de Tencin.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;A score of dukes and foreign princes. My faith! master, we have never
+had so large a line of guests as come this morning.&quot; The stolid
+impassiveness of the Swiss seemed on the point of giving way.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Let them wait,&quot; replied Law, evenly as before. &quot;Not one of them would
+listen to me five years ago. Now I shall listen to them&mdash;shall listen to
+them knocking at my door, as I have knocked at theirs. To-day I am
+aweary, and not of mind to see any one. Let them wait.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But what shall I say? What shall I tell them, my master?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Tell them nothing. Let them wait.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Thus the crowd of notables packed into the anterooms waited at the
+door, fuming and execrating, yet not departing. They all awaited the
+magician, each with the same plea&mdash;some hope of favor, of advancement,
+or of gain.</p>
+
+<p>At last there arose yet a greater tumult in the hall which led to the
+door. A squad of guardsmen pushed through the packed ranks with the cry:
+&quot;For the king!&quot; The regent of France stood at the closed door of the man
+who was still the real ruler of France.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Open, open, in the name of the king!&quot; cried one, as he beat loudly on
+the panels.</p>
+
+<p>Law turned languidly toward the attendant. &quot;Henri,&quot; said he, &quot;tell them
+to be more quiet.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;My master, 'tis the regent!&quot; expostulated the other, with somewhat of
+anxiety in his tones.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Let him wait,&quot; replied Law, coolly. &quot;I have waited for him.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But, my master, they protest, they clamor&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Very well. Let them do so&mdash;but stay. If it is indeed the regent, I may
+as well meet him now and say that which is in my mind. Open the door.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The door swung open and there entered the form of Philippe of Orl&eacute;ans,
+preceded by his halberdiers and followed close by a rush of humanity
+which the guards and the Swiss together had much pains to force back
+into the anteroom.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;How now, Monsieur L'as, how now?&quot; fumed the regent, his heavy face
+glowing a dull red, his prominent eyes still more protruding, his
+forehead bent into a heavy frown. &quot;You deny entrance to our person, who
+are next to the body of his Majesty?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Did you have delay?&quot; asked Law, sweetly. &quot;'Twas unfortunate.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Twas execrable!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;True. I myself find these crowds execrable.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Nay, execrable to suffer this annoyance of delay!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Your Grace's pardon,&quot; said Law, coolly. &quot;You should have made an
+appointment a few days in advance.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What! The regent of France need to arrange a day when he would see a
+servant!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Your Grace is unfortunate in his choice of words,&quot; replied Law,
+blandly. &quot;I am not your servant. I am your master.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The regent sank back into a chair, gasping, his hand clutching at the
+hilt of his sword.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Seize him! Seize him! To the Bastille with him! The presumer! The
+impostor!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Yet even the guards hesitated before the commanding presence of that man
+whom all had been so long accustomed to obey. With hand upraised, Law
+gazed at them for one instant, and then gave them no further attention.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yet these words I must hasten to qualify,&quot; resumed he. &quot;True, I am at
+this moment your master, your Grace, but two minutes hence, and for all
+time thereafter, I shall no longer be your master. Your Grace was once
+so good as to make me head of certain financial matters, and to give me
+control of them. The fabric of this Messasebe, which you see without,
+was all my own. It was this which made me master of Paris, and of every
+man within the gates of Paris. So far, very well. My plans were honest,
+and the growth of France&mdash;nay, let us say the resurrection of
+France&mdash;the new life of France&mdash;shows how my own plans were made and how
+well I knew that which was to happen. I made you rich, your Grace. I
+gave you funds to pay off millions of your private debts, millions to
+gratify your fancies. I gave you more millions to pay the debts of
+France. France and her regent have again taken a position of honor in
+the eyes of the world. You may well call me master of your fate, who
+have been able to accomplish these things. So long as you knew your
+master, you did well. Now your Grace has seen fit to change masters. He
+would be his own master again. There can not be two in control of a
+concern like this. Sir, the two minutes have elapsed. I am your very
+humble servant!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The regent still sat staring from his chair, and speech was yet denied
+him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There are your people. There is your France,&quot; said Law, beckoning as he
+turned toward the window and pointing to the crowd without. &quot;There is
+your France. Now handle it, my master! Here are the reins! Now drive;
+but see that you be careful how you drive. Come, your Grace,&quot; said he,
+mockingly, over his shoulder. &quot;Come, and see your France!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The audacity of John Law was a thing without parallel, as had been
+proved a hundred times in his strange life and in a hundred places. His
+sheer contemptuous daring brought Philippe of Orl&eacute;ans to his senses. He
+relaxed now in his purpose, changeable as was his wont, and advanced
+towards Law with hand outstretched.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There, there, Monsieur L'as, I did you wrong, perhaps,&quot; said he. &quot;But
+as to these hasty words, pray reconsider them at once. 'Twill have a bad
+effect should a breath of this get afloat. Indeed, 'twas because of some
+such thing that I came to see you this morning. A most unspeakable, a
+most incredible thing hath occurred. It comes to me with certain
+confirmation that there have been shares sold upon the street at twelve
+thousand livres to the <i>action</i>, whereas, as you very well know,
+fifteen thousand should be the lowest price to-day.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And what of that, your Grace?&quot; said Law, calmly. &quot;Is it not what you
+planned? Is it not what you have been expecting?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;How, sirrah! What do you mean?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, I mean this, your Grace,&quot; said Law, calmly, &quot;that since you have
+taken the reins, it is you who must drive the chariot. I shall suggest
+no plans, shall offer no remedy. But, if you still lack ability to see
+how and why this thing has attained this situation, I will take so much
+trouble as to make it plain.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Go on, then, sir,&quot; said the regent. &quot;Is not all well? Is there any
+danger?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;As to danger,&quot; said Law, &quot;we can not call it a time of danger after the
+worst has happened.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What do you mean?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, that the worst has happened. But, as I was about to say, I shall
+tell you how it happened.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The gaze of the regent fell. His hand trembled as he fumbled at his
+sword hilt.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Your Grace,&quot; said Law, calmly, &quot;will do me the kindness to remember
+that when I first asked of you the charter of the Banque G&eacute;n&eacute;rale, to be
+taken privately in the name of myself and my brother, I told you that
+any banker merited the punishment of death if he issued notes or bills
+of exchange without having their effective value safe in his own strong
+boxes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, what of that?&quot; queried the regent, weakly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Nothing, your Grace, except that your Grace deserves the punishment of
+death.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;How, sir! Good God!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;If the truth of this matter should ever become known, those people out
+there, that France yonder, would tear your Grace limb from limb, and
+trample you in the dust!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The livid face of the regent went paler as the other spoke. There was
+conviction in those tones which could not fail to reach even his heavy
+wits.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Let me explain,&quot; went on Law. &quot;I beg your Grace to remember again, that
+when your Grace was good enough to take out of the hands of my brother
+and myself our little bank&mdash;which we had run honorably and
+successfully&mdash;you changed at one sweep the whole principle of honest
+banking. You promised to pay something which was unstipulated. You
+issued a note back of which there was no value, no fixed limit of
+measurement. Twice you have changed the coinage of the realm, and twice
+assigned a new value to your specie. No one can tell what one of your
+shares in the stock of the Indies means in actual coin. It means
+nothing, stands for nothing, is good for nothing. Now, think you, when
+these people, when this France shall discover these facts, that they
+will be lenient with those who have thus deceived them?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yet your theory always was that we had too great a scarcity of money
+here in France,&quot; expostulated the regent.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;True, so I did. We had not enough of good money. We can not have too
+little of false money, of money such as your Grace&mdash;as you thought
+without my knowledge&mdash;has been so eager to issue from the presses of our
+Company. It had been an easy thing for the regent of France to pay off
+all the debts of the world from now until the verge of eternity, had not
+his presses given out. Money of that sort, your Grace, is such as any
+man could print for himself, did he but have the linen and the ink.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The regent again dropped to his chair, his head falling forward upon his
+breast.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But what does it all mean? What shall be done? What will be the
+result?&quot; he asked, his voice showing well enough the anxiety which had
+swiftly fallen upon his soul.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;As to that,&quot; replied Law, laconically, &quot;I am no longer master here. I
+am not controller of finance. Appoint Dubois, appoint D'Argenson. Send
+for the Brothers Paris. Take them to this window, your Grace, and show
+them your people, show them your France, and then ask them to tell you
+what shall be done. Cry out to all the world, as I know you will, that
+this was the fault of an unknown adventurer, of a Scotch gambler, of one
+John Law, who brought forth some pretentious schemes to the detriment of
+the realm. Saddle upon me the blame for all this ruin which is coming.
+Malign me, misrepresent me, imprison me, exile me, behead me if you
+like, and blame John Law for the discomfiture of France! But when you
+come to seek your remedies, why, ask no more of John Law. Ask of Dubois,
+ask of D'Argenson, ask of the Paris Fr&egrave;res; or, since your Grace has
+seen fit to override me and to take these matters in his own hands, let
+your Grace ask of himself! Tell me, as regent of France, as master of
+Paris, as guardian of the rights of this young king, as controller of
+the finances of France, as savior or destroyer of the welfare of these
+people of France and of that America which is greater than this
+France&mdash;tell me, what will you do, your Grace? What do you suggest as
+remedy?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You devil! you arch fiend!&quot; exclaimed the regent, starting up and
+laying his hand on his sword. &quot;There is no punishment you do not
+deserve! You will leave me in this plight&mdash;you&mdash;you, who have supplanted
+me at every turn; you who made that horrible scene but last night at my
+own table, within the very gates of the Palais Royal; you, the murderer
+of the woman I adored! And now, you mocker and flouter of what may be my
+bitterest misfortune&mdash;why, sir, no punishment is sharp enough for you!
+Why do you stand there, sir? Do you dare to mock me&mdash;to mock us, the
+person of the king?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I mock not in the least, your Grace,&quot; said John Law, &quot;nor do aught else
+that ill beseems a gentleman. I should have been proud to be known as
+the friend of Philippe of Orl&eacute;ans, yet I stand before that Philippe of
+Orl&eacute;ans and tell him that that man doth not live, nor that set of
+terrors exist, which can frighten John Law, nor cause him to depart from
+that stand which he once has taken. Sir, if you seek to frighten me, you
+fail.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But, look you&mdash;consider,&quot; said the regent. &quot;Something must be done.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;As I said,&quot; replied Law.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But what is going to happen? What will the people do?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;First,&quot; said Law, judicially, flicking at the deep lace of his cuff as
+though he were taking into consideration the price of a wig or cane,
+&quot;first, the price of a share having gone to twelve thousand livres this
+morning, by two o'clock will be so low as ten thousand. By three
+o'clock this afternoon it will be six thousand. Then, your Grace, there
+will be panic. Then the spell will be broken. France will rub her eyes
+and begin to awaken. Then, since the king can do no wrong, and since the
+regent is the king, your Grace can do one of two things. He can send a
+body-guard to watch my door, or he can see John Law torn into fragments,
+as these people would tear the real author of their undoing, did they
+but recognize him.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But can nothing be done to stop this? Can it not be accommodated?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ask yourself. But I must go on to say what these people will do. All at
+once they will demand specie for their notes. The Prince de Conti will
+drive his coaches to the door of your bank, and demand that they be
+loaded with gold. Jacques and Raoul and Pierre, and every peasant and
+pavior in Paris will come with boxes and panniers, and each of them will
+also demand his gold. Make edicts, your Grace. Publish broadcast and
+force out into publicity, on every highway of France, your decree that
+gold and silver are not so good as your bank notes; that no one must
+have gold or silver; that no one must send his gold and silver out of
+France, but that all must bring it to the king and take for it in
+exchange these notes of yours. Try that. It ought to succeed, ought it
+not, your Grace?&quot; His bantering tone sank into one of half plausibility.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, surely. That would be the solution.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, think you so? Your Grace is wondrous keen as a financier! Now take
+the counsel of Dubois, of D'Argenson, my very good friends. This is what
+they will counsel you to do. And I will counsel you at the same time to
+avail yourself of their advice. Tell all France to bring in its gold, to
+enable you to put something essential under the value of all this paper
+money which you have been sending out so lavishly, so unthinkingly, so
+without stint or measure.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes. And then?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, then, your Grace,&quot; said Law, &quot;then we shall see what we shall
+see!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The regent again choked with anger. Law continued. &quot;Go on. Smooth down
+the back of this animal. Continue to reduce these taxes. The specie of
+the realm of France, as I am banker enough to know, is not more than
+thirteen hundred millions of livres, allowing sixty-five livres to the
+marc. Yet long before this your Grace has crowded the issue of our
+<i>actions</i> until there are out not less than twenty-six hundred millions
+of livres in the stock of our Company. Your Brothers Paris, your
+D'Argenson, your Dubois will tell you how you can make the people of
+France continue to believe that twice two is not four, that twice
+thirteen is not twenty-six!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But this they are doing,&quot; broke in the regent, with a ray of hope in
+his face. &quot;This they are doing. We have provided for that. In the
+council not an hour ago the Abb&eacute; Dubois and Monsieur d'Argenson decided
+that the time had come to make some fixed proportion between the specie
+and these notes. We have to-day framed an edict, which the Parliament
+will register, stating that the interests of the subjects of the king
+require that the price of these bank notes should be lessened, so that
+there may be some sort of accommodation between them and the coin of the
+realm. We have ordered that the shares shall, within thirty days, drop
+to seventy-five hundred livres, in another thirty days to seven thousand
+livres, and so on, at five hundred livres a month, until at last they
+shall have a value of one-half what they were to-day. Then, tell me, my
+wise Monsieur L'as, would not the issue of our notes and the total of
+our specie be equal, one with the other? The only wrong thing is this
+insulting presumption of these people, who have sold <i>actions</i> at a
+price lower than we have decreed.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Law smiled as he replied. &quot;You say excellently well, my master. These
+plans surely show that you and your able counselors have studied deeply
+the questions of finance! I have told you what would happen to-day
+without any decree of the king. Now go you on, and make your decrees.
+You will find that the people are much more eager for values which are
+going up than values which are going down. Start your shares down hill,
+and you will see all France scramble for such coin, such plate, such
+jewels as may be within the ability of France to lay her hands upon.
+Tell me, your Grace, did Monsieur d'Argenson advise you this morning as
+to the total issue of the <i>actions</i> of this Company?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Surely he did, and here I have it in memorandum, for I was to have
+taken it up with yourself,&quot; replied the regent.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;So,&quot; exclaimed Law, a look of surprise passing over his countenance,
+until now rigidly controlled, as he gazed at the little slip of paper.
+&quot;Your Grace advises me that there are issued at this time in the shares
+of the Company no less than two billion, two hundred and thirty-five
+million, eighty-five thousand, five hundred and ninety livres in notes!
+Against this, as your Grace is good enough to agree with me, we have
+thirteen hundred millions of specie. Your Grace, yourself and I have
+seen some pretty games in our day. Look you, the merriest game of all
+your life is now but just before you!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And you would go and leave me at this time?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Never in my life have I forsaken a friend at the time of distress,&quot;
+replied Law. &quot;But your Grace absolved me when you forsook me, when you
+doubted and hesitated regarding me, and believed the protestations of
+those not so able as myself to judge of what was best. And now it is too
+late. Will your Grace allow me to suggest that a place behind stout
+gates and barred doors, deep within the interior of the Palais Royal,
+will be the best residence for him to-night&mdash;perhaps for several nights
+to come?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And yourself?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;As for myself, it does not matter,&quot; replied Law, slowly and
+deliberately. &quot;I have lived, and I thought I had succeeded. Indeed,
+success was mine for some short months, though now I must meet failure.
+I have this to console me&mdash;that 'twas failure not of my own fault. As
+for France, I loved her. As for America, I believe in her to-day, this
+very hour. As for your Grace in person, I was your friend, nor was I
+ever disloyal to you. But it sometimes doth seem that, no matter how
+sincere be one in one's endeavors, no matter how cherished, no matter
+how successful for a time may be his ambitions, there is ever some
+little blight to eat the face of the full fruit of his happiness.
+To-morrow I shall perhaps not be alive. It is very well. There is
+nothing I could desire, and it is as well to-morrow as at any time.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But surely, Monsieur L'as,&quot; interrupted the regent, with a trace of his
+old generosity, &quot;if there should be outbreak, as you fear, I shall, of
+course, give you a guard. I shall indeed see you safe out of the city,
+if you so prefer, though I had much liefer you would remain and try to
+help us undo this coil, wherein I much misdoubt myself.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Your Grace, I am a disappointed man, a man with nothing in the world to
+comfort him. I have said that I would not help you, since 'twas yourself
+brought ruin on my plans, and cast down that work which I had labored
+all my life to finish. Yet I will advise this, as being your most
+immediate plan. Smooth down this France as best you may. Remit more
+taxes, as I said. Depreciate the value of these shares gently, but
+rapidly as you can. Institute great numbers of perpetual annuities.
+Juggle, temporize, postpone, get for yourself all the time you can.
+Trade for the people's shares all you have that they will take. You can
+never strike a balance, and can never atone for the egregious error of
+this over-issue of stock which has no intrinsic value. Eventually you
+may have to declare void many of these shares and withdraw from the
+currency these <i>actions</i> for which so recently the people have been
+clamoring.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That means repudiation!&quot; broke in the regent.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Certainly, your Grace, and in so far your Grace has my extremest
+sympathy. I know it was your resolve not to repudiate the debts of
+France, as those debts stood when I first met you some years ago. That
+was honorable. Yet now the debts of France are immeasurably greater,
+rich as France thinks herself to be. Not all France, were the people and
+the produce of the commerce counted in the coin, could pay the debt of
+France as it now exists. Hence, honorable or not, there is nothing
+else&mdash;it is repudiation which now confronts you. France is worse than
+bankrupt. And now it would seem wise if your Grace took immediate steps,
+not only for the safety of his person, but for the safety of the
+Government.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir, do you mean that the people would dare, that they would presume&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The people are not what they were. There hath come into Europe the
+leaven of the New World. I had looked there to see a nobler and a better
+France. It is too late for that, and surely it is too late for the old
+ways of this France which we see about us. You can not presume now upon
+the temper of these folk as you might have done fifty years ago. The
+Messasebe, that noble stream, it hath swept its purifying flood
+throughout the world! Look you, at this moment there is tumbling this
+house which we have built of bubbles, one bubble upon another, blowing
+each bubble bigger and thinner than the last. Mine is not the only
+fault, nor yet the greatest fault. I was sincere, where others cared
+naught for sincerity. Another day, another people, may yet say the world
+was better for my effort, and that therefore at the last I have not
+failed.&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='BOOK_III_CHAPTER_XI'></a><h3>CHAPTER XI</h3>
+
+<h4>THE BREAKING OF THE BUBBLE</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>It was the evening of the day following that on which John Law and the
+regent of France had met in their stormy interview. During the morning
+but little had transpired regarding the significant events of the
+previous day. In these vast and excited crowds, divided into groups and
+cliques and factions, aided by no bulletins, counseled by no printed
+page, there was but little cohesion of purpose, since there was little
+unity of understanding. The price of shares at one kiosk might be
+certain thousands of livres, whereas a square away, the price might vary
+by half as many livres; so impetuous was the advance of these
+continually rising prices, and so frenzied and careless the temper of
+those who bargained for them.</p>
+
+<p>Yet before noon of the day following the decree of the regent, which
+fixed the value of <i>actions</i> upon a descending scale, the news, after a
+fashion of its own, spread rapidly abroad, and all too swiftly the truth
+was generally known. The story started in a rumor that shares had been
+offered and declined at a price which had been current but a few moments
+before. This was something which had not been known in all these
+feverish months of the Messasebe. Then came the story that shares could
+not be counted upon to realize over eight thousand livres. At that the
+price of all the <i>actions</i> dropped in a flash, as Law had prophesied. A
+sudden wave of sanity, a panic chill of sober understanding swept over
+this vast multitude of still unreasoning souls who had traded so long
+upon this impossible supposition of an ever-advancing market. Reason
+still lacked among them, yet fear and sudden suspicion were not wanting.
+Man after man hastened swiftly away to sell privately his shares before
+greater drop in the price might come. He met others upon the same
+errand.</p>
+
+<p>Precisely the reverse of the old situation now obtained. As all Paris
+had fought to buy, so now all Paris fought to sell. The streets were
+filled with clamoring mobs. If earlier there had been confusion, now
+there was pandemonium. Never was such a scene witnessed. Never was there
+chronicled so swift and utter reversion of emotion in the minds of a
+great concourse of people. Bitter indeed was the wave of agony that
+swept over Paris. It began at the Messasebe, in the gardens of the H&ocirc;tel
+de Soisson, at that focus hard by the temple of Fortuna. It spread and
+spread, edging out into all the remoter portions of the walled city. It
+reached ultimately the extreme confines of Paris. Into the crowded
+square which had been decreed as the trading-place of the Messasebe
+System, there crowded from the outer purlieus yet other thousands of
+excited human beings. The end had come. The bubble had burst. There was
+no longer any System of the Messasebe!</p>
+
+<p>It was late in the day, in fact well on toward night, when the knowledge
+of the crash came into the neighborhood where dwelt the Lady Catharine
+Knollys. To her the news was brought by a servant, who excitedly burst
+unannounced into her mistress's presence.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Madame! Madame!&quot; she cried. &quot;Prepare! 'Tis horrible! 'Tis impossible!
+All is at an end!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What mean you, girl!&quot; cried Lady Catharine, displeased at the
+disrespect. &quot;What is happening? Is there fire? And even if there were,
+could you not remember your duty more seemly than this?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Worse, worse than fire, Madame! Worse than anything! The bank has
+failed! The shares of the System are going down! 'Tis said that we can
+get but three thousand livres the share, perhaps less&mdash;perhaps they will
+go down to nothing. I am ruined, ruined! We are all ruined! And within
+the month I was to have been married to the footman of the Marquis
+d'Allouez, who has bought himself a title this very week!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And if it has fallen so ill,&quot; said Lady Catharine, &quot;since I have not
+speculated in these things like most folk, I shall be none the worse for
+it, and shall still have money to pay your wages. So perhaps you can
+marry your marquis after all.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But we shall not be rich, Madame! We are ruined, ruined! <i>Mon Dieu!</i> we
+poor folk! We had the hope to be persons of quality. 'Tis all the work
+of this villain Jean L'as. May the Bastille get him, or the people, and
+make him pay for this!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Stop! Enough of this, Marie!&quot; said the Lady Catharine, sternly. &quot;After
+this have better wisdom, and do not meddle in things which you do not
+understand.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Yet scarce had the girl departed before there appeared again the sound
+of running steps, and presently there broke, equally unannounced, into
+the presence of his mistress, the coachman, fresh from his stables and
+none too careful of his garb. Tears ran down his cheeks. He flung out
+his hands with gestures as of one demented.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The news!&quot; cried he. &quot;The news, my Lady! The horrible news! The System
+has vanished, the shares are going down!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Fellow, what do you here?&quot; said Lady Catharine. &quot;Why do you come with
+this same story which Marie has just brought to me? Can you not learn
+your place?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But, my Lady, you do not understand!&quot; reiterated the man, blankly.
+&quot;'Tis all over. There is no Messasebe; there is no longer any System, no
+longer any Company of the Indies. There is no longer wealth for the
+stretching out of the hand. 'Tis all over. I must go back to horses&mdash;I,
+Madame, who should presently have associated with the nobility!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, and if so,&quot; replied his mistress, &quot;I can say to you, as I have to
+Marie, that there will still be money for your wages.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Wages! My faith, what trifles, my Lady! This Monsieur L'as, the
+director-general, he it is who has ruined us! Well enough it is that the
+square in front of his hotel is filled with people! Presently they will
+break down his doors. And then, pray God they punish him for this that
+he has done!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The cheek of Lady Catharine paled and a sudden flood of contending
+emotions crossed her mind. &quot;You do not tell me that Monsieur L'as is in
+danger, Pierre?&quot; said she.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Assuredly. Perhaps within the very hour they will tear down his doors
+and rend him limb from limb. There is no punishment which can serve him
+right&mdash;him who has ruined our pretty, pretty System. <i>Mon Dieu!</i> It was
+so beautiful!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Is this news certain?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Assuredly, most certain. Why should it not be? The entire square in
+front of the H&ocirc;tel de Soisson is packed. Unless my Lady needs me, I
+myself must hasten thither to aid in the punishment of this Jean L'as!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You will stay here,&quot; said Lady Catharine. &quot;Wait! There may be need! For
+the present, go!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Left alone, Lady Catharine stood for a moment pale and motionless, in
+the center of the room. She strode then to the window and stood looking
+fixedly out. Her whole figure was tense, rigid. Yonder, over there,
+across the gabled roofs of Paris, they were clamoring at the door of him
+who had given back Paris to the king, and France again to its people.
+They were assailing him&mdash;this man so long unfaltering, so insistent on
+his ambitions, so&mdash;so steadfast! Could she call him steadfast? And they
+would seize him in spite of the courage which she knew would never fail.
+They would kill, they would rend, they would trample him! They would
+crush that glorious body, abase the lips that had spoke so well of love!</p>
+
+<p>The clenched fingers of Lady Catharine broke apart, her arms were flung
+wide in a gesture of resolution. She turned from the window, looking
+here and there about the room. Unconsciously she stopped before the
+great cheval-glass that hung against the wall. She stood there, looking
+at her own image, keenly, deeply.</p>
+
+<p>She saw indeed a woman fit for sweet usages of love, comely and rounded,
+deep-bosomed, her oval face framed in the piled masses of glorious
+red-brown hair. But her wide, blue eyes, scarce seeing this outward
+form, stared into the soul of that other whom she witnessed.</p>
+
+<p>It was as though the Lady Catharine Knollys at last saw another self and
+recognized it! A quick, hard sob broke from her throat. In haste she
+flew, now to one part of the room, now to another, picking up first this
+article and then that which seemed of need. And so at last she hurried
+to the bell-cord.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Quick,&quot; cried she, as the servant at length appeared. &quot;Quick! Do not
+delay an instant! My carriage at once!&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='BOOK_III_CHAPTER_XII'></a><h3>CHAPTER XII</h3>
+
+<h4>THAT WHICH REMAINED</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>As for John Law, all through that fatal day which meant for him the ruin
+of his ambitions, he continued in the icy calm which, for days past, had
+distinguished him. He discontinued his ordinary employments, and spent
+some hours in sorting and destroying numbers of papers and documents.
+His faithful servant, the Swiss, Henri, he commanded to make ready his
+apparel for a journey.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;At six this evening,&quot; said he, &quot;Henri, we shall be ready to depart. Let
+us be quite ready well before that time.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Monsieur is leaving Paris?&quot; asked the Swiss, respectfully.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Quite so.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Perhaps for a stay of some duration?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Quite so, indeed, Henri.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then, sir,&quot; expostulated the Swiss, &quot;it would require a day or so for
+me to properly arrange your luggage.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Not at all,&quot; replied Law. &quot;Two valises will suffice, not more, and I
+shall perhaps not need even these.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Not all the apparel, the many coats, the jewels&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Do not trouble over them.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But what disposition shall I make&mdash;?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;None at all. Leave all these things as they are. But stay&mdash;this package
+which I shall prepare for you&mdash;take it to the regent, and have it marked
+in his care and for the Parliament of France.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Law raised in his hands a bundle of parchments, which one by one he tore
+across, throwing the fragments into a basket as he did so.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The seat of Tancarville,&quot; he said. &quot;The estate of Berville; the H&ocirc;tel
+Mazarin; the lands of Bourget; the Marquisat of Charleville; the lands
+of Orcher; the estate of Roissy&mdash;Gad! what a number of them I find.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But, Monsieur,&quot; expostulated the Swiss, &quot;what is that you do? Are these
+not your possessions?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Not so, <i>mon ami</i>&quot; replied Law. &quot;They once were mine. They are estates
+in France. Take back these deeds. Dead Sully may have his own again, and
+each of these late owners of the lands. I wished them for a purpose.
+That purpose is no longer possible, and now I wish them no more. Take
+back your deeds, my friends, and bear in your minds that John Law tore
+them in two, and thus canceled the obligation.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But the moneys you have paid&mdash;they are enormous. Surely you will exact
+restitution?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sirrah, could I not afford these moneys?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Admirably at the time,&quot; replied the Swiss, with the freedom of long
+service. &quot;But for the future, what do we know? Besides, it is a matter
+of right and justice.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah, <i>mon ami</i>&quot; said Law, &quot;right and justice are no more. But since you
+speak of money, let us take precautions as to that. We shall need some
+money for our journey. See, Henri! Take this note and get the money
+which it calls for. But no! The crowd may be too great. Look in the
+drawer of my desk yonder, and take out what you find.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The Swiss did as he was bidden, but at length returned with troubled
+face.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Monsieur,&quot; said he, &quot;I can find but a hundred louis.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Put half of it back,&quot; said Law. &quot;We shall not need so much.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But, Monsieur, I do not understand.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;We shall not need more than fifty louis. That is enough. Leave the
+rest,&quot; said Law. &quot;Leave it where you found it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But for whom? Does Monsieur soon return?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No. Leave it for him who may be first to find it. These dear people
+without, these same people whom I have enriched, and who now will claim
+that I have impoverished them&mdash;these people will demand of me everything
+that I have. As a man of honor I can not deny them. They shall have
+every jot and stiver of the property of John Law, even the million or so
+of good coin which he brought here to Paris with him. The coat on my
+back, the wheels beneath me, gold enough to pay for the charges of the
+inns through France&mdash;that is all that John Law will take away with him.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The arms of the old servant fell helpless at his side. &quot;Sir, this is
+madness,&quot; he expostulated.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Not so, Henri,&quot; replied Law, leniently. &quot;Madness enough there has been
+in Paris, it is true, but madness not mine nor of my making. For
+madness, look you yonder.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He pointed a finger through the window where the stately edifice of the
+Palais Royal rose.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;My good friend the regent&mdash;it is he who hath been mad,&quot; continued Law.
+&quot;He, holding France in trust, has ruined France forever.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Monsieur, I grieve for you,&quot; said the Swiss. &quot;I have seen your success
+in these years and, as you may imagine, have understood something of
+your affairs as time went on.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And have you not profited by your knowledge in these times?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I have had the salary your Honor has agreed to pay me,&quot; replied the
+Swiss.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And no more?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No more.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, there are serving folk in France by the hundreds who have grown
+millionaires by the knowledge of their employers' affairs these last two
+years in Paris. Never was such a time in all the world for making money.
+Have you been more blind than they? Why did you not tell me? Why did you
+not ask?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I was content with your employment. Monsieur L'as. I would ask no
+better master.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It is not so with certain others. They think me a hard master enough,
+and having displaced me, will do all they can to punish me. But now,
+Henri, you will perhaps need to look elsewhere for a master. I am going
+far away&mdash;perhaps across the seas. It may be&mdash;but I know not where and
+care not where my foot may wander hereafter, nor will I seek now to plan
+for it. As for you, Henri, since you admit you have been thus blind to
+your own interests, let us look to that. Go to the desk again. Take out
+the drawer&mdash;that one on the left hand. So&mdash;bring it to me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The servant obeyed. Law took from his hand the receptacle, and with a
+sweep of his hand poured out on the table its contents. A mass of
+glittering gems, diamonds, sapphires, pearls, emeralds, fell and spread
+over the table top. The light cast out by their thousand facets lit up
+the surroundings with shimmering, many-colored gleams. The wealth of a
+kingdom might have been here in the careless possession of this man,
+whose resources had been absolutely without measure.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Help yourself, Henri,&quot; said Law, calmly, and turned about to his
+employment among the papers. A moment later he turned again to see his
+servant still standing motionless.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well?&quot; said Law.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I do not understand,&quot; said the Swiss.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Take what you like,&quot; said Law. &quot;I have said it, and I mean it. It is
+for your pay, because you have been honest, because I understand you as
+a faithful man.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But, Monsieur, these things have very great value,&quot; said the Swiss.
+&quot;Let me ask how is it that you yourself take so little gold along? Does
+Monsieur purpose to take with him his fortune in gems and jewels
+instead?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;By no means. I purpose taking but fifty louis, as I have said.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Monsieur would have me replace the drawer?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;How do you mean?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, I want none of them.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Because Monsieur wants none of them.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Fie! Your case is quite different from mine.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Perhaps, but I want none of them.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Are you afraid?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Monsieur!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Do you not think them genuine stones?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Assuredly,&quot; said the Swiss, &quot;else why should we have cared for them
+among our gems?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, then, I command you as your master, to take forth some of these
+jewels and keep them for your own.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But no,&quot; replied the Swiss. &quot;It is only after Monsieur.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What? Myself?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Assuredly.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then, for the sake of precedent,&quot; said Law, &quot;let me see. Well, then, I
+will take one gem, only one. Here, Henri, is the diamond which I brought
+with me when I came to Paris years ago. It was the sole jewel owned then
+by my brother and myself, though we had somewhat of gold between us,
+thanks to this same diamond. It was once my sole capital, in years gone
+by. Perhaps we may need a carriage through France, and this may serve to
+pay the hire of a vehicle from one of my late dukes or marquises. Or
+perhaps at best I may send this same stone across the channel to my
+brother Will, who has wisely gone to Scotland, or should have departed
+before this. So, very well, Henri, to oblige you I will take this single
+stone. Now, do you help yourself.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Since Monsieur limits himself to so little,&quot; said the Swiss, sturdily,
+&quot;I shall not want more. This little pin will serve me, and I shall wear
+it long in memory of your many kindnesses.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Law rose to his feet and caught the good fellow by the hand.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;By heaven, I find you of good blood!&quot; said he. &quot;My friend, I thank you.
+And now put up the box. I shall not counsel you to take more than this.
+We shall leave the rest for those who will presently come to claim it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>For some time silence reigned in the great room, as Law, deeply engaged
+in the affairs before him, buried himself in the mass of scattered books
+and papers. Hour after hour wore on, and at last he turned from his
+employment. His face showed calm, pale, and furrowed with a sadness
+which till now had been foreign to it. He arose at last, and with a
+sweep of his arm pushed back the papers which lay before him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There,&quot; said he. &quot;This should conclude it all. It should all be plain
+enough now to those who follow.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Monsieur is weary,&quot; mentioned the faithful attendant. &quot;He would have
+some refreshment.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Presently, but I think not here, Henri. My household is not all so
+faithful as yourself, and I question if we could find cook or servants
+for the table below. No, we are to leave Paris to-night, Henri, and it
+is well the journey should begin. Get you down to the stables, and, if
+you can, have my best coach brought to the front door.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It may not be quite safe, if Monsieur will permit me to suggest.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Perhaps not. These fools are so deep in their folly that they do not
+know their friends. But safe or not, that is the way I shall go. We
+might slip out through the back door, but 'tis not thus John Law will go
+from Paris.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The servant departed, and Law, left alone, sat silent and motionless,
+buried in thought. Now and again his head sank forward, like that of one
+who has received a deep hurt. But again he drew himself up sternly, and
+so remained, not leaving his seat nor turning toward the window, beyond
+which could now be heard the sound of shouting, and cries whose confused
+and threatening tones might have given ground for the gravest
+apprehension. At length the Swiss again reported, much agitated and
+shaken from his ordinary self-control.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Monsieur,&quot; said he, &quot;come. I have at last the coach at the door.
+Hasten, Monsieur; a crowd is gathering. Indeed, we may meet violence.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Law seemed not to hear him, but sat for a time, his head still bowed,
+his eyes gazing straight before him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But, Monsieur,&quot; again broke in the Swiss, anxiously, &quot;if I may
+interrupt, there is need to hasten. There will be a mob. Our guard is
+gone.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;So,&quot; said Law. &quot;They were afraid?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Surely. They fled forthwith when they heard the people below crying out
+at the house. They are indeed threatening death to yourself. They cry
+that they will burn the house&mdash;that should you appear, they will have
+your blood at once.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And are you not afraid?&quot; asked Law.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I am here. Does not Monsieur fear for himself?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Law shrugged his shoulders. &quot;There are many of them, and we are but
+two,&quot; said he. &quot;For yourself, go you down the back way and care for your
+own safety. I will go out the front and meet these good people. Are we
+quite ready for the journey?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Quite ready, as you have directed.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Have you the two valises, with the one change of clothing?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;They are here.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And have you the fifty louis, as I stated?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Here in the purse.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And I think you have also the single diamond.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It is here.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then,&quot; said Law, &quot;let us go.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He rose, and scarce looking behind him, even to see that his orders to
+the servant had been obeyed, he strode down the vast stairway of the
+great h&ocirc;tel, past many precious works of art, between walls hung with
+richest tapestries and noble paintings. The click of his heel on a
+chance bit of exposed marble here and there echoed hollow, as though
+indeed the master of the palace had been abandoned by all his people.
+The great building was silent, empty.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What! Are you, then, here?&quot; he said, seeing the servant had disobeyed
+his instructions and was following close behind him. He alone out of
+those scores of servants, those hundreds of fawning nobles, those
+thousands of sycophant souls who had but lately cringed before him, now
+accompanied the late master of France as he turned to leave the house
+in which he no longer held authority.</p>
+
+<p>Without, but the door's thickness from where he stood, there arose a
+tumult of sound, shouts, cries, imprecations, entreaties, as though the
+walls of some asylum for the unfortunate had broken away and allowed its
+inmates to escape unrestrained, irreclaimable, impossible to control.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Down with Jean L'as! Down with Jean L'as!&quot; rose a cadenced, rhythmic
+shout, the accord of a mob of Paris beating into its tones. And this
+steady burden was broken by the cries of &quot;Enter! Enter! Break down the
+door! Kill the monster! Assassin! Thief! Traitor!&quot; No word of the
+vocabulary of scorn and loathing was wanting in their cries.</p>
+
+<p>Hearing these cries, the face of this fighting man now grew hot with
+anger, and now it paled with grief and sorrow. Yet he faltered not, but
+stepped on, confidently. The Swiss opened the door and stood at the head
+of the flight of stairs. Tall, calm, pale, fearless, John Law stood
+facing the angry mob, his eyes shining brightly. He laid his hand for an
+instant upon his sword, yet it was but to unbuckle the belt. The weapon
+he left leaning against the wall, and so stepped on down toward the
+crowd.</p>
+
+<p>He was met by a rush of excited men and women, screaming, cursing,
+giving vent to inarticulate and indistinguishable speech. A man laid his
+hand upon his shoulder. Law caught the hand, and with a swift wrench of
+the wrist, threw the owner of it to the ground. At this the others gave
+back, and for half a moment silence ensued. The mob lacked just the
+touch of rage to hurl themselves upon him. He raised his hand and
+motioned them aside.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Are you not Jean L'as?&quot; cried one dame, excitedly, waving in his face a
+handful of the paper shares of the latest issue in the Company of the
+Indies. &quot;Are you not Jean L'as? Tell me, then, where is my money for
+these things? What shall I get for this rotten paper?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You are Jean L'as, the director-general!&quot; cried a man, pushing up to
+his side. &quot;'Twas you that ruined the Company. See! Here is all that I
+have!&quot; He wept as he shook his bunch of paper in John Law's face. &quot;Last
+week I was worth half a million!&quot; He wept, and tore across, with
+impotent rage, the bundle of worthless paper.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Down with Jean L'as! Down with Jean L'as!&quot; came the recurrent cry. A
+rush followed. The carriage, towering above the ring of the surrounding
+crowd, showed its coat of arms, and thus was recognized. A paving-stone
+crashed through its heavy window. A knife ripped up the velvets of the
+cushions.</p>
+
+<p>The coachman was pulled from his box. The horses, plunging with terror,
+were cut loose from the pole and led away. With shouts and cries of rage
+and busy zeal, one madman vied with another in tearing, cutting and
+destroying the vehicle, until it stood there ruined, without means of
+locomotion, defaced and useless. And still the ring of desperate
+humanity closed around him who had late been master of all France.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What do you want, my friends?&quot; asked he, calmly, as for an instant
+there came a lull in the tumult. He stood looking at them curiously now,
+his dulling eyes regarding them as though they presented some new and
+interesting study. &quot;What is it that you desire?&quot; he repeated.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;We want our money,&quot; cried a score of voices. &quot;We want back that which
+you have stolen.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You are not exact,&quot; replied Law, calmly. &quot;I have not your money, nor
+yet have I stolen it. If you have suffered by this foolish panic, you do
+not mend matters by thus treating me. By heaven, you go the wrong way to
+get anything from me! Out of the way, you <i>canaille!</i> Do you think to
+frighten me? I made your city. I made you all. Now, do you think to
+frighten me, John Law?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh! You would go away, you want to escape!&quot; cried the voices of those
+near at hand. &quot;We will see as to that!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Again they fell upon the carriage, and still they hemmed him in the
+closer.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;True, I am going away,&quot; said Law. &quot;But you can not say that I tried to
+steal away without your knowing it. There, up the stairs, are my papers.
+You will see in time that I have concealed nothing. Now I am going to
+leave Paris, it is true; but not because I am afraid to stay here. 'Tis
+for other reason, and reason of mine own.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Twas you who ruined Paris&mdash;this city which you now seek to leave!&quot;
+shrieked the dame who had spoken before, still shaking her useless
+bank-notes in her hand.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, very well, my friend. For the argument, let us agree upon that,&quot;
+said Law.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You ruined our Company, our beautiful Company!&quot; cried another.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Certainly. Since I was the originator of it, that follows as matter of
+reason,&quot; replied Law.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah, he admits it! He admits it!&quot; cried yet another. &quot;Don't let him
+escape. Kill him! Down with Jean L'as!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;We are going to kill you precisely here!&quot; cried a huge fellow,
+brandishing a paving-stone before his eyes. &quot;You are not fit to live.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;As to that,&quot; said Law, &quot;I agree with you perfectly. My hand upon it; I
+am not fit to live. I have found that I made mistakes. I have found that
+there is nothing left to desire. I have found out that all this money is
+not worth the having. I have found out so many things, my very dear
+friends, that I quite agree with you. For if one must want to live
+before he is fit to live, then indeed I am not fit. But what then?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Kill him! Kill him! Strike him down!&quot; cried out a voice back of the
+giant with the menacing paving-stone.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, very well, my friends,&quot; resumed the object of their fury, flicking
+again with his old, careless gesture at the deep cuff of his wrist. &quot;As
+you like in regard to that. More than one man has offered me that
+happiness in the past, yet it was many a long year since, any man could
+trouble me by announcing that he was about to kill me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Something in the attitude of the man stayed the hands of the most
+dangerous members of the mob. Yet ever there came the cry from back of
+them. &quot;Down with Jean L'as! He has ruined everything!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Friends,&quot; responded Law to this cry, bitterly, &quot;you little know how
+true you speak. It was indeed John Law who brought ruin to everything.
+It was indeed he who threw away what was worth more than all the gold in
+France. It is indeed he who has failed, and failed most utterly. You can
+not frighten John Law, but you may do as you like with him, for surely
+he has failed!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The bitterness of despair was in his tones. Then, perhaps, the sullen,
+savage crowd had wrought their last act of anger and revenge on him, had
+it not been for a sudden change in that tide of ill fortune that now
+seemed to carry him forward to his doom. There came a sound of far-off
+cries, a distant clacking of hoofs, the clatter of steel, many shouts,
+entreaties and commands. The close-packed crowd which filled the open
+space in front of the h&ocirc;tel writhed, twisted, turned and would have
+sought to resolve itself into groups and individuals. Some cried out
+that the troops were coming. A detachment of the king's household, sent
+out to disperse these dangerous gatherings, came full front down the
+street, as had so often come the arm of the military in this turbulent
+old city of Paris. Remorselessly they rode over and through the mob,
+driving them, dispersing them. A moment later, and Law stood almost
+alone at the steps of his own house. The squadron wheeled, headed by an
+officer, who rode upon him with sword uplifted as though to cut him
+down. Law raised his hand at this new menace.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Stop!&quot; he cried. &quot;I am the cause of this rioting. I am John Law.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What! Monsieur L'as?&quot; cried the lieutenant. &quot;So the people have found
+you, have they?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It would so seem. They have destroyed my carriage, and they would have
+killed me,&quot; replied Law. &quot;But I perceive it is Captain Mirabec. 'Twas I
+who got you your commission, as you may remember.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Is it so?&quot; replied the other, with a grin. &quot;I have no recollection.
+Since you are Jean L'as, the late director-general, the pity is I did
+not let the people kill you. You are the cause of the ruin of us all,
+the cause of my own ruin. Three days more, and I had been a
+major-general. I had nearly the sum in <i>actions</i> ready to pay over at
+the right place. By our Lady of Grace, I am minded to run you through
+myself, for a greater villain never set foot in France!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Monsieur, I am about to leave France,&quot; said Law.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, you would leave us? You would run away?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;As you like. But most of all, I am now very weary. I would not remain
+here longer talking. Henri, where are you?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The faithful Swiss, who had remained close to his employer all the time,
+and who had been not far from his side during the scenes just concluded,
+was in a moment at his side. He hardly reached his master too soon, for
+as he passed his arm about him, the head of Law sank wearily forward. He
+might, perhaps, have sunk to the ground had he lacked a supporting arm.</p>
+
+<p>At this moment there came again the sound of hoofs upon the pavement.
+There was the rush of a mounted outrider, and hard after him sped the
+horses of a carriage, whose driver pulled up close at the curb and
+scarce clear of the little group gathered there. The door of the coach
+was opened, and at it appeared the figure of a woman, who quickly
+descended from the step.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What is it?&quot; she cried. &quot;Is not this the residence of Monsieur Law?&quot;
+The officer saluted, and the few loiterers gave back and made room, as
+she stepped fully into the street and advanced with decision towards
+those whom she saw.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Madam,&quot; replied the Swiss, &quot;this is the residence of Monsieur L'as, and
+this is Monsieur L'as himself. I fear he is taken suddenly ill.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The lady stepped quickly to his side. As she did so, Law, as one not
+fully hearing, half raised his head. He looked full into her face, and
+releasing himself from the arms of his servant, stood thus, staring
+directly at the visitor, his face haggard, his fixed eyes bearing no
+sign of actual recognition.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Catharine! Catharine!&quot; he exclaimed. &quot;Oh God, how cruel of you too to
+mock me! Catharine!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The unspeakable yearning of the cry went to the heart of her who heard
+it. She put out a hand and laid it on his forehead. The Swiss motioned
+toward the house. And even as the officer wheeled his troop to depart,
+these two again ascended the steps, half carrying between them a
+stumbling man, who but repeated mumblingly to himself the same words:</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Mockery! Mockery!&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='BOOK_III_CHAPTER_XIII'></a><h3>CHAPTER XIII</h3>
+
+<h4>THE QUALITY OF MERCY</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>Within the great house there was silence, for the vistas of the wide
+interior led far back from the street and its tumult; nor did there
+arise within the walls any sound of voice or footfall. Of the entire
+household there was but one left to do the master service.</p>
+
+<p>They entered the great hall, passed the foot of the wide stairway, and
+turned at the first <i>entresol</i>, where were seats and couches. The
+servant paused for a moment and looked inquiringly at the lady with whom
+he now found himself in company.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The times are serious,&quot; he began. &quot;I would not intrude, Madame, yet
+perhaps you are aware&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I am a friend of monsieur,&quot; replied Lady Catharine. &quot;He is ill. See, he
+is not himself. Tell me, what is this illness?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Madame,&quot; said the Swiss, gravely, &quot;his illness is that of grief.
+Monsieur's failure sits heavily upon him.&quot;</p>
+
+<center>
+<img src="images/img5.jpg" height="358" width="300"
+alt="Illustration">
+</center>
+
+<p>&quot;How long is it since he slept?&quot; asked the lady, for she noted the
+drooping head of the man now reclining upon the couch.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Not for many days and nights,&quot; replied the Swiss. &quot;He has for the last
+few days been under much strain. But shall I not assist you, Madame? You
+are, perhaps&mdash;pardon me, since I do not know your relationship with
+monsieur&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;A friend of years ago. I knew Mr. Law when he lived in England.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I perceive. Perhaps Madame would be alone for a time? If you please, I
+will seek aid.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>They approached the side of the couch. Law's head lay back upon the
+cushions. His breath came deeply and slowly, not stertorously nor
+labored.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;How strange,&quot; whispered the Swiss, &quot;he sleeps!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Such was indeed the truth. The iron nature, so long overwrought, now
+utterly unstrung, had yielded for the first time to the stress of nature
+and of events. The relief from what he had taken to be death had come
+swiftly, and the reaction brought a lethal calm of its own. If he had
+indeed recognized the face of the woman who had touched him with her
+hand, it was as though he had witnessed her in a vision, a dream bitter
+and troubled, since it was a dream impossible to be true.</p>
+
+<p>The Swiss looked still hesitatingly at the lady who had thus strangely
+come upon the scene, noticing her sweet and tender mouth, her cheeks
+just faintly tinged with pink, her eyes shining with a soft, mysterious
+radiance. She approached the couch and laid both her hands upon the face
+of the unconscious man. Tears sprang within her eyes and fell from her
+dark lashes. The old servant looked up at her, simply.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Madame would be alone with monsieur?&quot; asked he. &quot;It will be better.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lady Catharine Knollys, left alone, gazed upon the sleeper. John Law,
+the failure, lay there, supine, abased, cast-down, undone, shorn utterly
+of his old arrogance of mind and mien. Fortune, wealth, even the boon of
+physical well-being&mdash;all had fled from him. The pride of a superb
+manhood had departed from the lines of this limp figure. The cheeks were
+lined and sunken, the eye, even had the lid not covered it, lacked the
+late convincing fire. No longer commanding, no longer strong, no longer
+gay and debonair, he lay, a man whose fate was failure, as he himself
+had said.</p>
+
+<p>The woman who stood with clasped hands, gazing at him, tears welling in
+her eyes&mdash;she, so closely linked to his every thought for these many
+years&mdash;well enough she knew the story of his boundless ambitions, now so
+swiftly ended. Well enough, too, she knew the shortcomings of this
+mortal man before her. Even as she had in her mirror looked into her own
+soul, so now she saw deep into his heart as he lay there, helpless,
+making no further plea for himself, urging no claim, making no
+explanations nor denials, no asseverations, no promises. Did she indeed
+see and recognize again, as sometimes gloriously happens in this poor
+life of ours, that other and inner man, the only one fit to touch a
+woman's hand&mdash;the man who might have been? Did she see this, and greet
+again the friend of long ago? God, who hath given mercy, remedy alone
+sufficing for the ill that men may do, He alone may know these things.</p>
+
+<p>Could John Law failing be John Law succeeding, and in his most sublime
+success? Upon the wreck and ruin of the old nature could there grow
+another and a better man? Mayhap the answer to this was what the eye of
+woman saw. How else could there have come into this great room, so late
+the scene of turbulent activities, this vast and soothing calm? How else
+could this man's breath come now so deep and regular and content? The
+angels of God may know, they who drop down the gentle dew of heaven.</p>
+
+<p>An hour passed by. A soft tread came to the door, but Henri heard no
+sound, and saw only the prone figure of the sleeper, and beside it the
+form of the woman, who still held his hand in her own. Still the hours
+wore on, and still the watch continued, there under the mysteries of
+Life and of Love, of Mercy and of Forgiveness. And so at last the gray
+dawn broke again. The panes of the high mullioned windows were tinged
+with splashes of color. The pale light crept into the room, slowly
+revealing and lighting up its splendors.</p>
+
+<p>With the dawn there came into the heart of Catharine Knollys a flood of
+light and joy. Why, she knew not; how, she cared not; yet she knew that
+the shadows were gone. The same tide of peace and calm might have swept
+into the bosom of the man before her. He stirred, moved. His eyes opened
+wide, in their gaze wonder and disbelief, yet hope and longing.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Catharine,&quot; he murmured, &quot;Catharine! Is it you? Catharine! Dear Kate!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>She bent over and softly kissed his face. &quot;Dear heart,&quot; she whispered,
+&quot;I have loved you always. Awake. The day has come. There is another
+world before us. See, I have come to you, dear heart, for Faith, and for
+Love, and for Hope!&quot;</p>
+<br />
+
+<br />
+<hr class="full" noshade>
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+The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Mississippi Bubble, by Emerson Hough,
+Illustrated by Henry Hutt
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net
+
+
+
+
+
+Title: The Mississippi Bubble
+
+Author: Emerson Hough
+
+Release Date: November 10, 2004  [eBook #14001]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE***
+
+
+E-text prepared by Rick Niles, John Hagerson, Jon King, and the Project
+Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team
+
+
+
+Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
+      file which includes the original illustrations.
+      See 14001-h.htm or 14001-h.zip:
+      (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/1/4/0/0/14001/14001-h/14001-h.htm)
+      or
+      (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/1/4/0/0/14001/14001-h.zip)
+
+
+
+
+
+THE MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE
+
+How the Star of Good Fortune Rose and Set and Rose Again, by a Woman's
+Grace, for One John Law of Lauriston
+
+A Novel by
+
+EMERSON HOUGH
+
+The Illustrations by Henry Hutt
+
+1902
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: (Frontispiece)]
+
+
+
+
+TO
+L.C.H.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+BOOK I
+
+CHAPTER
+
+   I THE RETURNED TRAVELER
+  II AT SADLER'S WELLS
+ III JOHN LAW OF LAURISTON
+  IV THE POINT OF HONOR
+   V DIVERS EMPLOYMENTS OF JOHN LAW
+  VI THE RESOLUTION OF MR. LAW
+ VII TWO MAIDS A-BROIDERING
+VIII CATHARINE KNOLLYS
+  IX IN SEARCH OF THE QUARREL
+   X THE RUMOR OF THE QUARREL
+  XI AS CHANCE DECREED
+ XII FOR FELONY
+XIII THE MESSAGE
+ XIV PRISONERS
+  XV IF THERE WERE NEED
+ XVI THE ESCAPE
+XVII WHITHER
+
+
+BOOK II
+
+ I THE DOOR OF THE WEST
+  II THE STORM
+ III AU LARGE
+  IV THE PATHWAY OF THE WATERS
+   V MESSASEBE
+  VI MAIZE
+ VII THE BRINK OF CHANGE
+VIII TOUS SAUVAGES
+  IX THE DREAM
+   X BY THE HILT OF THE SWORD
+  XI THE IROQUOIS
+ XII PRISONERS OF THE IROQUOIS
+XIII THE SACRIFICE
+ XIV THE EMBASSY
+  XV THE GREAT PEACE
+
+
+BOOK III
+
+   I THE GRAND MONARQUE
+  II EVER SAID SHE NAY
+ III SEARCH THOU MY HEART
+  IV THE REGENT'S PROMISE
+   V A DAY OF MIRACLES
+  VI THE GREATEST NEED
+ VII THE MIRACLE UNWROUGHT
+VIII THE LITTLE SUPPER OF THE REGENT
+  IX THE NEWS
+   X MASTER AND MAN
+  XI THE BREAKING OF THE BUBBLE
+ XII THAT WHICH REMAINED
+XIII THE QUALITY OF MERCY
+
+
+
+
+BOOK I
+
+ENGLAND
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+THE RETURNED TRAVELER
+
+
+"Gentlemen, this is America!"
+
+The speaker cast upon the cloth-covered table a singular object, whose
+like none of those present had ever seen. They gathered about and bent
+over it curiously.
+
+"This is that America," the speaker repeated. "Here you have it,
+barbaric, wonderful, abounding!"
+
+With sudden gesture he swept his hand among the gold coin that lay on
+the gaming table. He thrust into the mouth of the object before him a
+handful of louis d'or and English sovereigns. "There is your America,"
+said he. "It runs over with gold. No man may tell its richness. Its
+beauty you can not imagine."
+
+"Faith," said Sir Arthur Pembroke, bending over the table with glass in
+eye, "if the ladies of that land have feet for this sort of shoon,
+methinks we might well emigrate. Take you the money of it. For me, I
+would see the dame could wear such shoe as this."
+
+One after another this company of young Englishmen, hard players, hard
+drinkers, gathered about the table and bent over to examine the little
+shoe. It was an Indian moccasin, cut after the fashion of the Abenakis,
+from the skin of the wild buck, fashioned large and full for the spread
+of the foot, covered deep with the stained quills of the porcupine, and
+dotted here and there with the precious beads which, to the maker, had
+more worth than any gold. A little flap came up for cover to the ankle,
+and a thong fell from its upper edge. It was the ancient foot-covering
+of the red race of America, made for the slight but effectual protection
+of the foot, while giving perfect freedom to the tread of the wearer.
+Light, dainty and graceful, its size was much less than that of the
+average woman's shoe of that time and place.
+
+"Bah! Pembroke," said Castleton, pushing up the shade above his eyes
+till it rested on his forehead, "'tis a child's shoe."
+
+"Not so," said the first speaker. "I give you my word 'tis the moccasin
+of my sweetheart, a princess in her own right, who waits my coming on
+the Ottawa. And so far from the shoe being too small, I say as a
+gentleman that she not only wore it so, but in addition used somewhat
+of grass therein in place of hose."
+
+The earnestness of this speech in no wise prevented the peal of laughter
+that followed.
+
+"There you have it, Pembroke," cried Castleton. "Would you move to a
+land where princesses use hay for hosiery?"
+
+"'Tis curious done," said Pembroke, musingly, "none the less."
+
+"And done by her own hand," said the owner of the shoe, with a certain
+proprietary pride.
+
+Again the laughter broke out. "Do your princesses engage in shoemaking?"
+asked a third gamester as he pushed into the ring. "Sure it must be a
+rare land. Prithee, what doth the king in handicraft? Doth he take to
+saddlery, or, perhaps, smithing?"
+
+"Have done thy jests, Wilson," cried Pembroke. "Mayhap there is somewhat
+to be learned here of this New World and of our dear cousins, the
+French. Go on, tell us, Monsieur du Mesne--as I think you call yourself,
+sir?--tell us more of your new country of ice and snow, of princesses
+and little shoes."
+
+The original speaker went a bit sullen, what with his wine and the jests
+of his companions. "I'll tell ye naught," said he. "Go see for
+yourselves, by leave of Louis."
+
+"Come now," said Pembroke, conciliatingly. "We'll all admit our
+ignorance. 'Tis little we know of our own province of Virginia, save
+that Virginia is a land of poverty and tobacco. Wealth--faith, if ye
+have wealth in your end of the continent, 'tis time we English fought ye
+for it."
+
+"Methinks you English are having enough to do here close at home,"
+sneered Du Mesne. "I have heard somewhat of Steinkirk, and how ye ran
+from the half-dressed gentlemen of France."
+
+Dark looks followed this bold speech, which cut but too closely to the
+quick of English pride. Pembroke quelled the incipient outcry with
+calmer speech.
+
+"Peace, friends," said he. "'Tis not arms we argue here, after all. We
+are but students at the feet of Monsieur du Mesne, who hath returned
+from foreign parts. Prithee, sir, tell us more."
+
+"Tell ye more--and if I did, would ye believe it? What if I tell ye of
+great rivers far to the west of the Ottawa; of races as strange to my
+princess's people as we are to them; of streams whose sands run in gold,
+where diamonds and sapphires are to be picked up as ye like? If I told
+ye, would ye believe?"
+
+The martial hearts and adventurous souls of the circle about him began
+to show in the heightened color and closer crowding of the young men to
+the table. Silence fell upon the group.
+
+"Ye know nothing, in this old rotten world, of what there is yet to be
+found in America," cried Du Mesne. "For myself, I have been no farther
+than the great falls of the Ontoneagrea--a mere trifle of a cataract,
+gentlemen, into which ye might pitch your tallest English cathedral and
+sink it beyond its pinnacle with ease. Yet I have spoke with the holy
+fathers who have journeyed far to the westward, even to the vast
+Messasebe, which is well known to run into the China sea upon some
+far-off coast not yet well charted. I have also read the story of
+Sagean, who was far to the west of that mighty river. Did not the latter
+see and pursue and kill in fair fight the giant unicorn, fabled of
+Scripture? Is not that animal known to be a creature of the East, and
+may we not, therefore, be advised that this new country takes hold upon
+the storied lands of the East? Why, this holy friar with whom I spoke,
+fresh back from his voyaging to the cold upper ways of the Northern
+tribes, who live beyond the far-off channel at Michilimackinac--did he
+not tell of a river of the name of the Blue Earth, and did he not
+himself see turquoises and diamonds and emeralds taken in handfuls from
+this same blue earth? Ah, bah! gentlemen, Europe for you if ye like, but
+for me, back I go, so soon as I may get proper passage and a connection
+which will warrant me the voyage. Back I go to Canada, to America, to
+the woods and streams. I would see again my ancient Du L'hut, and my
+comrade Pierre Noir, and Tête Gris, the trapper from the Mistasing--free
+traders all. Life is there for the living, my comrades. This Old World,
+small and outworn, no more of it for me."
+
+"And why came you back to this little Old World of ours, an you loved
+the New World so much?" asked the cynical voice of him who had been
+called Wilson.
+
+"By the body of God!" cried Du Mesne, "think ye I came of my own free
+will? Look here, and find your reason." He stripped back the opening of
+his doublet and under waistcoat, and showed upon his broad shoulder the
+scar of a red tri-point, deep and livid upon his flesh. "Look! There is
+the fleur-de-lis of France. That is why I came. I have rowed in the
+galleys, me--me a free man, a man of the woods of New France!"
+
+Murmurs of concern passed among the little group. Castleton rose from
+his chair and leaned with his hands upon the table, gazing now at the
+face and now at the bared shoulder of this stranger, who had by chance
+become a member of their nightly party.
+
+"I have not been in London a fortnight since my escape," said the man
+with the brand. "I was none the less once a good servant of Louis in New
+France, for that I found many a new tribe and many a bale of furs that
+else had never come to the Mountain for the robbery of the lying
+officers who claim the robe of Louis. I was a soldier for the king as
+well as a traveler of the forest. Was I not with the Le Moynes and the
+band that crossed the icy North and destroyed your robbing English fur
+posts on the Bay of Hudson? I fought there and helped blow down your
+barriers. I packed my own robe on my back, and walked for the king, till
+the _raquette_ thongs cut my ankles to the bone. For what? When I came
+back to the settlements at Quebec I was seized for a _coureur de bois_,
+a free trader. I was herded like a criminal into a French ship, sent
+over seas to a French prison, branded with a French iron, and set like a
+brute to pull without reason at a bar of wood in the king's galleys--the
+king's hell!"
+
+"And yet you are a Frenchman," sneered Wilson.
+
+"Yet am I not a Frenchman," cried the other. "Nor am I an Englishman. I
+am no man of a world of galleys and brands. I am a man of America!"
+
+"'Tis true what he says," spoke Pembroke. "'Tis said the minister of
+Louis was feared to keep these men in the galleys, lest their fellows in
+New France should become too bitter, and should join the savages in
+their inroads on the starving settlements of Quebec and Montréal."
+
+"True," exclaimed Du Mesne. "The _coureurs_ care naught for the law and
+little for the king. As for a ruler, we have discovered that a man makes
+a most excellent sovereign for himself."
+
+"And excellent said," cried Castleton.
+
+"None of ye know the West," went on the _coureur_. "Your Virginia, we
+know well of it--a collection of beggars, prostitutes and thieves. Your
+New England--a lot of cod-fishing, starving snivelers, who are most
+concerned how to keep life in their bodies from year to year. New France
+herself, sitting ever on the edge of an icy death, with naught but
+bickerings at Quebec and naught but reluctant compliance from
+Paris--what hath she to hope? I tell ye, gentlemen, 'tis beyond, in the
+land of the Messasebe, where I shall for my part seek out my home; and
+no man shall set iron on my soul again."
+
+He spoke bitterly. The group about him, half amused, half cynical and
+all ignorant, as were their kind at this time of the reign of William,
+were none the less impressed and thoughtful. Yet once more the sneering
+voice of Wilson broke in.
+
+"A strange land, my friend," said he, "monstrous strange. Your unicorns
+are great, and your women are little. Methinks to give thy tale
+proportion thou shouldst have shown shoon somewhat larger."
+
+"Peace! Beau," said Castleton, quickly. "As for the size of the human
+foot--gad! I'll lay a roll of louis d'or that there's one dame here in
+London town can wear this slipper of New France."
+
+"Done!" cried Wilson. "Name the one."
+
+"None other than the pretty Lawrence whom thou hast had under thine
+ancient wing for the past two seasons."
+
+The face of Wilson gathered into a sudden frown at this speech. "What
+doth it matter"--he began.
+
+"Have done, fellows!" cried Pembroke with some asperity. "Lay wagers
+more fit at best, and let us have no more of this thumb-biting. Gad! the
+first we know, we'll be up for fighting among ourselves, and we all know
+how the new court doth look on that."
+
+"Come away," laughed Castleton, gaily. "I'm for a pint of ale and an
+apple; and then beware! 'Tis always my fortune, when I come to this
+country drink, to win like a very countryman. I need revenge upon Lady
+Betty and her lap-dog. I've lost since ever I saw them last."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+AT SADLER'S WELLS
+
+
+Sadler's Wells, on this mild and cheery spring morning, was a scene of
+fashion and of folly. Hither came the elite of London, after the custom
+of the day, to seek remedy in the reputed qualities of the springs for
+the weariness and lassitude resultant upon the long season of polite
+dissipations which society demanded of her votaries. Bewigged dandies,
+their long coats of colors well displayed as they strutted about in the
+open, paid court there, as they did within the city gates, to the
+powdered and painted beauties who sat in their couches waiting for their
+servants to bring out to them the draft of which they craved healing for
+crow's-feet and hollow eyes. Here and there traveling merchants called
+their wares, jugglers spread their carpets, bear dancers gave their
+little spectacles, and jockeys conferred as to the merits of horse or
+hound. Hawk-nosed Jews passed among the vehicles, cursed or kicked by
+the young gallants who stood about, hat in hand, at the steps of their
+idols' carriages.
+
+"Buy my silks, pretty lady, buy my silks! Fresh from the Turkey walk on
+the Exchange, and cheaper than you can buy their like in all the
+city--buy my silks, lady!" Thus the peddler with his little pack of
+finery.
+
+"My philter, lady," cried the gipsy woman, who had left her donkey cart
+outside the line. "My philter! 'Twill keep-a your eyes bright and your
+cheeks red for ay. Secret of the Pharaohs, lady; and but a shilling!"
+
+"Have ye a parrot, ma'am? Have ye never a parrot to keep ye free and
+give ye laughter every hour? Buy my parrot, lady. Just from the Gold
+Coast. He'll talk ye Spanish, Flemish or good city tongue. Buy my parrot
+at ten crowns, and so cheap, lady!" So spoke the ear-ringed sailor, who
+might never have seen a salter water than the Thames.
+
+"Powder-puffs for the face, lady," whispered a lean and weazen-faced
+hawker, slipping among the crowd with secrecy. "See my puff, made from
+the foot of English hares. Rubs out all wrinkles, lady, and keeps ye
+young as when ye were a lass. But a shilling, a shilling. See!" And with
+the pretense of secrecy the seller would sidle up to a carriage of some
+dame, slip to her the hare's foot and take the shilling with an air as
+though no one could see what none could fail to notice.
+
+Above these mingled cries of the hangers-on of this crowd of nobility
+and gentles rose the blare of crude music, and cries far off and
+confused. Above it all shone the May sun, brighter here than lower
+toward the Thames. In the edge of London town it was, all this little
+pageant, and from the residence squares below and far to the westward
+came the carriages and the riders, gathering at the spot which for the
+hour was the designated rendezvous of capricious fashion. No matter if
+the tower at the drinking curb was crowded, so that inmates of the
+coaches could not find way among the others. There was at least magic in
+the morning, even if one might not drink at the chalybeate spring.
+Cheeks did indeed grow rosy, and eyes brightened under the challenge not
+only of the dawn but of the ardent eyes that gazed impertinently bold or
+reproachfully imploring.
+
+Far-reaching was the line of the gentility, to whose flanks clung the
+rabble of trade. Back upon the white road came yet other carriages,
+saluted by those departing. Low hedges of English green reached out into
+the distance, blending ultimately at the edge of the pleasant sky. Merry
+enough it was, and gladsome, this spring day; for be sure the really ill
+did not brave the long morning ride to test the virtue of the waters of
+Sadler's Wells. It was for the most part the young, the lively, the
+full-blooded, perhaps the wearied, but none the less the vital and
+stirring natures which met in the decreed assemblage.
+
+Back of Sadler's little court the country came creeping close up to the
+town. There were fields not so far away on these long highways.
+Wandering and rambling roads ran off to the westward and to the north,
+leading toward the straight old Roman road which once upon a time ran
+down to London town. Ill-kept enough were some of the lanes, with their
+hedges and shrubs overhanging the highways, if such the paths could be
+called which came braiding down toward the south. One needed not to go
+far outward beyond Sadler's Wells of a night-time to find adventure, or
+to lose a purse.
+
+It was on one of these less crowded highways that there was this morning
+enacted a curious little drama. The sun was still young and not too
+strong for comfort, and as it rose back of the square of Sadler's it
+cast a shadow from a hedge which ran angling toward the southeast. Its
+rays, therefore, did not disturb the slumbers of two young men who were
+lying beneath the shelter of the hedge. Strange enough must have been
+the conclusions of the sun could it have looked over the barrier and
+peered into the faces of these youths. Evidently they were of good
+breeding and some station, albeit their garb was not of the latest
+fashion. The gray hose and the clumsy shoes plainly bespoke some
+northern residence. The wig of each lacked the latest turn, perhaps the
+collar of the coat was not all it should have been. There was but one
+coat visible, for the other, rolled up as a pillow, served to support
+the heads of both. The elder of the two was the one who had sacrificed
+his covering. The other was more restless in his attitude, and though
+thus the warmer for a coat, was more in need of comfort. A white bandage
+covered his wrist, and the linen was stained red. Yet the two slept on,
+well into the morn, well into the rout of Sadler's Wells. Evidently they
+were weary.
+
+The elder man was the taller of the two; as he lay on the bank beneath
+the hedge, he might even in that posture have been seen to own a figure
+of great strength and beauty. His face, bold of outline, with well
+curved, wide jaw and strong cheek bones, was shaded by the tangled mat
+of his wig, tousled in his sleep. His hands, long and graceful, lay idly
+at his side, though one rested lightly on the hilt of the sword which
+lay near him. The ruffles of his shirt were torn, and, indeed, had
+almost disappeared. By study one might have recognized them in the
+bandage about the hand of the other. Somewhat disheveled was this
+youth, yet his young, strong body, slender and shapely, seemed even in
+its rest strangely full of power and confidence.
+
+The younger man was in some fashion an epitome of the other, and it had
+needed little argument to show the two were brothers. But why should two
+brothers, well-clad and apparently well-to-do, probably brothers from a
+country far to the north, be thus lying like common vagabonds beneath an
+English hedge?
+
+Far down the roadway there rose a cloud of dust, which came steadily
+nearer, following the only vehicle in sight, probably the only one which
+had passed that morning. As this little dust-cloud came slowly nearer it
+might have been seen to rise from the wheels of a richly-built and
+well-appointed coach. Four dark horses obeyed the reins handled by a
+solemn-visaged lackey on the box, and there was a goodly footman at the
+back. Within the coach were two passengers such as might have set
+Sadler's Wells by the ears. They sat on the same seat, as equals, and
+their heads lay close together, as confidantes. The tongues of both ran
+fast and free. Long gloves covered the arms of these beauties, and their
+costumes showed them to be of station. The crinoline of the two filled
+all the body of the ample coach from seat to seat, and the folds of
+their figured muslins, flowing out over this ample outline, gave to the
+face of each a daintiness of contour and feature which was not ill
+relieved by the high head-dress of ribbons and bepowdered hair. Of the
+two ladies, one, even in despite of her crinoline, might have been seen
+to be of noble and queenly figure; the towering head-dress did not fully
+disguise the wealth of red-bronze hair. Tall and well-rounded, vigorous
+and young, not yet twenty, adored by many suitors, the Lady Catharine
+Knollys had rarely looked better than she did this morning as she drove
+out to Sadler's, for Providence alone knew what fault of a superb vital
+energy. Her eyes sparkled as she spoke, and every gesture betokened
+rather the grand young creature that she was than the valetudinarian
+going forth for healing. Her cheek, turned now and again, showed a
+clear-cut and untouched soundness that meant naught but health. It
+showed also the one blemish upon a beauty which was toasted in the court
+as faultless. Upon the left cheek there was a _mouche_, excessive in its
+size. Strangers might have commented on it. Really it covered a
+deep-stained birth-mark, the one blur upon a peerless beauty. Yet even
+this might be forgotten, as it was now.
+
+The companion of the Lady Catharine in her coach was a young woman,
+scarce so tall and more slender. The heavy hoop concealed much of the
+grace of figure which was her portion, but the poise of the upper body,
+free from the seat-back and erect with youthful strength as yet
+unspared, showed easily that here, too, was but an indifferent subject
+for Sadler's. Dark, where her companion was fair, and with the glossy
+texture of her own somber locks showing in the individual roll which ran
+back into the absurd _fontange_ of false hair and falser powder, Mary
+Connynge made good foil for her bosom friend; though honesty must admit
+that neither had yet much concern for foils, since both had their full
+meed of gallants. Much seen together, they were commonly known, as the
+Morning and Eve, sometimes as Aurora and Eve. Never did daughter of the
+original Eve have deeper feminine guile than Mary Connynge. Soft of
+speech--as her friend, the Lady Catharine, was impulsive,--slow, suave,
+amber-eyed and innocent of visage, this young English woman, with no
+dower save that of beauty and of wit, had not failed of a sensation at
+the capital whither she had come as guest of the Lady Catharine. Three
+captains and a squire, to say nothing of a gouty colonel, had already
+fallen victims, and had heard their fate in her low, soft tones, which
+could whisper a fashionable oath in the accent of a hymn, and say "no"
+so sweetly that one could only beg to hear the word again. It was
+perhaps of some such incident that these two young maids of old London
+conversed as they trundled slowly out toward the suburb of the city.
+
+"'Twould have killed you, Lady Kitty; sure 'twould have been your end to
+hear him speak! He walked the floor upon his knees, and clasped his
+hands, and followed me about like a dog in a spectacle. Lord! but I
+feared he would have thrown over the tabouret with his great feet. And
+help me, if I think not he had tears in his eyes!"
+
+"My friend," said Lady Kitty, solemnly, "you must have better care of
+your conduct. I'll not have my father's old friend abused in his own
+house." At which they both burst into laughter. Youth, the blithely
+cruel, had its own way in this old coach upon the ancient dusty road, as
+it has ever had.
+
+But now serious affairs gained the attention of these two fairs. "Tell
+me, sweetheart," said Lady Catharine, "what think you of the fancy of my
+new dresser? He insists ever that the mode in Paris favors a deep bow,
+placed high upon the left side of the 'tower.' Montespan, of the French
+court, is said to have given the fashion. She hurried at her toilet, and
+placed the bow there for fault of better care. Hence, so must we if we
+are to live in town. So says my new hair-dresser from Paris. 'Tis to
+Paris we must go for the modes."
+
+"I am not so sure," began Mary Connynge, "as to this arrangement. Now I
+am much disposed to believe--" but what she was disposed to believe at
+that time was not said, then or ever afterward, for at that moment there
+happened matters which ended their little talk; matters which divided
+their two lives, and which, in the end, drove them as far apart as two
+continents could carry them.
+
+"O Gemini!" called out Mary Connynge, as the coachman for a moment
+slackened his pace. "Look! We shall be robbed!"
+
+The driver irresolutely pulled up his horses. From under the shade of
+the hedge there arose two men, of whom the taller now stood erect and
+came toward the carriage.
+
+"'Tis no robber," said Lady Catharine Knollys, her eyes fastened on the
+tall figure which came forward.
+
+"Save us," said Mary Connynge, "what a pretty man!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+JOHN LAW OF LAURISTON
+
+
+Unconsciously the coachman obeyed the unvoiced command of this man, who
+stepped out from the shelter of the hedge. Travel-stained, just awakened
+from sleep, disheveled, with dress disordered, there was none the less
+abundant boldness in his mien as he came forward, yet withal the grace
+and deference of the courtier. It was a good figure he made as he
+stepped down from the bank and came forward, hat in hand, the sun, now
+rising to the top of the hedge, lighting up his face and showing his
+bold profile, his open and straight blue eye.
+
+"Ladies," he said, as he reached the road, "I crave your pardon humbly.
+This, I think, is the coach of my Lord, the Earl of Banbury. Mayhap this
+is the Lady Catharine Knollys to whom I speak?"
+
+The lady addressed still gazed at him, though she drew up with dignity.
+
+"You have quite the advantage of us," said she. She glanced uneasily at
+the coachman, but the order to go forward did not quite leave her lips.
+
+"I am not aware--I do not know--," she began, afraid of her adventure
+now it had come, after the way of all dreaming maids who prate of men
+and conquests.
+
+"I should be dull of eye did I not see the Knollys arms," said the
+stranger, smiling and bowing low. "And I should be ill advised of the
+families of England did I not know that the daughter of Knollys, the
+sister of the Earl of Banbury, is the Lady Catharine, and most charming
+also. This I might say, though 'tis true I never was in London or in
+England until now."
+
+The speech, given with all respectfulness, did not fail of flattery.
+Again the order to drive on remained unspoken. This speaker, whose foot
+was now close to the carriage step, and whose head, gravely bowed as he
+saluted the occupants of the vehicle, presented so striking a type of
+manly attractiveness, even that first moment cast some spell upon the
+woman whom he sought to interest. The eyes of the Lady Catharine Knollys
+did not turn from him. As though it were another person, she heard
+herself murmur, "And you, sir?"
+
+"I am John Law of Lauriston, Scotland, Madam, and entirely at your
+service. That is my brother Will, yonder by the bank." He smiled, and
+the younger man came forward, hesitatingly, and not with the address of
+his brother, though yet with the breeding of a gentleman.
+
+The eyes of Mary Connynge took in both men with the same look, but her
+eyes, as did those of the Lady Catharine, became most concerned with the
+first speaker.
+
+"My brother and I are on our first journey to London," continued he,
+with a gay laugh which did not consort fully with the plight in which he
+showed. "We started by coach, as gentlemen; and now we come on foot,
+like laborers or thieves. 'Twas my own fault. Yesterday I must needs
+quit the Edinboro' stage. Last night our chaise was stopped, and we were
+asked to hand our money to a pair of evil fellows who had made prey of
+us. In short--you see--we fared ill enough. Lost in the dark, we made
+what shift we could along this road, where we both are strangers. At
+last, not able to pay for better quarters even had we found them, we lay
+down to sleep. I have slept far worse. And 'tis a lovely morning. Madam,
+I thank you for this happy beginning of the day."
+
+Mary Connynge pointed to the bandage on the younger man's arm, speaking
+a low word to her companion.
+
+"True," said the Lady Catharine, "you are injured, sir; you did not come
+off whole."
+
+"Oh, we would hardly suffer the fellows to rob us without making some
+argument over it," said the first speaker. "Indeed, I think we are the
+better off hereabouts for a brace of footpads gone to their account. I
+made them my duties as we came away. Will, here, was pricked a trifle,
+but you see we have done very well."
+
+The face of Will Law hardly offered complete proof of this assertion. He
+had slept ill enough, and in the morning light his face showed gaunt and
+pale. Here, then, was a situation most inopportune; the coach of two
+ladies, unattended, stopped by two strangers, who certainly could not
+claim introduction by either friend or reputation.
+
+"I did but wish to ask some advice of the roads hereabout," said the
+elder brother, turning his eyes full upon those of the Lady Catharine.
+"As you see, we are in ill plight to get forward to the city. If you
+will be so good as to tell me which way to take, I shall remember it
+most gratefully. Once in the city, we should do better, for the rascals
+have not taken certain papers, letters which I bear to gentlemen in the
+city--Sir Arthur Pembroke I may name as one--a friend of my father's,
+who hath had some dealings with him in the handling of moneys. I have
+also word for others, and make sure that, once we have got into town, we
+shall soon mend our fortune."
+
+Lady Catharine looked at Mary Connynge and the latter in turn gazed at
+her. "There could be no harm," said each to the other with her eyes.
+"Surely it is our duty to take them in with us; at least the one who is
+wounded."
+
+Will Law had said nothing, though he had come forward to the road, and,
+bowing, stood uncovered. Now he leaned against the flank of one of the
+horses, in a tremor of vertigo which seized him as he stood. It was
+perhaps the paleness of his face that gave determination to the issue.
+
+"William," called the Lady Catharine Knollys, "open the door for Mr. Law
+of Lauriston!"
+
+The footman sprang to the ground and held open the door. Therefore, into
+the coach stepped John Law and his brother, late of Edinboro', sometime
+robbed and afoot, but now to come into London in circumstances which
+surely might have been far worse.
+
+John Law entered the coach with the dignity and grace of a gentleman
+born. He bowed gravely as he took his seat beside his brother, facing
+the ladies. Will Law sank back into the corner, not averse to rest. The
+eyes of the two young women did not linger more upon the wounded man
+than upon his brother. He, in turn, looked straight into their eyes,
+courteously, respectfully, gravely, yet fearlessly and calmly, as
+though he knew what power and possibilities were his. Enigma and
+autocrat alike, Beau Law of Edinboro', one of the handsomest and
+properest men ever bred on any soil, was surely a picture of vigorous
+young manhood, as he rode toward Sadler's Wells, with two of the
+beauties of the hour, and in a coach and four which might have been his
+own.
+
+Now all the sweet spring morning came on apace, and from the fields and
+little gardens came the breath of flowers. The sky was blue. The languor
+of springtime pulsed through the veins of those young creatures, those
+engines of life, of passion and desire. Neither of the two women saw the
+torn garb of the man before them. They saw but the curve of the strong
+chest beneath. They heard, and the one heard and felt as keenly as the
+other, the voice of the young man, musical and rich, touching some
+deep-seated and vibrating heart-string. So in the merry month of May,
+with the birds singing in the trees, and the scent of the flowers wafted
+coolly to their senses, they came on apace to the throng at Sadler's
+Wells. There it was that John Law, finding in a pocket a coin that had
+been overlooked, reached out to a vender and bought a rose. He offered
+his flower with a deep inclination of the body to the Lady Catharine.
+
+It was at this moment that Mary Connynge first began to hate her friend,
+the Lady Catharine Knollys.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+THE POINT OF HONOR
+
+
+"Tell me, friend Castleton," said Pembroke, banteringly, "art still
+adhering to thy country drink of lamb's-wool? Methinks burnt ale and
+toasted apple might better be replaced in thy case by a beaker of
+stronger waters. You lose, and still you lose."
+
+"May a plague take it!" cried Castleton. "I've had no luck these four
+days. 'Tis that cursed lap-dog of the duchess. Ugh! I saw it in my
+dreams last night."
+
+"Gad! your own fortune in love must be ill enough, Sir Arthur," said
+Beau Wilson, as he pushed back his chair during this little lull in the
+play of the evening.
+
+"And tell me why, Beau?"
+
+"Because of us all who have met here at the Green Lion these last
+months, not one hath ever had so steady a run of luck. Sure some fairy
+hath befriended thee. _Sept et le va, sept et le va_--I'll hear it in my
+ears to-night, even as Castleton sees the lap-dog. Man, you play as
+though you read the pack quite through."
+
+"Ah, then, you admit that there is some such thing as a talisman. I'll
+not deny that I have had one these last three evenings, but I feared to
+tell ye all, lest I might be waylaid and robbed of my good-luck charm."
+
+"Tell us, tell us, man, what it is!" cried Castleton. "_Sept et le va_
+has not been made in this room before for many a month, yet here thou
+comest with the run of _sept et le va_ thrice in as many hours."
+
+"Well, then," continued Pembroke, still smiling, "I'll make a small
+confession. Here is my charm. Salute it!"
+
+He cast on the table the Indian moccasin which had been shown the same
+party at the Green Lion a few evenings before. Eager hands reached for
+it.
+
+"Treachery!" cried Castleton. "I bid Du Mesne four pounds for the shoe
+myself."
+
+"Oh ho!" said Pembroke, "so you too were after it. Well, the long purse
+won, as it doth ever. I secretly gave our wandering wood ranger,
+ex-galley slave of France, the neat sum of twenty-five pounds for this
+little shoe. Poor fellow, he liked ill enough to part with it; but he
+said, very sensibly, that the twenty-five pounds would take him back to
+Canada, and once there, he could not only get many such shoes, but see
+the maid who made this one for him, or, rather, made it for herself. As
+for me, the price was cheap. You could not replace it in all the
+Exchange for any money. Moreover, to show my canniness, I've won back
+its cost a score of times this very night."
+
+He laughingly extended his hand for the moccasin, which Wilson was
+examining closely.
+
+"'Tis clever made," said the latter. "And what a tale the owner of it
+carried. If half he says be true, we do ill to bide here in old England.
+Let us take ship and follow Monsieur du Mesne."
+
+"'Twould be a long chase, mayhap," said Pembroke, reflectively. Yet each
+of the men at that little table in the gaming room of the Green Lion
+coffee-house ceased in his fingering the cards, and gazed upon this
+product of another world.
+
+Pembroke was first to break the silence, and as he heard a footfall at
+the door, he called out:
+
+"Ho, fellow! Go fetch me another bottle of Spanish, and do not forget
+this time the brandy and water which I told thee to bring half an hour
+ago."
+
+The step came nearer, and as it did not retreat, but entered the room,
+Pembroke called out again: "Make haste, man, and go on!"
+
+The footsteps paused, and Pembroke looked up, as one does when a strange
+presence comes into the room. He saw, standing near the door, a tall and
+comely young man, whose carriage betokened him not ill-born. The
+stranger advanced and bowed gravely. "Pardon me, sir," he said, "but I
+fear I am awkward in thus intruding. The man showed me up the stair and
+bade me enter. He said that I should find here Sir Arthur Pembroke, upon
+whom I bear letters from friends of his in the North."
+
+"Sir," said Pembroke, rising and advancing, "you are very welcome, and I
+ask pardon for my unwitting speech."
+
+"I come at this hour and at this place," said the newcomer, "for reasons
+which may seem good a little later. My name is John Law, of Edinboro',
+sir."
+
+All those present arose.
+
+"Sir," responded Pembroke, "I am delighted to have your name. I know of
+the acquaintance between your father and my own. These are friends of
+mine, and I am delighted to name ye to each other. Mr. Charles
+Castleton; Mr. Edward Wilson. We are all here to kill the ancient enemy,
+Time. 'Tis an hour of night when one gains an appetite for one thing or
+another, cards or cold joint. I know not why we should not have a bit of
+both?"
+
+"With your permission, I shall be glad to join ye at either," said John
+Law. "I have still the appetite of a traveler--in faith, rather a better
+appetite than most travelers may claim, for I swear I've had no more to
+eat the last day and night than could be purchased for a pair of
+shillings."
+
+Pembroke raised his eyebrows, scarce knowing whether to be amused at
+this speech or nettled by its cool assurance.
+
+"Some ill fortune?"--he began politely.
+
+"There is no such thing as ill fortune," quoth John Law. "We fail always
+of our own fault. Forsooth I must explore Roman roads by night. England
+hath builded better, and the footpads have the Roman ways. My brother
+Will--he waiteth below, if ye please, good friends, and is quite as
+hungry as myself, besides having a pricked finger to boot--and I lost
+what little we had about us, and we came through with scarce a good
+shirt between the two."
+
+A peal of laughter greeted him as he pulled apart the lapels of his coat
+and showed ruffles torn and disfigured. The speaker smiled gravely.
+
+"To-morrow," said he, "I must seek me out a goldsmith and a haberdasher,
+if you will be so good as to name such to me."
+
+"Sir," said Sir Arthur Pembroke, "in this plight you must allow me." He
+extended a purse which he drew from his pocket. "I beg you, help
+yourself."
+
+"Thank you, no," replied John Law. "I shall ask you only to show me the
+goldsmith in the morning, him upon whom I hold certain credits. I make
+no doubt that then I shall be quite fit again. I have never in my life
+borrowed a coin. Besides, I should feel that I had offended my good
+angel did I ask it to help me out of mine own folly. If we have but a
+bit of this cold joint, and a place for my brother Will to sit in
+comfort as we play, I shall beg to hope, my friends, that I shall be
+allowed to stake this trifle against a little of the money that I see
+here; which, I take it, is subject to the fortunes of war."
+
+He tossed on the board a ring, which carried in its setting a diamond of
+size and brilliance.
+
+"This fellow hath a cool assurance enough," muttered Beau Wilson to his
+neighbor as he leaned toward him at the table.
+
+Pembroke, always good-natured, laughed at the effrontery of the
+newcomer.
+
+"You say very well; it is there for the fortune of war," said he. "It is
+all yours, if you can win it; but I warn you, beware, for I shall have
+your jewel and your letters of credit too, if ye keep not sharp watch."
+
+"Yes," said Castleton, "Pembroke hath warrant for such speech. The man
+who can make _sept et le va_ thrice in one evening is hard company for
+his friends."
+
+John Law leaned back comfortably in his chair.
+
+"I make no doubt," said he, "that I shall make _trente et le va_, here
+at this table, this very evening."
+
+Smiles and good-natured sneerings met this calm speech.
+
+"_Trente et le va_--it hath not come out in the history of London play
+for the past four seasons!" cried Wilson. "I'll lay you any odds that
+you're not within eye-sight of _trente et le va_ these next five
+evenings, if you favor us with your company."
+
+"Be easy with me, good friends," said John. Law, calmly. "I am not yet
+in condition for individual wagers, as my jewel is my fortune, till
+to-morrow at least. But if ye choose to make the play at Lands-knecht, I
+will plunge at the bank to the best of my capital. Then, if I win, I
+shall be blithe to lay ye what ye like."
+
+The young Englishmen sat looking at their guest with some curiosity. His
+strange assurance daunted them.
+
+"Surely this is a week of wonders," said Beau Wilson, with scarce
+covered sarcasm in his tone. "First we have a wild man from Canada, with
+his fairy stories of gold and gems, and now we have another gentleman
+who apparently hath fathomed as well how to gain sudden wealth at will,
+and yet keep closer home."
+
+Law took snuff calmly. "I am not romancing, gentlemen," said he. "With
+me play is not a hazard, but a science. I ought really not to lay on
+even terms with you. As I have said, there is no such thing as chance.
+There are such things as recurrences, such things as laws that govern
+all happenings."
+
+Laughter arose again at this, though it did not disturb the newcomer,
+nor did the cries of derision which followed his announcement of his
+system.
+
+"Many a man hath come to London town with a system of play," cried
+Pembroke. "Tell us, Mr. Law, what and where shall we send thee when we
+have won thy last sixpence?"
+
+"Good sir," said Law, "let us first of all have the joint."
+
+"I humbly crave a pardon, sir," said Pembroke. "In this new sort of
+discourse I had forgot thine appetite. We shall mend that at once. Here,
+Simon! Go fetch up Mr. Law's brother, who waits below, and fetch two
+covers and a bit to eat. Some of thy new Java berry, too, and make
+haste! We have much yet to do."
+
+"That have ye, if ye are to see the bottom of my purse more than once,"
+said Law gaily. "See! 'tis quite empty now. I make ye all my solemn
+promise that 'twill not be empty again for twenty years. After
+that--well, the old Highland soothsayer, who dreamed for me, always told
+me to forswear play after I was forty, and never to go too near running
+water. Of the latter I was born with a horror. For play, I was born with
+a gift. Thus I foresee that this little feat which you mention is sure
+to be mine this very night. You all say that _trente_ has not come up
+for many months. Well, 'tis due, and due to-night. The cards never fail
+me when I need."
+
+"By my faith," cried Wilson, "ye have a pretty way about you up in
+Scotland!"
+
+John Law saw the veiled ill feeling, and replied at once:
+
+"True, we have a pretty way. We had it at Killiecrankie not so long ago;
+and when the clans fight among themselves, we need still prettier ways."
+
+"Now, gentlemen," said Pembroke, "none of this talk, by your leave. The
+odds are fairer here than they were at Killiecrankie's battle, and 'tis
+all of us against the Scotch again. We English stand together, but we
+stand to-night only against this threat of the ultimate fortune of the
+cards. Moreover, here comes the supper, and if I mistake not, also the
+brother of our friend."
+
+Will bowed to one and the other gentlemen, unconsciously drifting toward
+his brother's chair.
+
+"Now we must to business," cried Castleton, as the dishes were at last
+cleared away. "Show him thy talisman, Pem, and let him kiss his jewel
+good by."
+
+Pembroke threw upon the table once more the moccasin of the Indian girl.
+John Law picked it up and examined it long and curiously, asking again
+and again searching questions regarding its origin.
+
+"I have read of this new land of America," said he. "Some day it will be
+more prominent in all plans."
+
+He laid down the slipper and mused for a moment, apparently forgetful of
+the scene about him.
+
+"Perhaps," cried Castleton, the zeal of the gambler now showing in his
+eye. "But let us make play here to-night. Let Pembroke bank. His luck is
+best to win this vaunter's stake."
+
+Pembroke dealt the cards about for the first round. The queen fell. John
+Law won. "_Deux_," he said calmly, and turned away as though it were a
+matter of course. The cards went round again. "_Trois_," he said, as he
+glanced at his stakes, now doubled again.
+
+Wilson murmured. "Luck's with him for a start," said he, "but 'tis a
+long road." He himself had lost at the second turn. "_Quint_!" "_Seix_!"
+"_Sept et le va_!" in turn called Law, still coolly, still regarding with
+little interest the growing heap of coin upon the board opposite the
+glittering ring which he had left lying on the table.
+
+"_Vingt-un, et le va_!"
+
+"Good God!" cried Castleton, the sweat breaking out upon his forehead.
+"See the fellow's luck!--Pembroke, sure he hath stole thy slipper. Such
+a run of cards was never seen in this room since Rigby, of the Tenth,
+made his great game four years ago."
+
+"_Vingt-cinq; et le va_!" said John Law, calmly.
+
+Will touched his sleeve. The stake had now grown till the money on the
+hoard meant a matter of hundreds of pounds, which might he removed at
+any turn the winner chose. It was there but for the stretching out of
+the hand. Yet this strange genius sat there, scarce deigning to smile at
+the excited faces of those about him.
+
+"I'll lay thee fifty to one that the next turn sees thee lose!" cried
+Castleton.
+
+"Done," said John Law.
+
+The iciness in the air seemed now an actual thing. There was, in the
+nature of this play, something which no man at that board, hardened
+gamesters as they all were, had ever met before. It was indeed as though
+Fate were there, with her hand upon the shoulder of a favored son.
+
+"You lose, Mr. Castleton," said Law, calmly, as the cards came again his
+way. He swept his winnings from the coin pushed out to him.
+
+"Now we have thee, Mr. Law!" cried Pembroke. "One more turn, and I hope
+your very good nerve will leave the stake on the board, for so we'll see
+it all come back to the bank, even as the sheep come home at eventide.
+Here your lane turns. And 'tis at the last stage, for the next is the
+limit of the rules of the game. But you'll not win it."
+
+"Anything you like for a little personal wager," said the other, with no
+excitement in his voice.
+
+"Why, then, anything you like yourself, sir," said Pembroke.
+
+"Your little slipper against fifty pounds?" asked John Law.
+
+"Why--yes--," hesitated Pembroke, for the moment feeling a doubt of the
+luck that had favored him so long that evening. "I'd rather make it
+sovereigns, but since you name the slipper, I even make it so, for I
+know there is but one chance in hundreds that you win."
+
+The players leaned over the table as the deal went on. Once, twice,
+thrice, the cards went round. A sigh, a groan, a long breath broke from
+those who looked at the deal. Neither groan nor sigh came from John Law.
+He gazed indifferently at the heap of coin and paper that lay on the
+table, and which, by the law of play, was now his own.
+
+"_Trente et le va_," he said. "I knew that it would come. Sir Arthur, I
+half regret to rob thee thus, but I shall ask my slipper in hand paid.
+Pardon me, too, if I chide thee for risking it in play. Gentlemen, there
+is much in this little shoe, empty as it is."
+
+He dandled it upon his finger, hardly looking at the winnings that lay
+before him. "'Tis monstrous pretty, this little shoe," he said, rousing
+himself from his half reverie.
+
+"Confound thee, man!" cried Castleton, "that is the only thing we
+grudge. Of sovereigns there are plenty at the coinage--but of a shoe
+like this, there is not the equal this day in England!"
+
+"So?" laughed Law. "Well, consider, 'tis none too easy to make the run
+of _trente_. Risk hath its gains, you know, by all the original laws of
+earth and nature."
+
+"But heard you not the wager which was proposed over the little shoe?"
+broke in Castleton. "Wilson, here, was angered when I laid him odds that
+there was but one woman in London could wear this shoe. I offered him
+odds that his good friend, Kittie Lawrence--"
+
+"Nor had ye the right to offer such bet!" cried Wilson, ruffled by the
+doings of the evening.
+
+"I'll lay you myself there's no woman in England whom you know with foot
+small enough to wear it," cried Castleton.
+
+"Meaning to me?" asked Law, politely.
+
+"To any one," cried Castleton, quickly, "but most to thee, I fancy,
+since 'tis now thy shoe!"
+
+"I'll lay you forty crowns, then, that I know a smaller foot than that
+of Madam Lawrence," said Law, suavely. "I'll lay you another forty
+crowns that I'll try it on for the test, though I first saw the lady
+this very morning. I'll lay you another forty crowns that Madam Lawrence
+can not wear this shoe, though her I have never seen."
+
+These words rankled, though they were said offhand and with the license
+of coffee-house talk at so late an hour. Beau Wilson rose, in a somewhat
+unsteady attitude, and, turning towards Law, addressed him with a tone
+which left small option as to its meaning.
+
+"Sirrah!" cried he, "I know not who you are, but I would have a word or
+two of good advice for you!"
+
+"Sir, I thank you," said John Law, "but perhaps I do not need advice."
+He did not rise from his seat.
+
+"Have it then at any rate, and be civil!" cried the older man. "You seem
+a swaggering sort, with your talk of love and luck, and such are sure to
+get their combs cut early enough here among Englishmen. I'll not
+tolerate your allusion to a lady you have never met, and one I honor
+deeply, sir, deeply!"
+
+"I am but a young man started out to seek his fortune," said John Law,
+his eye kindling now for the first time, "and I should do very ill if I
+evaded that fortune, whatsoever it may be."
+
+"Then you'll take back that talk of Mrs. Lawrence!"
+
+"I have made no talk of Mrs. Lawrence, sir," said Law, "and even had I,
+I should take back nothing for a demand like yours. 'Tis not meet, sir,
+where no offense was meant, to crowd in an offensive remark."
+
+Pembroke said nothing. The situation was ominous enough at this point. A
+sudden gravity and dignity fell upon the young men who sat there,
+schooled in an etiquette whose first lesson was that of personal
+courage.
+
+"Sirrah!" cried Beau Wilson, "I perceive your purpose. If you prove good
+enough to name lodgings where you may he found by my friends, I shall
+ask leave to bid you a very good night."
+
+So speaking, Wilson flung out of the room. A silence fell upon those
+left within.
+
+"Sirs," said Law, a moment later, "I beg you to bear witness that this
+is no matter of my seeking or accepting. This gentleman is a stranger to
+me. I hardly got his name fair."
+
+"Wilson is his name, sir," said Pembroke, "a very good friend of us all.
+He is of good family, and doth keep his coach-and-four like any
+gentleman. For him we may vouch very well."
+
+"Wilson!" cried Law, springing now to his feet. "'Tis not him known as
+Beau Wilson? Why, my dear sirs, his father was friend to many of my kin
+long ago. Why, sir, this is one of those to whom my mother bade me look
+to get my first ways of London well laid out."
+
+"These are some of the ways of London," said Pembroke, grimly.
+
+"But is there no fashion in which this matter can be accommodated?"
+
+Pembroke and Castleton looked at each other, rose and passed him, each
+raising his hat and bowing courteously.
+
+"Your servant, sir," said the one; and, "Your servant, sir," said the
+other.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+DIVERS EMPLOYMENTS OF JOHN LAW
+
+
+"And when shall I send these garments to your Lordship?" asked the
+haberdasher, with whom Law was having speech on the morning following
+the first night in London.
+
+"Two weeks from to-day," said Law, "in the afternoon, and not later than
+four o'clock. I shall have need for them."
+
+"Impossible!" said the tradesman, hitherto obsequious, but now smitten
+with the conviction regarding the limits of human possibilities.
+
+"At that hour, or not at all," said John Law, calmly. "At that time I
+shall perhaps be at my lodgings, 59 Bradwell Street, West. As I have
+said to you, I am not clad as I could wish. It is not a matter of your
+convenience, but of mine own."
+
+"But, sir," expostulated the other, "you order of the best. Nothing, I
+am sure, save the utmost of good workmanship would please you. I should
+like a month of time upon these garments, in order to make them worthy
+of yourself. Moreover, there are orders of the nobility already in our
+hands will occupy us more than past the time you name. Make it three
+weeks, sir, and I promise--"
+
+His customer only shook his head and reiterated, "You heard me well."
+
+The tailor, sore puzzled, not wishing to lose a customer who came so
+well recommended, and yet hesitating at the exactions of that customer,
+sat with perplexity written upon his brow.
+
+"So!" exclaimed Law. "Sir Arthur Pembroke told me that you were a clever
+fellow and could execute exact any order I might give you. Now it
+appears to me you are like everybody else. You prate only of hardships
+and of impossibilities."
+
+The perspiration fairly stood out on the forehead of the man of trade.
+
+"Sir," said he, "I should be glad to please not only a friend of Sir
+Arthur Pembroke, but also a gentleman of such parts as yourself. I
+hesitate to promise--"
+
+"But you must promise," said John Law.
+
+"Well, then, I do promise! I will have this apparel at your place on the
+day which you name. 'Tis most extraordinary, but the order shall be
+executed."
+
+"As I thought," said John Law.
+
+"But I must thank you besides," resumed the tradesman. "In good truth I
+must say that of all the young gentlemen who come hither--and I may show
+the names of the best nobility of London and of some ports beyond
+seas--there hath never stepped within these doors a better figure than
+yourself--nay, not so good. And I am a judge of men."
+
+Law looked at him carelessly.
+
+"You shall make me none the easier, nor yourself the easier, by soft
+speech," said he, "if you have not these garments ready by the time
+appointed. Send them, and you shall have back the fifty sovereigns by
+the messenger, with perhaps a coin or so in addition if all be well."
+
+"The air of this nobility!" said the tailor, but smiling with pleasure
+none the less. "This is, perhaps, some affair with a lady?" he added.
+
+"'Tis an affair with a lady, and also with certain gentlemen."
+
+"Oh, so," said the tailor. "If it he, forsooth, an enterprise with a
+lady, methinks I know the outcome now." He gazed with professional pride
+upon the symmetrical figure before him. "You shall be all the better
+armed when well fitted in my garments. Not all London shall furnish a
+properer figure of a man, nor one better clad, when I shall have done
+with you, sir."
+
+Law but half heard him, for he was already turning toward the door,
+where he beckoned again for his waiting chair.
+
+"To the offices of the Bank of England," he directed. And forthwith he
+was again jogging through the crowded streets of London.
+
+The offices of the Bank of England, to which this young adventurer now
+so nonchalantly directed his course, were then not housed in any such
+stately edifice as that which now covers the heart of the financial
+world, nor did the location of the young and struggling institution, in
+a by-street of the great city, tend to give dignity to a concern which
+still lacked importance and assuredness. Thither, then, might have gone
+almost any young traveler who needed a letter of credit cashed, or a
+bill changed after the fashion of the passing goldsmiths.
+
+Yet it was not as mere transient customer of a money-changer that young
+Law now sought the Bank of England, nor was it as a commercial house
+that the bank then commanded attention. That bank, young as it was, had
+already become a pillar of the throne of England. William, distracted by
+wars abroad and factions at home, found his demands for funds ever in
+excess of the supply. More than that, the people of England discovered
+themselves in possession of a currency fluctuating, mutilated, and
+unstable, so that no man knew what was his actual fortune. The shrewd
+young financier, Montague, chancellor of the exchequer, who either by
+wisdom or good fortune had sanctioned the founding of the Bank of
+England, was at this very time addressing himself to the question of a
+recoinage of the specie of the realm of England. He needed help, he
+demanded ideas; nor was he too particular whence he obtained either the
+one or the other.
+
+John Law was in London on no such blind quest as he had himself
+declared. He was here by the invitation, secret yet none the less
+obligatory, of Montague, controller of the financial policy of England.
+And he was to meet, here upon this fair morning, none less than my Lord
+Somers, keeper of the seals; none less than Sir Isaac Newton, the
+greatest mathematician of his time; none less than John Locke, the most
+learned philosopher of the day. Strong company this, for a young and
+unknown man, yet in the belief of Montague, himself a young man and a
+gambler by instinct, not too strong for this young Scotchman who had
+startled the Parliament of his own land by some of the most remarkable
+theories of finance which had ever been proposed in any country or to
+any government. As Law had himself arrogantly announced, he was indeed a
+philosopher and a mathematician, young as he was; and these things
+Montague was himself keen enough to know.
+
+It promised, then, to be a strange and interesting council, this which
+was to meet to-day at the Bank of England, to adjust the value of
+England's coinage; two philosophers, one pompous trimmer, and two
+gamblers; the younger and more daring of whom was now calmly threading
+the streets of London on his way to a meeting which might mean much to
+him.
+
+To John Law, adventurer, mathematician, philosopher, gambler, it seemed
+a natural enough thing that he should be asked to sit at the council
+table with the ablest minds of the day and pass upon questions the most
+important. This was not what gave him trouble. This matter of the
+coinage, these questions of finance--they were easy. But how to win the
+interest of the tall and gracious English girl whom he had met by chance
+that other morn, who had left no way open for a further meeting; how to
+gain access to the presence of that fair one--these were the questions
+which to John Law seemed of greater importance, and of greater
+difficulty in the answering.
+
+The chair drew up at the somber quarters where the meeting had been set.
+Law knew the place by instinct, even without seeing the double row of
+heavy-visaged London constabulary which guarded the entrance. Here and
+there along the street were carriages and chairs, and multiplied
+conveyances of persons of consequence. Upon the narrow pavement, and
+within the little entrance-way that led to the inner room, there bustled
+about important-looking men, some with hooked noses, most with florid
+faces and well-fed bodies, but all with a certain dignity and sobriety
+of expression.
+
+Montague himself, young, smooth-faced, dark-eyed, of active frame, of
+mobile and pleasing features, sat at the head of a long table. The
+high-strung quality of his nervous system was evidenced in his restless
+hands, his attitude frequently changed.
+
+At the left of Montague sat Somers, lord keeper; older, of more steady
+demeanor, of fuller figure, of bold face and full light eye, a
+politician, not a ponderer. At the right of Montague, grave, silent,
+impassive, now and again turning a contemplative eye about him, sat that
+great man. Sir Isaac Newton, known then to every nobleman, and now to
+every schoolboy, of the world. A gem-like mind, keen, clear, hard and
+brilliant, exact in every facet, and forsooth held in the setting of an
+iron body. Gentle, unmoved, self-assured, Sir Issac Newton was calm as
+morn itself as he sat in readiness to give England the benefit of his
+wisdom.
+
+Beyond sat John Locke, abstruse philosopher, a man thinner and darker
+than his _confrère_, with large full orb, with the brow of the student
+and the man of thought. In dignity he shared with the learned gentleman
+sitting near him.
+
+All those at the board looked with some intentness at the figure of the
+young man from the North, who came as the guest of Montague. With small
+formality, the latter rose and advanced to meet Law with an eager grasp
+of the hand. He made him known to the others present promptly, but with
+a half apology.
+
+"Gentlemen," said he, "I have made bold to ask the presence with us of a
+young man who has much concerned himself with problems such as those
+which we have now in hand. Sir Isaac Newton, this is Mr. Law of
+Edinboro'. Mr. Law, the fame of John Locke I need not lay before you,
+and of my Lord Somers you need no advice. Mr. Law, I shall pray you to
+be seated.
+
+"I shall but serve as your mouthpiece to the Court, gentlemen," resumed
+Montague, seating himself and turning at once to the business of the
+day. "We are all agreed as to the urgency of the case. The king needs
+behind him in these times a contented people. You have already seen the
+imminence of a popular discontent which may shake the throne of England,
+none too safe in these days of change. That we must reorganize the
+coinage is understood and agreed. The question is, how best to do this
+without further unsettling the times. My Lord Keeper, I must beg you for
+your suggestions."
+
+"Sir," said Somers, shifting and coughing, "it is as you say. The
+question is of great moment. I should suggest a decree that the old coin
+shall pass by weight alone and not by its face value. Call in all the
+coin and have it weighed, the government to make future payment to the
+owner of the coin of the difference between its nominal and its real
+value. The coin itself should be restored forthwith to its owner. Hence
+the trade and the credit of the realm would not suffer. The money of the
+country would be withdrawn from the use of the country only that short
+time wherein it was in process of counting. This, it occurs to me, would
+surely be a practical method, and could work harm to none." My Lord
+Somers sat back, pulling out his chest complacently.
+
+"Sir Isaac," said Montague, "and Mr. Locke, we must beg you to find such
+fault as you may with this plan which my Lord Keeper hath suggested."
+
+Sir Isaac made no immediate reply. John Locke stirred gently in his
+chair. "There seemeth much to commend in this plan of my Lord Keeper,"
+said he, leaning slightly forward, "but in pondering my Lord Keeper's
+suggestion for the bringing in of this older coin, I must ask you if
+this plan can escape that selfish impulse of the human mind which
+seeketh for personal gain? For, look you, short as would be the time
+proposed, it taketh but still shorter time to mutilate a coin; and it
+doth seem to me that, under the plan of my Lord Keeper, we should see
+the old currency of England mutilated in a night. Sir, I should opine in
+the contrary of this plan, and would base my decision upon certain
+principles which I believe to be ever present in the human soul."
+
+Montague cast down his eye for a moment. "Sir Isaac," at length he
+began, "we are relying very much upon you. Is there no suggestion which
+you can offer on this ticklish theme?"
+
+The large, full face of the great man was turned calmly and slowly upon
+the speaker. His deep and serene eye apparently saw not so much the man
+before him as the problem which lay on that man's mind.
+
+"Sir," said Sir Isaac, "as John Locke hath said, this is after all much
+a matter of clear reasoning. There come into this problem two chief
+questions: First, who shall pay the expense of the recoinage? Shall the
+Government pay the expense, or shall the owner of the coin, who is to
+obtain good coin for evil?
+
+"Again, this matter applieth not to one man but to many men. Now if one
+half the tradesmen of England rush to us with their coin for reminting,
+surely the trade of the country will have left not sufficient medium
+with which to prosper. This I take to be the second part of this
+problem.
+
+"There be certain persons of the realm who claim that we may keep our
+present money as it is, but mark from its face a certain amount of
+value. Look you, now, this were a small thing; yet, in my mind, it
+clearly seemeth dishonesty. For, if I owe my neighbor a debt, let us say
+for an hundred sovereigns, shall I not be committing injustice upon my
+neighbor if I pay him an hundred sovereigns less that deduction which
+the realm may see fit thus to impose upon the face of my sovereign?
+This, in justice, sirs, I hold it to be not the part of science, nor the
+part of honesty, neither of statesmanship, to endorse."
+
+"Sir Isaac," cried Montague, striking his nervous hands upon the table,
+"recoin we must. But how, and, as you say, at whose expense? We are as
+far now from a plan as when we started. We but multiply difficulties.
+What we need now is not so much negative measures as positive ones. We
+must do this thing, and we must do it promptly. The question is still
+of how it may best be done. Mr. Law, by your leave and by the leave of
+these gentlemen here present, I shall take the liberty of asking you if
+there doth occur to your mind any plan by which we may be relieved of
+certain of these difficulties. I am aware, sir, that you are much a
+student in these matters."
+
+A grave silence fell upon all. John Law, young, confident and arrogant
+in many ways as he was, none the less possessed sobriety and depth of
+thought, just as he possessed the external dignity to give it fitting
+vehicle. He gazed now at the men before him, not with timorousness or
+trepidation. His face was grave, and he returned their glances calmly as
+he rose and made the speech which, unknown to himself, was presently to
+prove so important in his life.
+
+"My Lords," said he, "and gentlemen of this council, I am ill-fitted to
+be present here, and ill-fitted to add my advice to that which has been
+given. It is not for me to go beyond the purpose of this meeting, or to
+lay before you certain plans of my own regarding the credit of nations.
+I may start, as does our learned friend, simply from established
+principles of human nature.
+
+"It is true that the coinage is a creature of the government. Yet I
+believe it to be true that the government lives purely upon credit;
+which is to say, the confidence of the people in that government.
+
+"Now, we may reason in this matter perhaps from the lesser relations of
+our daily life. What manner of man do we most trust among those whom we
+meet? Surely, the honest man, the plain man, the one whose directness
+and integrity we do not doubt. Truly you may witness the nature of such
+a man in the manner of his speech, in his mien, in his conduct.
+Therefore, my Lords and gentlemen, it seems to me plain that we shall
+best gain confidence for ourselves if we act in the most simple fashion.
+
+"Let us take up this matter directly with Parliament, not seeking to
+evade the knowledge of Parliament in any fashion; for, as we know, the
+Parliament and the king are not the best bed-fellows these days, and the
+one is ready enough to suspect the other. Let us have a bill framed for
+Parliament--such bill made upon the decisions of these learned gentlemen
+present. Above all things, let us act with perfect openness.
+
+"As to the plan itself, it seems that a few things may be held safe and
+sure. Since we can not use the old coin, then surely we must have new
+coin, milled coin, which Charles, the earlier king of England, has
+decreed. Surely, too, as our learned friend has wisely stated, the loss
+in any recoinage ought, in full justice and honesty, to fall not upon
+the people of England, but upon the government of England. It seems
+equally plain to me there must be a day set after which the old coin may
+no longer be used. Set it some months ahead, not, as my Lord Keeper
+suggests, but a few days; so that full notice may be given to all. Make
+your campaign free and plain, and place it so that it may be known, not
+only of Parliament, but of all the world. Thus you establish yourselves
+in the confidence of Parliament and in the good graces of this people,
+from whom the taxes must ultimately come."
+
+Montague's hands smote again upon the table with a gesture of
+conviction. John Locke shifted again in his chair. Sir Isaac and the
+lord keeper gazed steadfastly at this young man who stood before them,
+calmly, assuredly, and yet with no assumption in his mien.
+
+"Moreover," went on John Law, calmly, "there is this further benefit to
+be gained, as I am sure my countryman, Mr. Paterson, has long ago made
+plain. It is not a question of the wealth of England, but a question of
+the confidence of the people in the throne. There is money in abundance
+in England. It is the province of my Lord Chancellor to wheedle it out
+of those coffers where it is concealed and place it before the uses of
+the king. Gentlemen, it is confidence that we need. There will be no
+trouble to secure loans of money in this rich land, but the taxes must
+be the pledge to your bankers. This new Bank of England will furnish you
+what moneys you may need. Secure them only by the pledge of such taxes
+as you feel the people may not resent; give the people, free of cost, a
+coinage which they can trust; and then, it seems to me, my Lords and
+gentlemen, the problem of the revenue may be thought solved simply and
+easily--solved, too, without irritating either the people or the
+Parliament, or endangering the relations of Parliament and the throne."
+
+The conviction which fell upon all found its best expression in the face
+of Montague. The youth and nervousness of the man passed away upon the
+instant. He sat there sober and thoughtful, quiet and resolved.
+
+"Gentlemen," said he at last, slowly, "my course is plain from this
+instant. I shall draw the bill and it shall go to Parliament. The
+expense of this recoinage I am sure we can find maintained by the
+stockholders of the Bank of England, and for their pay we shall propose
+a new tax upon the people of England. We shall tax the windows of the
+houses of England, and hence tax not only the poor but the rich of
+England, and that proportionately with their wealth. As for the coin of
+England, it shall be honest coin, made honest and kept honest, at no
+cost to the people of old England. Sirs, my heart is lighter than it has
+been for many days."
+
+The last trace of formality in the meeting having at length vanished,
+Montague made his way rapidly to the foot of the table. He caught Law by
+both his hands.
+
+"Sir," said he, "you helped us at the last stage of our ascent. A
+mistake here had been ruinous, not only to myself and friends, but to
+the safety of the whole Government. You spoke wisely and practically.
+Sir, if I can ever in all my life serve you, command me, and at whatever
+price you name. I am not yet done with you, sir," resumed Montague,
+casting his arm boyishly about the other's shoulder as they walked out.
+"We must meet again to discuss certain problems of the currency which, I
+bethink me, you have studied deeply. Keep you here in London, for I
+shall have need of you. Within the month, perhaps within the week, I
+shall require you. England needs men who can do more than dawdle. Pray
+you, keep me advised where you may be found."
+
+There was ill omen in the light reply. "Why, as to that, my Lord," said
+Law, "if you should think my poor service useful, your servants might
+get trace of me at the Green Lion--unless I should be in prison! No man
+knoweth what may come."
+
+Montague laughed lightly. "At the Green Lion, or in Newgate itself,"
+said he. "Be ready, for I have not yet done with you."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+THE RESOLUTION OF MR. LAW
+
+
+The problems of England's troubled finances, the questions of the
+coinage, the gossip of the king's embroilments with the
+Parliament--these things, it may again be said, occupied Law's mind far
+less than the question of gaining audience with his fair rescuer of the
+morn at Sadler's Wells. This was the puzzle which, revolve it as he
+might, not even his audacious wit was able to provide with plausible
+solution. He pondered the matter in a hundred different pleasing phases
+as he passed from the Bank of England through the crowded streets of
+London, and so at length found himself at the shabby little lodgings in
+Bradwell Street, where he and his brother had, for the time, taken up
+their quarters.
+
+"It starteth well, my boy," cried he, gaily, to his brother, when at
+length he had found his way up the narrow stair into the little room,
+and discovered Will patiently awaiting his return. "Already two of my
+errands are well acquit."
+
+"You have, then, sent the letters to our goldsmith here?" said Will.
+
+"Now, to say truth, I had not thought of that. But letters of
+credit--why need we trouble over such matters? These English are but
+babes. Give me a night or so in the week at the Green Lion, and we'll
+need no letters of credit, Will. Look at your purse, boy--since you are
+the thrifty cashier of our firm!"
+
+"I like not this sort of gold," said Will Law, setting his lips
+judicially.
+
+"Yet it seems to purchase well as any," said the other, indifferently.
+"At least, such is my hope, for I have made debt against our purse of
+some fifty sovereigns--some little apparel which I have ordered. For,
+look you, Will, I must be clothed proper. In these days, as I may tell
+you, I am to meet such men as Montague, chancellor of the exchequer--my
+Lord Keeper Somers--Sir Isaac Newton--Mr. John Locke--gentry of that
+sort. It is fitting I should have better garb than this which we have
+brought with us."
+
+"You are ever free with some mad jest or other, Jack; but what is this
+new madness of which you speak?"
+
+"No madness at all, my dear boy; for in fact I have but come from the
+council chamber, where I have met these very gentlemen whom I have
+named to you. But pray you note, my dear brother, there are those who
+hold John Law, and his studies, not so light as doth his own brother.
+For myself, the matter furnishes no surprise at all. As for you, you had
+never confidence in me, nor in yourself. Gad! Will, hadst but the
+courage of a flea, what days we two might have together here in this old
+town!"
+
+"I want none of such days, Jack," said Will Law, soberly. "I care most
+to see you settled in some decent way of living. What will your mother
+say, if we but go on gaming and roistering, with dangers of some sudden
+quarrel--as this which has already sprung up--with no given aim in life,
+with nothing certain for an ambition--"
+
+"Now, Will," began his brother, yet with no petulance in his tone, "pray
+go not too hard with me at the start. I thought I had done fairly well,
+to sit at the table of the council of coinage on my first day in London.
+'Tis not every young man gets so far as that. Come, now, Will!"
+
+"But after all, there must be serious purpose."
+
+"Know then," cried the elder man, suddenly, "that I have found such
+serious purpose!"
+
+The speaker stood looking out of the window, his eye fixed out across
+the roofs of London. There had now fallen from his face all trace of
+levity, and into his eye and mouth there came reflex of the decision of
+his speech. Will stirred in his chair, and at length the two faced each
+other.
+
+"And pray, what is this sudden resolution, Jack?" said Will Law.
+
+"If I must tell you, it is simply this: I am resolved to marry the girl
+we met at Sadler's Wells."
+
+"How--what--?"
+
+"Yes, how--what--?" repeated his brother, mockingly.
+
+"But I would ask, which?"
+
+"There was but one," said John Law. "The tall one, with the
+brassy-brown, copper-red hair, the bright blue eye, and the figure of a
+queen. Her like is not in all the world!"
+
+"Methought 'twas more like to be the other," replied Will. "Yet you--how
+dare you think thus of that lady? Why, Jack, 'twas the Lady Catharine
+Knollys, sister to the Earl of Banbury!"
+
+Law did not at once make any answer. He turned to the dressing-table and
+began making such shift as he could to better his appearance.
+
+"Will," said he, at length, "you are, as ever, a babe and a suckling. I
+quite despair of you. 'Twould serve no purpose to explain anything to so
+faint a heart as yours. But you may come with me."
+
+"And whither?"
+
+"Whither? Where else, than to the residence of this same lady! Look
+you, I have learned this. She is, as you say, the sister of the Earl of
+Banbury, and is for the time at the town house in Knightwell Terrace.
+Moreover, if that news be worth while to so white-feathered a swain as
+yourself, the other, damsel, the dark one--the one with the mighty
+pretty little foot--lives there for the time as the guest of Lady
+Catharine. They are rated thick as peas in a pod. True, we are
+strangers, yet I venture we have made a beginning, and if we venture
+more we may better that beginning. Should I falter, when luck gave me
+the run of _trente et le va_ but yesterday? Nay, ever follow fortune
+hard, and she waits for you."
+
+"Yes," said Will, scornfully. "You would get the name of gambler, and
+add to it the name of fortune-hunting, heiress-seeking adventurer."
+
+"Not so," replied John Law, taking snuff calmly and still keeping the
+evenness of his temper. "My own fortune, as I admit, I keep safe at the
+Green Lion. For the rest, I seek at the start only respectful footing
+with this maid herself. When first I saw her, I knew well enough how the
+end would be. We were made for each other. This whole world was made for
+us both. Will, boy, I could not live without the Lady Catharine
+Knollys!"
+
+"Oh, cease such talk, Jack! 'Tis ill-mannered, such presumption
+regarding a lady, even had you known her long. Besides, 'tis but another
+of your fancies, Jack," said Will. "Wilt never make an end of such
+follies?"
+
+"Yes, my boy," said his brother, gravely. "I have made an end. Indeed, I
+made it the other morning at Sadler's Wells."
+
+"Methinks," said Will, dryly, "that it might be well first to be sure
+that you can win past the front door of the house of Knollys."
+
+John Law still kept both his temper and his confidence.
+
+"Come with me," said he, blithely, "and I will show you how that thing
+may be done."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+TWO MAIDS A-BROIDERING
+
+
+"Now a plague take all created things, Lady Kitty!" cried Mary Connynge,
+petulantly flinging down a silken pattern over which she had pretended
+to be engaged. "There are devils in the skeins to-day. I'll try no more
+with't."
+
+"Fie! For shame, Mary Connynge," replied Lady Catharine Knollys,
+reprovingly. "So far from better temperance of speech, didst ever hear
+of the virtue of perseverance? Now, for my own part--"
+
+"And what, for your own part? Have I no eyes to see that thou'rt
+puttering over the same corner this last half hour? What is it thou art
+making to-day?"
+
+The Lady Catharine paused for a moment and held her embroidery frame
+away from her at arm's length, looking at it with brow puckering into a
+perplexed frown.
+
+"I was working a knight," said she. "A tall one--"
+
+"Yes, a tall one, with yellow hair, I warrant."
+
+"Why, so it was. I was but seeking floss of the right hue, and found it
+difficult."
+
+"And with blue eyes?"
+
+"True; or perhaps gray. I could not state which. I had naught in my box
+would serve to suit me for the eyes. But how know you this, Mary
+Connynge?" asked the Lady Catharine.
+
+"Because I was making some such knight for myself," replied the other.
+"See! He was to have been tall, of good figure, wearing a wide hat and
+plume withal. But lest I spoil him, my knight--now a plague take me
+indeed if I do not ruin him complete!" So saying, she drew with vengeful
+fingers at the intricately woven silks until she had indeed undone all
+that had gone before.
+
+"Nay, nay! Mary Connynge! Do not so!" replied Lady Catharine in
+expostulation. "The poor knight, how could he help himself? Why, as for
+mine, though I find him not all I could wish, I'll e'en be patient as I
+may, and seek if I may not mend him. These knights, you know, are most
+difficult. 'Tis hard to make them perfect."
+
+Mary Connynge sat with her hands in her lap, looking idly out of the
+window and scarce heeding the despoiled fabric which lay on her lap.
+"Come, confess, Lady Kitty," said she at length, turning toward her
+friend. "Wert not trying to copy a knight of a hedge-row after all? Did
+not a certain tall young knight, with eyes of blue, or gray, or the
+like, give pattern for your sampler while you were broidering to-day?"
+
+"Fie! For shame!" again replied Lady Catharine, flushing none the less.
+"Rather ask, does not such a thought come over thine own broidering? But
+as to the hedge-row, surely the gentleman explained it all proper
+enough; and I am sure--yes, I am very sure--that my brother Charles had
+quite approved of my giving the injured young man the lift in the
+coach--"
+
+"Provided that your Brother Charles had ever heard of such a thing!"
+
+"Well, of that, to be sure, why trouble my brother over such a trifle,
+when 'twas so obviously proper?" argued Lady Catharine, bravely. "And
+certainly, if we come to knights and the like, good chivalry has ever
+demanded succor for those in distress; and if, forsooth, it was two
+damsels in a comfortable coach, who rescued two knights from underneath
+a hedge-row, why, such is but the way of these modern days, when knights
+go seeking no more for adventures and ladies fair; as you very well
+know."
+
+"As I do not know, Lady Catharine," replied Mary Connynge. "To the
+contrary, 'twould not surprise me to learn that he would not shrink
+from any adventure which might offer."
+
+"You mean--that is--you mean the tall one, him who said he was Mr. Law
+of Lauriston?"
+
+"Well, perhaps. Though I must say," replied Mary Connynge, with
+indirection, "that I fancy the other far more, he being not so forward,
+nor so full of pure conceit. I like not a man so confident." This with
+an eye cast down, as much as though there were present in the room some
+man subject to her coquetry.
+
+"Why, I had not found him offering such an air," replied Lady Catharine,
+judicially. "I had but thought him frank enough, and truly most
+courteous."
+
+"Why, truly," replied Mary Connynge. "But saw you naught in his eye?"
+
+"Why, but that it was blue, or gray," replied Lady Catharine.
+
+"Oh, ho! then my lady did look a bit, after all! And so this is why the
+knight flourisheth so bravely in silks to-day--Fie! but a mere
+adventurer, Lady Kitty. He says he is Law of Lauriston; but what proof
+doth he offer? And did he find such proof, it is proof of what? For my
+part, I did never hear of Lauriston nor its owner."
+
+"Ah, but that I have, to the contrary," said Lady Catharine. "John
+Law's father was a goldsmith, and it was he who bought the properties of
+Lauriston and Randleston. And so far from John Law being ill-born, why,
+his mother was Jean Campbell, kinswoman of the Campbell, Duke of Argyll;
+and a mighty important man is the Duke of Argyll these days, I may tell
+you, as the king's army hath discovered before this. You see, I have not
+talked with my brother about these things for naught."
+
+"So you make excuse for this Mr. Law of Lauriston," said Mary Connynge.
+"Well, I like better a knight who comes on his own horse, or in his own
+chariot, and who rescues me when I am in trouble, rather than asks me to
+give him aid. But, as to that, what matter? We set those highway
+travelers down, and there was an end of it. We shall never see either of
+them again."
+
+"Of course not," said Lady Catharine.
+
+"It were impossible."
+
+"Oh, quite impossible!"
+
+Both the young women sighed, and both looked out of the window.
+
+"Because," said Mary Connynge, "they are but strangers. That talk of
+having letters may be but deceit. They themselves may be coiners. I have
+heard it said that coiners are monstrous bold."
+
+"To be sure, he mentioned Sir Arthur Pembroke," ventured Lady
+Catharine.
+
+"Oh! And be sure Sir Arthur Pembroke will take pains enough that no tall
+young man, who offers roses to ladies on first acquaintance, shall ever
+have opportunity to present himself to Lady Catharine Knollys. Nay, nay!
+There will be no introduction from that source, of that be sure. Sir
+Arthur is jealous as a wolf of thee already, Lady Kitty. See! He hath
+followed thee about like a dog for three years. And after all, why not
+reward him, Lady Kitty? Indeed, but the other day thou wert upon the
+very point of giving him his answer, for thou saidst to me that he sure
+had the prettiest eyes of any man in London. Pray, are Sir Arthur's eyes
+blue, or gray--or what? And can you match his eyes among the color of
+your flosses?"
+
+"It might be," said Lady Catharine, musingly, "that he would some day
+find means to send us word."
+
+"Who? Sir Arthur?"
+
+"No. The young man, Mr. Law of Lauriston."
+
+"Yes; or he might come himself," replied Mary Connynge.
+
+"Fie! He dare not!"
+
+"Oh, but be not too sure. Now suppose he did come--'twill do no harm for
+us to suppose so much as that. Suppose he stood there at your very
+door, Lady Kitty. Then what would you do?"
+
+"Do! Why, tell James that we were not in, and never should be, and
+request the young man to leave at once."
+
+"And never let him pass the door again."
+
+"Certainly not! 'Twould be presumption. But then"--this with a gentle
+sigh--"we need not trouble ourselves with this. I doubt not he hath
+forgot us long ago, just as indeed we have forgotten him--though I would
+say--. But I half believe he hit thee, girl, with his boldness and his
+bow, and his fearlessness withal."
+
+"Who, I? Why, heavens! Lady Kitty! The idea never came to my mind.
+Indeed no, not for an instant. Of course, as you say, 'twas but a
+passing occurrence, and 'twas all forgot. But, by the way, Lady Kitty,
+go we to Sadler's Wells to-morrow morn?"
+
+"I see no reason for not going," replied Lady Catharine. "And we may
+drive about, the same way we took the other morn. I will show you the
+same spot where he stood and bowed so handsomely, and made so little of
+the fight with the robbers the night before, as though 'twere trifling
+enough; and made so little of his poverty, as though he were owner of
+the king's coin."
+
+"But we shall never see him more," said Mary Connynge.
+
+"To be sure not. But just to show you--see! He stood thus, his hat off,
+his eye laughing, I pledge you, as though for some good jest he had. And
+'twas 'your pardon, ladies!' he said, as though he were indeed nobleman
+himself. See! 'Twas thus."
+
+What pantomime might have followed did not appear, for at that moment
+the butler appeared at the door with an admonitory cough. "If you
+please, your Ladyship," said he, "there are two persons waiting.
+They--that is to say, he--one of them, asks for admission to your
+Ladyship."
+
+"What name does he offer, James?"
+
+"Mr. John Law of Lauriston, your Ladyship, is the name he sends. He
+says, if your Ladyship please, that he has brought with him something
+which your Ladyship left behind, if your Ladyship please."
+
+Lady Catharine and Mary Connynge had both arisen and drawn together, and
+they now turned each a swift half glance upon the other.
+
+"Are these gentlemen waiting without the street door?" asked Lady
+Catharine.
+
+"No, your Ladyship. That is to say, before I thought, I allowed the tall
+one to come within."
+
+"Oh, well then, you see, Mary Connynge," replied Lady Catharine, with
+the pink flush rising in her cheek, "it were rude to turn them now from
+our door, since they have already been admitted."
+
+"Yes, we will send to the library for your brother," said Mary Connynge,
+dimpling at the corners of her mouth.
+
+"No, I think it not needful to do that," replied Lady Catharine, "but we
+should perhaps learn what this young man brings, and then we'll see to
+it that we chide him so that he'll no more presume upon our kindness. My
+brother need not know, and we ourselves will end this forwardness at
+once, Mary Connynge, you and I. James, you may bring the gentlemen in."
+
+Enter, therefore, John Law and his brother Will, the former seeming thus
+with ease to have made good his promise to win past the door of the Earl
+of Banbury.
+
+John Law, as on the morning of the roadside meeting, approached in
+advance of his more timid brother, though both bowed deeply as they
+entered. He bowed again respectfully, his eyes not wandering hither and
+yon upon the splendors of this great room in an ancestral home of
+England. His gaze was fixed rather upon the beauty of the tall girl
+before him, whose eyes, now round and startled, were not quite able to
+be cold nor yet to be quite cast down; whose white throat throbbed a bit
+under its golden chain; whose bosom rose and fell perceptibly beneath
+its falls of snowy laces.
+
+"Lady Catharine Knollys," said John Law, his voice deep and even, and
+showing no false note of embarrassment, "we come, as you may see, to
+make our respects to yourself and your friend, and to thank you for your
+kindness to two strangers."
+
+"To two strangers, Mr. Law," said Lady Catharine, pointedly.
+
+"Yes"--and the answering smile was hard to be denied--"to two strangers
+who are still strangers. I did but bethink me it was sweet to have such
+kindness. We were advised that London was cruel cold, and that all folk
+of this city hated their fellow-men. So, since 'twas welcome to be thus
+kindly entreated, I believed it but the act of courtesy to express our
+thanks more seeming than we might as that we were two beggars by the
+wayside. Therefore, I pay the first flower of my perpetual tribute." He
+bowed and extended, as he spoke, a deep red rose. His eye, though still
+direct, was as much imploring as it was bold.
+
+Instinctively Mary Connynge and Lady Catharine had drawn together,
+retreating somewhat from this intrusion. They were now standing, like
+any school girls, looking timidly over their shoulders, as he advanced.
+Lady Catharine hesitated, and yet she moved forward a half pace, as
+though bidden by some unheard voice. "'Twas nothing, what we did for you
+and your brother," said she. She extended her hand as she spoke. "As for
+the flower, I think--I think a rose is a sweet-pretty thing."
+
+She bent her cheek above the blossom, and whether the cheek or the petal
+were the redder, who should say? If there were any ill at ease in that
+room, it was not Law of Lauriston. He stood calm as though there by
+right. It was an escapade, an adventure, without doubt, as both these
+young women saw plainly enough. And now, what to do with this adventure
+since it had arrived?
+
+"Sir," said Lady Catharine at length, "I am sure you must be wearied
+with the heavy heats of the town. Your brother must still be weak from
+his hurt. Pray you, be seated." She placed the rose upon the tabouret as
+she passed, and presently pulled at the bell cord.
+
+"James," said she, standing very erect and full of dignity, "go to the
+library and see if Sir Charles be within."
+
+When the butler's solemn cough again gave warning, it was to bring
+information which may or may not have been news to Lady Catharine. "Your
+Ladyship," said he, "Sir Charles is said to have taken carriage an hour
+ago, and left no word."
+
+"Send me Cecile, James," said Lady Catharine, and again the butler
+vanished.
+
+"Cecile," said she, as the maid at length appeared, "you may serve us
+with tea."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+CATHARINE KNOLLYS
+
+
+"You mistake, sir! I am no light o' love, John Law!"
+
+Thus spoke Catharine Knollys. She stood near the door of the great
+drawing-room of the Knollys mansion, her figure beseeming well its
+framing of deep hangings and rich tapestries. Her eyes were wide and
+flashing, her cheeks deeply pink, the sweet bow of her lips half
+a-quiver in her vehemence. Her surpassing personal beauty, rich, ripe,
+enticing, gave more than sufficient challenge for the fiery blood of the
+young man before her.
+
+It was less than two weeks since these two had met. Surely the flood of
+time had run swiftly in those few days. Not a day had passed that Law
+had not met Catharine Knollys, nor had yet one meeting been such as the
+girl in her own conscience dared call better than clandestine, even
+though they met, as now, under her own roof. Yet, reason as she liked,
+struggle as she could, Catharine Knollys had not yet been quite able to
+end this swift voyaging on the flood of fate. It was so strange, so new,
+so sweet withal, this coming of her suitor, as from the darkness of some
+unknown star, so bold, so strong, so confident, and yet so humble! All
+the old song of the ages thrilled within her soul, and each day its
+compelling melody had accession. That this delirious softening of all
+her senses meant danger, the Lady Catharine could not deny. Yet could
+aught of earth be wrong when it spelled such happiness, such
+sweetness--when the sound of a footfall sent her blood going the faster,
+when the sight of a tall form, the ring of a vibrant tone, caused her
+limbs to weaken, her throat to choke?
+
+But ah! whence and why this spell, this sorcery--why this sweetness
+filling all her being, when, after all, duty and seemliness bade it all
+to end, as end it must, to-day? Thus had the Lady Catharine reflected
+but the hour before John Law came; her knight of dreams--tall,
+yellow-haired, blue-eyed, bold and tender, and surely speaking truth if
+truth dwelt beneath the stars. Now he would come--now he had come again.
+Here was his red, red rose once more. Here, burning in her ears, singing
+in her heart, were his avowing, pleading words. And this must end!
+
+John Law looked at her calmly, but said nothing. One hand, in a gesture
+customary with him, flicked lightly at the deep cuff of the other
+wrist, and this nervous movement was the sole betrayal of his
+uneasiness.
+
+"You come to this house time and again," resumed Catharine Knollys, "as
+though it were an ancient right on your part, as though you had always
+been a friend of this family. And yet--"
+
+"And so I have been," broke in her suitor. "My people were friends of
+yours before we two were born. Why, then, should you advise your
+servant, as you have, fairly to deny me admission at the door?"
+
+"I have done ill enough to admit you. Had I dreamed of this last
+presumption on your part I should never have seen your face again."
+
+"'Tis not presumption," said the young man, his voice low and even,
+though ringing with the feeling to which even he dared not give full
+expression. "I myself might call this presumption in another, but with
+myself 'tis otherwise."
+
+"Sir," said Lady Catharine Knollys, "you speak as one not of good mind."
+
+"Not of good mind!" broke out John Law. "Say rather of mind too good to
+doubt, or dally, or temporize. Why, 'tis plain as the plan of fate! It
+was in the stars that I should come to you. This face, this form, this
+heart, this soul--I shall see nothing else so long as I live! Oh, I
+feel myself unworthy; you have right to think me of no station. Yet some
+day I shall bring to you all that wealth can buy, all that station can
+mean. Catharine--dear Lady Kitty--dear Kate--"
+
+"I like not so fast a soothsaying in any suitor of mine," replied Lady
+Catharine, hotly, "and this shall go no further." Her hand restrained
+him.
+
+"Then you find me distasteful? You would banish me? I could not learn to
+endure it!"
+
+Lady Catharine looked at him curiously. "Actually, sir," said she, "you
+cause me to chill. I could half fear you. What is in your heart? Surely,
+this is a strange love-making."
+
+"And by that," cried John Law, "know, then the better of the truth.
+Listen! I know! And this is what I know--that I shall succeed, and that
+I shall love you always!"
+
+"'Tis what one hears often from men, in one form or another," said the
+girl, coolly, seating herself as she spoke.
+
+"Talk not to me of other men--I'll not brook it!" cried he, advancing
+toward her a few rapid paces. "Think you I have no heart?" His eye
+gleamed, and he came on yet a step in his strange wooing. "Your face is
+here, here," he cried, "deep in my heart! I must always look upon it, or
+I am a lost man!"
+
+"'Tis a face not so fair as that," said the Lady Catharine, demurely.
+
+"'Tis the fairest face in England, or in the world!" cried her lover;
+and now he was close at her side. Her hand, she knew not how, rested in
+his own. Something of the honesty and freedom from coquetry of the young
+woman's nature showed in her next speech, inconsequent, illogical,
+almost unmaidenly in its swift sincerity and candor.
+
+"'Tis a face but blemished," said she, slowly, the color rising to her
+cheek. "See! Here is the birth-mark of the house of Knollys. They tell
+me--my very good friends tell me, that this is the mark of shame, the
+bar sinister of the hand of justice. You know the story of our house."
+
+"Somewhat of it," said Law.
+
+"My brother is not served of the writ when Parliament is called. This
+you know. Tell me why?"
+
+"I know the so-called reason," replied John Law. "'Twas brought out in
+his late case at the King's Bench."
+
+"True. 'Twas said that my grandfather, past eighty, was not the father
+of those children of his second wife. There is talk that--"
+
+"'Twas three generations ago, this talk of the Knollys shortcoming. I am
+not eighty. I am twenty-four, and I love you, Catharine Knollys."
+
+"It was three generations ago," said the Lady Catharine, slowly and
+musingly, as though she had not heard the speech of her suitor. "Three
+generations ago. Yet never since then hath there been clean name for the
+Banbury estate. Never yet hath its peer sat in his rightful place in
+Parliament. And never yet hath eldest daughter of this house failed to
+show this mark of shame, this unpurged contempt for that which is
+ordained. Surely it would seem fate holds us in its hands."
+
+"You tell me these things," said John Law, "because you feel it is right
+to tell them. And I tell you of my future, as you tell me of your past.
+Why? Because, Lady Catharine Knollys, it has already come to matter of
+faith between us."
+
+The girl leaned back against the wall near which she had seated herself.
+The young man bent forward, taking both her hands quietly in his own
+now, and gazing steadily into her eyes. There was no triumph in his
+gaze. Perhaps John Law had prescience of the future.
+
+"Oh, sir, I had far liefer I had never seen you," cried Catharine
+Knollys, bending a head from whose eyes there dropped sudden tears.
+
+"Ah, dear heart, say anything but that!"
+
+"'Tis a hard way a woman must travel at best in this world," murmured
+the Lady Catharine, with wisdom all unsuited to her youth. "But I can
+not understand. I had thought that the coming of a lover was a joyous
+thing, a time of happiness alone."
+
+"Ah, now, in the hour of mist can you not foresee the time of sunshine?
+All life is before us, my sweet, all life. There is much for us to do,
+there are so many, many days of love and happiness."
+
+But now the Lady Catharine Knollys veered again, with some sudden change
+of the inner currents of the feminine soul.
+
+"I have gone far with you, Mr. Law," said she, suddenly disengaging her
+hand. "Yet I did but give you insight of things which any man coming as
+you have come should have well within his knowledge. Think not, sir,
+that I am easy to be won. I must know you equally honest with myself.
+And if you come to my regard, it must be step by step and stair by
+stair. This is to be remembered."
+
+"I shall remember."
+
+"Go, then, and leave me for this time," she besought him. But still he
+could not go, and still the Lady Catharine could not bid him more
+sternly to depart. Youth--youth, and love, and fate were in that room;
+and these would have their way.
+
+The beseeching gaze of an eye singular in its power rested on the girl,
+a gaze filled with all the strange, half mandatory pleading of youth and
+yearning. Once more there came a shift in the tidal currents of the
+woman's heart. The Lady Catharine slowly became conscious of a delicious
+helplessness, of a sinking and yielding which she could not resist. Her
+head lost power to be erect. It slipped forward on a shoulder waiting as
+by right. Her breath came in soft measure, and unconsciously a hand was
+raised to touch the cheek pressed down to hers. John Law kissed her once
+upon the lips. Suddenly, without plan--in spite of all plan--the seal of
+a strange fate was set forever on her life!
+
+For a long moment they stood thus, until at length she raised a face
+pale and sharp, and pushed back against his breast a hand that trembled.
+
+"'Tis wondrous strange," she whispered.
+
+"Ask nothing," said John Law, "fear nothing. Only believe, as I
+believe."
+
+Neither John Law nor the Lady Catharine Knollys saw what was passing
+just without the room. They did not see the set face which looked down
+from the stairway. Through the open door Mary Connynge could see the
+young man as he stepped out of the door, could see the conduct of the
+girl now left alone in the drawing-room. She saw the Lady Catharine sink
+down upon the seat, her head drooped in thought, her hand lying
+languidly out before her. Pale now and distraught, the Lady Catharine
+Knollys wist little of what went on before her. She had full concern
+with the tumult which waged riot in her soul.
+
+Mary Connynge turned, and started back up the stair unseen. She paused,
+her yellow eyes gone narrow, her little hand clutched tight upon the
+rail.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+IN SEARCH OF THE QUARREL
+
+
+As Law turned away from the door of the Knollys mansion, he walked with
+head bent forward, not looking upon the one hand or the other. He raised
+his eyes only when a passing horseman had called thrice to him.
+
+"What!" cried Sir Arthur Pembroke. "I little looked to see you here, Mr.
+Law. I thought it more likely you were engaged in other business--"
+
+"Meaning by that--?"
+
+"What should I mean, except that I supposed you preparing for your
+little affair with Wilson?"
+
+"My little affair?"
+
+"Certainly, with Wilson, as I said. I saw our friend Castleton but now,
+and he advised me of your promptness. He had searched for you for days,
+he being chosen by Wilson for his friend--and said he had at last found
+you in your lodgings. Egad! I have mistook your kidney completely. Never
+in London was a duel brought on so swift. 'Fight? This afternoon!' said
+you. Jove! but the young bloods laughed when they heard of it. 'Bloody
+Scotland' is what they have christened you at the Green Lion. 'He said
+to me,' said Charlie, 'that he was slow to find a quarrel, but since
+this quarrel was brought home to him, 'twere meet 'twere soon finished.
+He thought, forsooth, that four o'clock of the afternoon were late
+enough.' Gad! But you might have given Wilson time at least for one more
+dinner."
+
+"What do you mean?" exclaimed Law, mystified still.
+
+"Mean! Why, I mean that I've been scouring London to find you. My faith,
+man, but thou'rt a sudden actor! Where caught you this unseemly haste?"
+
+"Sir Arthur," said the other, slowly, "you do me too much justice. I
+have made no arrangement to meet Mr. Wilson, nor have I any wish to do
+so."
+
+"Pish, man! You must not jest with me in such a case as this. 'Tis no
+masquerading. Let me tell you, Wilson has a vicious sword, and a temper
+no less vicious. You have touched him on his very sorest spot. He has
+gone to meet you this vary hour. His coach will be at Bloomsbury Square
+this afternoon, and there he will await you. I promise you he is eager
+as yourself. 'Tis too late now to accommodate this matter, even had you
+not sent back so prompt and bold an answer."
+
+"I have sent him no answer at all!" cried Law. "I have not seen
+Castleton at all."
+
+"Oh, come!" expostulated Sir Arthur, his face showing a flush of
+annoyance.
+
+"Sir Arthur," continued Law, as he raised his head, "I am of the
+misfortune to be but young in London, and I am in need of your
+friendship. I find myself pressed for rapid transportation. Pray you,
+give me your mount, for I must have speed. I shall not need the service
+of your seconding. Indulge me now by asking no more, and wait until we
+meet again. Give me the horse, and quickly."
+
+"But you must be seconded!" cried the other. "This is too unusual.
+Consider!" Yet all the time he was giving a hand at the stirrup of Law,
+who sprang up and was off before he had time to formulate his own
+wonder.
+
+"Who and what is he?" muttered the young nobleman to himself as he gazed
+after the retreating form. "He rides well, at least, as he does
+everything else well. 'Till I return,' forsooth, 'till I return!' Gad! I
+half wish you had never come in the first place, my Bloody Scotland!"
+
+As for Law, he rode swiftly, asking at times his way, losing time here,
+gaining it again there, creating much hatred among foot folk by his
+tempestuous speed, but giving little heed to aught save his own purpose.
+In time he reached Bradwell Street and flung himself from his panting
+horse in front of the dingy door of the lodging house. He rushed up the
+stairs at speed and threw open the door of the little room. It was
+empty.
+
+There was no word to show what his brother had done, whither he had
+gone, when he would return. Around the lodgings in Bradwell Street lay a
+great and unknown London, with its own secrets, its own hatreds, its own
+crimes. A strange feeling of on-coming ill seized upon the heart of Law,
+as he stood in the center of the dull little room, now suddenly grown
+hateful to him. He dashed his hand upon the table, and stood so, scarce
+knowing which way to turn. A foot sounded in the hallway, and he went to
+the door. The ancient landlady confronted him. "Where has my brother
+gone?" he demanded, fiercely, as she came into view along the
+ill-lighted passage-way.
+
+"Gone, good sir?" said she, quaveringly. "Why, how should I know where
+he has gone? More quality has been here this morning than ever I saw in
+Bradwell Street in all my life. First comes a coach this morning, with
+four horses as fine as the king's, and a man atop would turn your
+blood, he was that solemn-like, sir. Then your brother was up here
+alone, sir, and very still. I will swear he was never out of this room.
+Then, but an hour ago, here comes another coach, as big as the first,
+and yellower. And out of it steps another fine lord, and he bows to your
+brother, and in they get, and off goes the coach. But, God help me, sir!
+How should I know which way they went, or what should be their errand?
+Methinks it must be some servant come from the royal palace. Sir, be you
+two of the nobility? And if you be, why come you here to Bradwell
+Street? Sir, I am but a poor woman. If you be not of the nobility, then
+you must be either coiners or smugglers. Sir, I am bethought that you
+are dangerous guests in my house. I am a poor woman, as you know."
+
+Law flung a coin at her as he sped through the hall and down the stair.
+"'Twas to Bloomsbury Square," he said, as he sprang into saddle and set
+heel to the flank of the good horse. "To Bloomsbury Square, then, and
+fast!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+THE RUMOR OF THE QUARREL
+
+
+Meantime, at the Knollys mansion, there were forthcoming other parts of
+the drama of the day. The butler announced to Lady Catharine, still
+sitting dreaming by the window, Sir Arthur Pembroke, now late arrived on
+foot. Lady Catharine hesitated. "Show the gentleman to this room," she
+said at length.
+
+Pembroke came forward eagerly as he entered. "Such a day of it, Lady
+Kitty!" he exclaimed, impulsively. "You will pardon me for coming thus,
+when I say I have just been robbed of my horse. 'Twas at your very door,
+and methinks you must know the highwayman. I have come to tell you of
+the news."
+
+"You don't mean--"
+
+"Yes, but I do! 'Twas no less than Mr. Law, of Scotland. He hath taken
+my horse and gone off like a whirlwind, leaving me afoot and friendless,
+save for your good self. I am begging a taste of tea and a little
+biscuit, for I vow I am half famished."
+
+The Lady Catharine Knollys, in sheer reaction from the strain, broke out
+into a peal of laughter.
+
+"Sure, he has strange ways about him, this same Mr. Law," said she.
+"That young man would have come here direct, and would have made himself
+quite at home, methinks, had he had but the first encouragement."
+
+"Gad! Lady Catharine, but he has a conceit of himself. Think you of what
+he has done in his short stay here in town! First, as you know, he sat
+at cards with two or three of us the other evening--Charlie Castleton,
+Beau Wilson, myself and one or two besides. And what doth he do but
+stake a bauble against good gold that he would make _sept et le va_."
+
+"And did it?"
+
+"And did it. Yes, faith, as though he saw it coming. Yet 'twas I who cut
+and dealt the cards. Nor was that the half of it," he went on. "He let
+the play run on till 'twas _seize et le va_, then _vingt-un et le va_,
+then twenty-five. And, strike me! Lady Catharine, if he sat not there
+cool as my Lord Speaker in the Parliament, and saw the cards run to
+_trente et le va_, as though 'twere no more to him than the eating of an
+orange!"
+
+"And showed no anxiety at all?"
+
+"None, as I tell you, and he proved to us plain that he had not
+two-pence to his name, for that he had been robbed the night before
+while on his way to town. He staked a diamond, a stone of worth. I must
+say, his like was never seen at cards."
+
+"He hath strange quality."
+
+"That you may say. Now read me some farther riddles of this same young
+man. He managed to win from me a little shoe of an American savage,
+which I had bought at a good price but the day before. It came to idle
+talk of ladies' shoes, and wagers--well, no matter; and so Mr. Law
+brought on a sudden quarrel with Beau Wilson. Then, though he seemed not
+wanting courage, he half declined to face Wilson on the field. Sudden
+to change as ever, this very morning he sent word to Wilson by Mr.
+Castleton that he was ready to meet him at four this afternoon. God save
+us! what a haste was there! And now, to cap it all, he hath taken my
+horse from me and ridden off to keep an appointment which he says he
+never made! Gad! These he odd ways enough, and almost too keen for me to
+credit. Why, 'twould not surprise me to hear that he had been here to
+make love to the Lady Catharine Knollys, and to offer her the proceeds
+of his luck at faro. And, strike me! if that same luck holds, he'll
+have all the money in London in another fortnight! I wish him joy of
+Wilson."
+
+"He may be hurt!" exclaimed the Lady Catharine, starting up.
+
+"Who? Beau Wilson?" exclaimed Sir Arthur. "Take no fear. He carries a
+good blade."
+
+"Sir Arthur," said the girl, "is there no way to stop this foolish
+matter? Is there not yet time?"
+
+"Why, as to that," said Sir Arthur, "it all depends upon the speed of my
+own horse. I should think myself e'en let off cheaply if he took the
+horse and rode on out of London, and never turned up again. Yet, I
+bethink me, he has a way of turning up. If so, then we are too late. Let
+him go. For me, I'd liefer sit me here with Lady Catharine, who, I
+perceive, is about now to save my death of hunger, since now I see the
+tea tray coming. Thank thee prettily."
+
+Lady Catharine poured for him with a hand none too steady. "Sir Arthur,"
+said she, "you know why I have this concern over such a quarrel. You
+know well enough what the duello has cost the house of Knollys. Of my
+uncles, four were killed upon this so-called field of honor. My
+grandfather met his death in that same way. Another relative, before my
+time, is reputed to have slain a friend in this same manner. As you
+know, but three years ago, my brother, the living representative of our
+family, had the misfortune to slay his kinsman in a duel which sprang
+out of some little jest. I say to you, Sir Arthur, that this quarrel
+must be stopped, and we must do thus much for our friends forthwith. It
+must not go on."
+
+"For our friends! Our friends!" cried Sir Arthur. "Ah, ha! so you mean
+that the old beau hath hit thee, too, with his ardent eye. Or--hang!
+What--you mean not that this stranger, this Scotchman, is a friend of
+yours?"
+
+"I speak but confusedly," said the Lady Catharine. "'Tis my prejudice
+against such fighting, as you know. Can we not make haste, and so
+prevent this meeting?"
+
+"Oh, I doubt if there be much need of haste," said Sir Arthur, balancing
+his cup in his hand judicially. "This matter will fall through at most
+for the day. They assuredly can not meet until to-morrow. This will be
+the talk of London, if it goes on in this pell-mell, hurly-burly
+fashion. As to the stopping of it--well now, the law under William and
+Mary saith that one who slays another in a duel of premeditation is
+nothing but a murderer, and may be hanged like any felon; hanged by the
+neck, till he be dead. Alas, what a fate for this pretty Scotchman!"
+
+Sir Arthur paused. A look of wonder swept across his face. "Open the
+window, Annie!" he cried suddenly to the servant. "Your mistress is
+ill."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+AS CHANCE DECREED
+
+
+Mischance delayed the carriage of Beau Wilson in its journeying to
+Bloomsbury Square. It had not appeared at that moment, far toward
+evening, when John Law, riding a trembling and dripping steed, came upon
+one side of this little open common and gazed anxiously across the
+space. He saw standing across from him a carriage, toward which he
+dashed. He flung open the carriage door, crying out, even before he saw
+the face within.
+
+"Will! Will Law, I say, come out!" called he. "What mad trick is this?
+What--"
+
+He saw indeed the face of Will Law inside the carriage, a face pale,
+melancholy, and yet firm.
+
+"Get you back into the city!" cried Will Law. "This is no place for you,
+Jack."
+
+"Boy! Are you mad, entirely mad?" cried Law, pushing his way directly
+into the carriage and reaching out with an arm of authority for the
+sword which he saw resting beside his brother against the seat. "No
+place for me! 'Tis no place for you, for either of us. Turn back. This
+foolishness must go no further!"
+
+"It must go on now to the end," said Will Law, wearily. "Mr. Wilson's
+carriage is long past due."
+
+"But you--what do you mean? You've had no hand in this. Even had
+you--why, boy, you would be spitted in an instant by this fellow."
+
+"And would not that teach you to cease your mad pranks, and use to
+better purpose the talents God hath given you? Yours is the better
+chance, Jack."
+
+"Peace!" cried John Law, tears starting to his eyes. "I'll not argue
+that. Driver, turn back for home!"
+
+The coachman at the box touched his hat with a puzzled air. "I beg
+pardon, sir," said he, "but I was under orders of the gentleman inside."
+
+"You were sent for Mr. John Law."
+
+"For Mr. Law--"
+
+"But I am John Law, sirrah!"
+
+"You are both Mr. Law? Well, sir, I scarce know which of you is the
+proper Mr. Law. But I must say that here comes a coach drove fast
+enough, and perhaps this is the gentleman I was to wait for, according
+to the first Mr. Law, sir."
+
+"He is coming, then," cried John Law, angrily. "I'll see into this
+pretty meeting. If this devil's own fool is to have a crossing of steel,
+I'll fair accommodate him, and we'll look into the reasons for it later.
+Sit ye down! Be quiet, Will, boy, I say!"
+
+Law was a powerful man, over six feet in height. The sports of the
+Highlands, combined with much fencing and continuous play in the tennis
+court, indeed his ardent love for every hardy exercise, had given his
+form alike solid strength and great activity. "Jessamy Law," they called
+him at home, in compliment of his slender though full and manly form.
+Cool and skilful in all the games of his youth, as John Law himself had
+often calmly stated, in fence he had a knowledge amounting to science, a
+knowledge based upon the study of first principles. The intricacies of
+the Italian school were to him an old story. With the single blade he
+had never yet met his master. Indeed, the thought of successful
+opposition seemed never to occur to him at all. Certainly at this
+moment, angered at the impatient insolence of his adversary, the thought
+of danger was farthest from his mind. Stronger than his brother, he
+pushed the latter back with one hand, grasping as he did so the
+small-sword with which the latter was provided. With one leap he sprang
+from the carriage, leaving Will half dazed and limp within.
+
+Even as he left the carriage step, he found himself confronted with an
+adversary eager as himself; for at that instant Beau Wilson was
+hastening from his coach. Vain, weak and pompous in a way, yet lacking
+not in a certain personal valor, Beau Wilson stopped not for his
+seconds, tarried not to catch the other's speech, but himself strode
+madly onward, his point raised slightly, as though he had lost all care
+and dignity and desired nothing so much as to stab his enemy as swiftly
+as might be.
+
+It would have mattered nothing now to this Highlander, this fighting
+Argyll, what had been the reason animating his opponent. It was enough
+that he saw a weapon bared. Too late, then, to reason with John Law,
+"Beau" Law of Edinboro', "Jessamy" Law, the best blade and the coolest
+head in all the schools of arms that taught him fence.
+
+For a moment Law paused and raised his point, whether in query or in
+salute the onlookers scarce could tell. Sure it was that Wilson was the
+first to fall into the assault. Scarce pausing in his stride, he came on
+blindly, and, raising his own point, lunged straight for his opponent's
+breast. Sad enough was the fate which impelled him to do this thing.
+
+It was over in an instant. It could not be said that there was an
+actual encounter. The side step of the young Highlander was soft as that
+of a panther, as quick, and yet as full of savagery. The whipping over
+of his wrist, the gliding, twining, clinging of his blade against that
+of his enemy was so swift that eye could scarce have followed it. The
+eye of Beau Wilson was too slow to catch it or to guard. He never
+stopped the _riposte_, and indeed was too late to attempt any guard.
+Pierced through the body, Wilson staggered back, clapping his hands
+against his chest. Over his face there swept a swift series of changes.
+Anger faded to chagrin, that to surprise, surprise to fright, and that
+to gentleness.
+
+"Sir," said he, "you've hit me fair, and very hard. I pray you, some
+friend, give me an arm."
+
+And so they led him to his carriage, and took him home a corpse. Once
+more the code of the time had found its victim.
+
+Law turned away from the coach of his smitten opponent, turned away with
+a face stern and full of trouble. Many things revolved themselves in his
+mind as he stepped slowly towards the carriage, in which his brother
+still sat wringing his hands in an agony of perturbation.
+
+"Jack, Jack!" cried Will Law, "Oh, heavens! You have killed him! You
+have killed a man! What shall we do?"
+
+Law Raised his head and looked his brother in the face, but seemed
+scarce to hear him. Half mechanically he was fumbling in the side pocket
+of his coat. He drew forth from it now a peculiar object, at which he
+gazed intently and half in curiosity, It was the little beaded shoe of
+the Indian woman, the very object over which this ill-fated quarrel had
+arisen, and which now seemed so curiously to intermingle itself with his
+affairs.
+
+"'Twas a slight shield enough," he said slowly to himself, "yet it
+served. But for this little piece of hide, methinks there might be two
+of us going home to-day to take somewhat of rest."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+FOR FELONY
+
+
+Late in the afternoon of the day following the encounter in Bloomsbury
+Square, a little group of excited loiterers filled the entrance and
+passage way at 59 Bradwell Street, the former lodgings of the two young
+gentlemen from Scotland. The motley assemblage seemed for the most part
+to make merry at the expense of a certain messenger boy, who bore a long
+wicker box, which presently he shifted from his shoulder to a more
+convenient resting place on the curb.
+
+"Do 'ee but look at un," said one ancient dame. "He! he! Hath a parcel
+of fine clothes for the tall gentleman was up in third floor! He! he!
+Clothes for Mr. Law, indeed!"
+
+"Fine clothes, eh?" cried another, a portly dame of certain years. "Much
+fine clothes he'll need where he'm gone."
+
+"Yes, indeed, that he will na. Bad luck 'twas to Mary Cullen as took un
+into her house. Now she's no lodging money for her rooms, and her
+lodgers be both in Newgate; least ways, one of un."
+
+"Ah now, 'tis a pity for Mary Cullen, she do need the money so much--"
+
+"Shut ye all your mouths, the lot o' you," cried Mary Cullen herself,
+appearing at the door. "'Tis not she is needing the little money, for
+she has it right here in the corner of her apron. Every stiver Mary
+Cullen's young men said they'd pay they paid, like the gentlemen they
+were. I'll warrant the raggle of ye would do well to make out fine as
+Mary Cullen hath."
+
+"Oh now, is that true, Mary Cullen?" said a voice. "'Twas said that
+these two were noble folk come here for the sport of it."
+
+"What else but true? Do you never know the look of gentry? My fakes,
+I'll warrant the young gentleman is back within a fortnight. His
+brother, the younger one, said to me hisself but this very morn, his
+brother was hinnocent as a child; that he was obliged to strike the
+other man for fear of his own life. Now, what can judge do but turn un
+loose? Four sovereigns he gave me this very morn. What else can judge do
+but turn un free? Tell me that, now!"
+
+"Let's see the fine clothes," said the first old lady to the apprentice
+boy, reaching out a hand and pulling at the corner of the box-lid. The
+youth was nothing loath to show, with professional pride, the quality of
+his burden, and so raised the lid.
+
+"Land save us! 'Tis gentry sure enough they are," cried the inquisitive
+one. "Do-a look in there! Such clothes and laces, such a brand new wig,
+such silken hose! Law o' land! Must have cost all of forty crowns. Mary
+Cullen, right ye are; 'twas quality ye had with ye, even if 'twas but
+for little while."
+
+"And them gone to prison, him on trial for his life! I saw un ride out
+this very yesterday, fast as though the devil was behind un, and a finer
+body of a man never did I look at in my life. What pity 'tis, what pity
+'tis!"
+
+"Well," said the apprentice, with a certain superiority in his air. "I
+dare wait no longer. My master said the gentleman was to have the
+clothes this very afternoon. So if to prison he be gone, to prison must
+I go too." Upon which he set off doggedly, and so removed one of the
+main causes for the assemblage at the curb.
+
+The apprentice was hungry and weary enough before he reached the somber
+portals, yet his insistence won past gate-keeper and turnkey, one after
+another, till at length he reached the jailer who adjudged himself fit
+to pass upon the stolid demand that the messenger be admitted with the
+parcel for John Law, Esquire, late of Bradwell Street, marked urgent,
+and collect fifty sovereigns. The humor of all this appealed to the
+Jailer mightily.
+
+"Send him along," he said. And the boy came in, much dismayed but still
+faithful to his trust.
+
+"Please, sir," said the youth, "I would know if ye have John Law,
+Esquire, in this place; and if so, I would see him. Master said I was
+not to bring back this parcel till that I had seen John Law, Esquire,
+and got from him fifty sovereigns. 'Tis for his wedding, sir, and the
+clothes are of the finest."
+
+The jailer smiled grimly. "Mr. Law gets presents passing soon," said he.
+"Set down your box. It might be weapons or the like."
+
+"Some clothes," said the apprentice. "Some very fine clothes. They are
+of our best."
+
+"Ha! ha!" roared the jailer. "Here indeed be a pretty jest. Much need
+he'll have of fine clothes here. He'll soon take his coat off the rack
+like the rest, and happen it fits him, very well. Take back your box,
+boy--or stay, let's have a look in't."
+
+The jailer was a man not devoid of wisdom. Fine clothes sometimes went
+with a long purse, and a long purge might do wonders to help the comfort
+of any prisoner in London, as well as the comfort of his keeper. Truly
+his eyes opened wide as he saw the contents of the box. He felt the
+lapel of the coat, passing it approvingly between his thumb and finger.
+"Well, e'en set ye down the box, lad," said he, "and wait till I see
+where Mr. Law has gone. Hum, hum! What saith the record? Charged that
+said prisoner did kill--hum, hum! Taken of said John Law six sovereigns,
+three shillings and sixpence. Item, one snuff-box, gilt. Hour of
+admission, five o'clock of the afternoon. We shall see, we shall see."
+
+"Sir," said the jailer, approaching the prisoner and his brother, who
+both remained in the detention room, "a lad hath arrived bearing a
+parcel for John Law, Esquire. 'Tis not within possibility that you have
+these goods, but we would know what disposition we shall make of them."
+
+"By my faith!" cried Law, "I had entirely forgot my haberdasher."
+
+The jailer stood on one foot and gave a cough, unnecessarily loud but
+sufficiently significant. It was enough for the quick wit of Law.
+
+"There was fifty sovereigns on the charge list," said the jailer.
+
+"Sixty sovereigns, I heard you say distinctly," replied Law. "Will, give
+me thy purse, man!"
+
+Will Law obeyed automatically.
+
+"There," said John Law to the jailer. "I am sure the garments will be
+very proper. Is it not all very proper?"
+
+The turnkey looked calmly into the face of his prisoner and as calmly
+replied: "It is, sir, as you say, very proper."
+
+"It would be much relief," said John Law, as the turnkey again appeared,
+bearing the box in his own hands, "if I might don my new garments. I
+would liefer make a good showing for thy house, friend, and can not, in
+this garb."
+
+"Sirrah," said the jailer, "there be rules of this place, as you very
+well know. Your little chamber was to have been in corridor number four,
+number twelve of the left aisle. But, sir, as perhaps you know, there be
+rules which are rules, and rules which are not so much--that is to
+say--rules, as you might put it, sir. The main thing is that I produce
+your body on the day of the hearing, which cometh soon. Meantime, since
+you seem a gentleman, and are in for no common felony, but charged, as I
+might say, with a light offense, why, sir, in such a case, I might say
+that a gentleman like yourself, if he cared to wear a bit of good
+clothes and wear it here in the parlor like, why, sir, I can see no harm
+in it. And that's competent to prove, as the judge says."
+
+"Very well, then," said Law, "I'll e'en deck out with the gear I should
+have had to-night had I been free; though I fear my employment this
+evening will scarce be pleasing as that which I had planned. Will, had I
+had but one more night at the Green Lion, we'd e'en have needed a
+special chair to carry home my winnings of their English gold."
+
+Enter then, a few moments later, "Beau" Law, "Jessamy" Law, late of
+Edinboro', gentleman, and a right gallant figure of a man. Tall he was
+indeed, and, so clad, making a picture of superb manhood. Ease and grace
+he showed in every movement. His long fingers closed lightly at top of a
+lacquered cane which he had found within the box. Deep ruffles of white
+hung down from his wrists, and a fall of wide lace drooped from the
+bosom of his ruffled shirt. His wig, deep curled and well whitened, gave
+a certain austerity to his mien. At his instep sparkled new buckles of
+brilliants, rising above which sprang a graceful ankle, a straight and
+well-rounded leg. The long lapels of his rich coat hung deep, and the
+rich waistcoat of plum-colored satin added slimness to a torso not too
+bulky in itself. Neat, dainty, fastidious, "Jessamy" Law, late of
+Edinboro', for some weeks of London, and now of a London prison, scarce
+seemed a man about to be put on trial for his life.
+
+He advanced from the door of the side room with ease and dignity.
+Reaching out a snuff-box which he had found in the silken pocket of his
+new garment, he extended it to the turnkey with an indifferent gesture.
+
+"Kindly have it filled with maccaboy," he said. "See, 'tis quite empty,
+and as such, 'tis useless."
+
+"Certainly, Captain Law," said the turnkey. "I am a man as knows what a
+gentleman likes, and many a one I've had here in my day, sir. As it
+chances, I've a bit of the best in my own quarters, and I'll see that
+you have what you like."
+
+"Will," said Law to his brother, who had scarce moved during all this,
+"come, cheer up! One would think 'twas thyself was to be inmate here,
+and not another."
+
+Will Law burst into tears.
+
+"God knows, 'twere better myself, and not thee, Jack," he said.
+
+"Pish! boy, no more of that! 'Twas as chance would have it. I'm never
+meant for staying here. Come, take this letter, as I said, and make
+haste to carry it. 'Twill serve nothing to have you moping here. Fare
+you well, and see that you sleep sound."
+
+Will Law turned, obedient as ever to the commands of the superior mind.
+He passed out through the heavily-guarded door as the turnkey swung it
+for him; passed out, turned and looked back. He saw his brother standing
+there, easy, calm, indifferent, a splendid figure of a man.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+THE MESSAGE
+
+
+To Will Law, as he turned away from the prison gate upon the errand
+assigned to him, the vast and shapeless shadows of the night-covered
+city took the form of appalling monsters, relentless, remorseless,
+savage of purpose. He passed, as one in some hideous dream, along
+streets that wound and wound until his brain lost distance and
+direction. It might have been an hour, two hours, and the clock might
+have registered after midnight, when at last he discovered himself in
+front of the dark gray mass of stone which the chairmen assured him was
+his destination. It was with trepidation that he stepped to the
+half-lighted door and fumbled for the knocker. The door slowly swung
+open, and he was confronted by the portly presence of a lackey who stood
+in silence waiting for his word.
+
+"A message for Lady Catharine Knollys," said Will, with what courage he
+could summon. "'Tis of importance, I make no doubt." For it was to the
+Lady Catharine that John Law had first turned. His heart craved one
+more sight of the face so beloved, one more word from the voice which so
+late had thrilled his soul. Away from these--ah! that was the prison for
+him, these were the bars which to him seemed imperatively needful to be
+broken. Aid he did not think of asking. Only, across London, in the
+night, he had sent the cry of his heart: "Come to me!"
+
+"The Lady Catharine is not in at this hour," said the butler, with, some
+asperity, closing the door again in part.
+
+"But 'tis important. I doubt if 'twill bear the delay of a night."
+Indeed, Will Law had hitherto hardly paused to reflect how unusual was
+this message, from such a person, to such address, and at such an hour.
+
+The butler hesitated, and so did the unbidden guest at the door. Neither
+heard at first the light rustle of garments at the head of the stair,
+nor saw the face bent over the balustrade in the shadows of the hall.
+
+"What is it, James?" asked a voice from above.
+
+"A message for the Lady Catharine," replied the servant. "Said to be
+important. What should I do?"
+
+"Lady Catharine Knollys is away," said the soft voice of Mary Connynge,
+speaking from the stair. Her voice came nearer as she now descended and
+appeared at the first landing.
+
+"We may crave your pardon, sir," said she, "that we receive you so ill,
+but the hour is very late. Lady Catharine is away, and Sir Charles is
+forth also, as usual, at this time. I am left proxy for my entertainers,
+and perhaps I may serve you in this case. Therefore pray step within."
+
+Reluctantly the butler swung open the door and admitted the visitor.
+Will Law stood face to face with Mary Connynge, just from her boudoir,
+and with time for but half care as to the details of her toilet; yet
+none the less Mary Connynge, Eve-like, bewitching, endowed with all the
+ancient wiles of womankind. Will Law gazed, since this was his fate.
+Unconsciously the sorcery of the sight enfolded the youth as he stood
+there uncertainly. He saw the round throat, the heavy masses of the dark
+hair, the full round form. He noted, though he could not define; felt,
+though he could not classify. He was young. Utterly helpless might have
+been even an older man in the hands of Mary Connynge at a time like
+this, Mary Connynge deliberately seeking to ensnare.
+
+"Pardon this robe, but half concealing," said her drooping eye and her
+half uplifted hands which caught the defining folds yet closer to her
+bosom. "'Tis in your chivalry I trust. I would not so with others." This
+to the beholder meant that he was the one man on earth to whom so much
+could be conceded.
+
+Therefore, following to his own undoing, as though led by some actual
+command, while but bidden gently by the softest voice in all the
+kingdom, the young man entered the great drawing-room and waited as the
+butler lessened the shadows by the aid of candles. He saw the smallest
+foot in London just peep in and out, suddenly withdrawn as Mary Connynge
+sat her down.
+
+She held the message now in her hand. In her soul sat burning
+impatience, in her heart contempt for the callow youth before her. Yet
+to that youth her attitude seemed to speak naught but deference for
+himself and doubt for this unusual situation.
+
+"Sir, I am in some hesitation," said Mary Connynge. "There is indeed
+none in the house except the servants. You say your message is of
+importance--"
+
+"It has indeed importance," responded Will. "It comes from my brother."
+
+"Your brother, Mr. Law?"
+
+"From my brother, John Law. He is in trouble. I make no doubt the
+message will set all plain."
+
+"'Tis most grievous that Lady Catharine return not till to-morrow."
+
+Mary Connynge shifted herself upon her seat, caught once more with swift
+modesty at the robe which fell from her throat. She raised her eyes and
+turned them full upon the visitor. Never had the spell of curve and
+color, never had the language of sex addressed this youth as it did now.
+Intoxicating enough was this vague, mysterious speech even at this
+inappropriate time. The girl knew that the mesh had fallen well. She but
+caught again at her robe, and cast down again her eyes, and voiced again
+her assumed anxiety. "I scarce know what to do," she murmured.
+
+"My brother did not explain--" said Will.
+
+"In that case," said Mary Connynge, her voice cool, though her soul was
+hot with impatience, "it might perhaps be well if I took the liberty of
+reading the message in Lady Catharine's absence. You say your brother is
+in trouble?"
+
+"Of the worst. Madam, to make plain with you, he is in prison, charged
+with the crime of murder."
+
+Mary Connynge sank back into her chair. The blood fled from her cheek.
+Her hands caught each other in a genuine gesture of distress.
+
+"In prison! John Law! Oh heaven! tell me how?" Her voice was trembling
+now.
+
+"My brother slew Mr. Wilson in a duel not of his own seeking. It
+happened yesterday, and so swift I scarce can tell you. He took up a
+quarrel which I had fixed to settle with Mr. Wilson myself. We all met
+at Bloomsbury Square, my brother coming in great haste. Of a sudden,
+after his fashion, he became enraged. He sprang from the carriage and
+met Mr. Wilson. And so--they passed a time or so, and 'twas done. Mr.
+Wilson died a few moments later. My brother was taken and lodged in
+jail. There is said to be bitter feeling at the court over this custom
+of dueling, and it has long been thought that an example would be made."
+
+"And this letter without doubt bears upon all this? Perhaps it might be
+well if I made both of us owners of its contents."
+
+"Assuredly, I should say," replied Will, too distracted to take full
+heed.
+
+The girl tore open the inclosure. She saw but three words, written
+boldly, firmly, addressed to no one, and signed by no one.
+
+"Come to me!" Thus spoke the message. This was the summons that had
+crossed black London town that night.
+
+Mary Connynge rose quickly to her feet, forgetting for the time the man
+who stood before her. The instant demanded all the resources of her
+soul. She fought to remain mistress of herself. A moment, and she
+passed Will Law with swift foot, and gained again the stairway in the
+hall, the letter still fast within her hand. Will Law had not time to
+ask its contents.
+
+"There is need of haste," said she. "James, have up the calash at once.
+Mr. Law, I crave your excuse for a time. In a moment I shall be ready to
+go with you."
+
+In two minutes she was sobbing alone, her face down upon the bed. In
+five, she was at the door, dressed, cloaked, smiling sweetly and ready
+for the journey. And thus it was that, of two women who loved John Law,
+that one fared on to see him for whom he had not sent.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+PRISONERS
+
+
+The turnkey at the inner door was slothful, sleepy and ill disposed to
+listen when he heard that certain callers would be admitted to the
+prisoner John Law.
+
+"Tis late," said he, "and besides, 'tis contrary to the rules. Must not
+a prison have rules? Tell me that!"
+
+"We have come to arrange for certain matters regarding Mr. Law's
+defense," said Mary Connynge, as she threw back her cloak and bent upon
+the turnkey the full glance of her dark eye. "Surely you would not deny
+us."
+
+The turnkey looked at Will Law with a hesitation in his attitude. "Why,
+this gentleman I know," he began.
+
+"Yes; let us in," cried Will Law, with sudden energy. "'Tis time that we
+took steps to set my brother free."
+
+"True, so say they all, young master," replied the turnkey, grinning.
+"'Tis easy to get ye in, but passing hard to get ye out again. Yet,
+since the young man ye wish to see is a very decent gentleman, and
+knoweth well the needs of a poor working body like myself, we will take
+the matter under advisement, as the court saith, forsooth."
+
+They passed through the heavy gates, down a narrow and heavy-aired
+passage, and finally into a naked room. It was here, in such somber
+surroundings, that Mary Connynge saw again the man whose image had been
+graven on her heart ever since that morn at Sadler's Wells. How her
+heart coveted him, how her blood leaped for him--these things the Mary
+Connynges of the world can tell, they who own the primeval heart of
+womankind.
+
+When John Law himself at length entered the room, he stepped forward at
+first confidently, eagerly, though with surprise upon his face. Then,
+with a sudden hesitation, he looked sharply at the figure which he saw
+awaiting him in the dingy room. His breath came sharp, and ended in a
+sigh. For a half moment his face flushed, his brow showed question and
+annoyance. Yet rapidly, after his fashion, he mastered himself.
+
+"Will," said he, calmly, to his brother, "kindly ask the coachman to
+wait for this lady."
+
+He stood for a moment gazing after the form of his brother as it
+disappeared in the outer shadows. For this half-moment he took swift
+counsel of himself. It was a face calm and noncommittal that he turned
+toward the girl who sat now in the darkest corner of the room, her head
+cast down, her foot beating a signal of perturbation upon the floor.
+From the corner of her eye Mary Connynge saw him, a tall and manly man,
+superbly clad, faultless in physique and raiment from top to toe. He
+stood as though ready to step into his carriage for some voyage to rout
+or ball. Youth, vigor, self-reliance, confidence, this was the whole
+message of the splendid figure. The blood of Mary Connynge, this
+survival, this half-savage woman, unregulated, unsubdued, leaped high
+within her bosom, fled to her face, gave color to her cheek and
+brightness to her eye. Her breath shortened after feline fashion. Deep
+was calling unto deep, ancient unto ancient, primitive unto primitive.
+Without the gate of London prison there was one abject prisoner. Within
+its gates there were two prisoners, and one of them was slave for life!
+
+"Madam," said John Law, in deep and vibrant tone, "you will pardon me if
+I say that it gives me surprise to see you here."
+
+"Yes; I have come," said the girl, not logically.
+
+"You bring, perhaps, some message?"
+
+"I--I brought a message."
+
+"It is from the Lady Catharine?"
+
+Mary Connynge was silent for a moment. It was necessary that, at least
+for a moment, the poison of some æons should distil. There was need of
+savagery to say what she proposed to say. The voice of training, of
+civilization, of unselfishness, of friendship raised a protest. Wait
+then for a moment. Wait until the bitterness of an ambitious and
+unrounded life could formulate this evil impulse. Wait, till Mary
+Connynge could summon treachery enough to slay her friend. And yet, wait
+only until the primitive soul of Mary Connynge should become altogether
+imperative in its demands! For after all, was not this friend a woman,
+and is not the earth builded as it is? And hath not God made male and
+female its inhabitants; and as there is war of male and male, is there
+not war of female and female, until the end of time?
+
+"I came from the Lady Catharine," said Mary Connynge, slowly, "but I
+bring no message from her of the sort which perhaps you wished." It was
+a desperate, reckless lie, a lie almost certain of detection yet it was
+the only resource of the moment, and a moment later it was too late to
+recall. One lie must now follow another, and all must make a deadly
+coil.
+
+"Madam, I am sorry," said John Law, quietly, yet his face twitched
+sharply at the impact of these cutting words. "Did you know of my letter
+to her?"
+
+"Am I not here?" said Mary Connynge.
+
+"True, and I thank you deeply. But how, why-pray you, understand that I
+would be set right. I would not undergo more than is necessary. Will you
+not explain?"
+
+"There is but little to explain--little, though it may mean much. It
+must be private. Your brother--he must never know. Promise me not to
+speak to him of this."
+
+"This means much to me, I doubt not, my dear lady," said John Law. "I
+trust I may keep my counsel in a matter which comes so close to me."
+
+"Yes, truly," replied Mary Connynge, "if you had set your heart upon a
+kindly answer."
+
+"What! You mean, then, that she--"
+
+"Do you promise?"
+
+The brows of Law settled deeper and deeper into the frown which marked
+him when he was perturbed. The blood, settled back, now slowly mounted
+again into his face, the resentful, fighting blood of the Highlander.
+
+"I promise," he cried. "And now, tell me what answer had the Lady
+Catharine Knollys."
+
+"She declined to answer," said Mary Connynge, slowly and evenly.
+"Declined to come. She said that she was ill enough pleased to hear of
+your brawling. Said that she doubted not the law would punish you, nor
+doubted that the law was just."
+
+John Law half whirled upon his heel, smote his hands together and
+laughed loud and bitterly.
+
+"Madam," said he, "I had never thought to say it to a woman, but in very
+justice I must tell you that I see quite through this shallow
+falsehood."
+
+"Sir," said Mary Connynge, her hands clutching at the arms of her chair,
+"this is unusual speech to a lady!"
+
+"But your story, Madam, is most unusual."
+
+"Tell me, then, why should I be here?" burst out the girl. "What is it
+to me? Why should I care what the Lady Catharine says or does? Why
+should I risk my own name to come of this errand in the night? Now let
+me pass, for I shall leave you."
+
+Tho swift jealous rage of Mary Connynge was unpremeditated, yet nothing
+had better served her real purpose. The stubborn nature of Law was ever
+ready for a challenge. He caught her arm, and placed her not unkindly
+upon the chair.
+
+"By heaven, I half believe what you say is true!" said he, as though to
+himself.
+
+"Yet you just said 'twas false," said the girl, her eyes flashing.
+
+"I meant that what you add is true, and hence the first also must be
+believed. Then you saw my message?"
+
+"I did, since it so fell out."
+
+"But you did not read the real message. I asked no aid of any one for my
+escape. I but asked her to come. In sheer truth, I wished but to see
+her."
+
+"And by what right could you expect that?"
+
+"I asked her as my affianced wife," replied John Law.
+
+Mary Connynge stood an inch taller, as she sprang to her feet in sudden
+scorn and bitterness.
+
+"Your affianced wife!" cried she. "What! So soon! Oh, rare indeed must
+be my opinion of this Lady Catharine!"
+
+"It was never my way to waste time on a journey," said John Law, coolly.
+
+"Your wife, your affianced wife?"
+
+"As I said."
+
+"Yes," cried Mary Connynge, bitterly, and again, unconsciously and in
+sheer anger, falling upon that course which best served her purpose.
+"And what manner of affianced wife is it would forsake her lover at the
+first breath of trouble? My God! 'tis then, it seems to me, a woman
+would most swiftly fly to the man she loved."
+
+John Law turned slowly toward her, his eyes scanning her closely from
+top to toe, noting the heaving of her bosom, the sparkling of her
+gold-colored eye, now darkened and half ready to dissolve in tears. He
+stood as though he were a judge, weighing the evidence before him,
+calmly, dispassionately.
+
+"Would you do so much as that, Mary Connynge?" asked John Law.
+
+"I, sir?" she replied. "Then why am I here to-night myself? But, God pity
+me, what have I said? There is nothing but misfortune in all my life!"
+
+It was one rebellious, unsubdued nature speaking to another, and of the
+two each was now having its own sharp suffering. The instant of doubt is
+the time of danger. Then comes revulsion, bitterness, despair, folly.
+John Law trod a step nearer.
+
+"By God! Madam," cried he, "I would I might believe you. I would I might
+believe that you, that any woman, would come to me at such a time! But
+tell me--and I bethink me my message was not addressed, was even
+unsigned--whom then may I trust? If this woman scorns my call at such a
+time, tell me, whom shall I hold faithful? Who would come to me at any
+time, in any case, in my trouble? Suppose my message were to you?"
+
+Mary Connynge stirred softly under her deep cloak. Her head was lifted
+slightly, the curve of cheek and chin showing in the light that fell
+from the little lamp. The masses of her dark hair lay piled about her
+face, tumbled by the sweeping of her hood. Her eyes showed tremulously
+soft and deep now as he looked into them. Her little hands half twitched
+a trifle from her lap and reached forward and upward. Primitive she
+might have been, wicked she was, sinfully sweet; and yet she was woman.
+It was with the voice of tears that she spoke, if one might claim
+vocalization for her speech.
+
+"Have I not come?" whispered she.
+
+"By God! Mary Connynge, yes, you have come!" cried Law. And though there
+was heartbreak in his voice, it sounded sweet to the ear of her who
+heard it, and who now reached up her arms about his neck.
+
+"Ah, John Law," said Mary Connynge, "when a woman loves--when a woman
+loves, she stops at nothing!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+IF THERE WERE NEED
+
+
+Time wore on in the ancient capital of England. The tramp of troops
+echoed in the streets, and the fleets of Britain made ready to carry her
+sons over seas for wars and for adventures. The intrigues of party
+against party, of church against church, of Parliament against king; the
+loves, the hates, the ambitions, the desires of all the city's hurrying
+thousands went on as ever. Who, then, should remember a single prisoner,
+waiting within the walls of England's jail? The hours wore on slowly
+enough for that prisoner. He had faced a jury of his peers and was
+condemned to face the gallows. Meantime he had said farewell to love and
+hope and faithfulness, even as he bade farewell to life. "Since she has
+forsaken me whom I thought faithful," said he to himself, "why, let it
+end, for life is a mockery I would not live out." And thenceforth,
+haggard but laughing, pale but with unbroken courage, he trod on his way
+through his few remaining days, the wonder of those who saw him.
+
+As for Mary Connynge, surely she had matters enough which were best kept
+secret in her own soul. While Lady Catharine was hoping, and praying,
+and dreaming and believing, even as the roses left her cheek and the
+hollows fell beneath her eyes, she saw about her in the daily walks of
+life Mary Connynge, sleek and rounded as ever. They sat at table
+together, and neither did the one make sign to the other of her own
+anxiety, nor did that other give sign of her own treachery. Mary
+Connynge, false guest, false friend, false woman, deceived so perfectly
+that she left no indication of deceit. She herself knew, and blindly
+satisfied herself with the knowledge, that she alone now came close into
+the life of "Beau" Law, the convict; "Jessamy" Law, the student, the
+financier, the thinker; John Law, her lord and master. Herein she found
+the sole compensation possible in her savage nature. She had found the
+master whom she sought!
+
+Cynically mirthful or irreverently indifferent, yet never did her
+master's strength forsake him, never did his heart lose its
+undauntedness. And when he bade Mary Connynge do this or that she obeyed
+him; when he bade her arise she arose; at his word she came or departed.
+A dozen nights in the month she was absent from the house of Knollys. A
+dozen nights Will Law was cozened into frenzy, alternating between a
+heaven of delight and a hell of despair, and ignorant of her twofold
+duplicity. A dozen nights John Law knew well enough where Mary Connynge
+was, though no one else might know. There was feminine triumph now in
+full in the heart of this Mary Connynge, who had gone white with rage at
+the sight of a rose offered across her face to another woman. Had she
+not her master? Was he not hers, all hers, belonging in no wise to any
+other?
+
+For the future, Mary Connynge did not ponder it. An ephemera, once
+buried generations deep in the mire and slime of lower conditions, and
+now craving blindly but the sunlight of the day, she would have sought
+the deadly caress of life even though at that moment it had sealed her
+doom. Foolish or wise, she was as she was; since, under our frail
+society, life is as it is.
+
+Only at night, on those nights when she was sleepless on her own couch
+beneath the roof of Catharine Knollys, did Mary Connynge allow herself
+to think. Tell, then, ye who may, whether or not she was a mere survival
+of some forgotten day of the forest and the glade, as she lay with her
+hands clasped in brief moments of emotion. Surely she hoped, as all
+women hope who love, that this might endure for her forever. Yet the
+next moment there came the thought that inevitably it all must end, and
+soon. Then her hand clenched, her eyes grew dry and brilliant. She said
+to herself: "There is no hope. He can not be saved! For this short
+period of his life he shall be mine, all mine! He shall not be set free!
+He shall not go away, to belong, at any time, in any part, to any other
+woman! Though he die, yet shall he love me to the end; me, Mary
+Connynge, and no other woman!"
+
+Now, under this same roof of Knollys, separated by but a few yards of
+space, there lay another woman, thinking also of this convict behind the
+prison bars. But this was a woman of another and a nobler mold. Into the
+heart of Catharine Knollys there came no mere mad selfishness of desire,
+yearn though she did in every fiber of her being since that first time
+she felt the mastering kiss of love. There was born in her soul emotion
+of a higher sort. The Lady Catharine Knollys prayed, and her prayer was
+not that her lover should die, but that he might live; that he might be
+free.
+
+Nor was this hope left to wither unnourished in the mind of the
+high-bred and courageous English girl. Alone, without confidant to
+counsel her, with no woman friend to aid her, the Lady Catharine
+Knollys backed her own hopes and wishes with resource and energy. There
+came a time, perilously late, when a faint rose showed once more in her
+cheek, long so worn, a faintly brighter light glowed in her deep eye.
+
+When Sir Arthur Pembroke received a message from the Lady Catharine
+Knollys advising him that the latter would receive him at her home, it
+was left for the impulses, the hopes, the imaginings of that modest
+young nobleman to establish a reason for the message. Puzzling all along
+his rapid way in answer to the summons, Sir Arthur found the answer
+which best suited his hopes in the faint flush, the brightened eye of
+the young woman who received him.
+
+"Lady Catharine," he began, impetuously, "I have come, and let me hope
+that 'tis at last to have my answer. I have waited--each moment has been
+a year that I have spent away from you."
+
+"Now, that is very pretty said."
+
+"But I am serious."
+
+"And that is why I do not like you."
+
+"But, Lady Catharine!"
+
+"I should like it better did you but continue as in the past. We have
+met on the Row, at the routs and drums, in the country; and always I
+have felt free to ask any favor of Sir Arthur Pembroke. Why could it not
+be always thus?"
+
+"You might ask my very life, Lady Catharine."
+
+"Ah, there it is! When a man offers his life, 'tis time for a woman to
+ask nothing."
+
+She turned from the open window, her attitude showing an unwonted
+weakness and dejection. Sir Arthur still stood near by, his own face
+frowning and uncertain.
+
+"Lady Catharine," he broke out at length, "for years, as you know, I
+have sought your favor. I have dared think that sometime the day would
+come when--my faith! Lady Catharine, the day has come now when I feel it
+my right to demand the cause of anything which troubles you. And that
+you are troubled is plain enough. Ever since this man Law----"
+
+"There," cried Lady Catharine, raising her hand. "I beg you to say no
+more."
+
+"But I will say more! There must be a reason for this."
+
+The face of the young woman flushed in spite of herself, as Pembroke
+strode closer and gazed at her with sternness.
+
+"Lady Catharine," said he, slowly, "I am a friend of your family.
+Perhaps now I may be of aid to you. Prove me, and at the last, ask who
+was indeed your friend."
+
+"We have had misfortunes, we of the family of the Knollys," said Lady
+Catharine. "This is, perhaps, but the fate of the house of Knollys. It
+is my fate."
+
+"Your fate!" said Sir Arthur, slowly. "Your fate! Lady Catharine, I
+thank you. It is at least as well to know the truth."
+
+"Pick out the truth, then, Sir Arthur, as you like it. I am not on the
+witness stand before you, and you are not my judge. There has been
+forsworn testimony enough already in this town. Were it not for that,
+Mr. Law would at this moment be free as you or I."
+
+Sir Arthur struck his hands together in despair, and turning away,
+strode down the room.
+
+"Oh, I see it all well enough," cried he. "You are mad as any who have
+hitherto had dealings with this madman from the North."
+
+The girl rose to her full height and stood before him.
+
+"It may be I am mad," said she. "It may be the old Knollys madness. If
+so, why should I struggle against it? It may be that I am mad. But I
+venture to say to you that Mr. Law is not born to die in Newgate yards.
+My life! sir, if I love him, who should say me nay? Now, say to
+yourself, and to your friends--to all London, if you like, since you
+have touched me to this point--that Catharine Knollys is friend to Mr.
+Law, and believes in him, and declares that he shall be freed from his
+prison, and that within short space! Say that, Sir Arthur; tell them
+that! And if they argue somewhat from it, why, let them reason it as
+best they may."
+
+The young man stood, his lips close together, his head still turned
+away. The girl continued with growing energy.
+
+"I have sent for you to tell you that Mr. Law's life has a value in my
+eyes. And now, I say to you, Sir Arthur, that you must aid me in his
+escape."
+
+A beautiful picture she made, tearful, pleading, a lock of her soft
+red-brown hair falling unnoticed across her tear-wet cheek. It had been
+ill task, indeed, to make refusal of any sort to a woman so gloriously
+feminine, so noble, now so beseeching.
+
+"Lady Catharine," said the young man, turning toward her, "this illness,
+this anxiety--"
+
+"No, I know perfectly well whereof I speak! Listen, and I'll tell you
+somewhat of news. Montague, chancellor of the exchequer, is my warrant
+for what I say to you when I tell you that Mr. Law is to be free.
+Montague himself has said to me, in this very room, that Mr. Law was
+like to be half the salvation of England in these uncertain times. I
+could tell you more, but may not. Only look you, Sir Arthur, John Law
+does not rest in Newgate more than one week from this time!"
+
+Sir Arthur took snuff, his voice at length regaining that composure for
+which he had sought.
+
+"'Tis very excellent," he said. "For myself, two centuries have been
+spent in my family to teach me to love like a gentleman, and to deserve
+you like a man. What does this young man need? A few days of bluster, of
+assertion! A few weeks of gaming and of roistering, of self-asserted
+claims! Gad! Lady Catharine, this is passing bitter! And now you ask me
+to help him."
+
+"I wish you to help him," said Lady Catharine, slowly, "only in that I
+ask you to help me."
+
+"And if I did?"
+
+"And if you did, you should dwell in a part of my heart forever! Let it
+be as you like."
+
+"Then," cried the young man, flushing suddenly and hotly as he strode
+toward her, "do with me as you like! Let me be fool unspeakable!"
+
+"And do you promise?" said Lady Catharine, rising and advancing toward
+him. Her face was sad and appealing. Her eyes swam in tears, her lips
+were trembling.
+
+Sir Arthur held out his hand. The Lady Catharine extended both her own,
+and he bent and kissed them, tears springing in his eyes. For a time the
+room was silent. Then the girl turned, her own lashes wet. She stepped
+at length to a cabinet and took from an inner drawer a paper.
+
+"Sir Arthur, look at this," she Said.
+
+He took it from her and scrutinized it carefully.
+
+"Why, this seems to be a street bill, a placard for posting upon the
+walls," said he.
+
+"Read it."
+
+"Yes, well--so, so. 'Five hundred pounds reward for information
+regarding the escaped felon, Captain John Law, convicted of murder and
+under sentence of death of the King's Bench. The same Law escaped from
+Newgate prison on the night of'--hum--well--well--'May be known by this
+description: Is tall, of dark complexion, spare of build, raw-boned,
+face hath deep pock-marks. Eyes dark; hair dark and scanty. Speaketh
+broad and loud.' How--how, why my dear Lady Catharine, this is the last
+proof that thou'rt stark, staring mad! This no more tallies with the
+true John Law than it does with my hunting horse!"
+
+"And but few would know him by this description?"
+
+"None, absolutely none."
+
+"None could tell 'twas he, even did they meet him full face to face--no
+one would know it was Mr. Law?"
+
+"Why, assuredly not. 'Tis as unlike him as it could be."
+
+"Then it is well!" said Lady Catharine.
+
+"Well? Very badly done, I should say."
+
+"Oh, my poor Sir Arthur, where are your wits? 'Tis very well because
+'tis very ill, this same description."
+
+"Ah, ha!" said he, a sudden light dawning upon him. "Then you mean to
+tell me that this description was misconceived deliberately?"
+
+"What would you think?"
+
+"Did you do this work yourself?"
+
+"Guess for yourself. Montague, as you know, was once of a pretty
+imagination, ere he took to finance. If he and the poet Prior could
+write such conceits as they have created, could not perhaps Montague--or
+Prior--or some one else--have conceived this description of Mr. Law?"
+
+The young man threw himself into a seat, his head between his hands.
+"'Tis like a play," said he. "And surely the play of fortune ever runs
+well enough for Mr. Law."
+
+"Sir Arthur," said Lady Catharine, rising uneasily and standing before
+him, "I must confess to you that I bear a certain active part in private
+plans looking to the escape of Mr. Law. I have come to you for aid. Sir
+Arthur, I pray God that we may be successful."
+
+The young man also rose and began to pace the floor.
+
+"Even did Law escape," he began, "it would mean only his flight from
+England."
+
+"True," said the Lady Catharine, "that is all planned. The ship even now
+awaits him in the Pool. He is to take ship at once upon leaving prison,
+and he sails at once from England. He goes to France."
+
+"But, my dear Lady Catharine, this means that he must part from you."
+
+"Of course, it means our parting."
+
+"Oh, but you said--but I thought--"
+
+"But I said--but you thought--Sir Arthur, do not stand there prating
+like a little boy!"
+
+"You do not, then, keep your prisoner bound by other fetters after he
+escapes from Newgate?"
+
+"I do nothing unwomanly, and I do nothing, I trust, ignoble. I go to
+meet the Knollys fate, whatever it may be."
+
+"Lady Catharine," cried Pembroke, passionately, "I have said I loved
+you. Never in my life did I love you as I do now!"
+
+"I like to hear your words," said the girl, frankly. "There shall always
+be your corner in my heart--"
+
+"Yet you will do this thing?"
+
+"I will do this thing. I shall not whimper nor repine. I am sending him
+away forever, but 'tis needful for his sake. I shall be ready for
+whatever fate hath for me."
+
+"Tell me, then," said Pembroke, his face haggard and unhappy, "how am I
+to serve you in this matter."
+
+"In this way: To-morrow night call here with your coach. My household,
+if they note it, may take your coach for my own, and may perhaps
+understand that I go to the rout of my Lady Swearingsham. We shall go,
+instead, to Newgate. For the night, Sir Arthur Pembroke shall serve as
+coachman. You must drive the carriage to Newgate jail."
+
+"And 'tis there," said Pembroke, slowly, "that the Lady Catharine
+Knollys, the dearest woman of all England, would take the man who
+honorably loves her--to Newgate, to feloniously set free a felon? Is it
+there, then, Lady Catharine, you would go to meet your lover?"
+
+The tall figure of the girl straightened up to its full height. A shade
+of color came to her cheeks, but her voice was firm, though tears came
+to her eyes as she answered:
+
+"Aye, sir, I would go to Newgate if there were need!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+THE ESCAPE
+
+
+On a certain morning a messenger rode in hot haste up to the prison
+gate. He bore the livery of Montague. Turnkey after turnkey admitted
+him, until finally he stood before the cell of John Law and delivered
+into his hand, as he had been commanded, the message that he bore. That
+afternoon this same messenger paused at the gate of the house of
+Knollys. Here, too, he was admitted promptly. He delivered into the
+hands of the Lady Catharine Knollys a certain message. This was of a
+Wednesday. On the following Friday it was decreed that the gallows
+should do its work. Two more days and there would be an end of "Jessamy"
+Law.
+
+That Wednesday night a covered carriage came to the door of the house of
+Knollys. Its driver was muffled in such fashion that he could hardly
+have been known. There stepped from the house the cloaked figure of a
+woman, who entered the carriage and herself pulled shut the door. The
+vehicle was soon lost among the darkling streets.
+
+Catharine Knollys had heard the summons of her fate. She now sat
+trembling in the carriage.
+
+When finally the vehicle stopped at the curb of the walk which led to
+the prison gate, a second carriage, as mysterious as the first, came
+down the street and stopped at a little distance, but close to the curb
+on the side nearest to the gate. The driver of the first carriage,
+evidently not liking the close neighborhood at the time, edged a trifle
+farther down the way. The second carriage thereupon drew up into the
+spot just vacated, and the two, not easily distinguishable at the hour
+and in the dark and unlighted street, stood so, each apparently watchful
+of the other, each seemingly without an occupant.
+
+Lady Catharine had left her carriage before this interchange, and had
+passed the prison gate alone. Her steps faltered. It was hardly
+consciously that she finally found her way into the court, through the
+gate, down the evil-smelling corridors, past the sodden and leering
+constables, up to the last gate which separated her from him whom she
+had come to see.
+
+She had been admitted without demur as far as this point, and even now
+her coming seemed not altogether a matter of surprise. The burly turnkey
+at the last door stood ready to meet her. With loud commands, he drove
+out of the corridor the crowd of prison attendants. He approached Lady
+Catharine, hat in hand and bowing deeply.
+
+"I presume you are the man whom I would see," said she, faintly, almost
+unequal to the task imposed upon her.
+
+"Aye, Madam, I doubt not, with my best worship for you."
+
+"I was to come"--said Lady Catharine. "I was to speak to you--"
+
+"Aye," replied the turnkey. "You were to come, and you were to speak.
+And now, what were you to say to me? Was there no given word?"
+
+"There was such a word," she said. "You will understand. It is in the
+matter of Mr. Law."
+
+"True," said the turnkey. "But I must have the countersign. There are
+heads to lose in this, yours and mine, if there be mistake."
+
+Lady Catharine raised her head proudly. "It was for Faith," said she,
+"for Love, and for Hope! These were the words."
+
+Saying which, as though she had called to her aid the last atom of her
+strength, she staggered back and half fell against the wall near the
+inner gate. The rude jailer sprang forward to steady her.
+
+"Yes, yes," he whispered, eagerly. "'Tis all proper. Those be the
+words. Pray you, have courage, lady."
+
+There came into the corridor a murmur of voices, and there was audible
+also the sound of a man's footfalls approaching along the flags.
+Catharine Knollys looked through the bars of the gate which the turnkey
+was already beginning to throw open for her. She looked, and there
+appeared upon her vision, a sight which caused her heart to stop, which
+confounded all her reason. From a side door there advanced John Law,
+magnificently clad, walking now as though he trod the floor of some
+great hall or banquet room.
+
+The woman waiting without the gate reached out her arms. She would have
+cried aloud. Then she fell back against the wall, whereat had she not
+grasped she must have sunk down to the floor.
+
+Upon the arm of John Law, and looking up to him as she walked, there
+hung the clinging figure of a woman, half-hidden by the flickering
+shadows of the torches. A deep cloak fell back from her shoulders. It
+might have been the light fabric of the aborigine. Upon the foot of Mary
+Connynge, twinkling in and out as she walked, showed the crudely
+garnished little shoe of the Indian princess over seas, dainty, bizarre,
+singular, covering the smallest foot in all London town.
+
+"By all the saints!" Law was saying, "you might be the very maker of
+this little slipper yourself. I have won the forty crowns, I swear!
+Perforce, I'll leave them to you in my will."
+
+The shock of the light speech made even Mary Connynge wince. For the
+moment she averted her eyes from the handsome face above her. She
+looked, and saw what gave her greater shock. Law, too, stared, as her
+own startled gaze grew fixed. He advanced close to the gate, only to
+start back in a horror of surprise which racked even his steeled
+composure.
+
+"Madam!" he cried; and then, "Catharine!"
+
+Catharine Knollys made no answer to him, though she looked straight and
+calmly into his face, seeming not in the least to see the woman near
+him. Her eyes were wide and shining. "Sir," said she, "keep fast to
+Hope! This was for Faith, and for Love!"
+
+The jailer with one quick gesture swung wide the gate. "Haste, haste!"
+he cried. "Quick and begone! This night may mean my ruin! Get ye gone,
+all of ye, and give me time to think. Out with ye all, for I must lock
+the gate!"
+
+John Law passed as one stupefied, the slender form of Mary Connynge
+still upon his arm. Hands of men hurried them. "Quick! Into the
+carriage!" one cried.
+
+And now the sounds of feet and voices approaching along the corridor
+were heard. The jailer swiftly swung the heavy gate to and locked it.
+Catharine Knollys caught his last gesture, which bade her begone as fast
+as might be. Her feet were strangely heavy, in spite of her. She reached
+the curb in time to hear only the whir of wheels as a carriage sped away
+over the stones of the street. She stood alone, irresolute for half an
+instant as the crunch of wheels spun up to the curb again. A hand
+reached out and beckoned; involuntarily she obeyed the summons. Her
+wrist was seized, and she was half pulled through the door of the
+carriage.
+
+"What!" cried a voice. "You, Lady Catharine! Why, how is this?"
+
+It was the voice of Will Law, whom she knew, but who certainly was not
+the one who had brought her hither. The Lady Catharine accepted this
+last situation as one no longer able to reason. She sank down in the
+carriage seat, shivering.
+
+"Is all well?" asked Will Law, eagerly.
+
+"He is safe," said Lady Catharine Knollys. "It is done. It is finished."
+
+"What does this mean?" exclaimed Will.
+
+"His carriage--there it is. It goes to the ship--to the Pool. He and
+Mary Connynge are only just ahead of us. You may hear the wheels. Do you
+not hear them?" She spoke with leaden voice, and her head sank heavily.
+
+"What! My brother--Mary Connynge--in that carriage--what can you mean?
+My God! Lady Catharine, tell me, what do you mean?"
+
+"I do not know," said Catharine Knollys. All things now seemed very far
+away from her. Her head sank gently forward, and she heard not the words
+of the man who frantically sought to awaken her to speech.
+
+From the prison to London Pool was a journey of some distance across the
+streets of London. Will Law called out to the driver with savagery in
+his voice. He shouted, cursed, implored, promised, and betimes held one
+hand under the soft, heavy tresses of the head now sunk so humbly
+forward.
+
+The mad ride ended at the quay on Thames side, where the shadows of the
+tall buildings lay rank and thick upon the earth, where tarry smells and
+evil odors filled the heavy air, penetrated none the less by the savor
+of the keen salt air. More than one giant form was outlined in the broad
+stream, vessels tall and ghost-like in the gloom, shadowy, suggestive,
+bearing imprint and promise of far lands across the sea.
+
+Here was the initial point of England's greatness. Here on this heavy
+stream had her captains taken ship. Thence had sailed her admirals to
+encompass all the world. In these dark massed shadows, how much might
+there not be of fate and mystery! Whither might not these vessels carry
+one! To France, to the far-off Indies, to the new-owned islands, to
+America with its little half-grown ports. Whence and whither? What might
+not one do, here at this gateway of the world?
+
+"To the brigantine beyond!" cried Will Law to the wherryman who came up.
+"We want Captain McMasters, of the Polly Perkins. For God's sake, quick!
+There's that afoot must be caught up within the moment, do you hear!"
+
+The wherryman touched his cap and quickly made ready his boat. Will Law,
+understanding naught of this swift coil of events, and not daring to
+leave Lady Catharine behind him at the carriage, made down the stairway,
+half carrying the drooping figure which now leaned weakly upon his
+shoulder.
+
+"Pull now, man! Pull as you never did before!" cried he, and the
+wherryman bent hard to his oars.
+
+Yet great as was the haste of those who put forth into the foggy
+Thames, it was more than equalled by that of one who appeared upon the
+dock, even as the creak of the oars grew fainter in the gloom. There
+came the rattle of wheels upon the quay, and the sound of a driver
+lashing his horses. A carriage rolled up, and there sprang from the box
+a muffled figure which resolved itself into the very embodiment of
+haste.
+
+"Hold the horses, man!" he cried to the nearest by-stander, and sprang
+swiftly to the head of the stairs, where a loiterer or two stood idly
+gazing out into the mist which overhung the water.
+
+"Saw you aught of a man," he demanded hastily, "a man and a woman, a
+tall young woman--you could not mistake her? 'Twas the Polly Greenway
+they should have found. Tell me, for God's sake, has any boat put out
+from this stair?"
+
+"Why, sir," replied one of the wherrymen who stood near by, pipe in
+mouth and hand in pocket, "since you mention it, there was a boat
+started but this instant for midstream. They sought McMaster's
+brigantine, the Polly Perkins, that lies waiting for the tide. 'Twas, as
+you say, a young gentleman, and with him was a young woman. I misdoubt
+the lady was ill."
+
+"Get me a boat!" cried the new-comer. "A sovereign, five sovereigns, ten
+sovereigns, a hundred--but that ship must not weigh anchor until I
+board her, do you hear!"
+
+The ring of the imperative voice, and moreover the ring of good English
+coin, set all the dock astir. Straightway there came up another wherry
+with two lusty fellows, who laid her at the stair where stood the
+impatient stranger.
+
+"Hurry, men!" he cried. "'Tis life and death--'tis more than life and
+death!"
+
+And such fortune attended Sir Arthur Pembroke that forsooth he went over
+the side of the Polly Perkins, even as the gray dawn began to break over
+the narrow Thames, and even as the anchor-song of the crew struck up.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+WHITHER
+
+
+A few hours later a coppery sun slowly dispersed the morning mists above
+the Thames. The same sun warmed the court-yards of the London jail,
+which lately had confined John Law, convicted of the murder of Beau
+Wilson, gentleman. It was discovered that the said John Law had, in some
+superhuman fashion, climbed the spiked walls of the inner yard. The
+jailer pointed out the very spot where this act had been done. It was
+not so plain how he had passed the outer gates of the prison, yet those
+were not wanting who said that he had overpowered the turnkey at the
+gate, taken from him his keys, and so forced his way out into London
+city.
+
+Far and wide went forth the proclamation of reward for the apprehension
+of this escaped convict. The streets of London were placarded broadcast
+with bills bearing this description of the escaped prisoner:
+
+"Five hundred pounds reward for information regarding the escaped
+felon, John Law, convicted in the King's Bench of murder and under
+sentence of death. The same Law escaped from prison on the night of 20
+July. May be known by the following description: Is tall, of dark
+complexion, spare of build, raw-boned, face hath deep pock-marks. Eyes
+dark, hair dark and scanty. Speaks broad and loud. Carries his shoulders
+stooped, and is of mean appearance.
+
+                         "WESTON, High Sheriff.
+                         Done at Newgate prison, this 21 July."
+
+Yet though the authorities of the law made full search in London, and
+indeed in other of the principal cities of England, they got no word of
+the escaped prisoner.
+
+The clouded dawn which broke over the Thames below the Pool might have
+told its own story. There sat upon the deck of the good ship Polly
+Greenway, outbound from Thames' mouth, this same John Law. He regarded
+idly the busy scenes of the shipping about him. His gaze, dull and
+listless, looked without joy upon the dawn, without inquiry upon the far
+horizon. For the first time in all his life John Law dropped his head
+between his hands.
+
+Not so Mary Connynge. "Good sir," cried she, merrily, "'tis morning.
+Let's break our fast, and so set forth proper on our voyage."
+
+"So now we are free," said Law, dully. "I could swear there were
+shackles on me."
+
+"Yes, we are free," said Mary Connynge, "and all the world is before us.
+But saw you ever in all your life a man so dumfounded as was Sir Arthur
+when he discovered 'twas I, and not the Lady Catharine, had stepped into
+the carriage? That confusion of the carriages was like to have cost us
+everything. I know not how your brother made such mistake. He said he
+would fetch me home the night. Gemini! It sure seems a long way about!
+And where may be your brother now, or Sir Arthur, or the Lady
+Catharine--why, 'tis as much confused as though 'twere all in a play!"
+
+"But Sir Arthur cried that my ship was for France. Yet here they tell me
+that this brigantine is bound for the mouth of the St. Lawrence, in
+America! What then of this other, and what of my brother--what of
+us--what of--?"
+
+"Why, I think this," said Mary Connynge, calmly. "That you do very well
+to be rid of London jail; and for my own part, 'tis a rare appetite the
+salt air ever gives me!"
+
+Upon the same morning tide there was at this very moment just setting
+aloft her sails for the first high airs of dawn the ship of McMasters,
+the Polly Perkins, bound for the port of Brest.
+
+She came down scarce a half-dozen cable lengths behind the craft which
+bore the fugitives now beginning their journey toward another land. Upon
+the deck of this ship, even as upon the other, there were those who
+waited eagerly for the dawn. There were two men here, Will Law and Sir
+Arthur Pembroke, and whether their conversation had been more eager or
+more angry, were hard to tell. Will Law, broken and dejected, his heart
+torn by a thousand doubts and a thousand pains, sat listening, though
+but half comprehending.
+
+"Every plan gone wrong!" cried Sir Arthur. "Every plan gone wrong, and
+out of it all we can only say that he has escaped from prison for whom
+no prison could be enough of hell! Though he be your brother, I tell it
+to your face, the gallows had been too good for John Law! Look you
+below. See that girl, pure as an angel, as noble and generous a soul us
+ever breathed--what hath she done to deserve this fate? You have brought
+her from her home, and to that home she can not now return unsmirched.
+And all this for a man who is at this moment fleeing with the woman whom
+she deemed her friend! What is there left in life for her?"
+
+Will Law groaned and buried his own head deeper in his hands. "What is
+there left for any of us?" said he. "What is there left for me?"
+
+"For you?" said Sir Arthur, questioningly. "Why, the next ship back from
+Brest, or from any other port of France. 'Tis somewhat different with a
+woman."
+
+"You do not understand," said Will Law. "The separation means somewhat
+for me."
+
+"Surely you do not mean--you have no reference to Mary Connynge?" cried
+Sir Arthur.
+
+Will bowed his head abjectly and left the other to guess that which sat
+upon his mind. Sir Arthur drew a long breath and stopped his angry
+pacing up and down.
+
+"It ran on for weeks," said Will Law. "We were to have been married. I
+had no thought of this. 'Twas I who took her to and from the prison
+regularly, and 'twas thus that we met. She told me she was but the
+messenger of the Lady Catharine."
+
+Sir Arthur drew a long, slow breath. "Then I may say to you," said he,
+"that your brother, John Law, is a hundred times more traitor and felon
+than even now I thought him. Yonder he goes"--and he shook his fist into
+the enveloping mist which hung above the waters. "Yonder he goes,
+somewhere, I give you warning, where he deems no trail shall be left
+behind him. But I promise you, whatever be your own wish, I shall follow
+him into the last corner of the earth, but he shall see me and give
+account for this! There is none of us he has not deceived, utterly, and
+like a black-hearted villain. He shall account for it, though it be
+years from now."
+
+So now, inch by inch, fathom after fathom, cable length after cable
+length, soon knot after knot, there sped two English ships out into the
+open seaway. Before long they began to toss restlessly and to pull
+eagerly at the helm as the scent of the salt seas came in. Yet neither
+knew fully the destination of the other, and neither knew that upon the
+deck of that other there was full solution of those questions which now
+sat so heavily upon these human hearts. Thus, silently, slowly,
+steadily, the two drew outward and apart, and before that morn was done,
+both were tossing widely upon the swell of that sea beyond which there
+lay so much of fate and mystery.
+
+
+
+
+BOOK II
+
+AMERICA
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+THE DOOR OF THE WEST
+
+
+"Nearly a league farther, Du Mesne, and the sun but an hour high. Come,
+let us hasten!"
+
+"You are right, Monsieur L'as," replied the one addressed, as the first
+speaker seated himself on the thwart of the boat in whose bow he had
+been standing. "Bend to it, _mes amis_!"
+
+John Law turned about on the seat, gazing back over the length of the
+little ship which had brought him and his comrades thus far on the
+wildest journey he had ever undertaken. Six paddlers there were for this
+great _canot du Nord_, and steadily enough they sent the thin-shelled
+craft along over the curling blue waves of the great inland sea. And now
+their voices in one accord fell into the cadences of an ancient
+boat-song of New France:
+
+
+    "_En roulant ma loule, roulant,
+     Roulant, rouler, ma boule roulant_."
+
+
+The ictus of the measure marked time for the sweeping paddles, and
+under the added impetus the paper shell, reinforced as it was by
+close-laid splints of cedar, and braced by the fiber-fastened thwarts,
+fairly yielded to the rush of the waves as the stalwart paddlers sent it
+flying forward. A tiny blur of white showed about the bows, and now and
+again a splash of spray came inboard, as some little curling white cap
+was divided by the rush of the swiftly moving prow.
+
+"We shall not arrive too soon, my friend," rejoined the captain of the
+_voyageurs_, casting an eye back across the great lake, which lay black
+and ominous under a threatening sky, the sweep and swirl of its white
+caps ever racing hard after the frail craft, as though eager to break
+through its paper sides and tear away the human beings who thus fled on
+so lightly.
+
+This boat, mysteriously appearing as though it were some spirit craft
+railed from the ancient deeps, was far from the beginning of its wild
+journey. Wide as the eye might reach, there arose no fleck of snowy
+canvas, nor showed the dark line of any similar craft propelled by oar
+or paddle. They were alone, these travelers. Before them, at the
+entrance of the wide arm of the great lake Michiganon, lay the point
+even at that early day known as the Door of the West, the beginning of
+the winding water-way which led on into the interior of that West, then
+so alluring and unknown. The eyes of all were fixed on the low,
+white-fronted bluffs, crowned by dark forest growth, which guarded the
+bay at either hand. This spot, so wild, so remote, so significant--it
+was home for these _voyageurs_ as much as any; as much, too, for Law and
+the woman who lay back, pale-faced and wide-eyed, among the bales in the
+great canoe.
+
+In time the graceful craft approached the beach, on which the long waves
+rolled and curled, now gently, now with imposing force. With the water
+yet half-leg deep, Du Mesne and two of the paddlers sprang bodily
+overboard and held the boat back from the pebbles, so that its tender
+shell might not be damaged. Law himself was as soon as they in the
+water, and he waded back along the gunwale until he reached the stern,
+the water nearly up to his hips. Reaching out his arms, he picked up
+Mary Connynge from her seat and carried her dry-shod ashore, bending
+down to catch some whispered word. Not so gallant was Du Mesne, the
+leader of the _voyageurs_. He uttered a few short words of semi-command
+to the Indian woman, who had been seated on the floor of the canoe, and
+she, without protest, crawled forward over the thwarts and the heaped
+bundles until she reached the bow, and then went ankle deep into the
+creaming flood. The great canoe, left empty and anchored safe from the
+pebbles of the beach, tossed light as a cork on the incoming waves.
+
+A little open space was quickly found at the edge of the cove in which
+the disembarkation was made, and here Du Mesne and his followers soon
+kicked away the twigs and leveled out a smooth place upon the grass.
+Each man produced from his belt a broad-bladed knife, and for the moment
+disappeared in the deep fringe of evergreens which lined the shore.
+Fairly in the twinkling of an eye a rude frame of bent poles was made,
+above which were spread strips of unrolled birch bark from the cargo of
+the canoe. Over the spaces left uncovered by the supply of bark sheets
+there were laid down long mats made by Indian hands from dried reeds and
+bulrushes, affording no inconsiderable protection against the weather.
+Inside the lodge, bales of goods and packages of provisions were quickly
+arranged in comfortable fashion. Gaudy blankets were spread upon layers
+of soft skins of the buffalo. The Indian woman had meantime struck a
+fire, whose faint blue smoke curled lakeward in the soft evening air.
+Quickly, and with the system of experienced campaigners, the evening
+bivouac had been prepared; and wildly picturesque it must have seemed
+to a bystander, had there been indeed any possible spectator within many
+leagues.
+
+Far enough was this from the turmoil of London, which Law and his
+companion had left nearly a year before; far enough still from the wild
+capital of New France, where they had spent the winter, after landing,
+as much by chance as through any plan, at the port of the St. Lawrence.
+Ever a demon of unrest drove Law forward; ever there beckoned to him
+that irresistible West, of which he was one of the earliest to feel the
+charm. Farther and farther westward, swift and swifter than ever the
+boats of the fur traders had made the journey before, he and his party,
+led by Du Mesne, the ex-galley-slave and wanderer whom Law had by chance
+met again, and gladly, at Montréal, had made the long and dangerous run
+up the lakes, past Michilimackinac, down the lake of Michiganon, headed
+toward the interior of a new continent which was then, as for
+generations after then, the land of wondrous distances, of grand
+enterprises, of magnificent promises and immense fulfilments. The bales
+and bundles of this bivouac belonged to John Law, bought by gold from
+the gaming tables of Montréal and Quebec, and ventured in the one great
+hazard which appealed to him most irresistibly, the hazard of life and
+fortune in a far land, where he might live unneighbored, and where he
+might forget. Gambler in England, gambler again in New France, now
+trading fur-merchant and _voyageur_, he was, as always, an adventurer.
+Du Mesne and his hardy crew hailed him already as a new captain of the
+trails, a new _coureur_, won from the Old World by the savage witchery
+of the New. He was their brother; and had he indeed owned longer years
+of training, his keenness of eye, his strength of arm, his tirelessness
+of limb could hardly have been greater than they seemed in his first
+voyage to the West.
+
+
+    "_Tous les printemps,
+     Tant des nouvelles_"
+
+hummed Du Mesne, as he busied himself about the camp, casting the while
+a cautious eye to note the progress of the threatening storm.
+
+
+    "_Tous les amants
+     Changent des maîtresses.
+     Jamais le bon vin n'endort--
+     L'amour me réveille_!"
+
+"The best is before us now, Monsieur L'as," said Du Mesne, joining Law,
+at length. "Assuredly the best is always that which is ahead and which
+is unknown; but in point of fact the hardest of our journey is over,
+for henceforth we may stretch our legs ashore, and hunt and fish, and
+make good camps for madame, who, as we both perceive, is much in need of
+ease and care. We shall make all safe and comfortable for this night,
+doubt not.
+
+"Meantime," continued he, "let us see that all is well with our men and
+arms, for henceforth we must put out guards. Attention, comrades!
+Present your pieces and answer the roll-call! Pierre Berthier!"
+
+"_Ici_! Monsieur," replied the one better known as Pierre Noir, a tall
+and dark-visaged Canadian, clad in the common costume, half-Indian and
+half-civilized, which marked his class. A shirt of soft dressed buckskin
+fell about his thighs; his legs were encased in moose-skin leggings,
+deeply fringed at the seams. About his middle was a broad sash, once
+red, and upon his head a scanty cap of similar color was pushed back. At
+his belt hung the great hunting knife of the _voyageur_, balanced by a
+keen steel tomahawk such as was in common use among the Indians. In his
+hand he supported a long-barreled musket, which he now examined
+carefully in the presence of the captain of the _voyageurs_.
+
+"Robert Challon!" next commanded Du Mesne, and in turn the one addressed
+looked over his piece, the captain also scrutinizing the flint and
+priming with careful eye.
+
+"Naturally, _mes enfants_," said he, "your weapons are perfect, as ever.
+Kataikini, and you, Kabayan, my brothers, let me see," said he to the
+two Indians, the former a Huron and the latter an Ojibway, both from the
+shores of Superior. The Indians arose silently, and without protest
+submitted to the scrutiny which ever seemed to them unnecessary.
+
+"Jean Breboeuf!" called Du Mesne; and in response there arose from the
+shadows a wiry little Frenchman, who might have been of any age from
+twenty to forty-five, so sun-burnt and wrinkled, yet so active and
+vigorous did he seem.
+
+"_Mon ami_," said Du Mesne to him, chidingly, "see now, here is your
+flint all but out of its engagement. Pray you, have better care of your
+piece. For this you shall stand the long watch of the night. And now let
+us all to bed."
+
+One by one the little party was lost to view within the dark interior of
+the hut which they had arranged for themselves. Du Mesne retired a
+distance from the fire and seated himself upon a fallen log, his pipe
+glowing like a coal in the enveloping darkness.
+
+Law himself did not so soon leave the outer air. He remained gazing out
+at the wild scene about him, at the rolling waves dashing on the shore,
+their crests whitening in the glare of the lightning, now approaching
+more closely. He harkened to the roll of the far-off thunder reënforced
+by the thunder of the waves upon the shore, and noted the sweep of the
+black forest about, of the black sky overhead, unlit save for one
+far-off, faint and feeble star.
+
+It was a new world, this that lay around him, a new and savage world. If
+there were a world behind him, a world which once held sunlight and
+flowers, and love and hope--why then, it was a world lost and gone
+forever, and it was very well that this new world should be so different
+and so stern.
+
+In the darkness John Law heard a voice, the voice of a woman in terror.
+Swiftly he stepped to the door of the rude lodge.
+
+"Don't let them sing it again--never any more--that song."
+
+"And what, Madam?"
+
+"That one--'_us les amants changent des maîtresses_!'"
+
+A moment later she whispered, "I am afraid."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+THE STORM
+
+
+Marshaling to the imperious orders of the tempest, and crowding close
+upon the flaming standards of the lightning, the armies of the clouds
+came on. The sea-wide surface of the lake went dull, and above it bent a
+sky appalling in its blackness. The wind at first was light, then fitful
+and gusty, like the rising choler of a man affronted and nursing his own
+anger. It gained in volume and swept on across the tops of the forest
+trees, as though with a hand contemptuous in its strength, forbearing
+only by reason of its own whimsy. Now and again the cohorts of the
+clouds just hinted at parting, letting through a pale radiance from the
+western sky, where lingered the departing day. This light, as did the
+illuminating glare of the forked flames above, disclosed the while
+helmets of the trooping waters, rushing on with thunderous unison of
+tread; and the rattling thunder-shocks, intermittent, though coming
+steadily nearer, served but to emphasize these foot strokes of the
+waves. The heavens above and the waters under the earth--these
+conspired, these marched together, to assail, to overwhelm, to utterly
+destroy.
+
+To destroy what? Why this wild protest of the wilderness? Was it this
+wide-blown, scattered fire, whose sparks and ashes were sown broadcast,
+till but stubborn remnants clung under the sheltering back-log of the
+bivouac hearth? Was it this frail lodge, built upon pliant, yielding
+poles, covered cunningly with mats and bark, carpeted with robe of elk
+and buffalo? Yet why should the elements rage at a tiny fire, and why
+should they tear at a little house of nomad man, since these things were
+old upon the earth? Was it somewhat else that incited this elemental
+rage? This might have been; for surely, builder of this hearth-fire
+which would not quench, master of this house which would not yield,
+there was now come up to the door of the wilderness the white man, risen
+from the sea, heralding the day which the tribes had for generations
+blindly prophesied! The white man, stern, stubborn, fruitful, had come
+to despoil the West of its secrets!
+
+Let all the elements therefore join in riotous revolt! Let earth and sea
+and sky make common cause! Rage, waves, and blaze, ye fiery tongues,
+and threaten, forests, with all your ominous voices! Smite, destroy, or
+terrify into swift retreat this little band! Crush out their tenement!
+Loosen and brush off this feeble finger-grasp at the ancient threshold!
+With banners of flame, with armies of darkness, with shoutings of the
+captains of the storms, assail, denude, destroy, if even by the agony of
+their terrors, these feeble folk now come hither! And by this more
+especially, since they would set the seal of fruitfulness upon the land,
+and bring upon the earth a generation yet to follow. Hover about this
+bed in the frail and swaying lodge of bark and boughs, all ye most
+terrifying spirits! Let not this thing be!
+
+"Mother of God!" cried Jean Breboeuf, bending low and pulling his tunic
+tighter by the belt, as he came gasping into the faint circle of light
+which still remained at the fire log. "'Tis murderous, this storm! Ah,
+Monsieur du Mesne, we are dead men! But what matter? 'Tis as well now as
+later. Said I not so to you all the way down Michiganon from the
+Straits? A rabbit crossed my path at the last camp before
+Michilimackinac, and when we took boat to leave the mission at the
+Straits, three crows flew directly across our way. Did I not beseech you
+to turn back? Did I not tell you, most of all, that we had no right,
+honest _voyageurs_ that we are, to leave for the woods without
+confessing to the good father? 'Tis two years now since I have been
+proper shriven, and two years is too long for a _voyageur_ to remain
+unabsolved. Mother of God! When I see the lightnings and listen to that
+wind, I bethink me of my sins--my sins! I vow a bale of beaver--"
+
+"Pish! Jean," responded Du Mesne, who had come in from the cover of the
+wood and was casting about in the darkness as best he might to see that
+all was made secure. "Thou'lt feel better when the sun shines again.
+Call Pierre Noir, and hurry, or our canoe will pound to bits upon the
+beach. Come!"
+
+All three went now knee-deep in the surf, and Du Mesne, clinging to the
+gunwale as he passed out, was soon waist deep, and time and again lost
+his footing in the flood.
+
+"Pull!" he cried at last. "Now, _en avant_!" He had flung himself over
+the stern, and with his knife cut the hide rope of the anchor-stone.
+Overboard again in an instant, he joined the others in their rush up the
+beach, and the three bore their ship upon their shoulders above the
+reach of the waves.
+
+"Myself," said Pierre Noir, "shall sleep beneath the boat to-night, for
+since she sheds water from below, she may do as well from above."
+
+"Even so, Pierre Noir," said Du Mesne, "but get you the boat farther
+toward your own camp to-night. Do you not see that Monsieur L'as is not
+with us?"
+
+"_Eh bien_?"
+
+"And were he not surely with us at such time, unless--?"
+
+"Oh, _assurément_!" replied Pierre Noir. "Jean Breboeuf, aid me in
+taking the boat back to our camp in the woods."
+
+Now came the rain. Not in steady and even downpour, not with
+intermittent showers, but in a sidelong, terrifying torrent, drenching,
+biting, cutting in its violence. The swift weight of the rain gave to
+the trees more burden than they could bear. As before the storm, when
+all was still, there had come time and again the warning boom of a
+falling tree, stricken with mysterious mortal dread of that which was to
+come, so now, in the riot of that arrived danger, first one and then
+another wide-armed monarch of the wood crashed down, adding with its
+downfall to the testimony of the assailing tempest's strength and fury.
+The lightning now came not only in ragged blazes and long ripping lines
+of light, but in bursts and shocks, and in bomb-like balls, exploding
+with elemental detonations. Balls of this tense surcharged essence
+rolled out over the comb of the bluff, fell upon the shadows of the
+water, and seemed to bound from crest to white-capped crest, till at
+last they split and burst asunder like some ominous missiles from
+engines of wrath and destruction.
+
+And now, suddenly, all grew still again. The sky took on a lighter,
+livid tone, one of pure venom. There came a whisper, a murmur, a rush as
+of mighty waters, a sighing as of an army of the condemned, a shrieking
+as of legions of the lost, a roaring as of all the soul-felt tortures of
+a world. From the forest rose a continuous rending crash. The whiplash
+of the tempest cracked the tree trunks as a child beheads a row of
+daisies. Piled up, falling, riven asunder, torn out by the wind, the
+giant trees joined the toys which the cynic storm gathered in its hands
+and bore along until such time as it should please to crush and drop
+them.
+
+There passed out over the black sea of Michiganon a vast black wraith; a
+thing horrible, tremendous, titanic in organic power. It howled,
+execrated, menaced; missed its aim, and passed. The little swaying house
+still stood! Under the sheltered log some tiny sparks of fire still
+burned, omen of the unquenchable hearthstones which the land was yet to
+know!
+
+"Holy God! what was it? What was that which passed?" cried Jean
+Breboeuf, crawling out from beneath his shelter. "Saint Mary defend us
+all this night! 'Twas the great Canoe of the Damned, running _au large_
+across the sky! Mary, Mother of God, hear my vow! Prom this time Jean
+Breboeuf shall lead a better life!"
+
+The storm, baffled, passed on. The rain, unsatisfied, sullenly ceased in
+its attack. The waves, hopeless but still vindictive, began to call back
+their legions from the narrow shore. The lightnings, unsated in their
+wrath, flared and flickered on and out across the eastward sea. With
+wild laughter and shrieks and imprecations, the spirit of the tempest
+wailed on its furious way. The red West had raised its hand to smite,
+but it had not smitten sure.
+
+In the silence of the night, in the hush following the uproar of the
+storm, there came a little wailing cry; so faint, so feeble, yet so
+mighty, so conquering, this sign of the coming generation, the voice of
+the new-born babe. At this little human voice, born of sorrow and sin,
+born to suffering and to knowledge, born to life in all its wonders and
+to death in all its mystery--the elements perchance relented and averted
+their fury. Not yet was there to be punished sin, or wrong, or doubt, or
+weakness. Not at once would justice punish the parents of this babe and
+blot out at once the record of their fault. Storm and lightning,
+darkness and the night yielded to the voice of the infant and allowed
+the old story of humanity and sin, and hope and mercy to run on.
+
+The babe wailed faintly in the silence of the night. Under the
+hearth-log there still endured the fire. And then the red West, seeing
+itself conquered, smiled and flung wide its arms, and greeted them with
+the burgeoning dawn, and the voices of birds, with a sky blue and
+repentant, a sun smiling and not unkind.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+AU LARGE
+
+
+It was weeks after the night of the great storm, and the camp of the
+_voyageurs_ still held its place on the shore of the great Green Bay.
+The wild game and the abundant fishes of the lake gave ample provender
+for the party, and the little bivouac had been rendered more comfortable
+in many ways best known to those dwellers of the forest. The light jest,
+the burst of laughter, the careless ease of attitude showed the
+light-hearted _voyageurs_ content with this, their last abode, nor for
+the time did any word issue which threatened to end their tarrying.
+
+Law one morning strolled out from the lodge and seated himself on a bit
+of driftwood at the edge of the forest's fringe of cedars, where,
+seemingly half forgetting himself in the witchery of the scene, he gazed
+out idly over the wide prospect which lay before him. He was the same
+young man as ever. Surely, this increased gauntness was but the result
+of long hours at the paddle, the hollow cheeks but betokened hard fare
+and the defining winds of the outdoor air. If the eye were a trace more
+dim, that could be due but to the reflectiveness induced by the quiet
+scene and hour. Yet why should John Law, young and refreshed, drop chin
+in hand and sit there moodily looking ahead of him, comprehending not at
+all that which he beheld?
+
+Indeed there appeared now to the eye of this young man not the white
+shores and black crowned bluffs and distant islands, not the sweep of
+broad-winged birds circling near the waters, nor the shadow of the
+high-poised eagle drifting far above. He felt not the soft wind upon his
+cheek, nor noted the warmth of the on-coming sun. In truth, even here,
+on the very threshold of a new world and a new life, he was going back,
+pausing uncertainly at the door of that life and of that world which he
+had left behind. There appeared to him not the rolling undulations of
+the black-topped forest, not the tossing surface of the inland sea, nor
+the white-pebbled beach laved by its pulsing waters. He saw instead a
+white and dusty road, lined by green English hedge-rows. Back, over
+there, beyond these rolling blue waves, back of the long water trail
+over which he had come, there were chapel and bell and robed priest, and
+the word which made all fast forever. But back of the wilderness
+mission, back of the straggling settlements of Montréal and Quebec, back
+of the blue waters of the ocean, there, too, were church and minister;
+and there dwelt a woman whose figure stood now before his eyes, part of
+this mental picture of the white road lined with the hedges of green.
+
+A hand was laid on his shoulder, and he half started up in sudden
+surprise. Before him, the sun shining through her hair, her eyes dark in
+the shadow, stood Mary Connynge. A fair woman indeed, comely, round of
+form, soft-eyed, and light of touch, she might none the less have been a
+very savage as she stood there, clad no longer in the dress of
+civilization, but in the soft native garb of skins, ornamented with the
+stained quills of the porcupine and the bizarre adornments of the native
+bead work; in her hair dull metal bands, like any Indian woman, upon her
+feet little beaded moccasins--the very moccasin, it might have been,
+which Law had first seen in ancient London town and which had played so
+strange a part in his life since then.
+
+"You startled me," said Law, simply. "I was thinking."
+
+A sudden jealous wave of woman's divining intuition came upon the woman
+at his side. "I doubt not," said she, bitterly, "that I could name the
+subject of your thought! Why? Why sit here and dream of her, when here
+am I, who deserve everything that you can give?"
+
+She stood erect, her eyes flashing, her arms outstretched, her bosom
+panting under the fringed garments, her voice ringing as it might have
+been with the very essence of truth and passion. Law looked at her
+steadily. But the shadow did not lift from his brow, though he looked
+long and pondered.
+
+"Come," said he, at length, gently. "None the less we are as we are. In
+every game we take our chances, and in every game we pay our debts. Let
+us go back to the camp."
+
+As they turned back down the beach Law saw standing at a little distance
+his lieutenant, Du Mesne, who hesitated as though he would speak.
+
+"What is it, Du Mesne?" asked Law, excusing himself with a gesture and
+joining the _voyageur_ where he stood.
+
+"Why, Monsieur L'as," said Du Mesne, "I am making bold to mention it,
+but in good truth there was some question in my mind as to what might be
+our plans. The spring, as you know, is now well advanced. It was your
+first design to go far into the West, and there to set up your station
+for the trading in furs. Now there have come these little incidents
+which have occasioned us some delay. While I have not doubted your
+enterprise, Monsieur, I bethought me perhaps it might be within your
+plans now to go but little farther on--perhaps, indeed, to turn back--"
+
+"To go back?" said Law.
+
+"Well, yes; that is to say, Monsieur L'as, back again down the Great
+Lakes."
+
+"Have you then known me so ill as this, Du Mesne?" said Law. "It has not
+been my custom to set backward foot on any sort of trail."
+
+"Oh, well, to be sure, Monsieur, that I know quite well," replied Du
+Mesne, apologetically. "I would only say that, if you do go forward, you
+will do more than most men accomplish on their first voyage _au large_
+in the wilderness. There comes to many a certain shrinking of the heart
+which leads them to find excuse for not faring farther on. Yonder, as
+you know, Monsieur, lie Quebec and Montréal, somewhat better fitted for
+the abode of monsieur and madame than the tents of the wilderness. Back
+of that, too, as we both very well know, Monsieur, lie London and old
+England; and I had been dull of eye indeed did I not recognize the
+opportunities of a young gallant like yourself. Now, while I know
+yourself to be a man of spirit, Monsieur L'as, and while I should
+welcome you gladly as a brother of the trail, I had only thought that
+perhaps you would pardon me if I did but ask your purpose at this time."
+
+Law bent his head in silence for a moment. "What know you of this
+forward trail, Du Mesne?" said he. "Have you ever gone beyond this point
+in your own journeyings?"
+
+"Never beyond this," replied Du Mesne, "and indeed not so far by many
+hundred miles. For my own part I rely chiefly upon the story of my
+brother, Greysolon du L'hut, the boldest soul that ever put paddle in
+the St. Lawrence. My brother Greysolon, by the fire one night, told me
+that some years before he had been at the mouth of the Green
+Bay--perhaps near this very spot--and that here he and his brothers
+found a deserted Indian camp. Near it, lying half in the fire, where he
+had fallen in exhaustion, was an old, a very old Indian, who had been
+abandoned by his tribe to die--for that, you must know, Monsieur, is one
+of the pleasant customs of the wilderness.
+
+"Greysolon and his men revived this savage in some fashion, and meantime
+had much speech with him about this unknown land at whose edge we have
+now arrived. The old savage said that he had been many moons north and
+west of that place. He knew of the river called the Blue Earth, perhaps
+the same of which Father Hennepin has told. And also of the Divine
+River, far below and tributary to the Messasebe. He said that his father
+was once of a war party who went far to the north against the Ojibways,
+and that his people took from the Ojibways one of their prisoners, who
+said that he came from some strange country far to the westward, where
+there was a very wide plain, of no trees. Beyond that there were great
+mountains, taller than any to be found in all this region hereabout.
+Beyond these mountains the prisoner did not know what there might be,
+but these mountains his people took to be the edge of the world, beyond
+which could live only wicked spirits. This was what the prisoner of the
+Ojibways said. He, too, was an old man.
+
+"The captive of my brother Greysolon was an Outagamie, and he said that
+the Outagamies burned this prisoner of the Ojibways, for they knew that
+he was surely lying to them. Without doubt they did quite right to burn
+him, for the notion of a great open country without trees or streams is,
+of course, absurd to any one who knows America. And as for mountains,
+all men know that the mountains lie to the east of us, not to the
+westward."
+
+"'Twould seem much hearsay," said Law, "this information which comes at
+second, third and fourth hand."
+
+"True," said Du Mesne, "but such is the source of the little we know of
+the valley of the Messasebe, and that which lies beyond it. None the
+less this idea offers interest."
+
+"Yet you ask me if I would return."
+
+"'Twas but for yourself, Monsieur. It is there, if I may humbly confess
+to you, that it is my own ambition some day to arrive. Myself--this
+West, as I said long ago to the gentlemen in London--appeals to me,
+since it is indeed a land unoccupied, unowned, an empire which we may
+have all for ourselves. What say you, Monsieur L'as?"
+
+John Law straightened and stiffened as he stood. For an instant his eye
+flashed with the zeal of youth and of adventure. It was but a transient
+cloud which crossed his face, yet there was sadness in his tone as he
+replied.
+
+"My friend," said he, "you ask me for my answer. I have pondered and I
+now decide. We shall go on. We shall go forward. Let us have this West,
+my friend. Heaven helping us, let me find somewhere, in some land, a
+place where I may be utterly lost, and where I may forget!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+THE PATHWAY OF THE WATERS
+
+
+The news of the intended departure was received with joy by the crew of
+_voyageurs_, who, on the warning of an instant, fell forthwith to the
+simple tasks of breaking camp and storing the accustomed bales and
+bundles in their places in the great _canot du Nord_.
+
+"_La voilà_!" said Tête Gris. "Here she sits, this canoe, eager to go
+on. 'Tis forward again, _mes amis_! Forward once more; and glad enough
+am I for this day. We shall see new lands ere long."
+
+"For my part," said Jean Breboeuf, "I also am most anxious to be away,
+for I have eaten this white-fish until I crave no more. I had bethought
+me how excellent are the pumpkins of the good fathers at the Straits;
+and indeed I would we had with us more of that excellent fruit, the
+bean."
+
+"Bah! Jean Breboeuf," retorted Pierre Noir. "'Tis but a poor-hearted
+_voyageur_ would hang about a mission garden with a hoe in his hand
+instead of a gun. Perhaps the good sisters at the Mountain miss thy
+skill at pulling weeds."
+
+"Nay, now, I can live as long on fish and flesh as any man," replied
+Jean Breboeuf, stoutly, "nor do I hold myself, Monsieur Tête Gris, one
+jot in courage back of any man upon the trail."
+
+"Of course not, save in time of storm," grinned Tête Gris. "Then, it is
+'Holy Mary, witness my vow of a bale of beaver!' It is--"
+
+"Well, so be it," said Jean Breboeuf, stoutly. "'Tis sure a bale of
+beaver will come easily enough in these new lands; and--though I insist
+again that I have naught of superstition in my soul--when a raven sits
+on a tree near camp and croaks of a morning before breakfast--as upon my
+word of honor was the case this morning--there must be some ill fate in
+store for us, as doth but stand to reason."
+
+"But say you so?" said Tête Gris, pausing at his task, with his face
+assuming a certain seriousness.
+
+"Assuredly," said Jean Breboeuf. "'Tis as I told you. Moreover, I insist
+to you, my brothers, that the signs have not been right for this trip at
+any time. For myself, I look for nothing but disaster."
+
+The humor of Jean Breboeuf's very gravity appealed so strongly to his
+older comrades that they broke out into laughter, and so all fell again
+to their tasks, in sheer light-heartedness forgetting the superstitions
+of their class.
+
+Thus at length the party took ship again, and in time made the head of
+the great bay within whose arms they had been for some time encamped.
+They won up over the sullen rapids of the river which came into the bay,
+toiling sometimes waist-deep at the _cordelle_, yet complaining not at
+all. So in time they came out on the wide expanse of the shallow lake of
+the Winnebagoes, which body of water they crossed directly, coming into
+the quiet channel of the stream which fell in upon its western shore. Up
+this stream in turn steadily they passed, amid a panorama filled with
+constant change. Sometimes the gentle river bent away in long curves,
+with hardly a ripple upon its placid surface, save where now and again
+some startled fish sprang into the air in fright or sport, or in the
+rush upon its prey. Then the stream would lead away into vast seas of
+marsh lands, waving in illimitable reaches of rushes, or fringed with
+the unspeakably beautiful green of the graceful wild rice plant.
+
+In these wide levels now and again the channel divided, or lost itself
+in little _cul de sacs_, from which the paddlers were obliged to retrace
+their way. All about them rose myriads of birds and wild fowl, which
+made their nests among these marshes, and the babbling chatter of the
+rail, the high-keyed calling of the coot, or the clamoring of the
+home-building mallard assailed their ears hour after hour as they passed
+on between the leafy shores. Then, again, the channel would sweep to one
+side of the marsh, and give view to wide vistas of high and rolling
+lands, dotted with groves of hardwood, with here and there a swamp of
+cedar or of tamarack. Little herds of elk and droves of deer fed on the
+grass-covered slopes, as fat, as sleek and fearless of mankind as though
+they dwelt domesticated in some noble park.
+
+It was a land obviously but little known, even to the most adventurous,
+and as chance would have it, they met not even a wandering party of the
+native tribes. Clearly now the little boat was climbing, climbing slowly
+and gently, yet surely, upward from the level of the great Lake
+Michiganon. In time the little river broadened and flattened out into
+wide, shallow expanses, the waters known as the Lakes of the Foxes; and
+beyond that it became yet more shallow and uncertain, winding among
+quaking bogs and unknown marshes; yet still, whether by patience, or by
+cheerfulness, or by determination, the craft stood on and on, and so
+reached that end of the waterway which, in the opinion of the more
+experienced Du Mesne, must surely be the place known among the Indian
+tribes as the "Place for the carrying of boats."
+
+Here they paused for a few days, at that mild summit of land which marks
+the portage between the east bound and the west bound waters; yet,
+impelled ever by the eager spirit of the adventurer, they made their
+pause but short. In time they launched their craft on the bright, smooth
+flood of the river of the Ouisconsins, stained coppery-red by its
+far-off, unknown course in the north, where it had bathed leagues of the
+roots of pine and tamarack and cedar. They passed on steadily westward,
+hour after hour, with the current of this great stream, among little
+islands covered with timber; passed along bars of white sand and flats
+of hardwood; beyond forest-covered knolls, in the openings of which one
+might now and again see great vistas of a scenery now peaceful and now
+bold, with turreted knolls and sweeping swards of green, as though some
+noble house of old England were set back secluded within these wide and
+well-kept grounds. The country now rapidly lost its marshy character,
+and as they approached the mouth of the great stream, it being now well
+toward the middle of the summer, they reached, suddenly and without
+forewarning, that which they long had sought.
+
+The sturdy paddlers were bending to their tasks, each broad back
+swinging in unison forward and back over the thwart, each brown throat
+bared to the air, each swart head uncovered to the glare of the midday
+sun, each narrow-bladed paddle keeping unison with those before and
+behind, the hand of the paddler never reaching higher than his chin,
+since each had learned the labor-saving fashion of the Indian canoeman.
+The day was bright and cheery, the air not too ardent, and across the
+coppery waters there stretched slants of shadow from the embowering
+forest trees. They were alone, these travelers; yet for the time at
+least part of them seemed care-free and quite abandoned to the sheer
+zest of life. There arose again, after the fashion of the _voyageurs_,
+the measure of the paddling song, without which indeed the paddler had
+not been able to perform his labor at the thwart.
+
+    "_Dans mon chemin j'ai rencontré_--"
+
+chanted the leader; and voices behind him responded lustily with the
+next line:
+
+    "_Trois cavaliers bien montés_--"
+    "_Trois cavaliers bien montés_--"
+
+chanted the leader again.
+
+
+    "_L'un à cheval et l'autre à pied_--"
+
+came the response; and then the chorus:
+
+    "_Lon, lon laridon daine--
+     Lon, lon laridon dai!_"
+
+The great boat began to move ahead steadily and more swiftly, and bend
+after bend of the river was rounded by the rushing prow. None knew this
+country, nor wist how far the journey might carry him. None knew as of
+certainty that he would ever in this way reach the great Messasebe; or
+even if he thought that such would be the case, did any one know how far
+that Messasebe still might be. Yet there came a time in the afternoon of
+that day, even as the chant of the _voyageurs_ still echoed on the
+wooded bluffs, and even as the great birch-bark ship still responded
+swiftly to their gaiety, when, on a sudden turn in the arm of the river,
+there appeared wide before them a scene for which they had not been
+prepared. There, rippling and rolling under the breeze, as though itself
+the arm of some great sea, they saw a majestic flood, whose real nature
+and whose name each man there knew on the instant and instinctively.
+
+"Messasebe! Messasebe!" broke out the voices of the paddlers.
+
+"Stop the paddles!" cried Du Mesne. "_Voilà_!"
+
+John Law rose in the bow of the boat and uncovered his head. It was a
+noble prospect which lay before him. His was the soul of the adventurer,
+quick to respond to challenge. There was a fluttering in his throat as
+he stood and gazed out upon this solemn, mysterious and tremendous
+flood, coming whence, going whither, none might say. He gazed and gazed,
+and it was long before the shadow crossed his face and before he drew a
+sigh.
+
+"Madam," said he, at length, turning until he faced Mary Connynge, "this
+is the West. We have chosen, and we have arrived!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+MESSASEBE
+
+
+The boat, now lacking its propelling power, drifted on and out into the
+clear tide of the mighty stream. The paddlers were idle, and silence had
+fallen upon all. The rush of this majestic flood, steady, mysterious,
+secret-keeping, created a feeling of awe and wonder. They gazed and
+gazed again, up the great waterway, across to its farther shore, along
+its rolling course below, and still each man forgot his paddle, and
+still the little ship of New France drifted on, just rocking gently in
+the mimic waves which ruffled the face of the mighty Father of the
+Waters.
+
+"By our Lady!" cried Du Mesne, at length, and tears stood in his
+tan-framed eyes as he turned, "'tis true, all that has been said! Here
+it is, Messasebe, more mighty than any story could have told! Monsieur
+L'as, 'tis big enough to carry ships."
+
+"'Twill carry fleets of them one day, Du Mesne," replied John Law. "'Tis
+a roadway fit for a nation. Ah, Du Mesne! our St. Lawrence, our New
+France--they dwindle when compared to this new land."
+
+"Aye! and 'tis all our own!" cried Du Mesne. "Look; for the last ten
+days we have scarce seen even the smoke of a wigwam, and, so far as I
+can tell, there is not in all this valley now the home of a single white
+man. My friend Du L'hut--he may be far north of the Superior to-day for
+aught we know, or somewhere among the Sauteur people. If there he any
+man below us, let some one else tell who that may be. Sir, I promise
+you, when I see this big water going on so fast and heading so far away
+from home--well, I admit it causes me to shiver!"
+
+"'Tis much the same," said Law, "where home may be for me."
+
+"Ah, but 'tis different on the Lakes," said Du Mesne, "for there we
+always knew the way back, and knew that 'twas down stream."
+
+"He says well," broke in Mary Connynge. "There is something in this big
+river that chills me. I am afraid."
+
+"And what say you, Tête Gris, and you, Pierre Noir?" asked Law.
+
+"Why, myself," replied the former, "I am with the captain. It matters
+not. There must always be one trail from which one does not return."
+
+"_Oui_," said Pierre Noir. "To be sure, we have passed as good beaver
+country as heart of man could ask; but never was land so good but there
+was better just beyond."
+
+"They say well, Du Mesne," spoke John Law, presently; "'tis better on
+beyond. Suppose we never do return? Did I not say to you that I would
+leave this other world as far behind me as might be?"
+
+"_Eh bien_, Monsieur L'as, you reply with spirit, as ever," replied Du
+Mesne, "and it is not for me to stand in the way. My own fortune and
+family are also with me, and home is where my fire is lit."
+
+"Very well," replied Law. "Let us run the river to its mouth, if need
+be. 'Tis all one to me. And whether we get back or not, 'tis another
+tale."
+
+"Oh, I make no doubt we shall win back if need be," replied Du Mesne.
+"'Tis said the savages know the ways by the Divine River of the Illini
+to the foot of Michiganon; and that, perhaps, might be our best way back
+to the Lakes and to the Mountain with our beaver. We shall, provided we
+reach the Divine River, as I should guess by the stories I have heard,
+be then below the Illini, the Ottawas and the Miamis, with I know not
+what tribes from west of the Messasebe. 'Tis for you to say, Monsieur
+L'as, but for my own part--and 'tis but a hazard at best--I would say
+remain here, or press on to the river of the Illini."
+
+"'Tis easy of decision, then," replied Law, after a moment of
+reflection. "We take that course which leads us farther on at least.
+Again the paddles, my friends! To-night we sup in our own kingdom.
+Strike up the song, Du Mesne!"
+
+A shout of approval broke from the hardy men along the boat side, and
+even Jean Breboeuf tossed up his cap upon his paddle shaft.
+
+"Forward, then, _mes amis_!" cried Du Mesne, setting his own
+paddle-blade deep into the flood. "_En roulant ma boule, roulant_--"
+
+Again the chorus rose, and again the hardy craft leaped onward into the
+unexplored.
+
+Day after day following this the journey was resumed, and day after day
+the travelers with eager eyes witnessed a prospect of continual change.
+The bluffs, bolder and more gigantic, towered more precipitous than the
+banks of the gentler streams which they had left behind. Forests ranged
+down to the shores, and wide, green-decked islands crept into view, and
+little timbered valleys of lesser streams came marching down to the
+imposing flood of Messasebe. Again the serrated bluffs broke back and
+showed vast vistas of green savannas, covered with tall, waving grasses,
+broken by little rolling hills, over which crossed herds of elk, and
+buffalo, and deer.
+
+"'Tis a land of plenty," said Du Mesne one day, breaking the habitual
+silence into which the party had fallen. "'Tis a great land, and a
+mighty. And now, Monsieur, I know why the Indians say 'tis guarded by
+spirits. Sure, I can myself feel something in the air which makes my
+shoulder-blades to creep."
+
+"'Tis a mighty land, and full of wonders," assented Law, who, in
+different fashion, had felt the same mysterious spell of this great
+stream. For himself, he was nearer to reverence than ever yet he had
+been in all his wild young life.
+
+Now so it happened that at length, after a long though rapid journey
+down the great river, they came to that stream which they took to be the
+river of the Illini. This they ascended, and so finally, early in one
+evening, at the bank of a wide and placid bayou, shaded by willows and
+birch trees, and by great elms that bore aloft a canopy of clinging
+vines, they made a landing for the bivouac which was to prove their
+final tarrying place. The great _canot du Nord_ came to rest at the foot
+of a timbered hill, back of which stretched high, rolling prairies,
+dotted with little groves and broken with wide swales and winding
+sloughs. The leaders of the party, with Tête Gris and Pierre Noir,
+ascended the bluffs and made brief exploration; not more, as was tacitly
+understood, with view to choosing the spot for the evening encampment
+than with the purpose of selecting a permanent stopping place. Du Mesne
+at length turned to Law with questioning gaze. John Law struck the earth
+with his heel.
+
+"Here!" said he. "Here let us stop. 'Tis as well as any place. There are
+flowers and trees, and meadows and hedges, like to those of England.
+Here let us stay!"
+
+"Ah, you say well indeed!" cried Du Mesne, "and may fortune send us
+happy enterprises."
+
+"But then, for the houses," continued Law. "I presume we must keep close
+to this little stream which flows from the bluff. And yet we must have a
+place whence we can obtain good view. Then, with stout walls to protect
+us, we might--but see! What is that beyond? Look! There is, if I mistake
+not, a house already builded!"
+
+"'Tis true, as I live!" cried Du Mesne, lowering his voice
+instinctively, as his quick eye caught the spot where Law was pointing.
+"But, good God! what can it mean?"
+
+They advanced cautiously into the little open space beyond them, a glade
+but a few hundred yards across and lined by encircling trees. They saw
+indeed a habitation erected by human hands, apparently not altogether
+without skill. There were rude walls of logs, reinforced by stakes
+planted in the ground. From the four corners of the inclosure projected
+overhanging beams. There was an opening in the inclosure, as they
+discovered upon closer approach, and entering at this rude door, the
+party looked about them curiously.
+
+Du Mesne shut his lips tight together. This was no house built by the
+hands of white men. There were here no quarters, no shops, no chapel
+with its little bell. Instead there stood a few dried and twisted poles,
+and all around lay the litter of an abandoned camp.
+
+"Iroquois, by the living Mother of God!" cried Pierre Noir.
+
+"Look!" cried Tête Gris, calling them again outside the inclosure. He
+stood kicking in the ashes of what had been a fire-place. He disclosed,
+half buried in the charred embers, an iron kettle into which he gazed
+curiously. He turned away as John Law stepped up beside him.
+
+"There must have been game here in plenty," said Law. "There are bones
+scattered all about."
+
+Du Mesne and Tête Gris looked at each other in silence, and the former
+at length replied:
+
+"This is an Iroquois war house, Monsieur L'as," said he. "They lived
+here for more than a month, and, as you say, they fed well. But these
+bones you see are not the bones of elk or deer. They are the bones of
+men, and women, and children."
+
+Law stood taking in each detail of the scene about him.
+
+"Now you have seen what is before us," resumed Du Mesne. "The Iroquois
+have gone, 'tis true. They have wiped out the villages which were here.
+There are the little cornfields, but I warrant you they have not seen a
+tomahawk hoe for a month or more. The Iroquois have gone, yet the fact
+that they have been here proves they may come again. What say you, Tête
+Gris; and what is your belief, Pierre?"
+
+Tête Gris remained silent for some moments. "'Tis as Monsieur says,"
+replied he at length. "'Tis all one to me. I go or stay, as it shall
+please the others. There is always the one trail over which one does not
+return."
+
+"And you, Pierre?"
+
+"I stay by my friends," replied Pierre Noir, briefly.
+
+"And you, Monsieur L'as?" asked Du Mesne.
+
+Law raised his head with the old-time determination. "My friends," said
+he, "we have elected to come into this country and take its conditions
+as we find them. If we falter, we lose; of that we may rest assured.
+Let us not turn back because a few savages have been here and have
+slaughtered a few other savages. For me, there seems but one opinion
+possible. The lightning has struck, yet it may not strike again at the
+same tree. The Iroquois have been here, but they have departed, and they
+have left nothing to invite their return. Now, it is necessary that we
+make a pause and build some place for our abode. Here is a post already
+half builded to our hands."
+
+"But if the savages return?" said Du Mesne.
+
+"Then we will fight," said John Law.
+
+"And right you are," replied Du Mesne. "Your reasoning is correct. I
+vote that we build here our station."
+
+"Myself also," said Tête Gris. And Pierre Noir nodded his assent in
+silence.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+MAIZE
+
+
+"Ola! Jean Breboeuf," called out Du Mesne to that worthy, who presently
+appeared, breathing hard from his climb up the river bluff. "Know you
+what has been concluded?"
+
+"No; how should I guess?" replied Jean Breboeuf. "Or, at least, if I
+should guess, what else should I guess save that we are to take boat at
+once and set back to Montréal as fast as we may? But that--what is this?
+Whose house is that yonder?"
+
+"'Tis our own, _mon enfant_," replied Du Mesne, dryly. "'Twas perhaps
+the property of the Iroquois a moon ago. A moon before that time the
+soil it stands on belonged to the Illini. To-day both house and soil
+belong to us. See; here stood the village. There are the cornfields, cut
+and trampled by the Iroquois. Here are the kettles of the natives--"
+
+"But, but--why--what is all this? Why do we not hasten away?" broke in
+Jean Breboeuf.
+
+"Pish! We do not go away. We remain where we are."
+
+"Remain? Stay here, and be eaten by the Iroquois? Nay! not Jean
+Breboeuf."
+
+Du Mesne smiled broadly at his terrors, and a dry grin even broke over
+the features of the impassive old trapper, Tête Gris.
+
+"Not so fast with your going away, Jean, my brother," said Du Mesne.
+"Thou'rt ever hinting of corn and the bean; now see what can be done in
+this garden-place of the Iroquois and the Illini. You are appointed head
+gardener for the post!"
+
+"Messieurs, _me voilà_," said Jean Breboeuf, dropping his hands in
+despair. "Were I not the bravest man in all New France I should leave
+you at this moment. It is mad, quite mad you are, every one of you! I,
+Jean Breboeuf, will remain, and, if necessary, will protect. Corn, and
+perhaps the bean, ye shall have; perhaps oven some of those little roots
+that the savages dig and eat; but, look you, this is but because you are
+with one who is brave. _Enfin_, I go. I bend me to the hoe, here in this
+place, like any peasant."
+
+"An excellent hoe can be made from the blade bone of an elk, as the
+woman Wabana will perhaps show you if you like," said Pierre Noir,
+derisively, to his comrade of the paddle.
+
+"Even so," said Jean Breboeuf. "I make me the hoe. Could I have but
+thee, old Pierre, to sit on a stump and fright the crows away, I make no
+doubt that all would go well with our husbandry. I had as lief go
+_censitaire_ for Monsieur L'as as for any seignieur on the Richelieu; of
+that be sure, old Pierre."
+
+"Faith," replied the latter, "when it comes to frightening crows, I'll
+even agree to sit on a stump with my musket across my knees and watch
+you work. 'Tis a good place for a sentinel--to keep the crows from
+picking yet more bones than these which will embarrass you in your
+hoeing, Jean Breboeuf."
+
+"He says the Richelieu, Du Mesne," broke in John Law, musingly. "Very
+far away it sounds. I wonder if we shall ever see it again, with its
+little narrow farms. But here we have our own trails and our own lands,
+and let us hope that Monsieur Jean shall prosper in his belated farming.
+And now, for the rest of us, we must look presently to the building of
+our houses."
+
+Thus began, slowly and in primitive fashion, the building of one of the
+first cities of the vast valley of the Messasebe; the seeds of
+civilization taking hold upon the ground of barbarism, the one
+supplanting the other, yet availing itself of that other. As the white
+men took over the crude fields of the departed savages, so also they
+appropriated the imperfect edifice which the conquerors of those savages
+had left for them. It was in little the story of old England herself,
+builded upon the races and the ruins of Briton, and Koman, and Saxon, of
+Dane and Norman.
+
+Under the direction of Law, the walls of the old war house were
+strengthened with an inner row of palisades, supporting an embankment of
+earth and stone. The overlap of the gate was extended into a re-entrant
+angle, and rude battlements were erected at the four corners of the
+inclosure. The little stream of unfailing water was led through a corner
+of the fortress. In the center of the inclosure they built the houses; a
+cabin for Law, one for the men, and a larger one to serve as store room
+and as trading place, should there be opportunity for trade.
+
+It was in these rude quarters that Law and his companion established
+that which was the nearest approach to a home that either for the time
+might claim; and it was thus that both undertook once more that old and
+bootless human experiment of seeking to escape from one's own self.
+Silent now, and dutifully obedient enough was this erstwhile English
+beauty, Mary Connynge; yet often and often Law caught the question of
+her gaze. And often enough, too, he found his own questioning running
+back up the water trails, and down the lakes and across the wide ocean,
+in a demand which, fiercer and fiercer as it grew, he yet remained too
+bitter and too proud to put to the proof by any means now within his
+power. Strange enough, savage enough, hopeless enough, was this wild
+home of his in the wilderness of the Messasebe.
+
+The smoke of the new settlement rose steadily day by day, but it gave
+signal for no watching enemy. All about stretched the pale green ocean
+of the grasses, dotted by many wild flowers, nodding and bowing like
+bits of fragile flotsam on the surface of a continually rolling sea. The
+little groves of timber, scattered here and there, sheltered from the
+summer sun the wild cattle of the plains. The shorter grasses hid the
+coveys of the prairie hens, and on the marsh-grown bayou banks the wild
+duck led her brood. A great land, a rich, a fruitful one, was this that
+lay about these adventurers.
+
+A soberness had come over the habit of the master mind of this little
+colony. His hand took up the ax, and forgot the sword and gun. Day after
+day he stood looking about him, examining and studying in little all the
+strange things which he saw; seeking to learn as much as might be of
+the timorous savages, who in time began to straggle back to their ruined
+villages; talking, as best he might, through such interpreting as was
+possible, with savages who came from the west of the Messasebe, and from
+the South and from the far Southwest; hearing, and learning and
+wondering of a land which seemed as large as all the earth, and various
+as all the lands that lay beneath the sun--that West, so glorious, so
+new, so boundless, which was yet to be the home of countless
+hearth-fires and the sites of myriad fields of corn. Let others hunt,
+and fish, and rob the Indians of their furs, after the accepted fashion
+of the time; as for John Law, he must look about him, and think, and
+watch this growing of the corn.
+
+He saw it fairly from its beginning, this growth of the maize, this
+plant which never yet had grown on Scotch or English soil; this tall,
+beautiful, broad-bladed, tender tree, the very emblem of all
+fruitfulness. He saw here and there, dropped by the careless hand of
+some departed Indian woman, the little germinating seeds, just thrusting
+their pale-green heads up through the soil, half broken by the tomahawk.
+He saw the clustering green shoots--numerous, in the sign of plenty--all
+crowding together and clamoring for light, and life, and air, and room.
+He saw the prevailing of the tall and strong upthrusting stalks, after
+the way of life; saw the others dwarf and whiten, and yet cling on at
+the base of the bolder stem, parasites, worthless, yet existing, after
+the way of life.
+
+He saw the great central stalks spring boldly up, so swiftly that it
+almost seemed possible to count the successive leaps of progress. He saw
+the strong-ribbed leaves thrown out, waving a thousand hands of cheerful
+welcome and assurance--these blades of the corn, so much mightier than
+any blades of steel. He saw the broad beckoning banners of the pale
+tassels bursting out atop of the stalk, token of fecundity and of the
+future. He caught the wide-driven pollen as it whitened upon the earth,
+borne by the parent West Wind, mother of increase. He saw the thickening
+of the green leaf at the base, its swelling, its growth and expansion,
+till the indefinite enlargement showed at length the incipient ear.
+
+He noted the faint brown of the ends of the sweetly-enveloping silk of
+the ear, pale-green and soft underneath the sheltering and protecting
+husk, He found the sweet and milk-white tender kernels, row upon row,
+forming rapidly beneath the husk, Mud saw at length the hardening and
+darkening of the husk at its free end, which told that man might pluck
+and eat.
+
+And then he saw the fading of the tassels, the darkening of the silk
+and the crinkling of the blades; and there, borne on the strong parent
+stem, he noted now the many full-rowed ears, protected by their husks
+and heralded by the tassels and the blades. "Come, come ye, all ye
+people! Enter in, for I will feed ye all!" This was the song of the
+maize, its invitation, its counsel, its promise.
+
+Under the warped lodge frames which the fires of the Iroquois had
+spared, there were yet visible clusters of the ears of last year's corn.
+Here, under his own eye, were growing yet other ears, ripe for the
+harvesting and ripe for the coming growth. A strange spell fell upon the
+soul of Law. Visions crossed his mind, born in the soft warm air of
+these fecundating winds, of this strange yet peaceful scene.
+
+At times he stood and looked out from the door of the palisade, when the
+prairie mists were rising in the morning at the mandate of the sun, and
+to his eyes these waving seas of grasses all seemed beckoning fields of
+corn. These smokes, coming from the broken tepees of the timid
+tribesmen, surely they arose from the roofs of happy and contented
+homes! These wreaths and wraiths of the twisting and wide-stalking
+mists, surely these were the captains of a general husbandry! Ah, John
+Law, John Law! Had God given thee the right feeling and contented
+heart, happy indeed had been these days in this new land of thine own,
+far from ignoble strivings and from fevered dreams, far from aimless
+struggles and unregulated avarice, far from oppression and from misery,
+far from bickerings, heart-burnings and envyings! Ah, John Law! Had God
+but given thee the pure and well-contented heart! For here in the
+Messasebe, that Mind which made the universe and set man to be one of
+its little inhabitants--surely that Mind had planned that man should
+come and grow in this place, tall and strong, and fruitful, useful to
+all the world, even as this swift, strong growing of the maize.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+THE BRINK OF CHANGE
+
+
+The breath of autumn came into the air. The little flowers which had
+dotted the grassy robe of the rolling hills had long since faded away
+under the ardent sun, and now there appeared only the denuded stalks of
+the mulleins and the flaunting banners of the goldenrod. The wild grouse
+shrank from the edges of the little fields and joined their numbers into
+general bands, which night and morn crossed the country on sustained and
+strong-winged flight. The plumage of the young wild turkeys, stalking in
+droves among the open groves, began to emulate the iridescent splendors
+of their elders. The marshes above the village became the home of yet
+more numerous thousands of clamoring wild fowl, and high up against the
+blue there passed, on the south-bound journey, the harrow of the wild
+geese, wending their way from North to South across an unknown empire.
+
+A chill came into the waters of the river, so that the bass and pike
+sought out the deeper pools. The squirrels busily hoarded up supplies
+of the nuts now ripening. The antlers of the deer and the elk which
+emerged from the concealing thickets now showed no longer ragged strips
+of velvet, and their tips were polished in the preliminary fitting for
+the fall season of love and combat. There came nights when the white
+frost hung heavy upon all the bending grasses and the broad-leafed
+plants, a frost which seared the maize leaves and set aflame the foliage
+of the maples all along the streams, and decked in a hundred flamboyant
+tones the leaves of the sumach and all the climbing vines.
+
+As all things now presaged the coming winter, so there approached also
+the time when the little party, so long companions upon the Western
+trails, must for the first time know division. Du Mesne, making ready
+for the return trip over the unknown waterways back to the Lakes, as had
+been determined to be necessary, spoke of it as though the journey were
+but an affair of every day.
+
+"Make no doubt, Monsieur L'as," said he, "that I shall ascend this river
+of the Illini and reach Michiganon well before the snows. Once at the
+mission of the Miamis, or the village at the river Chicaqua, I shall be
+quite safe for the winter, if I decide not to go farther on. Then, in
+the spring, I make no doubt, I shall be able to trade our furs at the
+Straits, if I like not the long run down to the Mountain. Thus, you see,
+I may be with you again sometime within the following spring."
+
+"I hope it may be so, my friend," replied Law, "for I shall miss you
+sadly enough."
+
+"'Tis nothing, Monsieur; you will be well occupied. Suppose I take with
+me Kataikini and Kabayan, perhaps also Tête Gris. That will give us four
+paddlers for the big canoe, and you will still have left Pierre Noir and
+Jean, to say nothing of our friends the Illini hereabout, who will be
+glad enough to make cause with you in case of need. I will leave Wabana
+for madame, and trust she may prove of service. See to it, pray you,
+that she observes the offices of the church; for methinks, unless
+watched, Wabana is disposed to become careless and un-Christianized."
+
+"This I will look to," said Law, smiling.
+
+"Then all is well," resumed Du Mesne, "and my absence will be but a
+little thing, as we measure it on the trails. You may find a winter
+alone in the wilderness a bit dull for you, mayhap duller than were it
+in London, or even in Quebec. Yet 'twill pass, and in time we shall meet
+again. Perhaps some good father will be wishing to come back with me to
+set up a mission among the Illini. These good fathers, they so delight
+in losing fingers, and ears, and noses for the good of the
+Church--though where the Church be glorified therein I sometimes can not
+say. Perhaps some leech--mayhap some artisan--"
+
+"Nay, 'tis too far a spot, Du Mesne, to tempt others than ourselves."
+
+"Upon the contrary rather, Monsieur L'as. It is matter for laughter to
+see the efforts of Louis and his ministers to keep New France chained to
+the St. Lawrence! Yet my good lord governor might as well puff out his
+cheeks against the north wind as to try to keep New France from pouring
+west into the Messasebe; and as much might be said for those good rulers
+of the English colonies, who are seeking ever to keep their people east
+of the Alleghanies."
+
+"'Tis the Old World over again, there in the St. Lawrence," said Law.
+
+"Right you are, Monsieur L'as," exclaimed Du Mesne. "New France is but
+an extension of the family of Louis. The intendant reports everything to
+the king. Monsieur So-and-so is married. Very well, the king must know
+it! Monsieur's eldest daughter is making sheep's eyes at such and such a
+soldier of the regiment of the king. Very well, this is weighty matter,
+of which the king must be advised! Monsieur's wife becomes expectant of
+a son and heir. 'Tis meet that Louis the Great should be advised of
+this! Mother of God! 'Tis a pretty mess enough back there on the St.
+Lawrence, where not a hen may cackle over its new-laid egg but the king
+must know it, and where not a family has meat enough for its children to
+eat nor clothes enough to cover them. My faith, in that poor medley of
+little lords and lazy vassals, how can you wonder that the best of us
+have risen and taken to the woods! Yet 'tis we who catch their beaver
+for them; and if God and the king be willing, sometime we shall get a
+certain price for our beaver--provided God and the king furnish currency
+to pay us; and that the governor, the priest and the intendant ratify
+the acts of God and the king!"
+
+Law smiled at the sturdy vehemence of the other's speech, yet there was
+something of soberness in his own reply.
+
+"Sir," said he, "you see here my little crooked rows of maize. Look you,
+the beaver will pass away, but the roots of the corn will never be torn
+out. Here is your wealth, Du Mesne."
+
+The sturdy captain scratched his head. "I only know, for my part," said
+he, "that I do not care for the settlements. Not that I would not be
+glad to see the king extend his arm farther to the West, for these
+sullen English are crowding us more and more along our borders. Surely
+the land belongs to him who finds it."
+
+"Perhaps better to him who can both find and hold it. But this soil will
+one day raise up a people of its own."
+
+"Yet as to that," rejoined Du Mesne, as the two turned and walked back
+to the stockade, "we are not here to handle the affairs of either Louis
+or William. Let us e'en leave that to monsieur the intendant, and
+monsieur the governor, and our friends, the gray owls and the black
+crows, the Recollets and the Jesuits. I mind to call this spot home with
+you, if you like. I shall be back as soon as may be with the things we
+need, and we shall plant here no starving colony, but one good enough
+for the home of any man. Monsieur, I wish you very well, and I may
+congratulate you on your daughter. A heartier infant never was born
+anywhere on the water trail between the Mountain and the Messasebe. What
+name have you chosen for the young lady, Monsieur?"
+
+"I have decided," said John Law, "to call her Catharine."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+TOUS SAUVAGES
+
+
+Had nature indeed intended Law for the wild life of the trail, and had
+he indeed spent years rather than months among these unusual scenes, he
+could hardly have been better fitted for the part. Hardy of limb, keen
+of eye, tireless of foot, with a hand which any weapon fitted, his
+success as hunter made his companions willing enough to assign to him
+the chase of the bison or the stag; so that he became not only patron
+but provider for the camp.
+
+Some weeks after the departure of Du Mesne, Law was returning from the
+hunt some miles below the station. His tall and powerful figure,
+hardened by continued outdoor exercise, was scarce bowed by the weight
+of the wild buck which he bore across his shoulders. His eye, accustomed
+to the instant readiness demanded in the _voyageur's_ life, glanced
+keenly about, taking in each item of the scene, each movement of the
+little bird on the tree, the rustling of the grass where a rabbit
+started from its form, the whisk of the gray squirrel's tail on the
+limb far overhead.
+
+The touch of autumn was now in the air. The leaves of the wild grapevine
+were falling. The oaks had donned garments of somber brown, the
+hickories had lost their leaves, while here and there along the river
+shores the flaming sentinels of the maples had changed their scarlet
+uniform for one of duller hue. The wild rice in the marshes had shed its
+grain upon the mud banks. The acorns were loosening in their cups. Fall
+in the West, gorgeous, beautiful, had now set in, of all the seasons of
+the year, that most loved by the huntsman.
+
+This tall, lean man, clad in buckskin like a savage, brown almost as a
+savage, as active and as alert, seemed to fit not ill with these
+environments, nor to lack either confidence or contentment. He walked on
+steadily, following the path along the bayou bank, and at length paused
+for a moment, throwing down his burden and stooping to drink at the tiny
+pool made by the little rivulet which trickled down the face of the
+bluff. Here he bathed his face and hands in the cool stream, for the
+moment abandoning himself to that rest which the hunter earns. It was
+when at length he raised his head and turned to resume his burden that
+his suspicious eye caught a glimpse of something which sent him in a
+flash below the level of the grasses, and thence to the cover of a tree
+trunk.
+
+As he gazed from his hiding-place he saw the tawny waters of the bayou
+broken into a long series of advancing ripples. Passing the fringe of
+wild rice, swimming down beneath the heavy cordage of the wild
+grapevines, there came on two canoes, roughly made of elm bark, in
+fashion which would have shown an older frontiersman full proof of their
+Western origin.
+
+In the bow of the foremost boat, as Law could now clearly see, sat a
+slender young man, clad in the uniform, now soiled and faded, of a
+captain in the British army. His boat was propelled by four dusky
+paddlers, Indians of the East. Stalwart, powerful, silent, they sent the
+craft on down stream, their keen eyes glancing swiftly from one point to
+the other of the ever-changing panorama, yet finding nothing that would
+seem to warrant pause. Back of the first boat by a short distance came a
+kindred craft, its crew comprising two white men and two Indian
+paddlers. Of the white men, one might have been a petty officer, the
+other perhaps a private soldier.
+
+It was, then, as Du Mesne had said. Every party bound into the West must
+pass this very point upon the river of the Illini. But why should these
+be present here? Were they friends or foes? So queried the watcher,
+tense and eager as a waiting panther, now crouched with straining eye
+behind the sheltering tree.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+As the leading boat swung clear of the shadows, the man in the prow
+turned his face, scanning closely the shore of the stream. As he did so,
+Law half started to his feet, and a moment later stepped from his
+concealment. He gazed again and again, doubting what he saw. Surely
+those clean-cut, handsome features could belong to no man but his former
+friend, Sir Arthur Pembroke!
+
+Yet how could Sir Arthur be here? What could be his errand, and how had
+he been guided hither? These sudden questions might, upon the instant,
+have confused a brain ready as that of this observer, who paused not to
+reflect that this meeting, seemingly so impossible, was in fact the most
+natural thing in the world; indeed, could scarce have been avoided by
+any one traveling with Indian guides down the waterway to the Messasebe.
+
+The keen eyes of the red paddlers caught sight of the crushed grasses at
+the little landing on the bayou bank, even as Law rose from his
+hiding-place. A swift, concerted sweep of the paddles sent the boat
+circling out into midstream, and before Law knew it he was covered by
+half a dozen guns. He hardly noticed this. His own gun he left leaning
+against a tree, and his hand was thrown out high, in front of him as he
+came on, calling out to those in the stream. He heard the command of the
+leader in the boat, and a moment later both canoes swung inshore.
+
+"Have down your guns, Sir Arthur," cried Law, loudly and gaily. "We are
+none but friends here. Come in, and tell me that it is yourself, and not
+some miracle of mine eyes."
+
+The young man so surprisingly addressed half started from the thwart in
+his amazement. His face bent into an incredulous frown, scarce carrying
+comprehension, even as he approached the shore. As he left the boat, for
+an instant Pembroke's hand was half extended in greeting, yet a swift
+change came over his countenance, and his body stiffened.
+
+"Is it indeed you, Mr. Law?" he said. "I could not have believed myself
+so fortunate."
+
+"'Tis myself and no one else," replied Law. "But why this melodrama, Sir
+Arthur? Why reject my hand?"
+
+"I have sworn to extend to you no hand but that bearing a weapon, Mr.
+Law!" said Pembroke. "This may be accident, but it seems to me the
+justice of God. Oh, you have run far, Mr. Law--"
+
+"What mean you, Sir Arthur?" exclaimed Law, his face assuming the dull
+red of anger. "I have gone where I pleased, and asked no man's leave for
+it, and I shall live as I please and ask no man's leave for that. I
+admit that it seems almost a miracle to meet you here, but come you one
+way or the other, you come best without riddles, and still better
+without threats."
+
+"You are not armed," said Sir Arthur. He gazed at the bronzed figure
+before him, clad in fringed tunic and leggings of deer hide; at the belt
+with little knife and ax, at the gun which now rested in the hollow of
+his arm. Law himself laughed keenly.
+
+"Why, as to that," said he, "I had thought myself well enough equipped.
+But as for a sword, 'tis true my hand is more familiar, these days, with
+the ax and gun."
+
+"The late Jessamy Law shows change in his capacity of renegade," said
+Pembroke, raspingly. His face displayed a scorn which jumped ill with
+the nature of the man before him.
+
+"I am what I am, Sir Arthur," said Law, "and what I was. And always I am
+at any man's service who is in search of what you call God's justice, or
+what I may call personal satisfaction. I doubt not we shall find my
+other trinkets in good order not far away. But meantime, before you
+turn my hospitality into shame, bring on your men and follow me."
+
+His face working with emotion, Law turned away. He caught up the body of
+the dead buck, and tossing it across his shoulders, strode up the
+winding pathway.
+
+"Come, Gray, and Ellsworth," said Pembroke. "Get your men together. We
+shall see what there is to this."
+
+At the summit of the river-bluff Law awaited their arrival. He noted in
+silence the look of surprise which crossed Pembroke's face as at length
+they came into view of the little panorama of the stockade and its
+surroundings.
+
+"This is my home, Sir Arthur," said he simply. "These are my fields. And
+see, if I mistake not, yonder is some proof of the ability of my people
+to care for themselves."
+
+He pointed to the gateway, from the loop-holes guarding which there
+might now be seen protruding two long dark barrels, leveled in the
+direction of the approaching party. There came a call from within the
+palisade, and the sound of men running to take their places along the
+wall. Law raised his hand, and the barrels of the guns were lowered.
+
+"This, then, is your hiding-place!" said Pembroke.
+
+"I call it not such. 'Tis public to the world."
+
+"Tush! You lack not in the least of your old conceit and assurance, Mr.
+Law!" said Pembroke.
+
+"Nay, I lack not so much in assurance of myself," said Law, "as in my
+patience, which I find, Sir Arthur, now begins to grow a bit short about
+its breath. But since the courtesy of the trail demands somewhat, I say
+to you, there is my home. Enter it as friend if you like, but if not,
+come as you please. Did you indeed come bearing war, I should be obliged
+to signify to you, Sir Arthur, that you are my prisoner. You see my
+people."
+
+"Sir," replied Sir Arthur, blindly, "I have vowed to find you no matter
+where you should go."
+
+"It would seem that your vow is well fulfilled. But now, since you deal
+in mysteries, I shall even ask you definitely, Sir Arthur, who and what
+are you? Why do you come hither, and how shall we regard you?"
+
+"I am, in the first place," said Sir Arthur, "messenger of my Lord
+Bellomont, governor at Albany of our English colonies. I add my chief
+errand, which has been to find Mr. Law, whom I would hold to an
+accounting."
+
+"Oh, granted," replied Law, flicking lightly at the cuff of his tunic,
+"yet your errand still carries mystery."
+
+"You have at least heard of the Peace of Ryswick, I presume?"
+
+"No; how should I? And why should I care?"
+
+"None the less, the king of England and the king of France are no longer
+at war, nor are their colonies this side of the water. There are to be
+no more raids between the colonies of New England and New France. The
+Hurons are to give back their English prisoners, and the Iroquois are to
+return all their captives to the French. The Western tribes are to
+render up their prisoners also, be they French, English, Huron or
+Iroquois. The errand of carrying this news was offered to me. It agreed
+well enough with my own private purposes. I had tracked you, Mr. Law, to
+Montréal, lost you on the Richelieu, and was glad enough to take up this
+chance of finding you farther to the West. And now, by the justice of
+heaven, as I have said, I have found you easily."
+
+"And has Sir Arthur gone to sheriffing? Has my friend become constable?
+Is Sir Arthur a spy? Because, look you, this is not London, nor yet New
+France, nor Albany. This is Messasebe! This is my valley. I rule here.
+Now, if kings, or constables, or even spies, wish to find John
+Law--why, here is John Law. Now watch your people, and go you carefully
+here, else that may follow which will be ill extinguished."
+
+Pembroke flung down his sword upon the ground in front of him.
+
+"You are lucky, Mr. Law," said he, "lucky as ever. But surely, never was
+man so eminently deserving of death as yourself."
+
+"You do me very much honor, Sir Arthur," replied Law. "Here is your
+sword, sir." Stooping, he picked it up and handed it to the other. "I
+did but ill if I refused to accord satisfaction to one bringing me such
+speech as that. 'Tis well you wear your weapons, Sir Arthur, since you
+come thus as emissary of the Great Peace! I know you for a gentleman,
+and I shall ask no parole of you to-night; but meantime, let us wait
+until to-morrow, when I promise you I shall be eager as yourself. Come!
+We can stand here guessing and talking no longer. I am weary of it."
+
+They came now to the gate of the stockade, and there Pembroke stood for
+a moment in surprise and perplexity. He was not prepared to meet this
+dark-haired, wide-eyed girl, clad in native dress of skin, with tinkling
+metals at wrist and ankle, and on her feet the tiny, beaded shoes. For
+her part, Mary Connynge, filled with woman's curiosity, was yet less
+prepared for that which appeared before her--an apparition, as ran her
+first thought, come to threaten and affright.
+
+"Sir Arthur!" she began, her trembling tongue but half forming the
+words. Her eyes stared in terror, and beneath her dark skin the blood
+shrank away and left her pale. She recoiled from him, her left hand
+carrying behind her instinctively the babe that lay on her arm.
+
+Sir Arthur bowed, but found no word. He could only look questioningly at
+Law.
+
+"Madam," said the latter, "Sir Arthur Pembroke journeys through as the
+messenger of Lord Bellomont, governor at Albany, to spread peace among
+the Western tribes. He has by mere chance blundered upon our valley, and
+will delay over night. It seemed well you should be advised."
+
+Mary Connynge, gray and pale, haggard and horrified, dreading all things
+and knowing nothing, found no manner of reply. Without a word she turned
+and fled back into the cabin.
+
+Sir Arthur once more looked about him. Motioning to the others of the
+party to remain outside the gate, Law led him within the stockade. On
+one hand stood Pierre Noir, tall, silent, impassive as a savage, leaning
+upon his gun and fixing on the red coat of the English uniform an eye
+none too friendly. Jean Breboeuf, his piece half ready and his voluble
+tongue half on the point of breaking over restraint, Law quieted with a
+gesture. Back of these, ranged in a silent yet watchful group, their
+weapons well in hand, stood numbers of the savage allies of this new
+war-lord. Pembroke turned to Law again.
+
+"You are strongly stationed, sir; but I do not understand."
+
+"It is my home."
+
+"But yet--why?"
+
+"As well this as any, where one leaves an old life and begins a new,"
+said Law. "'Tis as good a place as any if one would leave all behind,
+and if he would forget."
+
+"And this--that is to say--madam?"
+
+Sir Arthur stumbled in his speech. John Law looked him straight in the
+eye, a slow, sad smile upon his face.
+
+"Had we here the plank of poor La Salle his ship," said he, "we might
+nail the message of that other renegade above our door--'_Nous sommes
+tous sauvages_!'"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+THE DREAM
+
+
+That night John Law dreamed as he slept, and it was in some form the
+same haunting and familiar dream. In his vision he saw not the low roof
+nor the rude walls about him. To his mind there appeared a little dingy
+room, smaller than this in which he lay, with walls of stone, with door
+of iron grating and not of rough-hewn slabs. He saw the door of the
+prison cell swing open; saw near it the figure of a noble young girl,
+with large and frightened eyes and lips half tremulous. To this vision
+he outstretched his hands. He was almost conscious of uttering some word
+supplicatingly, almost conscious of uttering a name.
+
+Perhaps he slept on. We little know the ways of the land of dreams. It
+might have been half an instant or half an hour later that he suddenly
+awoke, finding his hand clapped close against his side, where suddenly
+there had come a sharp and burning pain. His own hand struck another. He
+saw something gleaming in the light of the flickering fire which still
+survived upon the hearth. The dim rays lit up two green, glowing,
+venomous balls, the eyes of the woman whom he found bending above him.
+He reached out his hand in the instinct of safety. This which glittered
+in the firelight was the blade of a knife, and it was in the hand of
+Mary Connynge!
+
+In a moment Law was master of himself. "Give it to me, Madam, if you
+please," he said, quietly, and took the knife from fingers which
+loosened under his grasp. There was no further word spoken. He tossed
+the knife into a crack of the bunk beyond him. He lay with his right arm
+doubled under his head, looking up steadily into the low ceiling, upon
+which the fire made ragged masses of shadows. His left arm, round, full
+and muscular, lay across the figure of the woman whom he had forced down
+upon the couch beside him. He could feel her bosom rise and pant in
+sheer sobs of anger. Once he felt the writhing of the body beneath his
+arm, but he simply tightened his grasp and spoke no word.
+
+It was not far from morning. In time the gray dawn came creeping in at
+the window, until at length the chinks between the logs in the little
+square-cut window and the ill-fitting door were flooded with a sea of
+sunlight. As this light grew stronger, Law slowly turned and looked at
+the face beside him. Out of the tangle of dark hair there blazed still
+two eyes, eyes which looked steadily up at the ceiling, refusing to turn
+either to the right or to the left. He calmly pulled closer to him, so
+that it might not stain the garments of the woman beside him, the
+blood-soaked shirt whose looseness and lack of definition had perhaps
+saved him from a fatal blow. He paid no attention to his wound, which he
+knew was nothing serious. So he lay and looked at Mary Connynge, and
+finally removed his arm.
+
+"Get up," said he, simply, and the woman obeyed him.
+
+"The fire, Madam, if you please, and breakfast."
+
+These had been the duties of the Indian woman, but Mary Connynge obeyed.
+
+"Madam," said Law, calmly, after the morning meal was at last finished
+in silence, "I shall be very glad to have your company for a few
+moments, if you please."
+
+Mary Connynge rose and followed him into the open air, her eyes still
+fixed upon the dark-crusted stain which had spread upon his tunic. They
+walked in silence to a point beyond the cabin.
+
+"You would call her Catharine!" burst out Mary Connynge. "Oh! I heard
+you in your very sleep. You believe every lying word Sir Arthur tells
+you. You believe--"
+
+John Law looked at her with the simple and direct gaze which the tamer
+of the wild beast employs when he goes among them, the look of a man not
+afraid of any living thing.
+
+"Madam," said he, at length, calmly and evenly, as before, "what I have
+said, sleeping or waking, will not matter. You have tried to kill me.
+You did not succeed. You will never try again. Now, Madam, I give you
+the privilege of kneeling here on the ground before me, and asking of
+me, not my pardon, but the pardon of the woman you have foully stabbed,
+even as you have me."
+
+The figure before him straightened up, the blazing yellow eyes sought
+his once, twice, thrice, behind them all the fury of a savage soul. It
+was of no avail. The cool blue eyes looked straight into her heart. The
+tall figure stood before her, unyielding. She sought to raise her eyes
+once more, failed, and so would have sunk down as he had said, actually
+on her knees before him.
+
+John Law extended a hand and stopped her. "There," said he. "It will
+suffice. I can not demean you. There is the child."
+
+"You called her Catharine!" broke out the woman once more in her
+ungovernable rage. "You would name my child--"
+
+"Madam, get up!" said John Law, sharply and sternly. "Get up on your
+feet and look me in the face. The child shall be called for her who
+should have been its mother. Let those forgive who can. That you have
+ruined my life for me is but perhaps a fair exchange; yet you shall say
+no word against that woman whose life we have both of us despoiled."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+BY THE HILT OF THE SWORD
+
+
+Law passed on out at the gate of the stockade and down to the bivouac,
+where Pembroke and his men had spent the night.
+
+"Now, Sir Arthur," said he to the latter, when he had found him, "come.
+I am ready to talk with you. Let us go apart."
+
+Pembroke joined him, and the two walked slowly away toward the
+encircling wood which swept back of the stockade. Law turned upon him at
+length squarely.
+
+"Sir Arthur," said he, "I think you would tell me something concerned
+with the Lady Catharine Knollys. Do you bring any message from her?"
+
+The face of Pembroke flamed scarlet with sudden wrath. "Message!" said
+he. "Message from Lady Catharine Knollys to you? By God! sir, her only
+message could be her hope that she might never hear your name again."
+
+"You have still your temper, Sir Arthur, and you speak harsh enough."
+
+"Harsh or not," rejoined Pembroke, "I scarce can endure her name upon
+your lips. You, who scouted her, who left her, who took up with the
+lewdest woman in all Great Britain, as it now appears--you who would
+consort with this creature--"
+
+"In this matter," said John Law, simply, "you are not my prisoner, and I
+beg you to speak frankly. It shall be man and man between us."
+
+"How you could have stooped to such baseness is what mortal man can
+never understand," resumed Sir Arthur, bitterly. "Good God! to abandon a
+woman like that so heartlessly--"
+
+"Sir Arthur," said John Law, his voice trembling, "I do myself the very
+great pleasure of telling you that you lie!"
+
+For a moment the two stood silent, facing each other, the face of each
+stony, gone gray with the emotions back of it.
+
+"There is light," said Pembroke, "and abundant space."
+
+They turned and paced back farther toward the open forest glade. Yet now
+and again their steps faltered and half paused, and neither man cared to
+go forward or to return. Pembroke's face, stern as it had been, again
+took on the imprint of a growing hesitation.
+
+"Mr. Law," said he, "there is something in your attitude which I admit
+puzzles me. I ask you in all honor, I ask you on the hilt of that sword
+which I know you will never disgrace, why did you thus flout the Lady
+Catharine Knollys? Why did you scorn her and take up with this woman
+yonder in her stead?"
+
+"Sir Arthur," said John Law, with trembling lips, "I must be very low
+indeed in reputation, since you can ask me question such as this."
+
+"But you must answer!" cried Sir Arthur, "and you must swear!"
+
+"If you would have my answer and my oath, then I give you both. I did
+not do what you suggest, nor can I conceive how any man should think me
+guilty of it. I loved Lady Catharine Knollys with all my heart. 'Twas my
+chief bitterness, keener than even the thought of the gallows itself,
+that she forsook me in my trouble. Then, bitter as any man would be, I
+persuaded myself that I cared naught. Then came this other woman. Then
+I--well, I was a man and a fool--a fool, Sir Arthur, a most miserable
+fool! Every moment of my life since first I saw her, I have loved the
+Lady Catharine; and, God help me, I do now!"
+
+Sir Arthur struck his hand upon the hilt of his sword. "You were more
+lucky than myself, as I know," said he, and from his lips broke half a
+groan.
+
+"Good God!" broke out Law. "Let us not talk of it. I give you my word of
+honor, there has been no happiness to this. But come! We waste time. Let
+us cross swords!"
+
+"Wait. Let me explain, since we are in the way of it. You must know that
+'twas within the plans of Montague that Lady Catharine Knollys should be
+the agent of your freedom. I was pledged to the Lady Catharine to assist
+her, though, as you may perhaps see, sir," and Pembroke gulped in his
+throat as he spoke, "'twas difficult enough, this part that was assigned
+to me. It was I, Mr. Law, who drove the coach to the gate, the coach
+which brought the Lady Catharine. 'Twas she who opened the door of
+Newgate jail for you. My God! sir, how could you walk past that woman,
+coming there as she did, with such a purpose!"
+
+At hearing these words, the tall figure of the man opposed to him
+drooped and sank, as though under some fearful blow. He staggered to a
+near-by support and sank weakly to a seat, his head falling between his
+hands, his whole face convulsed.
+
+"Ah!" said he, "you did right to cross seas in search of me! God hath
+indeed found me out and given me my punishment. Yet I ask God to bear
+me witness that I knew not the truth. Come, Sir Arthur! Come, I beseech
+you! Let us fall to!"
+
+"I shall be no man's executioner for his sentence on himself. I could
+not fight you now." His eye fell by chance upon the blotch in Law's
+bloodstained tunic. "And here," he said; "see! You are already wounded."
+
+"'Twas but one woman's way of showing her regard," said Law. "'Twas Mary
+Connynge stabbed me."
+
+"But why?"
+
+"Nay, I am glad of it; since it proves the truth of all you say, even as
+it proves me to be the most unworthy man in all the world. Oh, what had
+it meant to me to know a real love! God! How could I have been so
+blind?"
+
+"'Tis the ancient puzzle."
+
+"Yes!" cried Law. "And let us make an end of puzzles! Your quarrel, sir,
+I admit is just. Let us go on."
+
+"And again I tell you, Mr. Law," replied Sir Arthur, "that I will not
+fight you."
+
+"Then, sir," said Law, dropping his own sword upon the grass and
+extending his hand with a broken smile, "'tis I who am your prisoner!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+THE IROQUOIS
+
+
+Even as Sir Arthur and John Law clasped hands, there came a sudden
+interruption. A half-score yards deeper in the wood there arose a
+sudden, half-choked cry, followed by a shrill whoop. There was a
+crashing as of one running, and immediately there pressed into the open
+space the figure of an Indian, an old man from the village of the
+Illini. Even as his staggering footsteps brought him within gaze, the
+two startled observers saw the shaft which had sunk deep within his
+breast. He had been shot through by an Indian arrow, and upon the
+instant it was all too plain whose hand had sped the shaft. Following
+close upon his heels there came a stalwart savage, whose face, hideously
+painted, appeared fairly demoniacal as he came bounding on with uplifted
+hatchet, seeking to strike down the victim already impaled by the silent
+arrow.
+
+"Quick!" cried Law, in a flash catching the meaning of this sudden
+spectacle. "Into the fort, Sir Arthur, and call the men together!"
+
+Not stopping to relieve the struggles of the victim, who had now fallen
+forward gasping, Law sprang on with drawn blade to meet the advancing
+savage. The latter paused for an uncertain moment, and then with a
+shrill yell of defiance, hurled the keen steel hatchet full at Law's
+head. It shore away a piece of his hat brim, and sank with edge deep
+buried in the trunk of a tree beyond. The savage turned, but turned too
+late. The blade of the swordsman passed through from rib to rib under
+his arm, and he fell choking, even as he sought again to give vent to
+his war-cry.
+
+And now there arose in the woods beyond, and in the fields below the
+hill, and from the villages of the neighboring Indians, a series of
+sharp, ululating yells. Shots came from within the fortress, where the
+loop-holes were already manned. There were borne from the nearest
+wigwams of the Illini the screams of wounded men, the shrieks of
+terrified women. In an instant the peaceful spot had become the scene of
+a horrible confusion. Once more the wolves of the woods, the Iroquois,
+had fallen on their prey!
+
+Swift as had been Law's movements, Pembroke was but a pace behind him as
+he wrenched free his blade. The two turned back together and started at
+speed for the palisade. At the gate they met others hurrying in,
+Pembroke's men joining in the rush of the frightened villagers. Among
+these the Iroquois pressed with shrill yells, plying knife and bow and
+hatchet as they ran, and the horrified eyes of those within the palisade
+saw many a tragedy enacted.
+
+"Watch the gate!" cried Pierre Noir, from his station in the corner
+tower. As he spoke there came a rush of screaming Iroquois, who sought
+to gain the entrance.
+
+"Now!" cried Pierre Noir, discharging his piece into the crowded ranks
+below him; and shot after shot followed his own. The packed brown mass
+gave back and resolved itself into scattered units, who broke and ran
+for the nearest cover.
+
+"They will not come on again until dark," said Pierre Noir, calmly
+leaning his piece against the wall. "Therefore I may attend to certain
+little matters."
+
+He passed out into the entry-way, where lay the bodies of three
+Iroquois, abandoned, under the close and deadly fire, by their
+companions where they had fallen. When Pierre Noir returned and calmly
+propped up again the door of slabs which he had removed, he carried in
+his hand three tufts of long black hair, from which dripped heavy gouts
+of blood.
+
+"Good God, man!" said Pembroke. "You must not be savage as these
+Indians!"
+
+"Speak for yourself, Monsieur Anglais," replied Pierre, stoutly. "You
+need not save these head pieces if you do not care for them. For myself,
+'tis part of the trade."
+
+"Assuredly," broke in Jean Breboeuf. "We keep these trinkets, we
+_voyageurs_ of the French. Make no doubt that Jean Breboeuf will take
+back with him full tale of the Indians he has killed. Presently I go
+out. Zip! goes my knife, and off comes the topknot of Monsieur Indian,
+him I killed but now as he ran. Then I shall dry the scalp here by the
+fire, and mount it on a bit of willow, and take it back for a present to
+my sweetheart, Susanne Duchéne, on the seignieury at home."
+
+"Bravo, Jean!" cried out the old Indian fighter, Pierre Noir, the old
+baresark rage of the fighting man now rising hot in his blood. "And
+look! Here come more chances for our little ornaments."
+
+Pierre Noir for once had been mistaken and underestimated the courage of
+the warriors of the Onondagos. Lashing themselves to fury at the thought
+of their losses, they came on again, now banding and charging in the
+open close up to the walls of the palisade. Again the little party of
+whites maintained a steady fire, and again the Iroquois, baffled and
+enraged, fell back into the wood, whence they poured volley after volley
+rattling against the walls of the sturdy fortress.
+
+"I am sorry, sir," said Sergeant Gray to Pembroke, "but 'tis all up with
+me." The poor fellow staggered against the wall, and in a few moments
+all was indeed over with him. A chance shot had pierced his chest.
+
+"_Peste_! If this keeps up," said Pierre Noir, "there will not be many
+of us left by morning. I never saw them fight so well. 'Tis a good watch
+we'll need this night."
+
+In fact, all through the night the Iroquois tried every stratagem of
+their savage warfare. With ear-splitting yells they came close up to the
+stockade, and in one such charge two or three of their young men even
+managed to climb to the tops of the pointed stakes, though but to meet
+their death at the muzzles of the muskets within. Then there arose
+curving lines of fire from without the walls, half circles which
+terminated at last in little jarring thuds, where blazing arrows fell
+and stood in log, or earth, or unprotected roof. These projectiles,
+wrapped with lighted birch bark, served as fire brands, and danger
+enough they carried. Yet, after some fashion, the little garrison kept
+down these incipient blazes, held together the terrified Illini,
+repulsed each repeated charge of the Iroquois, and so at last wore
+through the long and fearful night.
+
+The sun was just rising across the tops of the distant groves when the
+Iroquois made their next advance. It came not in the form of a concerted
+attack, but of an appeal for peace. A party of the savages left their
+cover and approached the fortress, waving their hands above their heads.
+One of them presently advanced alone.
+
+"What is it, Pierre?" asked Law. "What does the fellow want?"
+
+"I care not what he wants," said Pierre Noir, carefully adjusting the
+lock of his piece and steadily regarding the savage as he approached;
+"but I'll wager you a year's pay he never gets alive past yonder stump."
+
+"Stay!" cried Pembroke, catching at the barrel of the leveled gun. "I
+believe he would talk with us."
+
+"What does he say, Pierre?" asked Law. "Speak to him, if you can."
+
+"He wants to know," said Pierre, as the messenger at length stopped and
+began a harangue, "whether we are English or French. He says something
+about there being a big peace between Corlaer and Onontio; by which he
+means, gentlemen, the governor at New York and the governor at Quebec."
+
+"Tell him," cried Pembroke, with a sudden thought, "that I am an
+officer of Corlaer, and that Corlaer bids the Iroquois to bring in all
+the prisoners they have taken. Tell him that the French are going to
+give up all their prisoners to us, and that the Iroquois must leave the
+war path, or my Lord Bellomont will take the war trail and wipe their
+villages off the earth."
+
+Something in this speech as conveyed to the savage seemed to give him a
+certain concern. He retired, and presently his place was taken by a tall
+and stately figure, dressed in the full habiliments of an Iroquois
+chieftain. He came on calmly and proudly, his head erect, and in his
+extended hand the long-stemmed pipe of peace. Pierre Noir heaved a deep
+sigh of relief.
+
+"Unless my eyes deceive me," said he, "'tis old Teganisoris himself, one
+of the head men of the Onondagos. If so, there is some hope, for
+Teganisoris is wise enough to know when peace is best."
+
+It was, indeed, that noted chieftain of the Iroquois who now advanced
+close up to the wall. Law and Pembroke stepped out to meet him beyond
+the palisade, the old _voyageur_ still serving as interpreter from the
+platform at their back.
+
+"He says--listen, Messieurs!--he says he knows there is going to be a
+big peace; that the Iroquois are tired of fighting and that their
+hearts are sore. He says--a most manifest lie, I beg you to observe,
+Messieurs--that he loves the English, and that, although he ought to
+kill the Frenchmen of our garrison, he will, since some of us are
+English, and hence his friends, spare us all if we will cease to fight."
+
+Pembroke turned to Law with question in his eye.
+
+"There must be something done," said the latter in a low tone. "We were
+short enough of ammunition here even before Du Mesne left for the
+settlements, and your own men have none too much left."
+
+"'Reflect! Bethink yourselves, Englishmen!' he says to us," continued
+Pierre Noir. "'We came to make war upon the Illini. Our work here is
+done. 'Tis time now that we went back to our villages. If there is to be
+a big peace, the Iroquois must be there; for unless the Iroquois demand
+it, there can be no peace at all.' And, gentlemen, I beg you to remember
+it is an Iroquois who is talking, and that the truth is not in the
+tongue of an Iroquois."
+
+"'Tis a desperate chance, Mr. Law," said Pembroke. "Yet if we keep up
+the fight here, there can be but one end."
+
+"'Tis true," said Law; "and there are others to be considered."
+
+It was hurriedly thus concluded. Law finally advanced toward the tall
+figure of the Iroquois headman, and looked him straight in the face.
+
+"Tell him," said he to Pierre Noir, "that we are all English, and that
+we are not afraid; and that if we are harmed, the armies of Corlaer will
+destroy the Iroquois, even as the Iroquois have the Illini. Tell him
+that we will go back with him to the settlements because we are willing
+to go that way upon a journey which we had already planned. We could
+fight forever if we chose, and he can see for himself by the bodies of
+his young men how well we are able to make war."
+
+"It is well," replied Teganisoris. "You have the word of an Iroquois
+that this shall be done, as I have said."
+
+"The word of an Iroquois!" cried Pierre Noir, slamming down the butt of
+his musket. "The word of a snake, say rather! Jean Breboeuf, harken you
+to what our leaders have agreed! We are to go as prisoners of the
+Iroquois! Mary, Mother of God, what folly! And there is madame, and _la
+pauvre petite_, that infant so young. By God! Were it left to me, Pierre
+Berthier would stand here, and fight to the end. I know these Iroquois!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+PRISONERS OF THE IROQUOIS
+
+
+The faith of the Iroquois was worse than Punic, nor was there lacking
+swift proof of its real nature. Law and Pembroke, the moment they had
+led their little garrison beyond the gate, found themselves surrounded
+by a ring of tomahawks and drawn bows. Their weapons were snatched away
+from them, and on the instant they found themselves beyond all
+possibility of that resistance whose giving over they now bitterly
+repented. Teganisoris regarded them with a sardonic smile.
+
+"I see you are all English," said he, "though some of you wear blue
+coats. These we may perhaps adopt into our tribe, for our boys grow up
+but slowly, and some of the blue coats are good fighters. These dogs of
+Illini we shall of course burn. As for your war house, you will no
+longer need it, since you are now friends of the Iroquois, and are going
+to their villages. You may say to Corlaer that you well know the
+Iroquois have no prisoners."
+
+The horrid significance of this threat was all too soon made plain. In
+an hour the little stockade was but a mass of embers and ashes. In
+another hour the little valley had become a Gehenna of anguish and
+lamentations, with whose riot of grief and woe there mingled the savage
+exultations of a foe whose treachery was but surpassed by his cruelty.
+Again the planting-ground of the Illini was utterly laid waste, to mark
+it naught remaining but trampled grain, and heaps of ashes, and remnants
+of blackened and incinerated bones. By nightfall the party of prisoners
+had begun a wild journey through the wilderness, whose horrors surpassed
+any they had supposed to be humanly endurable.
+
+Day after day, week after week, for more than a month, and much of the
+time in winter weather, they toiled on, part of the way by boat, the
+remainder of the journey on foot, crossing snow-clogged forest, and
+tangled thicket and frozen morass, yet daring not to drop out for rest,
+since to lag might mean to die. It was as though after some frightful
+nightmare of suffering and despair that at length they reached the
+villages of the Five Nations, located far to the east, at the foot of
+the great waterway which Law and his family had ascended more than a
+year before.
+
+Yet if that which had gone before seemed like some bitter dream, surely
+the day of awakening promised but little better hope. From village to
+village, footsore and ill, they were hurried without rest, at each new
+stopping place the central figures of a barbarous triumph; and nowhere
+did they meet the representatives of either the French or the English
+government, whose expected presence had constituted their one ground of
+hope.
+
+"Where is your big peace?" asked Teganisoris of Pembroke. "Where are the
+head men of Corlaer? Who brings presents to the Iroquois, and who is to
+tell us that Onontio has carried the pipe of peace to Corlaer? Here are
+our villages as when we left them, and here again are we, save for the
+absent ones who have been killed by your young men. It is no wonder that
+my people are displeased."
+
+Indeed those of the Iroquois who had remained at home clamored
+continually that some of the prisoners should be given over to them.
+Thus, in doubt, uncertainty and terror the party passed through the
+villages, moving always eastward, until at length they arrived at the
+fortified town where Teganisoris made his home, a spot toward the foot
+of Lake Ontario, and not widely removed from that stupendous cataract
+which, from the beginning of earth, had uplifted its thunderous
+diapason here in the savage wilderness--Ontoneagrea, object of
+superstitious awe among all the tribes.
+
+Time hung heavy on the hands of the savages. It was winter, and the
+parties had all returned from the war trails. The mutterings arose yet
+more loudly among families who had lost most heavily in these Western
+expeditions. The shrewd mind of Teganisoris knew that some new thing
+must be planned. He announced his decision at his own village, after the
+triumphal progress among the tribes had at length been concluded.
+
+"Since they have sent us no presents," said he, with that daring
+diplomacy which made him a leader in red statesmanship, "let those who
+stayed at home be given some prisoner in pay for those of their people
+who have been killed. Moreover, let us offer to the Great Spirit some
+sacrifice in propitiation; since surely the Great Spirit is offended."
+Such was the conclusion of this head man of the Onondagos, and fateful
+enough it was to the prisoners.
+
+The great gorge through which poured the vast waters of the Northern
+seas was a spot not always visited by those passing up the Great Lakes
+for the Western stations, nor down the Lakes to the settlements of the
+St. Lawrence. Yet there was a trail which led around the great cataract,
+and the occasional _coureurs de bois_, or the passing friars, or the
+adventurous merchants of the lower settlements now and again left that
+trail, and came to look upon the tremendous scene of the great falling
+of the waters. Here where the tumult ascended up to heaven, and where
+the white-blown wreaths of mist might indeed, even in an imagination
+better than that of a savage, have been construed into actual forms of
+spirits, the Indians had, from time immemorial, made their offerings to
+the genius of the cataract--strips of rude cloth, the skin of the beaver
+and the otter, baskets woven of sweet grasses, and, after the advent of
+the white man, pieces of metal or strings of precious beads. Such valued
+things as these were in rude adoration placed upon rocks or uplifted
+scaffolds near to the brink of the abyss. This was the spot most
+commonly chosen by the medicine man in the pursuit of his incantations.
+It was the church, the wild and savage cathedral of the red men.
+
+Following now the command of their chieftain, the Iroquois left their
+stationary lodges and moved in a body, pitching a temporary camp at a
+spot not far from the Falls. Here, in a great council lodge, the older
+men sat in deliberation for a full day and night. The dull drum sounded
+continually, the council pipe went round, and the warriors besought the
+spirits to give them knowledge. The savage hysteria, little by little,
+yet steadily, arose higher and higher, until at length it reached that
+point of frenzy where naught could suffice save some terrible, some
+tremendous thing.
+
+Enforced spectators of these curious and ominous ceremonies, the
+prisoners looked on, wondering, imagining, hesitating and fearing.
+"Monsieur," said Pierre Noir, turning at last to Law, "it grieves me to
+speak, yet 'tis best for you to know the truth. It is to be you or
+Monsieur Pembroke. They will not have me. They say that it must be one
+of you two great chiefs, for that you were brave, your hearts were
+strong, and that hence you would find favor as the adopted child of the
+Great Spirit who has been offended."
+
+Law looked at Pembroke, and they both regarded Mary Connynge and the
+babe. "At least," said Law, "they spare the woman and the child. So far
+very well. Sir Arthur, we are at the last hazard."
+
+"I have asked them to take me," said Pierre Noir, "for I am an old man
+and have no family. But they will not listen to me."
+
+Pembroke passed his hand wearily across his face. "I have behind me so
+long a memory of suffering," said he, "and before me so small an amount
+of promise, that for myself I am content to let it end. It comes to all
+sooner or later, according to our fate."
+
+"You speak," said Law, "as though it were determined. Yet Pierre says it
+will not be both of us, but one."
+
+Pembroke smiled sadly. "Why, sir," said he, "do you think me so sorry a
+fellow as that? Look!" and he pointed to Mary Connynge and the child.
+"There is your duty."
+
+Law followed his gaze, and his look was returned dumbly by the woman who
+had played so strange a part in the late passages of his life. Never a
+word with her had Law spoken regarding his plans or concerning what he
+had learned from Pembroke. As to this, Mary Connynge had been afraid to
+ask, nor dare ask even now.
+
+"Besides," went on Pembroke later, as he called Law aside, "there is
+something to be done--not here, but over there, in England, or in
+France. Your duty is involved not only with this woman. You must find
+sometime the other woman. You must see the Lady Catharine Knollys."
+
+Law sunk his head between his hands and groaned bitterly.
+
+"Go you rather," said he, "and spend your life for her. I choose that it
+should end at once, and here."
+
+"I have not been wont to call Mr. Law a coward," said Pembroke, simply.
+
+"I should be a coward if I should stand aside and allow you to sacrifice
+yourself; nor shall I do so," replied the other.
+
+"They say," broke in Pierre Noir, who had been listening to the excited
+harangues of first one warrior and then another, "that both warriors are
+great chiefs, and that both should go together. Teganisoris insists that
+only one shall be offered. This last has been almost agreed; but which
+one of you 'tis to be has not yet been determined."
+
+Dawn came through the narrow door and open roof holes of the lodge. The
+rising of the sun seemed to bring conviction to the Iroquois. All at
+once the savage council broke up and scattered into groups, which
+hurried to different parts of the village. Presently these reappeared at
+the central lodge. There sounded a concerted savage chant. A ragged
+column appeared, whose head was faced toward the cataract. There were
+those who bore strings of beads and strips of fur, even the prized
+treasures of the tufted scalp locks, whose tresses, combed smooth, were
+adorned with colored cloth and feathers.
+
+Pierre Noir was silent; yet, as the captives looked, they needed no
+advice that the sacrificial procession was now forming.
+
+"They said," began Pierre Noir, at length, with trembling voice, turning
+his eyes aside as he spoke, "that it could not be myself, that it must
+be one of you, and but one. They are going to cast lots for it. It is
+Teganisoris who has proposed that the lots shall be thrown by--" Pierre
+Noir faltered, unwilling to go on.
+
+"And by whom?" asked Law, quietly.
+
+"By--by the woman--by madame!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+THE SACRIFICE
+
+
+There was sometimes practised among the Iroquois a game which bore a
+certain resemblance to the casting of dice, as the latter is known among
+civilized peoples. The method of the play was simple. Two oblong
+polished bones, of the bigness of a man's finger, were used as the dice.
+The ends of these were ground thin and were rudely polished. One of the
+dice was stained red, the other left white. The players in the game
+marked out a line on the hard ground, and then each in turn cast up the
+two dice into the air, throwing them from some receptacle. The game was
+determined by the falling of the red bone, he who cast this colored bone
+closer to the line upon the ground being declared the winner. The game
+was simple, and depended much upon chance. If the red die fell flat upon
+its face at a point near to the line, it was apt to lie close to the
+spot where it dropped. On the other hand, did it alight upon either end,
+it might bound back and fall at some little distance upon one side of
+the line.
+
+It was this game which, in horrible fashion, Teganisoris now proposed to
+play. He offered to the clamoring medicine man and his ferocious
+disciples one of these captives, whose death should appease not only the
+offended Great Spirit, but also the unsated vengeance of the tribe. He
+offered, at the same time, the spectacle of a play in which a human life
+should be the stake. He used as practical executioner the woman who was
+possessed by one of them, and who, in the crude notions of the savages,
+was no doubt coveted by both. It must be the hand of this woman that
+should cast the dice, a white one and a red one for each man, and he
+whose red die fell closer to the line was winner in the grim game of
+life and death.
+
+Jean Breboeuf and Pierre Noir stood apart, and tears poured from the
+eyes of both. They were hardened men, well acquainted with Indian
+warfare; they had seen the writhings of tortured victims, and more than
+once had faced such possibilities themselves; yet never had they seen
+sight like this.
+
+Near the two men stood Mary Connynge, the bright blood burning in her
+cheeks, her eyes dry and wide open, looking from one to the other. God,
+who gives to this earth the few Mary Connynges, alone knows the nature
+of those elements which made her, and the character of the conflict
+which now went on within her soul. Tell such a woman as Mary Connynge
+that she has a rival, and she will either love the more madly the man
+whom she demands as her own, or with equal madness and with greater
+intensity will hate her lover with a hatred untying and unappeasable.
+
+Mary Connynge stood, her eyes glancing from one to the other of the men
+before her. She had seen them both proved brave men, strong of arm,
+undaunted of heart, both gallant gentlemen. God, who makes the Mary
+Connynges of this earth, only can tell whether or not there arose in the
+heart of this savage woman, this woman at bay, scorned, rebuked,
+mastered, this one question: Which? If Mary Connynge hated John Law, or
+if she loved him--ah! how must have pulsed her heart in agony, or in
+bitterness, as she took into her hand those lots which were the arbiters
+of life and death!
+
+Teganisoris looked about him and spoke a few rapid words. He caught Mary
+Connynge roughly by the shoulder and pulled her forward. The two men
+stood with faces set and gray in the pitiless light of morn. Their arms
+were fast bound behind their backs. Eagerly the crowding savages
+pressed up to them, gesticulating wildly, and peering again and again
+into their faces to discover any sign of weakness. They failed. The
+pride of birth, the strength of character, the sheer animal vigor of
+each man stood him in stead at this ultimate trial. Each had made up his
+mind to die. Each proposed, not doubting that he would be the one to
+draw the fatal lot, to die as a man and a gentleman.
+
+Teganisoris would play this game with all possible mystery and
+importance. It should be told generations hence about the council fires,
+how he, Teganisoris, devised this game, how he played it, how he drew it
+out link by link to the last atom of its agony. There was no receptacle
+at hand in which the dice could be placed. Teganisoris stooped, and
+without ceremony wrenched from Mary Connynge's foot the moccasin which
+covered it--the little shoe--beaded, beautiful, and now again fateful.
+Sir Arthur smiled as though in actual joy.
+
+"My friend," said he, "I have won! This might be the very slipper for
+which we played at the Green Lion long ago."
+
+Law turned upon him a face pale and solemn. "Sir," said he, "I pray God
+that the issue may not be as when we last played. I pray God that the
+dice may elect me and not yourself."
+
+"You were ever lucky in the games of chance," replied Pembroke.
+
+"Too lucky," said Law. "But the winner here is the loser, if it be
+myself."
+
+Teganisoris roughly took from Mary Connynge's hand the little bits of
+bone. He cast them into the hollow of the moccasin and shook them
+dramatically together, holding them high above his head. Then he lowered
+them and took out from the receptacle two of the dice. He placed his
+hand on Law's shoulder, signifying that his was to be the first cast.
+Then he handed back the moccasin to the woman.
+
+Mary Connynge took the shoe in her hand and stepped forward to the line
+which had been drawn upon the ground. The red spots still burned upon
+her cheeks; her eyes, amber, feline, still flamed hard and dry. She
+still glanced rapidly from one to the other, her eye as lightly quick
+and as brilliant as that of the crouched cat about to spring.
+
+Which? Which would it be? Could she control this game? Could she elect
+which man should live and which should die--this woman, scorned, abased,
+mastered? Neither of these sought to read the riddle of her set face and
+blazing eyes. Each as he might offered his soul to his Creator.
+
+The hand of Mary Connynge was raised above her head. Her face was
+turned once more to John Law, her master, her commander, her repudiator.
+Slowly she turned the moccasin over in her hand. The white bone fell
+first, the red for a moment hanging in the soft folds of the buckskin.
+She shook it out. It fell with its face nearly parallel to the ground
+and alighted not more than a foot from the line, rebounding scarce more
+than an inch or so. Low exclamations arose from all around the thickened
+circle.
+
+"As I said, my friend," cried Sir Arthur, "I have won! The throw is
+passing close for you."
+
+Teganisoris again caught Mary Connynge by the shoulder, and dragged her
+a step or so farther along the line, the two dice being left on the
+ground as they had fallen. Once more, her hand arose, once more it
+turned, once more the dice were cast.
+
+The goddess of fortune still stood faithful to this bold young man who
+had so often confidently assumed her friendship. His life, later to be
+so intimately concerned with this same new savage country, was to be
+preserved for an ultimate opportunity.
+
+The white and the red bone fell together from the moccasin. Had it been
+the white that counted, Sir Arthur had been saved, for the white bone
+lay actually upon the line. The red fell almost as close, but alighted
+on its end. As though impelled by some spirit of evil, it dropped upon
+some little pebble or hard bit of earth, bounded into the air, fell, and
+rolled quite away from the mark!
+
+Even on that crowd of cruel savages there came a silence. Of the whites,
+one scarce dared look at the other. Slowly the faces of Pembroke and Law
+turned one toward the other.
+
+"Would God I could shake you by the hand," said Pembroke. "Good by."
+
+"As for you, dogs and worse than dogs," he cried, turning toward the red
+faces about him, "mark you! where I stand the feet of the white man
+shall stand forever, and crush your faces into the dirt!"
+
+Whether or not the Iroquois understood his defiance could not be
+determined. With a wild shout they pressed upon him. Borne struggling
+and stumbling by the impulse of a dozen hands, Pembroke half walked and
+half was carried over the distance between the village and the brink of
+the chasm of Niagara.
+
+Until then it had not been apparent what was to be the nature of his
+fate, but when he looked upon the sliding floor of waters below him, and
+heard beyond the thunderous voices of the cataract, Pembroke knew what
+was to be his final portion.
+
+There was, at some distance above the great falls, a spot where descent
+was possible to the edge of the water. Pembroke's feet were loosened and
+he was compelled to descend the narrow path. A canoe was tethered at the
+shore, and the face of the young Englishman went pale as he realized
+what was to be the use assigned it. Bound again hand and foot, helpless,
+he was cast into this canoe. A strong arm sent the tiny craft out toward
+midstream.
+
+The hands of the great waters grasped the frail cockleshell, twisted it
+about, tossed it, played with it, and claimed it irrevocably for their
+own. For a few moments it was visible as it passed on down, with the
+resistless current of the mighty stream. Almost at the verge of the
+plunge, the eyes watching from the shore saw at a distance the struggle
+made by the victim. He half raised himself in the boat and threw himself
+against its side. It was overset. For one instant the cold sun shone
+glistening on the wet bark of the upturned craft. It was but a moment,
+and then there was no dot upon the solemn flood.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+THE EMBASSY
+
+
+"Monsieur! Madame! Pierre Noir! Listen to me! I have saved you! I, Jean
+Breboeuf, I have rescued you!"
+
+So spoke Jean Breboeuf, thrusting his head within the door of the lodge
+in which were the remaining prisoners of the Iroquois.
+
+It was indeed Jean Breboeuf who, strolling beyond the outer edge of the
+village, had been among the first to espy an approaching party of
+visitors. Of any travelers possible, none could have been more important
+to the prisoners. Too late, yet welcome even now, the embassy from New
+France among the Iroquois had arrived. In an instant the village was in
+an uproar.
+
+The leader of this embassy from Quebec was one Captain Joncaire, at that
+time of the French settlements, but in former years a prisoner among the
+Onondagos, where he was adopted into the tribe and much respected.
+Joncaire was accompanied by a priest of the Jesuit brotherhood, by a
+young officer late of the regiment Carignan, and by two or three petty
+Canadian officials, as well as a struggling retinue of savages picked up
+on the way between Lake George and the Indian villages. He advanced now
+at the head of his little party, bearing in his hand a wampum belt. He
+pushed aside the young men, and demanded that he be brought to the chief
+of the village. Teganisoris himself presently advanced to meet him, and
+of him Joncaire demanded that there should at once be called a full
+council of the tribe; with which request the chief of the Onondagos
+hastened to comply.
+
+Fully accustomed to such ceremonies, Joncaire sat in the council calmly
+listening to the speeches of its orators, and at length arose for his
+own reply. "Brothers," said he, "I have here"--and he drew from his
+tunic a copy of the decree of Louis XIV declaring peace between the
+French and the English colonies--"a talking paper. This is the will of
+Onontio, whom you love and fear, and it is the will of the great father
+across the water, whom Onontio loves and fears. This talking paper says
+that our young men of the French colonies are no longer to go to war
+against Corlaer. The hatchet has been buried by the two great fathers.
+Brothers, I have come to tell you that it is time for the Iroquois also
+to bury the hatchet, and to place upon it heavy stones, so that it
+never again can be dug up.
+
+"Brothers, as you know, the great canoes from across the sea are
+bringing more and more white men. Look about you, and tell me where are
+your fathers and your brothers and your sons? Half your fighting men are
+gone; and if you turn to the West to seek out strong young men from the
+other tribes, which of them will come to sit by your fires and be your
+brothers? The war trails of the Nations have gone to the West as far as
+the Great River. All the country has been at war. The friends of Onontio
+beyond Michilimackinac have been so busy fighting that they have
+forgotten to take the beaver, or if they have taken it, they have been
+afraid to bring it down the water trail to us, lest the Iroquois or the
+English should rob them.
+
+"Brothers, a great peace is now declared. Onontio, the father of all the
+red men, has taken the promises of his children, the Hurons, the
+Algonquins, the Miamis, the Illini, the Outagamies, the Ojibways, all
+those peoples who live to the west, that they will follow the war trail
+no more. Next summer there will be a great council. Onontio and Corlaer
+have agreed to call the tribes to meet at the Mountain in the St.
+Lawrence. Onontio says to you that he will give you back your prisoners,
+and now he demands that you in return give back those whom you may have
+with you. This is his will; and if you fail him, you know how heavy is
+his hand.
+
+"Brothers, I see that you have prisoners here, white prisoners. These
+must be given up to us. I will take them with me when I return. For your
+Indian captives, it is the will of Onontio that you bring them all to
+the Great Peace in the summer, and that you then, all of you, help to
+dig the great hill under which the hatchet is going to be buried. Then
+once more our rivers will not be red, and will look more like water. The
+sun will not shine red, but will look as the sun should look. The sky
+will again be blue. Our women and our children will no longer be afraid,
+and you Iroquois can go to sleep in your houses and not dread the arms
+of the French. Brothers, I have spoken. Peace is good."
+
+Teganisoris replied in the same strain as that chosen by Joncaire,
+assuring him that he was his brother; that his heart went out to him;
+that the Iroquois loved the French; and that if they had gone to war
+with them, it was but because the young men of Corlaer had closed their
+eyes so that they could not see the truth. "As to these prisoners," said
+he, "take them with you. We do not want them with us, for we fear they
+may bring us harm. Our medicine man counseled us to offer up one of
+these prisoners as a sacrifice to the Great Spirit. We did so. Now our
+medicine man has a bad dream. He says that the white men are going to
+come and tear down our houses and trample our fields. When the time
+comes for the peace, the Iroquois will be at the Mountain. Brother, we
+will bury the hatchet, and bury it so deep that henceforth none may ever
+again dig it up."
+
+"It is well," said Joncaire, abruptly. "My brothers are wise. Now let
+the council end, for my path is long and I must travel back to Onontio
+at once."
+
+Joncaire knew well enough the fickle nature of these savages, who might
+upon the morrow demand another council and perhaps arrive at different
+conclusions. Hearing there were no white prisoners in the villages
+farther to the west, he resolved to set forth at once upon the return
+with those now at hand. Hurrying, therefore, as soon as might be, to
+their leader, he urged him to make ready forthwith for the journey back
+to the St. Lawrence.
+
+"Unless I much mistake, Monsieur," said he to Law, "you are that same
+gentleman who so set all Quebec by the ears last winter. My faith! The
+regiment Carignan had cause to rejoice when you left for up river, even
+though you took with you half the ready coin of the settlement. Yet come
+you once more to meet the gentlemen of France, and I doubt not they
+will be glad as ever to stake you high, as may be in this
+poverty-stricken region. You have been far to the westward, I doubt not.
+You were, perhaps, made prisoner somewhere below the Straits."
+
+"Far below; among the tribe of the Illini, in the valley of the
+Messasebe."
+
+"You tell me so! I had thought no white man left in that valley for this
+season. And madame--this child--surely 'twas the first white infant born
+in the great valley."
+
+"And the most unfortunate."
+
+"Nay, how can you say that, since you have come more than half a
+thousand miles and are all safe and sound to-day? Glad enough we shall
+be to have you and madame with us for the winter, if, indeed, it be not
+for longer dwelling. I can not take you now to the English settlements,
+since I must back to the governor with the news. Yet dull enough you
+would find these Dutch of the Hudson, and worse yet the blue-nosed
+psalmodists of New England. Much better for you and your good lady are
+the gayer capitals of New France, or _la belle France_ itself, that
+older France. Monsieur, how infinitely more fit for a gentleman of
+spirit is France than your dull England and its Dutch king! Either New
+France or Old France, let me advise you; and as to that new West, let
+me counsel that you wait until after the Big Peace. And, in speaking,
+your friend, Du Mesne, your lieutenant, the _coureur_--his fate, I
+suppose, one need not ask. He was killed--where?"
+
+Law recounted the division of his party just previous to the Iroquois
+attack, and added his concern lest Du Mesne should return to the former
+station during the spring and find but its ruins, with no news of the
+fate of his friends.
+
+"Oh, as to that--'twould be but the old story of the _voyageurs_," said
+Joncaire. "They are used enough to journeying a thousand miles or so, to
+find the trail end in a heap of ashes, and to the tune of a scalp dance.
+Fear not for your lieutenant, for, believe me, he has fended for himself
+if there has been need. Yet I would warrant you, now that this word for
+the peace has gone out, we shall see your friend Du Mesne as big as life
+at the Mountain next summer, knowing as much of your history as you
+yourself do, and quite counting upon meeting you with us on the St.
+Lawrence, and madame as well. As to that, methinks madame will be better
+with us on the St. Lawrence than on the savage Messasebe. We have none
+too many dames among us, and I need not state, what monsieur's eyes have
+told him every morning--that a fairer never set foot from ship from
+over seas. Witness my lieutenant yonder, Raoul de Ligny! He is thus soon
+all devotion! Mother of God! but we are well met here, in this
+wilderness, among the savages. _Voilà_, Monsieur! We take you again
+captive, and 'tis madame enslaves us all!"
+
+There had indeed ensued conversation between the young French officer
+above named and Mary Connynge; yet prompt as might have been the former
+with gallant attentions to so fair a captive, it could not have been
+said that he was allowed the first advances. Mary Connynge, even after a
+month of starving foot travel and another month of anxiety at the
+Iroquois villages, had lost neither her rounded body, her brilliance of
+eye and color, nor her subtle magnetism of personality. It had taken
+stronger head than that of Raoul de Ligny to withstand even her slight
+request. How, then, as to Mary Connynge supplicating, entreating,
+craving of him protection?
+
+"Ah, you brave Frenchmen," said she to De Ligny, advancing to him as he
+stood apart, twisting his mustaches and not unmindful of this very
+possibility of a conversation with the captive. "You brave Frenchmen,
+how can we thank you for our salvation? It was all so horrible!"
+
+"It is our duty to save all, Madame," rejoined De Ligny; "our happiness
+unspeakable to save such as Madame. I swear by my sword, I had as soon
+expected to find an angel with the Iroquois as to meet there Madame!
+Quebec--all Quebec has told me who Madame was and is. And I am your
+slave."
+
+"Oh, sir, could you but mean that!" and there was turned upon him the
+full power of a gaze which few men had ever been able to withstand. The
+blood of De Ligny tingled as he bowed and replied.
+
+"If Madame could but demand one proof."
+
+Mary Connynge stepped closer to him. "Hush!" she said. "Speak low! Do
+not let it seem that we are interested. Keep your own counsel. Can you
+do this?"
+
+The eyes of the young officer gleamed. He was bold enough to respond.
+This his temptress noted.
+
+He nodded.
+
+"You see that man--the tall one, John Law? Listen! It is from him I ask
+you to save me. Oh, sir, there is my captivity!"
+
+"What! Your husband?"
+
+"He is not my husband."
+
+"_Mais_--a thousand pardons. The child--your pardon."
+
+"Pish! 'Tis the child of an Indian woman."
+
+"Oh!" The blood again came to the young gallant's forehead.
+
+"Listen, I tell you! I have been scarce better than a prisoner in this
+man's hands. He has abused me, threatened me, would have beaten me--"
+
+"Madame--Mademoiselle!"
+
+"'Tis true. We have been far in the West, and I could not escape. Good
+Providence has now brought my rescue--and you, Monsieur! Oh! tell me
+that it has brought me safety, and also a friend--that it has brought me
+you!"
+
+With every pulse a-tingle, every vein afire, what could the young
+gallant do? What but yield, but promise, but swear, but rage?
+
+"Hush!" said Mary Connynge, her own eyes gleaming. "Wait! The time will
+come. So soon as we reach the settlements, I leave him, and forever!
+Then--" Their hands met swiftly. "He has abandoned me," murmured Mary
+Connynge. "He has not spoken to me for weeks, other than words of 'Yes,'
+or 'No,' 'Do this,' or 'Do that!' Wait! Wait! How soon shall we be at
+Montréal?"
+
+"Less than a month. 'Twill seem an age, I swear!"
+
+"Madam," interrupted Law, "pardon, but Monsieur Joncaire bids us be
+ready. Come, help me arrange the packs for our journey. Perhaps
+Lieutenant de Ligny--for so I think they name you, sir--will pardon us,
+and will consent to resume his conversation later."
+
+"Assuredly," said De Ligny. "I shall wait, Monsieur."
+
+"So, Madam," said Law to Mary Connynge, as they at last found themselves
+alone in the lodge, arranging their few belongings for transport, "we
+are at last to regain the settlements, and for a time, at least, must
+forego our home in the farther West. In time--"
+
+"Oh, in time! What mean you?"
+
+"Why, we may return."
+
+"Never! I have had my fill of savaging. That we are left alive is mighty
+merciful. To go thither again--never!"
+
+"And if I go?"
+
+"As you like."
+
+"Meaning, Madam--?"
+
+"What you like."
+
+Law seated himself on the corded pack, bringing the tips of his fingers
+together.
+
+"Then my late sweetheart has somewhat changed her fancy?"
+
+"I have no fancy left. What I was once to you I shall not recall more
+than I can avoid in my own mind. As to what you heard from that lying
+man, Sir Arthur--"
+
+"Listen! Stop! Neither must you insult the dead nor the absent. I have
+never told you what I learned from Sir Arthur, though it was enough to
+set me well distraught."
+
+"I doubt not that he told you 'twas I who befooled Lady Catharine; that
+'twas I who took the letter which you sent--"
+
+"Stay! No. He told me not so much as that. But he and you together have
+told me enough to show me that I was the basest wretch on earth, the
+most gullible, the most unspeakably false and cruel. How could I have
+doubted the faith of Lady Catharine--how, but for you? Oh, Mary
+Connynge, Mary Connynge! Would God a man were so fashioned he might
+better withstand the argument of soft flesh and shining eyes! I admit, I
+believed the disloyal one, and doubted her who was loyalty itself."
+
+"And you would go back into the wilderness with one who was as false as
+you say."
+
+"Never!" replied John Law, swiftly. "'Tis as you yourself say. 'Tis all
+over. Hell itself hath followed me. Now let it all go, one with the
+other, little with big. I did not forget, nor should I though I tried
+again. Back to Europe, back to the gaming tables, to the wheels and
+cards I go again, and plunge into it madder than ever did man before.
+Let us see if chance can bring John Law anything worse than what he has
+already known. But, Madam, doubt not. So long as you claim my
+protection, here or anywhere on earth--in the West, in France, in
+England--it is yours; for I pay for my folly like a man, be assured of
+that. The child is ours, and it must be considered. But once let me find
+you in unfaithfulness--once let me know that you resign me--then John
+Law is free! I shall sometime see Catharine Knollys again. I shall give
+her my heart's anguish, and I shall have her heart's scorn in return.
+And then, Mary Connynge, the cards, dice, perhaps drink--perhaps gold,
+and the end. Madam, remember! And now come!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+THE GREAT PEACE
+
+
+Of the long and bitter journey from the Iroquois towns to Lake St.
+George, down the Richelieu and thence through the deep snows of the
+Canadian winter, it boots little to make mention; neither to tell of
+that devotion of Raoul de Ligny to the newly-rescued lady, already
+reputed in camp rumor to be of noble English family.
+
+"That _sous-lieutenant_; he is _tête montée_ regarding madame," said
+Pierre Noir one evening to Jean Breboeuf. "As to that--well, you know
+Monsieur L'as. Pouf! So much for yon monkey, _par comparaison_."
+
+"He is a great _capitaine_, Monsieur L'as," said Jean Breboeuf. "Never a
+better went beyond the Straits."
+
+"But very sad of late."
+
+"Oh, _oui_, since the death of his friend, Monsieur _le Capitaine_
+Pembroke--may Mary aid his spirit!"
+
+"Monsieur L'as goes not on the trail again," said Pierre Noir. "At
+least not while this look is in his eye."
+
+"The more the loss, Pierre Noir; but some day the woods will call to him
+again. I know not how long it may be, yet some day Mother Messasebe will
+raise her finger and beckon to Monsieur L'as, and say: 'Come, my son!'
+'Tis thus, as you know, Pierre Noir."
+
+Yet at length the straggling settlements at Montréal were reached, and
+here, after the fashion of the frontier, some sort of _ménage_ was
+inaugurated for Law and his party. Here they lived through the rest of
+the winter and through the long, slow spring.
+
+And then set on again the heats of summer, and there came apace the time
+agreed upon, in the month of August, for the widely heralded assembling
+of the tribes for the Great Peace; one of the most picturesque, as it
+was one of the most remarkable and significant meetings of widely
+diverse human beings, that ever took place within the ken of history.
+
+They came, these savages, now first owning the strength of the invading
+white men, from all the far and unknown corners of the Western
+wilderness. They came afoot, and with little trains of dogs, in single
+canoes, in little groups and growing flotillas and vast fleets of
+canoes, pushing on and on, down stream, following the tide of the furs
+down this pathway of more than a thousand miles. The Iroquois, for once
+mindful of a promise, came in a compact fleet, a hundred canoes strong,
+and they stalked about the island for days, naked, stark, gigantic,
+contemptuous of white and red men, of friend and foe alike. The
+scattered Algonquins, whose villages had been razed by these same savage
+warriors, came down by scores out of the Northern woods, along little,
+unknown streams, and over paths with which none but themselves were
+acquainted. From the North, group joined group, and village added itself
+to village, until a vast body of people had assembled, whose numbers
+would have been hard to estimate, and who proved difficult enough to
+accommodate. Yet from the farther West, adding their numbers to those
+already gathered, came the fleets of the driven Hurons, and the
+Ojibways, and the Miamis, and the Outagamies, and the Ottawas, the
+Menominies and the Mascoutins--even the Illini, late objects of the
+wrath of the Five Nations. The whole Western wilderness poured forth its
+savage population, till all the shores of the St. Lawrence seemed one
+vast aboriginal encampment. These massed at the rendezvous about the
+puny settlement of Montréal in such numbers that, in comparison, the
+white population seemed insignificant. Then, had there been a Pontiac or
+a Tecumseh, had there been one leader of the tribes able to teach the
+strength of unity, the white settlements of upper America had indeed
+been utterly destroyed. Naught but ancient tribal jealousies held the
+savages apart.
+
+With these tribesmen were many prisoners, captives taken in raids all
+along the thin and straggling frontier; farmers and artisans, peasants
+and soldiers, women raped from the farms of the Richelieu _censitaires_,
+and wood-rangers now grown savage as their captors and loth to leave the
+wild life into which they had so naturally grown. It was the first
+reflex of the wave, and even now the bits of flotsam and jetsam of wild
+life were fain to cling to the Western shore whither they had been
+carried by the advancing flood. This was the meeting of the ebb with the
+sea that sent it forward, the meeting of civilized and savage; and
+strange enough was the nature of those confluent tides. Whether the red
+men were yielding to civilization, or the whites all turning
+savage--this question might well have arisen to an observer of this
+tremendous spectacle. The wigwams of the different tribes and clans and
+families were grouped apart, scattered along all the narrow shore back
+of the great hill, and over the Convent gardens; and among these
+stalked the native French, clad in coarse cloth of blue, with gaudy belt
+and buckskins, and cap of fur and moccasins of hide, mingling
+fraternally with their tufted and bepainted visitors, as well as with
+those rangers, both envied and hated, the savage _coureurs de bois_ of
+the far Northern fur trade; men bearded, silent, stern, clad in
+breech-clout and leggings like any savage, as silent, as stoical, as
+hardy on the trail as on the narrow thwart of the canoe.
+
+Savage feastings, riotings and drunkenness, and long debaucheries came
+with the Great Peace, when once the word had gone out that the fur trade
+was to be resumed. Henceforth there was to be peace. The French were no
+longer to raid the little cabins along the Kennebec and the Penobscot.
+The river Richelieu was to be no longer a red war trail. The English
+were no longer to offer arms and blankets for the beaver, belonging by
+right of prior discovery to those who offered French brandy and French
+beads. The Iroquois were no longer to pursue a timid foe across the
+great prairies of the valley of the Messasebe. The Ojibways were not to
+ambush the scattered parties of the Iroquois. The unambitious colonists
+of New England and New York were to be left to till their stony farms in
+quiet. Meantime, the fur trade, wasteful, licentious, unprofitable, was
+to extend onward and outward in all the marches of the West. From one
+end of the Great River of the West to the other the insignia of France
+and of France's king were to be erected, and France's posts were to hold
+all the ancient trails. Even at the mouth of the Great River,
+forestalling these sullen English and these sluggish English colonists,
+far to the south in the somber forests and miasmatic marshes, there was
+to be established one more ruling point for the arms of Louis the Grand.
+It was a great game this, for which the continent of America was in
+preparation. It was a mighty thing, this gathering of the Great Peace,
+this time when colonists and their king were seeing the first breaking
+of the wave on the shore of an empire alluring, wonderful, unparalleled.
+
+Into this wild rabble of savages and citizens, of priest and soldier and
+_coureur_, Law's friends, Pierre Noir and Jean Breboeuf, swiftly
+disappeared, naturally, fitly and unavoidably. "The West is calling to
+us, Monsieur," said Pierre Noir one morning, as he stood looking out
+across the river. "I hear once more the spirits of the Messasebe.
+Monsieur, will you come?"
+
+Law shook his head. Yet two days later, as he stood at that very point,
+there came to him the silent feet of two _coureurs_ instead of one. Once
+more he heard in his ear the question: "Monsieur L'as, will you come?"
+
+At this voice he started. In an instant his arms were about the neck of
+Du Mesne, and tears were falling from the eyes of both in the welcome of
+that brotherhood which is admitted only by those who have known together
+arms and danger and hardship, the touch of the hard ground and the sight
+of the wide blue sky.
+
+"Du Mesne, my friend!"
+
+"Monsieur L'as!"
+
+"It is as though you came from the depths of the sea, Du Mesne!" said
+Law.
+
+"And as though you yourself arose from the grave, Monsieur!"
+
+"How did you know--?"
+
+"Why, easily. You do not yet understand the ways of the wilderness,
+where news travels as fast as in the cities. You were hardly below the
+foot of Michiganon before runners from the Illini had spread the news
+along the Chicaqua, where I was then in camp. For the rest, the runners
+brought also news of the Big Peace. I reasoned that the Iroquois would
+not dare to destroy their captives, that in time the agents of the
+Government would receive the captives of the Iroquois--that these
+captives would naturally come to the settlements on the St. Lawrence,
+since it was the French against whom the Iroquois had been at war; that
+having come to Montréal, you would naturally remain here for a time. The
+rest was easy. I fared on to the Straits this spring, and then on down
+the Lakes. I have sold our furs, and am now ready to account to you with
+a sum quite as much as we should have expected.
+
+"Now, Monsieur," and Du Mesne stretched out his arm again, pointing to
+the down-coming flood of the St. Lawrence, "Monsieur, will you come? I
+see not the St. Lawrence, but the Messasebe. I can hear the voices
+calling!"
+
+Law dashed his hand across his eyes and turned his head away. "Not yet,
+Du Mesne," said he. "I do not know. Not yet. I must first go across the
+waters. Perhaps sometime--I can not tell. But this, my comrades, my
+brothers, I do know; that never, until the last sod lies on my grave,
+will I forget the Messasebe, or forget you. Go back, if you will, my
+brothers; but at night, when you sit by your fireside, think of me, as I
+shall think of you, there in the great valley. My friends, it is the
+heart of the world!"
+
+"But, Monsieur--"
+
+"There, Du Mesne--I would not talk to-day. At another time. Brothers,
+adieu!"
+
+"Adieu, my brother," said the _coureur_, his own emotion showing in his
+eyes; and their hands met again.
+
+"Monsieur is cast down," said Du Mesne to Pierre Noir later, as they
+reached the beach. "Now, what think you?
+
+"Usually, as you know, Pierre, it is a question of some woman. It
+reminds me, Wabana was remiss enough when I left her among the Illini
+with you. Now, God bless my heart, I find her--how think you? With her
+crucifix lost, cooking for a dirty Ojibway!"
+
+"Mary Mother!" said Pierre Noir, "if it be a matter of a woman--well,
+God help us all! At least 'tis something that will take Monsieur L'as
+over seas again."
+
+"'Tis mostly a woman," mused Du Mesne; "but this passeth my wit."
+
+"True, they pass the wit of all. Now, did I ever tell thee about the
+mission girl at Michilimackinac--but stay! That for another time. They
+tell me that our comrade, Greysolon du L'hut, is expected in to-morrow
+with a party from the far end of Superior. Come, let us have the news."
+
+    "_Tous les printemps,
+     Tant des nouvelles_,"
+
+hummed Du Mesne, as he flung his arm above the shoulder of the other;
+and the two so disappeared adown the beach.
+
+Dully, apathetically, Law lived on his life here at Montréal for yet a
+time, at the edge of that wilderness which had proved all else but Eden.
+Near to him, though in these guarded times guest by necessity of the
+good sisters of the Convent, dwelt Mary Connynge. And as for these two,
+it might be said that each but bided the time. To her Law might as well
+have been one of the corded Sulpician priests; and she to him, for all
+he liked, one of the nuns of the Convent garden. What did it all mean;
+where was it all to end? he asked himself a thousand times; and a
+thousand times his mind failed him of any answer. He waited, watching
+the great encampment disappear, first slowly, then swiftly and suddenly,
+so that in a night the last of the lodges had gone and the last canoe
+had left the shore. There remained only the hurrying flood of the St.
+Lawrence, coming from the West.
+
+The autumn came on. Early in November the ships would leave for France.
+Yet before the beginning of November there came swiftly and sharply the
+settlement of the questions which racked Law's mind. One morning Mary
+Connynge was missing from the Convent, nor could any of the sisters, nor
+the mother superior, explain how or when she had departed!
+
+Yet, had there been close observers, there might have been seen a boat
+dropping down the river on the early morning of that day. And at Quebec
+there was later reported in the books of the intendant the shipping,
+upon the good bark Dauphine, of Lieutenant Raoul de Ligny, sometime
+officer of the regiment Carignan, formerly stationed in New France; with
+him a lady recently from Montréal, known very well to Lieutenant de
+Ligny and his family; and to be in his care _en voyage_ to France; the
+name of said lady illegible upon the records, the spelling apparently
+not having suited the clerk who wrote it, and then forgot it in the
+press of other things.
+
+Certain of the governor's household, as well as two or three _habitants_
+from the lower town, witnessed the arrival of this lady, who came down
+from Montréal. They saw her take boat for the bark Dauphine, one of the
+last ships to go down the river that fall. Yes, it was easily to be
+established. Dark, with singular, brown eyes, _petite_, yet not over
+small, of good figure--assuredly so much could be said; for obviously
+the king, kindly as he might feel toward the colony of New France, could
+not send out, among the young women supplied to the colonists as wives,
+very many such demoiselles as this; otherwise assuredly all France
+would have followed the king's ships to the St. Lawrence.
+
+John Law, a grave and saddened man, yet one now no longer lacking in
+decision, stood alone one day at the parapet of the great rock of
+Quebec, gazing down the broad expanse of the stream below. He was alone
+except for a little child, a child too young to know her mother, had
+death or disaster at that time removed the mother. Law took the little
+one up in his arms and gazed hard upon the upturned face.
+
+"Catharine!" he said to himself. "Catharine! Catharine!"
+
+"Pardon, Monsieur," said a voice at his elbow. "Surely I have seen you
+before this?"
+
+Law turned. Joncaire, the ambassador of peace, stood by, smiling and
+extending his hand.
+
+"Naturally, I could never forget you," said Law.
+
+"Monsieur looks at the shipping," said Joncaire, smiling. "Surely he
+would not be leaving New France, after so luckily escaping the worst of
+her dangers?"
+
+"Life might be the same for me over there as here," replied Law. "As for
+my luck, I must declare myself the most unfortunate man on earth."
+
+"Your wife, perhaps, is ill?"
+
+"Pardon, I have none."
+
+"Pardon, in turn, Monsieur--but, you see--the child?"
+
+"It is the child of a savage woman," said Law.
+
+Joncaire pulled aside the infant's hood. He gave no sign, and a nice
+indifference sat in his query: "_Une belle sauvage_?"
+
+"_Belle sauvage_!"
+
+
+
+
+BOOK III
+
+FRANCE
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+THE GRAND MONARQUE
+
+
+On a great bed of state, satin draped, flanked with ancient tapestries,
+piled sickeningly soft with heaps of pillows, there lay a thin, withered
+little man--old, old and very feeble. His face was shrunken and drawn
+with pain; his eyes, once bright, were dulled; his brow, formerly
+imperious, had lost its arrogance. Under the coverings which, in the
+unrest of illness, he now pulled high about his face, now tossed
+restlessly aside, his figure lay, an elongated, shapeless blot, scarce
+showing beneath the silks. One limb, twitched and drawn up convulsively,
+told of a definite seat of pain. The hands, thin and wasted, lay out
+upon the coverlets; and the thumbs were creeping, creeping ever more
+insistently, under the cover of the fingers, telling that the battle for
+life was lost, that the surrender had been made.
+
+It was a death-bed, this great bed of state; a death-bed situated in the
+heart of the greatest temple of desire ever built in all the world. He
+who had been master there, who had set in order those miles of stately
+columns, those seas of glittering gilt and crystal, he who had been
+magician, builder, creator, perverter, debaser--he, Louis of France, the
+Grand Monarque, now lay suffering like any ordinary human being, like
+any common man.
+
+Last night the four and twenty violins, under the king's command, had
+shrilled their chorus, as had been their wont for years while the master
+dined. This morning the cordon of drums and hautboys had pealed their
+high and martial music. Useless. The one or the other music fell upon
+ears too dull to hear. The formal tribute to the central soul for a time
+continued of its own inertia; for a time royalty had still its worship;
+yet the custom was but a lagging one. The musicians grimaced and made
+what discord they liked, openly, insolently, scorning this weak and
+withered figure on the silken bed. The cordon of the white and blue
+guards of the Household still swept about the vast pleasure grounds of
+this fairy temple; yet the officers left their posts and conversed one
+with the other. Musicians and guards, spectators and populace, all were
+waiting, waiting until the end should come. Farther out and beyond,
+where the peaked roofs of Paris rose, back of that line which this
+imperious mind had decreed should not be passed by the dwellings of
+Paris, which must not come too near this temple of luxury, nor disturb
+the king while he enjoyed himself--back of the perfunctorily loyal
+guards of the Household, there reached the ragged, shapeless masses of
+the people of Paris and of France, waiting, smiling, as some animal
+licking its chops in expectation of some satisfying thing. They were
+waiting for news of the death of this shrunken man, this creature once
+so full of arrogant lust, then so full of somber repentance, now so full
+of the very taste of death.
+
+On the great tapestry that hung above the head of the curtained bed
+shone the double sun of Louis the Grand, which had meant death and
+devastation to so much of Europe. It blazed, mimicking the glory that
+was gone; but toward it there was raised no sword nor scepter more in
+vow or exaltation. The race was run, the sun was sinking to its setting.
+Nothing but a man--a weary, worn-out, dying man--was Louis, the Grand
+Monarque, king for seventy-two years of France, almost king of Europe.
+This death-bed lay in the center of a land oppressed, ground down,
+impoverished. The hearts and lives of thousands were in these
+colonnades. The people had paid for their king. They had fed him fat and
+kept him full of loves. In return, he had trampled the people into the
+very dust. He had robbed even their ancient nobles of honors and
+consideration. Blackened, ruined, a vast graveyard, a monumental
+starving-ground, France lay about his death-bed, and its people were but
+waiting with grim impatience for their king to die. What France might do
+in the future was unknown; yet it was unthinkable that aught could be
+worse than this glorious reign of Louis, the Grand Monarque, this
+crumbling clod, this resolving excrescence, this phosphorescent,
+disintegrating fungus of a diseased life and time.
+
+Seventy-two years a king; thirty years a libertine; twenty years a
+repentant. Son, grandson, great-grandson, all gone, as though to leave
+not one of that once haughty breed. For France no hope at all; and for
+the house of Bourbon, all the hope there might be in the life of a
+little boy, sullen, tiny, timid. Far over in Paris, busy about his games
+and his loves, a jesting, long-curled gallant, the Duke of Orléans,
+nephew of this king, was holding a court of his own. And from this court
+which might be, back to the court which was, but which might not be
+long, swung back and forth the fawning creatures of the former court.
+This was the central picture of France, and Paris, and of the New World
+on this day of the year 1715.
+
+In the room about the bed of state, uncertain groups of watchers
+whispered noisily. The five physicians, who had tried first one remedy
+and then another; the rustic physician whose nostrum had kept life
+within the king for some unexpected days; the ladies who had waited upon
+the relatives of the king; some of the relatives themselves; Villeroy,
+guardian of the young king soon to be; the bastard, and the wife of that
+bastard, who hoped for the king's shoes; the mistress of his earlier
+years, for many years his wife--Maintenon, that peerless hypocrite of
+all the years--all these passed, and hesitated, and looked, waiting, as
+did the hungry crowds in Paris toward the Seine, until the double sun
+should set, and the crawling thumbs at last should find their shelter.
+The Grand Monarque was losing the only time in all his life when he
+might have learned human wisdom.
+
+"Madame!" whispered the dry lips, faintly.
+
+She who was addressed as madame, this woman Maintenon, pious murderer,
+unrivaled hypocrite, unspeakably self-contained dissembler, the woman
+who lost for France an empire greater than all France, stepped now to
+the bed-side of the dying monarch, inclining her head to hear what he
+might have to say. Was Maintenon, the outcast, the widow, the wife of
+the king, at last to be made ruler of the Church in France? Was she to
+govern in the household of the king even after the king had departed?
+The woman bent over the dying man, the covetousness of her soul showing
+in her eyes, struggle as she might to retain her habitual and
+unparalleled self-control.
+
+The dying man muttered uneasily. His mind was clouded, his eyes saw
+other things. He turned back to earlier days, when life was bright, when
+he, Louis, as a young man, had lived and loved as any other.
+
+"Louise," he murmured. "Louise! Forgive! Meet me--Louise--dear one. Meet
+me yonder--"
+
+An icy pallor swept across the face of the arch hypocrite who bent over
+him. Into her soul there sank like a knife this consciousness of the
+undying power of a real love. La Vallière, the love of the youth of
+Louis, La Vallière, the beautiful, and sweet, and womanly, dead and gone
+these long years since, but still loved and now triumphant--she it was
+whom Louis now remembered.
+
+Maintenon turned from the bed-side. She stood, an aged and unhappy
+woman, old, gray and haggard, not success but failure written upon every
+lineament. For one instant she stood, her hands clenched, slow anger
+breaking through the mask which, for a quarter of a century, she had so
+successfully worn.
+
+"Bah!" she cried. "Bah! 'Tis a pretty rendezvous this king would set
+for me!" And then she swept from the room, raged for a time apart, and
+so took leave of life and of ambition.
+
+At length even the last energies of the once stubborn will gave way. The
+last gasp of the failing breath was drawn. The herald at the window
+announced to the waiting multitude that Louis the Fourteenth was no
+more.
+
+"Long live the king!" exclaimed the multitude. They hailed the new
+monarch with mockery; but laughter, and sincere joy and feasting were
+the testimonials of their emotions at the death of the king but now
+departed.
+
+On the next day a cheap, tawdry and unimposing procession wended its way
+through the back streets of Paris, its leader seeking to escape even the
+edges of the mob, lest the people should fall upon the somber little
+pageant and rend it into fragments. This was the funeral cortège of
+Louis, the Grand Monarque, Louis the lustful, Louis the bigot, Louis the
+ignorant, Louis the unhappy. They hurried him to his resting-place,
+these last servitors, and then hastened back to the palaces to join
+their hearts and voices to the rising wave of joy which swept across all
+France at the death of this beloved ruler.
+
+Now it happened that, as the funeral procession of the king was
+hurrying through the side streets near the confines of the old city of
+Paris, there encountered it, entering from the great highway which led
+from the east up to the city gates, the carriage of a gentleman who
+might, apparently with justice, have laid some claim to consequence. It
+had its guards and coachmen, and was attended by two riders in livery,
+who kept it company along the narrow streets. This equipage met the head
+of the hurrying funeral cortège, and found occasion for a moment to
+pause. Thus there passed, the one going to his grave, the other to his
+goal, the two men with whom the France of that day was most intimately
+concerned.
+
+There came from the window of the coach the voice of one inquiring the
+reason of the halt, and there might have been seen through the upper
+portion of the vehicle's door the face of the owner of the carriage. He
+seemed a man of imposing presence, with face open and handsome, and an
+eye bright, bold and full of intelligence. His garb was rich and
+elegant, his air well contained and dignified.
+
+"Guillaume," he called out, "what is it that detains us?"
+
+"It is nothing, Monsieur L'as," was the reply, "They tell me it is but
+the funeral of the king."
+
+"_Eh bien_!" replied Law, turning to one who sat beside him in the
+coach. "Nothing! 'Tis nothing but the funeral of the king!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+EVER SAID SHE NAY
+
+
+The coach proceeded steadily on its way, passing in toward that quarter
+where the high-piled, peaked roofs and jagged spires betokened ancient
+Paris. On every hand arose confused sounds from the streets, now filled
+with a populace merry as though some pleasant carnival were just
+beginning. Shopkeeper called across to his neighbor, tradesman gossiped
+with gallant. Even the stolid faces of the plodding peasants, fresh past
+the gate-tax and bound for the markets to seek what little there
+remained after giving to the king, bore an unwonted look, as though hope
+might yet succeed to their surprise.
+
+"Ohé! Marie," called one stout dame to another, who stood smiling in her
+doorway near by. "See the fine coach coming. That is the sort you and I
+shall have one of these days, now that the king is dead. God bless the
+new king, and may he die young! A plague to all kings, Marie. And now
+come and sit with my man and me, for we've a bottle left, and while it
+lasts we drink freedom from all kings!"
+
+"You speak words of gold, Suzanne," was the reply. "Surely I will drink
+with you, and wish a pleasant and speedy death to kings."
+
+"But now, Marie," said the other, argumentatively, "as to my good duke
+regent, that is otherwise. It goes about that he will change all things.
+One is to amuse one's self now and then, and not to work forever for the
+taxes and the conscription. Long live the regent, then, say I!"
+
+"Yes, and let us hope that regents never turn to kings. There are to be
+new days here in France. We people, aye, my faith! We people, so they
+say, are to be considered. True, we shall have carriages one day, Marie,
+like that of my Lord who passes."
+
+John Law and his companions heard broken bits of such speech as this as
+they passed on.
+
+"Ah, they talk," replied he at last, turning toward his companions, "and
+this is talk which means something. Within the year we shall see Paris
+upside down. These people are ready for any new thing. But"--and his
+face lost some of its gravity--"the streets are none too safe to-day, my
+Lady. Therefore you must forgive me if I do not set you down, but keep
+you prisoner until you reach your own gates. 'Tis not your fault that
+your carriage broke down on the road from Marly; and as for my brother
+Will and myself, we can not forego a good fortune which enables us at
+last to destroy a certain long-standing debt of a carriage ride given
+us, once upon a time, by the Lady Catharine Knollys."
+
+"At least, then, we shall be well acquit on both sides," replied the
+soft voice of the woman. "I may, perhaps, be an unwilling prisoner for
+so short a time."
+
+"Madam, I would God it might be forever!"
+
+It was the same John Law of old who made this impetuous reply, and
+indeed he seemed scarce changed by the passing of these few years of
+time. It was the audacious youth of the English highway who now looked
+at her with grave face, yet with eyes that shone.
+
+Some years had indeed passed since Law, turning his back upon the appeal
+of the wide New World, had again set foot upon the shores of England,
+from which his departure had been so singular. Driven by the goads of
+remorse, it had been his first thought to seek out the Lady Catharine
+Knollys; and so intent had he been on this quest, that he learned almost
+without emotion of the king's pardon which had been entered, discharging
+him of further penalty of the law of England. Meeting Lady Catharine, he
+learned, as have others since and before him, that a human soul may
+have laws inflexible; that the iron bars of a woman's resolve may bar
+one out, even as prison doors may bar him in. He found the Lady
+Catharine unshakeable in her resolve not to see him or speak with him.
+Whereat he raged, expostulated by post, waited, waylaid, and so at
+length gained an interview, which taught him many things.
+
+He found the Lady Catharine Knollys changed from a light-hearted girl to
+a maiden tall, grave, reserved and sad, offering no reproaches,
+listening to no protestations. Told of Sir Arthur Pembroke's horrible
+death, she wept with tears which his survivor envied. Told at length of
+the little child, she sat wide-eyed and silent. Approached with words of
+remorse, with expostulations, promises, she shrank back in absolute
+horror, trembling, so that in very pity the wretched young man left her
+and found his way out into a world suddenly grown old and gray.
+
+After this dismissal, Law for many months saw nothing, heard nothing of
+this woman whom he had wronged, even as he received no sign from the
+woman who had forsaken him over seas. He remained away as long as might
+be, until his violent nature, geyser-like, gathered inner storm and fury
+by repression, and broke away in wild eruption.
+
+Once more he sought the presence of the woman whose face haunted his
+soul, and once more he met ice and adamant stronger than his own fires.
+Beaten, he fled from London and from England, seeking still, after the
+ancient and ineffective fashion of man, to forget, though he himself had
+confessed the lesson that man can not escape himself, but takes his own
+hell with him wherever he goes.
+
+Rejected, as he was now, by the new ministry of England, none the less
+every capital of Europe came presently to know John Law, gambler,
+student and financier. Before every ruler on the continent he laid his
+system of financial revolution, and one by one they smiled, or shrugged,
+or scoffed at him. Baffled once more in his dearest purpose, he took
+again to play, play in such colossal and audacious form as never yet had
+been seen even in the gayest courts of a time when gaming was a vice to
+be called national. No hazard was too great for him, no success and no
+reverse sufficiently keen to cause him any apparent concern. There was
+no risk sharp enough to deaden the gnawing in his soul, no excitement
+strong enough to wipe away from his mind the black panorama of his past.
+
+He won princely fortunes and cast them away again. With the figure and
+the air of a prince, he gained greater reputation than any prince of
+Europe. Upon him were spent the blandishments of the fairest women of
+his time. Yet not this, not all this, served to steady his energies, now
+unbalanced, speeding without guidance. The gold, heaped high on the
+tables, was not enough to stupefy his mind, not enough though he doubled
+and trebled it, though he cast great golden markers to spare him trouble
+in the counting of his winnings. Still student, still mathematician, he
+sought at Amsterdam, at Paris, at Vienna, all new theories which offered
+in the science of banking and finance, even as at the same time he
+delved still further into the mysteries of recurrences and chance.
+
+In this latter such was his success that losers made complaint, unjust
+but effectual, to the king, so that Law was obliged to leave Paris for a
+time. He had dwelt long enough in Paris, this double-natured man, this
+student and creator, this gambler and gallant, to win the friendship of
+Philippe of Orléans, later to be regent of France; and gay enough had
+been the life they two had led--so gay, so intimate, that Philippe gave
+promise that, should he ever hold in his own hands the Government of
+France, he would end Law's banishment and give to him the opportunity he
+sought, of proving those theories of finance which constituted the
+absorbing ambition of his life.
+
+Meantime Law, ever restless, had passed from one capital of Europe to
+another, dragging with him from hotel to hotel the young child whose
+life had been cast in such feverish and unnatural surroundings. He
+continued to challenge every hazard, fearless, reckless, contemptuous,
+and withal wretched, as one must be who, after years of effort, found
+that he could not banish from his mind the pictures of a dark-floored
+prison, and of a knife-stab in the dark, and of raging, awful waters,
+and of a girl beautiful, though with sealed lips and heart of ice. From
+time to time, as was well known, Law returned to England. He heard of
+the Lady Catharine Knollys, as might easily be done in London; heard of
+her as a young woman kind of heart, soft of speech, with tenderness for
+every little suffering thing; a beautiful young woman, whose admirers
+listed scores; but who never yet, even according to the eagerest gossip
+of the capital, had found a suitor to whom she gave word or thought of
+love.
+
+So now at last the arrogant selfishness of his heart began to yield. His
+heart was broken before it might soften, but soften at last it did. And
+so he built up in his soul the image of a grave, sweet saint, kindly and
+gentle-voiced, unapproachable, not to be profaned. To this image--ah,
+which of us has not had such a shrine!--he brought in secret the homage
+of his life, his confessions, his despairs, his hopes, his resolutions;
+guiding thereby all his life, as well as poor mortal man may do, failing
+ever of his own standards, as all men do, yet harking ever back to that
+secret sibyl, reckoning all things from her, for her, by her.
+
+There came at length one chastened hour when they met in calmness, when
+there was no longer talk of love between them, when he stood before her
+as though indeed at the altar of some marble deity. Always her answer
+had been that the past had been a mistake; that she had professed to
+love a man, not knowing what that man was; that she had suffered, but
+that it was better so, since it had brought understanding. Now, in this
+calmer time, she begged of him knowledge of this child, regretting the
+wandering life which had been its portion, saying that for Mary Connynge
+she no longer felt horror and hatred. Thus it was that in a hasty moment
+Law had impulsively begged her to assume some sort of tutelage over that
+unfortunate child. It was to his own amazement that he heard Lady
+Catharine Knollys consent, stipulating that the child should be placed
+in a Paris convent for two years, and that for two years John Law should
+see neither his daughter nor herself. Obedient as a child himself he had
+promised.
+
+"Now, go away," she then had said to him. "Go your own way. Drink,
+dice, game, and waste the talents God hath given you. You have made ruin
+enough for all of us. I would only that it may not run so far as to
+another generation."
+
+So both had kept their promises; and now the two years were done, years
+spent by Law more manfully than any of his life. His fortune he had
+gathered together, amounting to more than a million livres. He had sent
+once more for his brother Will, and thus the two had lived for some time
+in company in lower Europe, the elder brother still curious as ever in
+his abstruse theories of banking and finance--theories then new, now
+outlived in great part, though fit to be called a portion of the great
+foundation of the commercial system of the world. It was a wiser and
+soberer and riper John Law, this man who had but recently received a
+summons from Philippe of Orléans to be present in Paris, for that the
+king was dying, and that all France, France the bankrupt and distracted,
+was on the brink of sudden and perhaps fateful change.
+
+With a quick revival of all his Highland superstition, Law hailed now as
+happy harbinger the fact that, upon his entry into Paris, the city once
+more of his hopes, he had met in such fashion this lady of his dreams,
+even at such time as the seal of silence was lifted from his lips. It
+was no wonder that his eye gleamed, that his voice took on the old
+vibrant tone, that every gesture, in thought or in spite of thought,
+assumed the tender deference of the lover.
+
+It was a fair woman, this chance guest of the highway whom he now
+accosted--bronze-haired, blue-eyed, soft of voice, queenly of mien,
+gentle, calm and truly lovable. Oh, what waste that those arms should
+hold nothing, that lips such as those should know no kisses, that eyes
+like those should never swim in love! What robbery! What crime! And this
+man, thief of this woman's life, felt his heart pinch again in the old,
+sharp anguish of remorse, bitterest because unavailing.
+
+For the Lady Catharine herself there had been also many changes. The
+death of her brother, the Earl of Banbury, had wrought many shifts in
+the circumstances of a house apparently pursued by unkind fate. Left
+practically alone and caring little for the life of London, even after
+there had worn away the chill of suspicion which followed upon the
+popular knowledge of her connection with the escape of Law from London,
+Lady Catharine Knollys turned to a life and world suddenly grown vague
+and empty. Travel upon the continent with friends, occasional visits to
+the old family house in England, long sojourns in this or the other
+city--such had been her life, quiet, sweet, reproachless and
+unreproaching. For the present she had taken an hôtel in the older part
+of Paris, in connection with her friend, the Countess of Warrington,
+sometime connected with the embassy of that Lord Stair who was later to
+act as spy for England in Paris, now so soon to know tumultuous scenes.
+With these scenes, as time was soon to prove, there was to be most
+intimately connected this very man who, now bending forward attentively,
+now listening respectfully, and ever gazing directly and ardently, heard
+naught of plots or plans, cared naught for the Paris which lay about,
+saw naught but the beautiful face before him, felt naught but some deep,
+compelling thrill in every heart-string which now reaching sweet accord
+in spite of fate, in spite of the past, in spite of all, went singing on
+in a deep melody of joy. This was she, the idol, the deity. Let the
+world wag. It was a moment yet ere paradise must end!
+
+"Madam, I would God it might be forever!" said Law again. The old
+stubborn nature was showing once more, but under it something deeper,
+softer, tenderer.
+
+A sudden panic fear called at the heart of her to whom he spoke. Two
+rosy spots shone in her cheeks, and as she gazed, her eyes showed the
+veiled softening of woman's gentleness. There fell a silence.
+
+"Madam, I could feel that this were Sadler's Wells over again," said Law
+a moment later.
+
+But now the carriage had arrived at the destination named by Lady
+Catharine. Law sprang out, hat in hand, and assisted Lady Catharine to
+the curb. A passing flower girl, gaily offering her wares, paused as the
+carriage drew up. Law turned quickly and caught from her as many roses
+as his hand could grasp, handing her in return half as much coin as her
+smaller palm could hold. He turned to the Lady Catharine, and bowed with
+that grace which was the talk of a world of gallants. In his hand he
+extended a flower.
+
+"Madam, as before!" he said.
+
+There was a sob in his voice. Their eyes met fairly, unmasked as they
+had not been for years. Tears came into the man's eyes, the first that
+had ever sat there; tears for the past, tears for that sweetness which
+once might have been.
+
+"'Tis for the king! They weep for the king!" sang out the hard voice of
+the flower girl, ironically, as she skipped away. "Ohé, for the king,
+for the king!"
+
+"Nay, for the queen!" said John Law, as he gazed into the eyes of
+Catharine Knollys.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+SEARCH THOU MY HEART
+
+
+"Only believe me, Lady Catharine, and I shall do everything I promised
+years ago--I shall lay all France at your feet. But if you deny me thus
+always, I shall make all France a mockery."
+
+"Monsieur is fresh from the South of France," replied the Lady Catharine
+Knollys. "Has Gascon wine perhaps put Gascon speech into his mouth?"
+
+"Oh, laugh if you like," exclaimed Law, rising and pacing across the
+great room in which these two had met. "Laugh and mock, but we shall
+see!"
+
+"Granted that Mr. Law is well within his customary modesty," replied
+Lady Catharine, "and granted even that Mr. Law has all France in the
+hollow of his hand to-day, to do with as he likes, I must confess I see
+not why France should suffer because I myself have found it difficult to
+endorse Mr. Law's personal code of morals."
+
+It was the third day after Law's entry into Paris, and the first time
+for more than two long years that he found himself alone with the Lady
+Catharine Knollys. His eagerness might have excused his impetuous and
+boastful speech.
+
+As for the Lady Catharine, that one swift, electric moment at the street
+curb had well-nigh undone more than two years of resolve. She had heard
+herself, as it were in a dream, promising that this man might come. She
+had found herself later in her own apartments, panting, wide-eyed,
+afraid. Some great hand, unseen, uninvited, mysterious, had swept
+ruthlessly across each chord of womanly reserve and resolution which so
+long she had held well-ordered and absolutely under control. It was
+self-distrust, fear, which now compelled her to take refuge in this
+woman's fence of speech with him. "Surely," argued she with herself, "if
+love once dies, then it is dead forever, and can never be revived.
+Surely," she insisted to herself, "my love is dead. Then--ah, but then
+was it dead? Can my heart grow again?" asked the Lady Catharine of
+herself, tremblingly. This was that which gave her pause. It was this
+also which gave to her cheek its brighter color, to her eye a softer
+gleam; and to her speech this covering shield of badinage.
+
+Yet all her defenses were in a way to be fairly beaten down by the
+intentness of the other. All things he put aside or overrode, and would
+speak but of himself and herself, of his plans, his opportunities, and
+of how these were concerned with himself and with her.
+
+"There are those who judge not so harshly as yourself, Madam," resumed
+Law. "His Grace the regent is good enough to believe that my studies
+have gone deeper than the green cloth of the gaming table. Now, I tell
+you, my time has come--my day at last is here. I tell you that I shall
+prove to you everything which I said to you long ago, back there in old
+England. I shall prove to you that I have not been altogether an idler
+and a trifler. I shall bring to you, as I promised you long ago, all the
+wealth, all the distinction--"
+
+"But such speech is needless, Mr. Law," came the reply. "I have all the
+wealth I need, nor do I crave distinction, save of my own selection."
+
+"But you do not dream! This is a day unparalleled. There will be such
+changes here as never yet were known. Within a week you shall hear of my
+name in Paris. Within a month you shall hear of it beyond the gates of
+Paris. Within a year you shall hear nothing else in Europe!"
+
+"As I hear nothing else here now, Monsieur?"
+
+Like a horse restless under the snaffle, the man shook his head, but
+went on. "If you should be offered wealth more than any woman of Paris,
+if you had precedence over the proudest peers of France--would these
+things have no weight with you?"
+
+"You know they would not."
+
+Law cast himself restlessly upon a seat across the room from her. "I
+think I do," said he, dejectedly. "At times you drive me to my wit's
+end. What then, Madam, would avail?"
+
+"Why, nothing, so far as the past is to be reviewed for you and me. Yet,
+I should say that, if there were two here speaking as you and I, and if
+they two had no such past as we--then I could fancy that woman saying to
+her friend, 'Have you indeed done all that lay within you to do?'"
+
+"Is it not enough--?"
+
+"There is nothing, sir, that is enough for a woman, but all!"
+
+"I have given you all."
+
+"All that you have left--after yourself."
+
+"Sharp, sharp indeed are your words, my Lady. And they are most sharp
+because they come with justice."
+
+"Oh," broke out the woman, "one may use sharp words who has been scorned
+for her own false friend! You would give me all, Mr. Law, but you must
+remember that it is only what remains after that--that--"
+
+"But would you, could you, have cared had there been no 'that'? Had I
+done all that lay in me to do, could you then have given me your
+confidence, and could you have thought me worthy of it?"
+
+"Oh, 'if!'"
+
+"Yes, 'if!' 'If,' and 'as though,' and 'in that case'--these are all we
+have to console us in this life. But, sweet one--"
+
+"Sir, such words I have forbidden," said Lady Catharine, the blood for
+one cause or another mounting again into her cheek.
+
+"You torture me!" broke out Law.
+
+"As much as you have me? Is it so much as that, Mr. Law?"
+
+He rose and stood apart, his head falling in despair. "As I have done
+this thing, so may God punish me!" said he. "I was not fit, and am not.
+Yet I was bold enough to hope that there could be some atonement, some
+thing--if my suffering--"
+
+"There are things, Mr. Law, for which no suffering atones. But why cause
+suffering longer for us both? You come again and again. Could you not
+leave me for a time untroubled?"
+
+"How can I?" blazed the man, his forehead furrowed up into a frown, the
+moist beads on his brow proving his own intentness. "I can not! I can
+not! That is all I know. Ask me not why. I can not; that is all."
+
+"Sir," said Lady Catharine, "this seems to me no less than terrible."
+
+"It is indeed no less than terrible. Yet I must come and come again,
+bound some day to be heard, not for what I am, but for what I might be.
+'Tis not justice I would have, dear heart, but mercy, a woman's mercy!"
+
+"And you would bully me to agree with you, as I said, in regard to your
+own excellent code of morals, Mr. Law?"
+
+"You evade, like any woman, but if you will, even have it so. At least
+there is to be this battle between us all our lives. I will be loved,
+Lady Catharine! I must be loved by you! Look in my heart. Search beneath
+this man that you and others see. Find me my own fellow, that other self
+better than I, who cries out always thus. Look! 'Tis not for me as I am.
+No man deserves aught for himself. But find in my heart, Lady Catharine,
+that other self, the man I might have been! Dear heart, I beseech you,
+look!"
+
+Impulsively, he even tore apart the front of his coat, as though indeed
+to invite such scrutiny. He stood before her, trembling, choking. The
+passion of his speech caused the color again to rush to the Lady
+Catharine's face. For a moment her bosom rose and fell tumultuously,
+deep answering as of old unto deep, in the ancient, wondrous way.
+
+"Is it the part of manhood to persecute a woman, Mr. Law?" she asked,
+her own uncertitude now showing in her tone.
+
+"I do not know," he answered.
+
+Lady Catharine looked at him curiously.
+
+"Do you love me, Mr. Law?" she asked, directly.
+
+"I have no answer."
+
+"Did you love that other woman?"
+
+It took all his courage to reply. "I am not fit to answer," said he.
+
+"And you would love me, too, for a time and in a way?"
+
+"I will not answer. I will not trifle."
+
+"And I am to think Mr. Law better than himself, better than other men;
+since you say no man dare ask actual justice?"
+
+"Worse than other men, and yet a man. A man--my God! Lady Catharine--a
+man unworthy, yet a man seized fatally of that love which neither life
+nor death can alter!"
+
+As one fascinated, Lady Catharine sat looking at him. "Then," said she,
+"any man may say to any woman--Mr. Law says to me--'I have cared for
+such, and so many other women to the extent, let us say, of so many
+pounds sterling. But I love you to the extent of twice as many pounds,
+shillings and pence?' Is that the dole we women may expect, Mr. Law?"
+
+"Have back your own words!" he cried. "Nothing is enough but all! And as
+God witnesseth in this hour, I have loved you with all my heart-beats,
+with all my prayers. I call upon you now, in the name of that love I
+know you once bore me--"
+
+Upon the face of the Lady Catharine there blazed the red mark of the
+shame of Knollys. Covering her face with her hands, she suddenly bent
+forward, and from her lips there broke a sob of pain.
+
+In a flash Law was at her side, kneeling, seeking to draw away her
+fingers with hands that trembled as much as her own.
+
+"Do not! Do not!" he cried. "I am not worth it! It shall be as you like.
+Let me go away forever. This I can not endure!"
+
+"Ah, John Law, John Law!" murmured Catharine Knollys, "why did you break
+my heart!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+THE REGENT'S PROMISE
+
+
+"Tell me, then, Monsieur L'as, of this new America. I would fain have
+some information at first hand. There was rumor, I know not how exact,
+that you once traveled in those regions."
+
+Thus spake his Grace Philippe, Duke of Orléans, regent of France, now,
+in effect, ruler of France. It was the audience which had been arranged
+for John Law, that opportunity for which he had waited all his life.
+Before him now, as he stood in the great council chamber, facing this
+man whose ambitions ended where his own began--at the convivial board
+and at the gaming table--he saw the path which led to the success that
+he had craved so long. He, Law of Lauriston, sometime adventurer and
+gambler, was now playing his last and greatest game.
+
+"Your Grace," said he, "there be many who might better than I tell you
+of that America."
+
+"There are many who should be able, and many who do," replied the
+regent. "By the body of the Lord! we get nothing but information
+regarding these provinces of New France, and each advice is worse than
+the one preceding it. The gist of it all is that my Lord Governor and my
+very good intendant can never agree, save upon one point or so. They
+want more money, and they want more soldiers--ah, yes, to be sure, they
+also want more women, though we sent them out a ship load of choice
+beauties not more than a six-month ago. But tell me, Monsieur L'as, is
+it indeed true that you have traveled in America?"
+
+"For a short time."
+
+"I have heard nothing regarding you from the intendant at Quebec."
+
+"Your Grace was not at that time caring for intendants. 'Twas many years
+ago, and I was not well known at Quebec by my own name."
+
+"_Eh bien_? Some adventure, then, perhaps? A woman at the bottom of it,
+I warrant."
+
+"Your Grace is right."
+
+"'Twas like you, for a fellow of good zest. May God bless all fair
+dames. And as to what you found in thus following--or was it in
+fleeing--your divinity?"
+
+"I found many things. For one, that this America is the greatest country
+of the world. Neither England nor France is to be compared with it."
+
+The regent fell back in his chair and laughed heartily.
+
+"Monsieur, you are indeed, as I have ever found you, of most excellent
+wit. You please me enormously."
+
+"But, your Grace, I am entirely serious."
+
+"Oh, come, spoil not so good a jest by qualifying, I beseech you!
+England or France, indeed--ah, Monsieur L'as, Monsieur L'as!"
+
+"Your own city of New Orléans, Sire, will lie at the gate of a realm
+greater than all France. Your Grace will hand to the young king, when he
+shall come of age, a realm excellently worth the ownership of any king."
+
+"You say rich. In what way?" asked the regent. "We have not had so much
+of returns after all. Look at Crozat? Look at--"
+
+"Oh fie, Crozat! Your Grace, he solved not the first problem of real
+commerce. He never dreamed the real richness of America."
+
+Philippe sat thoughtful, his finger tips together. "Why have we not
+heard of these things?" said he.
+
+"Because of men like Crozat, of men like your governors and intendants
+at Quebec. Because, your Grace, as you know very well, of the same
+reason which sent me once from Paris, and kept me so long from laying
+before you these very plans of which I now would speak."
+
+"And that cause?"
+
+"Maintenon."
+
+"Oh, ah! Indeed--that is to say--"
+
+"Louis would hear naught of me, of course. Maintenon took care that he
+should find I was but heretic."
+
+"As for myself," said Philippe the regent, "heretic or not heretic makes
+but small figure. 'Twill take France a century to overcome her late
+surfeit of religion. For us, 'tis most a question of how to keep the
+king in the saddle and France underneath."
+
+"Precisely, your Grace."
+
+"Frankly, Monsieur L'as, I take it fittest now not so much to ponder
+over new worlds as over how to keep in touch with this Old World yet
+awhile. France has danced, though for years she danced to the tune of
+Louis clad in black. Now France must pay for the music. My faith, I like
+not the look of things. This joyful France to-day is a hideous thing.
+These people laugh! I had sooner see a lion grin. Now to govern those
+given us by Providence to govern," and the regent smiled grimly at the
+ancient fiction, "it is most meet that the governed should produce
+somewhat of funds in order that they may be governed."
+
+"Yes, and the error has been in going too far," said Law. "These people
+have been taxed beyond the taxation point. Now they laugh."
+
+"Yes; and by God, Monsieur L'as, when France laughs, beware!"
+
+"Your Grace admits that France has no further resources."
+
+"Assuredly."
+
+"Then tax New France!" cried Law, his hand coming down hard upon the
+table, his eyes shining. "Mortgage where the security doubles every
+year, where the soil itself is security for wealth greater than all
+Europe ever owned."
+
+"Oh, very well, Monsieur; though later I must ask you to explain."
+
+"You admit that no more money can be forced from the people of France."
+
+"Ask the farmers of the taxes. Ask Chamillard of the Treasury. My faith,
+look out of the window! Listen! Do I not tell you that France is
+laughing?"
+
+"Very well. Let us also laugh. Let us all laugh together. There is money
+in France, more money in Europe. I assure you these people can be
+brought to give you cheerfully all they have."
+
+"It sounds well, Monsieur L'as, but let me ask you how?"
+
+"France is bankrupt--this is brutal, but none the less true. France must
+repudiate her obligations unless something be swiftly done. It is not
+noble to repudiate, your Grace. Yet, if we cancel and not repudiate, if
+we can obtain the gold of France, of Europe--"
+
+"Body of God! but you speak large, my friend."
+
+"Not so large. All subjects shrink as we come close to them by study.
+'Tis easy to see that France has not money enough for her own business.
+If we had more money in France, we should have more production, and if
+we had more production, we might have taxes. Thereby we might have
+somewhat in our treasury wherewith to keep the king in the saddle, and
+not under foot."
+
+"Then, if I follow you," said Philippe, leaning slightly forward and
+again placing his finger tips judicially together, "you would coin
+greater amounts of money. Then, I would ask you, where would you get
+your gold for the coinage?"
+
+"It is not gold I would coin," said Law, "but credit."
+
+"The kingdom hath been run on credit for these many years."
+
+"No, 'tis not that kind of credit that I mean. I mean the credit which
+comes of confidence. It is fate, necessity, which demands a new system.
+The world has grown too much for every man to put his sixpence into the
+other man's hand, and carry away in a basket what he buys. We are no
+longer savages, to barter beads for hides. Yet we were as savages, did
+we not come to realize that this insufficient coin must be replaced, in
+the evolution of affairs, just as barter has long ago been, replaced."
+
+"And by what?"
+
+"As I said, by credit."
+
+"Do not annoy me by things too deep, but rather suggest some definite
+plan, if that may be."
+
+"First of all, then, as I said to you years ago, we need a bank, a bank
+in which all the people of France shall have absolute confidence."
+
+"You would, then, wish a charter of some sort?"
+
+"Only provided your Grace shall please. I have of my own funds a half
+million livres or more. This I would put into a bank of general nature,
+if your Grace shall please. That should be some small guarantee of my
+good faith in these plans."
+
+"Monsieur L'as would seem to have followed play to his good fortune."
+
+"Never to so good fortune as when first I met your Grace," replied Law.
+"I have given to games of chance the severest thought and study. Just
+as much more have I given thought and study to this enterprise which I
+propose now to lay before you."
+
+"And you ask the patent of the Crown for your bank?"
+
+"It were better if the institution received that open endorsement."
+
+A slow frown settled upon the face of the other. "That is, at the
+beginning, impossible, Monsieur L'as," said the regent. "It is you who
+must prove these things which you propose."
+
+"Let it be so, then," said Law, with conviction. "I make no doubt I
+shall obtain subscriptions for the shares. Remember my words. Within a
+few months you shall see trebled the energies of France. Money is the
+only thing which we have not in France. Why, your Grace, suppose the
+collectors of taxes in the South of France succeed in raising the king's
+levies. That specie must come by wheeled vehicle all the way to Paris.
+Consider what loss of time is there, and consider what hindrance to the
+trade of the provinces from which so much specie is taken bodily, and to
+which it can return later only a little at a time. Is it any wonder that
+usury is eating up France? There is not money enough--it is the one
+priceless thing; by which I mean only that there is not belief, not
+confidence, not credit enough in France. Now, given a bank which holds
+the confidence of the people, and I promise the king his taxes, even as
+I promise to abolish usury. You shall see money at work, money begetting
+money, and that begetting trade, and that producing comfort, and comfort
+making easier the collection of the king's taxes."
+
+"By heaven! you begin to make it somewhat more plain to me."
+
+"One thing I beg you to observe most carefully, your Grace," said Law,
+"nor must it ever be forgotten in our understanding. The shares of this
+bank must have a fixed value in regard to the coin of the realm. There
+must be no altering of the value of our coin. Grant that the coin does
+not fluctuate, and I promise you that my bank _actions_, notes of the
+chief bank of Paris, shall soon be found better than gold or silver in
+the eyes of France. Moreover, given a greater safety to foreign gold,
+and I promise you that too shall pour into Paris in such fashion as has
+never yet been seen. Moreover, the people will follow their coin. Paris
+will be the greatest capital of Europe. This I promise you I can do."
+
+"In effect," said the regent, smiling, "you promise me that you can
+build a new Paris, a new world! Yet much of this I can in part believe
+and understand. Let that be as it may. The immediate truth is that
+something must be done, and done at once."
+
+"Obviously."
+
+"Our public debt is twenty-six hundred millions of livres. Its annual
+interest is eighty millions of livres. We can not pay this interest
+alone, not to speak of the principal. Obviously, as you say, the matter
+admits of no delay. Your bank--why, by heaven, let us have your bank!
+What can we do without your bank? Lastly, how quickly can we have it?"
+
+"Sire, you make me the happiest man in all the world!"
+
+"The advantage is quite otherwise, sir. But my head already swims with
+figures. Now let us set the rest aside until to-morrow. Meantime, I must
+confess to you, my dear friend, there is somewhat else that sits upon my
+mind."
+
+A change came upon the demeanor of his Grace the regent. Laying aside
+the dignity of the ruler with the questions of state, he became again
+more nearly that Philippe of Orléans, known by his friends as gay, care
+free and full of _camaraderie_.
+
+"Your Grace, could I be of the least personal service, I should be too
+happy," said Law.
+
+"Well, then, I must admit to you that this is a question of a diamond."
+
+"Oh, a diamond?"
+
+"The greatest diamond in the world. Indeed, there is none other like it,
+and never will be. This Jew hounds me to death, holding up the thing
+before mine eyes. Even Saint Simon, that priggish little duke of ours,
+tells me that France should have this stone, that it is a dignity which
+should not be allowed to pass away from her. But how can France,
+bankrupt as she is, afford a little trifle which costs three million
+francs? Three million francs, when we can not pay eighty millions annual
+interest on our debts!"
+
+"'Tis as you say, somewhat expensive," said Law.
+
+"Naturally, for I say to you that this stone had never parallel in the
+history of the world. It seems that this overseer in the Golconda mines
+got possession of it in some fashion, and escaped to Europe, hiding the
+stone about his person. It has been shown in different parts of Europe,
+but no one yet has been able to meet the price of this extortioner who
+owns it."
+
+"And yet, as Saint Simon says, there is no dignity too great for the
+throne of France."
+
+"Yet, meantime, the king will have no use for it for several years to
+come. There is the Sancy stone--"
+
+"And, as your Grace remembers, this new stone would look excellent well
+upon a woman?" said Law. He gazed, calm and unsmiling, directly into the
+eyes of Philippe of Orléans.
+
+"Monsieur L'as, you have the second sight!" cried the latter,
+unblushingly. "You have genius. May God strike me blind if ever I have
+seen a keener mind than thine!"
+
+"All warm blood is akin," replied John Law. "This stone is perhaps for
+your Grace's best beloved?"
+
+"Eh--ah--which? As you know--"
+
+"Ah! Perhaps for La Parabère. Richly enough she deserves it."
+
+"Ah, Monsieur L'as, even your mind is at fault now," cried the regent,
+shaking his finger exultingly. "I covet this new stone, not for Parabère
+nor for any one of those dear friends whom you might name, and whom you
+may upon occasion have met at some of my little suppers. It is for
+another, whose name or nature you can not guess."
+
+"Not that mysterious beauty of whom rumor goes about this week, the
+woman rated surpassing fair, who has lately come into the acquaintance
+of your Grace, and whom your Grace has concealed as jealously as though
+he feared to lose her by some highway robbery?"
+
+"It is the same, I must admit!"
+
+Law remained thoughtful for a time. "I make no doubt that the Hebrew
+would take two million francs for this stone," said he.
+
+"Perhaps, but two millions is the same as three millions," said
+Philippe. "The question is, where to get two millions."
+
+"As your Grace has said, I have been somewhat fortunate at play,"
+replied Law, "but I must say that this sum is beyond me, and that both
+the diamond and the bank I can not compass. Yet, your Grace has at
+disposal the crown jewels of France. Now, beauty is the sovereign of all
+sovereigns, as Philippe of Orléans must own. To beauty belongs the use
+of these crown jewels. Place them as security, and borrow the two
+millions. For myself, I shall take pride in advancing the interest on
+the sum for a certain time, until such occasion as the treasury may
+afford the price of this trinket. In a short time it will be able to do
+so, I promise your Grace; indeed able to buy a dozen such stones, and
+take no thought of the matter."
+
+"Monsieur L'as, do you actually believe these things?"
+
+"I know them."
+
+"And you can secure for me this gem?"
+
+"Assuredly. We shall have it. Let it be called the 'Regent's Diamond,'
+after your Grace of Orléans. And when the king shall one day wear it,
+let us hope that he will place it as fitly as I am sure your Grace will
+do, on the brow of beauty--even though it be beauty unknown, and kept
+concealed under princely prerogative!"
+
+"Ah! You are too keen, Monsieur L'as, too keen to see my new discovery.
+Not for a little time shall I take the risk of introducing this fair
+friend to one so dangerous as yourself; but one of these times, my very
+good friend, if you can secure for me this diamond, you shall come to a
+very little supper, and see where for a time I shall place this gem, as
+you say, on the brow of beauty. For the sake of Monsieur L'as, head
+magician of France my mysterious alien shall then unmask."
+
+"And then I am to have my bank?"
+
+"Good God, yes, a thousand banks!"
+
+"It is agreed?"
+
+"It is agreed."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+A DAY OF MIRACLES
+
+
+The regent of France kept his promise to Law, and the latter in turn
+fulfilled his prophecy to the regent. Moreover, he swiftly went far
+toward verifying his boast to the Lady Catharine Knollys; for in less
+than a month his name was indeed on every tongue in Paris. The Banque
+Générale de L'as et Compagnie was seized upon by the public, debtor and
+creditor alike, as the one new thing, and hence as the only salvation.
+As ever, it pleased Paris to be mystified. In some way the rumor spread
+about that Monsieur L'as was _philosophique_; that the Banque Générale
+was founded upon "philosophy." It was catch-word sufficient for the
+time.
+
+"_Vive_ Jean L'as, _le philosophe_--Monsieur L'as, he who has saved
+France!" So rang the cry of the shallow-witted people of an age splendid
+even in its contradictions. And meantime the new bank, crudely
+experimental as it was, flourished as though its master spirit had
+indeed in his possession the philosopher's stone, turning all things to
+gold.
+
+One day, shortly after the beginning of that brilliantly spectacular
+series of events destined so soon to make Paris the Mecca of the world,
+there sat at table, in a little, obscure _cabaret_ of the gay city, a
+group of persons who seemed to have chosen that spot for purposes of
+privacy. Yet privacy was difficult where all the curious passers-by
+stared in amaze at the great coach near the door, half filling the
+narrow and unclean street--a vehicle bearing the arms of no less a
+person than that august and unscrupulous representative of the French
+nobility, the Prince de Conti. No less a person than the prince himself,
+thin-faced, aquiline and haughty, sat at this table, looking about him
+like any common criminal to note whether his speech might be overheard.
+Next to him sat a hook-nosed Jew from Austria, Fraslin by name, one of
+many of his kind gathered so quickly within the last few weeks in Paris,
+even as the scent of carrion fetches ravens to the feast. Another of the
+party was a man of middle age, of handsome, calm, patrician features and
+an unruffled mien--that De la Chaise, nephew of the confessor of Louis
+the Grand, who Was later to represent the young king in the provinces of
+Louisiana.
+
+Near by the latter, and indeed the central figure of this gathering, was
+one less distinguished than either of the above, evidently neither of
+churchly ancestry nor civic distinction--Henri Varenne, sometime clerk
+for the noted Paris Frères, farmers of the national revenues. Varenne,
+now serving but as clerk in the new bank of L'as et Compagnie, could
+have been called a man of no great standing; yet it was he whose
+presence had called hither these others to this unusual meeting. In
+point of fact, Varenne was a spy, a spy chosen by the jealous Paris
+Frères, to learn what he might of the internal mechanism of this new and
+startling institution which had sprung into such sudden prominence.
+
+"As to the bank of these brothers L'as," said the Prince de Conti,
+rapping out emphasis with his sword hilt on the table, "it surely has
+much to commend it. Here is one of its notes, and witness what it says.
+'The bank promises to pay to the bearer at sight the sum of fifty livres
+in coin of the weight and standard of this day.' That is to say, of this
+date which it bears. Following these, are the words 'value received.'
+Now, my notary tells me that these words make this absolutely safe, so
+that I know what it means in coin to me at this day, or a year from now.
+Is it not so, Monsieur Fraslin?"
+
+The Jew reached out his hand, took the note, and peered over it in close
+scrutiny.
+
+"'Tis no wonder, Monsieur le Prince," said he, presently, "that orders
+have been given by the Government to receive this note without discount
+for the payment of the general taxes. Upon my reputation, I must say to
+you that these notes will pass current better than your uncertain coin.
+The specie of the king has been changed twice in value by the king's
+orders. Yet this bases itself upon a specie value which is not subject
+to any change. Therein lies its own value."
+
+"It is indeed true," broke in Varenne. "Not a day goes by at this new
+bank but persons come to us and demand our notes rather than coin of the
+realm of France."
+
+"Yes, yes," broke in the prince, "we are agreed as to all this, but
+there is much talk about further plans of this Monsieur L'as. He has the
+ear of his Grace the regent, surely. Now, sir, tell us what you know of
+these future affairs."
+
+"The rumor is, as I understand it," answered Varenne, "that he is to
+take over control of the Company of the West--to succeed, in short, to
+the shoes of Anthony Crozat. There come curious stories of this province
+of Louisiana."
+
+"Of course," resumed the prince, with easy wisdom, "we all of us know of
+the voyage of L'Huillier, who, with his four ships, went up this great
+river Messasebe, and who, as is well known, found that river of Blue
+Earth, described by early writers as abounding in gold and gems."
+
+"Aye, and there comes the strange part of it, and this is what I would
+lay before your Lordships, as bearing upon the value of the shares of
+this new bank, since it is taking over the charter of the Company of the
+West. It is news not yet known upon the street. The story goes that the
+half has not been told of the wealth of these provinces.
+
+"Now, as you say, L'Huillier had with him four ships, and it is well
+known that his gentlemen had with them certain ladies of distinction,
+among these a mysterious dame reported to have earlier traveled in
+portions of New France. The name of this mysterious female is not known,
+save that she is reported to have been a good friend of a
+_sous-lieutenant_ of the regiment Carignan, sometime dweller at Quebec
+and Montréal, and who later became a lieutenant under L'Huillier. It is
+said that this same mysterious fair, having returned from America and
+having cast aside her lieutenant, has come under protection of no less a
+person than his Grace Philippe of Orléans, the regent. Now, as you know,
+the bank is the best friend of the regent, and this mysterious dame, as
+we are advised by servants of his Grace's household, hath told his Grace
+such stories of the wealth of the Messasebe that he has secretly and
+quickly made over the control of the trade of those provinces to this
+new bank. There is story also that his Grace himself will not lack
+profit in this movement!"
+
+The hand of Conti smote hard upon the table. "By heaven! it were strange
+thing," said he, "if this foreign traveler should prove the same
+mysterious beauty Philippe is reported to have kept in hiding. My faith,
+is it indeed true that we are come upon a time of miracles?"
+
+"Listen!" broke in again Varenne, his ardor overcoming his
+obsequiousness. "These are some of the tales brought back--and reported
+privately, I can assure you, gentlemen, now for the first time and to
+yourselves. The people of this country are said to be clad in beauteous
+raiment, made of skins, of grasses, and of the barks of trees. Their
+ornaments are made of pure, yellow gold, and of precious gems which they
+pick up from the banks of the streams, as common as pebbles here in
+France. The climate is such that all things grow in the most unrivaled
+fruitfulness. There is neither too much sun nor too much rain. The lakes
+and rivers are vast and beautiful, and the forests are filled with
+myriads of strange and sweet-voiced birds. 'Tis said that the dream of
+Ponce de Leon hath been realized, and that not only one, but scores of
+fountains of youth have been discovered in this great valley. The people
+are said never to grow old. Their personal beauty is of surpassing
+nature, and their disposition easy and complaisant to the last degree--"
+
+"My faith, say on!" broke in De la Chaise. "'Tis surely a story of
+paradise which you recount."
+
+"But, listen, gentlemen! The story goes yet farther. As to mines of gold
+and silver, 'twas matter of report that such mines are common in all the
+valley of the Messasebe. Indeed the whole surface of the earth, in some
+parts, is covered with lumps of gold, so that the natives care nothing
+for it. The bottoms of the streams, the beaches of the lakes, carry as
+many particles of gold as they have pebbles and little stones. As for
+silver, none take note of it. 'Tis used as building stone."
+
+"In the name of Jehovah, is there support for these wonders you have
+spoken?" broke in Fraslin the Jew, his eyes shining with suppressed
+excitement.
+
+"Assuredly. Yet I am telling not half of the news which came to my
+knowledge this very morning--the story is said to have emanated from the
+Palais Royal itself, and therefore, no doubt, is to be traced to this
+game unknown queen of the Messasebe. She reports, so it is said, that
+beyond the country where L'Huillier secured his cargo of blue earth,
+there is a land where grows a most peculiar plant. The meadows and
+fields are covered with it, and it is said that the dews of night, which
+gather within the petals of these flowers, become, in the course of a
+single day, nothing less than a solid diamond stone! From this in time
+the leaves drop down, leaving the diamond exposed there, shining and
+radiant."
+
+"Ah, bah!" broke in Fraslin the Jew. "Why believe such babblings? We all
+know that the diamond is a product not of the vegetable but of the
+mineral world!"
+
+"So have we known many things," stoutly replied Varenne, "only to find
+ourselves frequently mistaken. Now for my part, a diamond is a diamond,
+be it born in a flower or broken from a rock. And as for the excellence
+of these stones, 'tis rumored that the lady hath abundant proof. 'Tis no
+wonder that the natives of the valley of the Messasebe robe themselves
+in silks, and that they deck themselves carelessly with precious stones,
+as would a peasant of ours with a chain of daisy blossoms. Now, if there
+be such wealth as this, is it not easy to see the profit of a bank which
+controls the trade with such a province? True, there have been some
+discoveries in this valley, but nothing thorough. 'Tis but recent the
+thing hath been done thorough."
+
+The Prince de Conti sat back in his chair and drew a long breath. "If
+these things be true," said he, "then this Monsieur L'as is not so bad a
+leader to follow."
+
+"But listen!" exclaimed Varenne once more. "I have not even yet told you
+the most important thing, and this is rumor which perhaps your Grace has
+caught. 'Tis whispered that the bank of the brothers L'as is within a
+fortnight to be changed."
+
+"What is that?" queried Fraslin quickly. "'Tis not to be abandoned?"
+
+"By no means. Abandoned would be quite the improper word. 'Tis to be
+improved, expanded, increased, magnified! My Lords, there is the
+opportunity of a life-time for every one of us here!"
+
+"Say on, man, say on!" commanded the prince, the covetousness of his
+soul shining in his eyes as he leaned forward.
+
+"I mean to say this," and the spy lowered his voice as he looked
+anxiously about. "The regent hath taken a fancy to be chief owner
+himself of an enterprise so profitable. In fine, the Banque Générale is
+to become the Banque Royale. His Majesty of France, represented by his
+Grace the regent, is to become the head banker of France and Europe!
+Monsieur L'as is to be retained as director-general of this Banque
+Royale. There are to be branches fixed in different cities of the realm,
+at Lyons, at Tours, at Amiens, at Rochelle, at Orléans--in fact, all
+France is to go upon a different footing."
+
+The glances of the Prince de Conti and the Austrian met each other. The
+Jew drew a long breath as he sat back in his chair, his hands grasping
+at the edge of the table. Try as he might, he scarce could keep his chin
+from trembling. He licked out his tongue to moisten his lips.
+
+"There is so much," resumed Varenne, "that 'tis hard to tell it all. But
+you must know that this Banque Royale will be still more powerful than
+the old one. There will be incorporated with it, not only the Company of
+the West, but also the General Company of the Indies, as you know, the
+most considerable mercantile enterprise of France. Now listen! Within
+the first year the Banque Royale will issue one thousand million livres
+in notes. This embodiment of the Compagnie Générale of the Indies will
+warrant, as I know by the secret plans of the bank, the issue of notes
+amounting to two billion livres. Therefore, as Monsieur de la Chaise
+signifies, he who is lucky enough to-day to own a few _actions_ of the
+Banque Royale, or even the old _actions_ of Monsieur L'as' bank, which
+will be redeemed by its successor, is in a way to gain greater sums than
+were ever seen on the face of any investment from the beginning of the
+world until to-day! Now, as I was about to ask of you, Monsieur
+Fraslin--"
+
+The speaker turned in his chair to where Fraslin had been but a moment
+before. The chair was empty.
+
+"Our friend stepped to the door but on the instant," said De la Chaise.
+"He is perhaps--"
+
+"That he has," cried Varenne. "He is the first of us to profit! Monsieur
+le Prince, in virtue of what I have said to you, if you could favor me
+with an advance of a few hundred louis, I could assure my family of
+independence. Monsieur le Prince! Monsieur le Prince--"
+
+Monsieur le Prince, however, was not so far behind the Austrian! Varenne
+followed him, tugging at his coat, but Conti shook him off, sprang into
+his carriage and was away.
+
+"To the Place Vendôme!" he cried to his coachman, "and hasten!"
+
+De la Chaise, aristocratic, handsome and thick-witted, remained alone at
+the table, wondering what was the cause of this sudden commotion.
+Varenne re-appeared at the door wringing his hands.
+
+"What is it, my friend?" asked De la Chaise. "Why all this haste? Why
+this confusion?"
+
+"Nothing!" exclaimed Varenne, bitterly, "except that every minute of
+this day is worth a million francs. Man, do you know?"--and in his
+frenzy he caught De la Chaise by the collar and half shook him out of
+his usual calm--"man, can you not see that Jean L'as has brought
+revolution into Paris? Oh! This L'as, this devil of a L'as! A thousand
+louis, my friend, a hundred, ten--give me but ten louis, and I will make
+you rich! A day of miracles is here!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+THE GREATEST NEED
+
+
+There sprang now with incredible swiftness upward and outward an Aladdin
+edifice of illusion. It was as though indeed this genius who had waved
+his wand and bidden this fairy palace of chimera to arise, had used for
+his material the intangible, iridescent film of bubbles, light as air.
+Wider and wider spread the balloon of phantasm. Higher and higher it
+floated, on it fixed the eyes of France. And France laughed, and asked
+that yet other bubbles should be blown.
+
+All France was mad, and to its madness there was joined that of all
+Europe. The population of Paris doubled. The prices of labor and
+commodities trebled in a day. There was now none willing to be called
+artisan. Every man was broker in stocks. Bubbles, bubbles, dreams,
+fantasies--these were the things all carried in their hands and in their
+hearts. These made the object of their desire, of their pursuit
+unimaginably passionate and frenzied.
+
+With a leap from the somberness of the reign of Louis, all France went
+to the extreme of levity. Costumes changed. Manners, but late devout,
+grew debonair. Morals, once lax, now grew yet more lax. The blaze and
+tinsel, the music and the rouge, the wine, the flowing, uncounted
+gold--all Paris might have been called a golden brothel of delirious
+delight, tenanted by a people utterly gone mad.
+
+It was a house made of bubbles. Its domes were of bubbles. Its roof was
+of bubbles, and its walls. Its windows were of that nacreous film. Even
+its foundations had naught in them more substantial than an evanescent
+dream of gauze-like web, frail as the spider's house upon the dew-hung
+grasses.
+
+Yet as to this latter, there should be somewhat of qualification. The
+wizard who created this fairy structure saw it swiftly grow beyond its
+original plan, saw unforeseen results spring from those causes which
+were first well within his comprehension.
+
+Berated by later generations as an adventurer, a schemer, a charlatan,
+Law originally deserved anything but such a verdict of his public.
+Dishonest he was not, insincere he never was; and as a student of
+fundamentals, he was in advance of his age, which is ever to be
+accursed. His method was but the forerunner of the modern commercial
+system, which is of itself to-day but a tougher faith bubble, as may be
+seen in all the changing cycles of finance and trade. His bank was but
+a portion of a nobler dream. His system was but one vast belief, one
+glorious hope.
+
+The Company of the West--this it was that made John Law's heart throb.
+America--its trade--its future! John Law, dead now and gone--he was the
+colossal pioneer! He saw in his dreams what we see to-day in reality;
+and no bubble of all the frenzied Paris streets equaled this splendid
+dream of a renewed and revived humanity that is a fact to-day.
+
+But there came to this dreamer and doer, at the very door of his
+success, that which arrested him even upon his entering in. There came
+the preliminary blow which in a flash his far-seeing mind knew was to
+mean ultimate ruin. In a word, the loose principles of a dissolute man
+were to ruin France, and with it one who had once saved France from
+ruin.
+
+Philippe of Orléans found it ever difficult to say no to a friend, and
+more so if that friend were a woman; and of the latter sort, none had
+more than he. Men and women alike, these could all see only this
+abundance of money made of paper. What, then, was to prevent the regent,
+all powerful, from printing more and yet more of it, and giving it to
+his friends? The regent did so. Never were mistresses better paid than
+those of Philippe of Orléans, receiving in effect faithlessness in
+return for insincerity.
+
+Philippe of Orléans could not see why, since credit based on specie made
+possible a great volume of accepted notes, a credit based on all France
+might not warrant an indefinite issue of such notes. He offered his
+director-general all the concessions which the crown could give, all the
+revenue-producing elements of France--in effect, all France itself, as
+security. In return he asked but the small privilege of printing for
+himself as much money as he chose and whenever he saw fit!
+
+The notes of the private bank of Law were an absolute promise to pay a
+certain and definite sum, not a changeable or indefinite sum; and Law
+made it a part of his published creed that any banker was worthy of
+death who issued notes without having the specie wherewith to pay them.
+He insisted that the payment should mean specie in the value of the day
+on which the note was issued. This item the regent liked little, as
+being too irksome for his temper. Was it not of record how Louis, the
+Grand Monarque, had twice made certain millions for himself by the
+simple process of changing the value of the coin? Dicing, drinking,
+amorous Philippe, easy-going, shallow-thinking, truly wert thou better
+fitted for a throne than for a banker's chair!
+
+The royal bank, which the regent himself hastened to foster when he saw
+the profits of the first private bank of circulation and discount France
+had ever known, issued notes against which Law entered immediately his
+firm protest. He saw that their tenor spelled ruin for the whole system
+of finance which, at such labor, he had erected. These notes promised to
+pay, for instance, fifty livres "in silver coin," not "in coin of the
+weight and standard of this day," as had the honester notes of Law's
+bank. That is to say, the notes meant nothing sure and nothing definite.
+They might be money for a time, but not forever; and this the
+director-general was too shrewd a man not to know.
+
+"But under this issue you shall have all France," said the regent to him
+one day, as they renewed their discussion yet again upon this scheme.
+"You shall have the farming of the taxes. I will give you all the
+foreign trade as monopoly, if you like--will give you the mint--will
+give you, in effect, as I have said, all France. But, Monsieur my
+director-general, I must have money. It is for that purpose that I
+appoint you director-general--because I find you the most remarkable man
+in all the world."
+
+"Your Grace," said Law, "print your notes thus, and print them to such
+extent as you wish, and France is again worse than bankrupt! Then,
+indeed, you have worse than repudiated the debts of France."
+
+"Ah bah! _mon drôle_! You are ill to-day. You have a _migraine_,
+perhaps? What folly for you to speak thus. France hath swiftly grown so
+strong that she can never again be ruined. What ails my magician, my
+Prince of Golconda, this morning? France bankrupt! Even were it so, does
+that relieve me of this begging of De Prie, of Parabère, and all the
+others? My God, Monsieur L'as, they are like leeches! They think me made
+of money."
+
+"And your Grace thinks France made of money."
+
+"Nay; I only think my director-general is made of money, or can make it
+as he likes."
+
+And this was ever the end of Law's reproaches and his expostulations.
+This, then, was to be the end of his glorious enterprises, thought he,
+as he sat one morning, staring out of the window when left alone. This
+sordid love for money for its own sake--this was to be the limit of an
+ambition which dealt in theories, in men, in nations, and not in livres
+and louis d'or! Law smiled bitterly. For an instant he was not the
+confident man of action and of affairs, not the man claiming with
+assurance the perpetual protection of good fortune. He sat there, alone,
+feeling nothing but the great human craving for sympathy and trust. A
+line of carriages swept back across the street at his window, and
+streams of nobles besought entrance at his door. And the man who had
+called out all these, the man for whose friendship all Europe
+clamored--that man sat with aching heart, longing, craving, begging now
+of fortune only the one thing--a friend!
+
+At last he arose, his face showing lean and haggard. He passed into
+another room.
+
+"Will," said he, "I am at a place where I am dizzy and need a hand. You
+know what hand it means for me. Can you go--will you take her, as you
+did once before for me, a message? I can not go. I can not venture into
+her presence. Will you go? Tell her it is the last time! Tell her it is
+the last!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+THE MIRACLE UNWROUGHT
+
+
+"You do not know my brother, Lady Catharine."
+
+Thus spoke Will Law, who had been admitted but a half hour since at the
+great door of the private hotel where dwelt the Lady Catharine Knollys.
+
+"'Twould seem, then, 'tis by no fault of his," replied Lady Catharine,
+hotly.
+
+"And is that not well? There are many in Paris who would fain change
+places with you, Lady Catharine."
+
+"Would heaven they might!" exclaimed she. "Would that my various
+friends, or the prefect of police, or heaven knows who that may have
+spread the news of my acquaintance with your brother, would take me out
+of that acquaintance!"
+
+"They might hold his friendship a high honor," said Will.
+
+"Oh, an honor! Excellent well comes this distinguished honor. Sirrah,
+carriages block my street, filled with those who beseech my introduction
+to John Law. I am waylaid if I step abroad, by women--persons of
+quality, ladies of the realm, God knoweth what--and they beg of me the
+favor of an introduction to John Law! There seems spread, I know not
+how, a silly rumor of the child Kate. And though I did scarce more than
+name a convent for her attendance, there are now out all manner of
+reports of Monsieur John Law's child, and--what do I say--'tis
+monstrous! I protest that I have come closer than I care into the public
+thoughts with this prodigy, this John Law, whose favor is sought by
+every one. Honor!--'tis not less than outrage!"
+
+"'Tis but argument that my brother is a person not without note."
+
+"But granted. 'We have seen his carriage at your curb,' they say. I
+insist that it is a mistake. 'But we saw him come from your door at such
+and such an hour.' If he came, 'twas but for meeting such answer as I
+have always given him. Will they never believe--will your brother
+himself never believe that, though did he have, as he himself says, all
+France in the hollow of his hand, he could be nothing to me? Now I will
+make an end to this. I will leave Paris."
+
+"Madam, you might not be allowed to go."
+
+"What! I not allowed to go! And what would hinder a Knollys of Banbury
+from going when the hour shall arrive?"
+
+"The regent."
+
+"And why the regent?"
+
+"Because of my brother."
+
+"Your brother!"
+
+"Assuredly. My brother is to-day king of Paris. If he liked he could
+keep you prisoner in Paris. My brother does as he chooses. He could
+abolish Parliament to-morrow if he chose. My brother can do all
+things--except to win from you, Lady Catharine, one word of kindness, of
+respect. Now, then, he has come to the end. He told me to come to you
+and bear his word. He told me to say to you that this is the last time
+he will importune, the last time that he will implore. Oh, Lady
+Catharine! Once before I carried to you a message from John Law--from
+John Law, not in distress then more than he is now, even in this hour of
+his success."
+
+Lady Catharine paled as she sank back into her seat. Her white hand
+caught at the lace at her throat. Her eyes grew dark in their emotion.
+
+"Yes, Madam," went on Will Law, tears shining in his own eyes, "'twas I,
+an unfaithful messenger, who, by an error, wrought ruin for my brother
+and for yourself, even as I did for myself. Madam, hear me! I would be a
+better messenger to-day."
+
+Lady Catharine sat still silent, her bosom heaving, her eyes gone wide
+and straining.
+
+"I have seen my brother weep," said Will, going on impulsively. "I have
+seen him walk the floor at night, have heard him cry out to himself.
+They call him crazed. Indeed he is crazed. Yet 'tis but for one word
+from you."
+
+"Sir," said Lady Catharine, struggling to gain self-control, and in
+spite of herself softened by this appeal, "you speak well."
+
+"If I do, 'tis but because I am the mouth-piece of a man who all his
+life has sought to speak the truth; who has sought--yes, I say to you
+even now, Lady Catharine--who has sought always to live the truth. This
+I say in spite of all that we both know."
+
+There came no reply from the woman, who sat still looking at him, not
+yet moved by the voice of the proxy as she might then have been by the
+voice of that proxy's principal. Vehemently the young man, ordinarily so
+timid and diffident, approached her.
+
+"Look you!" exclaimed he. "If my brother said he could lay France at
+your feet, by heaven! he can well-nigh do so now. See! Here are some of
+the properties he has lately purchased in the realm of France. The
+Marquisat d'Effiat--'tis worth eight hundred thousand livres; the estate
+of Riviere--worth nine hundred thousand livres; the estate of
+Roissy--worth six hundred and fifty thousand livres; the estates of
+Berville, of Fontaine, of Yville, of Gerponville, of Tancarville, of
+Guermande--the tale runs near a score! Lately my brother has purchased
+the Hôtel Mazarin, and the property at Rue Vivienne, paying for them one
+million two hundred thousand livres. He has other city properties,
+houses in Paris, estates here and there, running not into the hundreds
+of thousands, but into the millions of livres in actual value. Among
+these are some of the estates of the greatest nobles of France. Their
+value is more than any man can compute. Is this not something? Moreover,
+there goes with it all the dignity of the most stupendous personal
+success ever made by a single man since the world began. 'Tis all yours,
+Lady Catharine. And unless you share it, it has no value to my brother.
+I know myself that he will fling it all away, calling it worthless,
+since he can not have that greatest fortune which he craves!"
+
+"Sirrah, I have entertained much speech of both yourself and your
+brother, because I would not seem ungracious nor forgetful. Yet this
+paying of court by means of figures, by virtue of lists of estates--do
+you not know how ineffectual this must seem?"
+
+"If you could but understand!" cried Will. "If you could but believe
+that there is none on earth values these less than my brother. Under
+all this he has yet greater dreams. His ambition is to awaken an old
+world and to build a new one. By heaven! Lady Catharine, I am asked to
+speak for my brother, and so I shall! These are his ambitions. First of
+all, Lady Catharine, you. Second, America. Third, a people for
+America--a people who may hope! Oh, I admit all the folly of his life.
+He played deep, yet 'twas but to forget you. He drank, but 'twas to
+forget you. Foolish he was, as are all men. Now he succeeds, and finds
+he can not forget you. I have told you his ambitions, Madam, and though
+others may never know nor acknowledge them, you, at least, must do so.
+And I beg you to remember, Madam, that of all his ambitions, 'twas you,
+Lady Catharine, your favor, your kindness, your mercy, that made his
+first and chief desire."
+
+"As for that," said the woman, somewhat scornfully, "if you please, I
+had rather I received my protestations direct; and your brother knows I
+forbid him further protestations. He has, it is true, raised some
+considerable noise by way of enterprises. That I might know, even did I
+not see this horde of dukes and duchesses and princes of the blood,
+clamoring for the recognition of even his remotest friends. I know,
+too, that he is accepted as a hero by the people."
+
+"And well he may be. Coachmen and valets have liveries of their own
+these days. Servants now eat from plate, and clerks have their own
+coaches. Paris is packed with people, and, look you, they are people no
+longer clamoring for bread. Who has done this? Why, my brother, John Law
+of Lauriston, Lady Catharine, who loves you, and loves you dearly."
+
+The old wrinkle of perplexity gathered between the brows of the woman
+before him. Her face was clouded, the changeful eyes now deep covered by
+their lids.
+
+Lacking the precise word for that crucial moment, Will Law broke further
+on into material details. "To be explicit, as I have said," resumed he,
+"everything seems to center about my brother, the director-general of
+finance. He took the old notes of the government, worth not half their
+face, and in a week made them treble their face value. The king owes him
+over one hundred million livres to-day. My brother has taken over the
+farming of the royal taxes. And now he forms a little Company of the
+Indies; and to this he adds the charter of the Senegal Company. Not
+content, he adds the entire trade of the Indies, of China and the South
+Seas. He has been given the privilege of the royal farming of tobacco,
+for which he pays the king the little trifle of two hundred million
+livres, and assures to the king certain interest moneys, which, I need
+not say, the king will actually obtain. In addition to these things, he
+has lately been given the mint of France. The whole coinage of the realm
+has been made over to this Company of the Indies. My brother pays the
+king fifty million livres for this privilege, and this he will do within
+fifteen months. All France is indeed in the hands of my brother. Now,
+call John Law an adventurer, a gambler, if you will, and if you can; but
+at least admit that he has given life and hope to the poor of France,
+that he has given back to the king a people which was despoiled and
+ruined by the former king. He has trebled the trade of France, he has
+saved her honor, and opened to her the avenues of a new world. Are these
+things nothing? They have all been done by my brother, this man whom you
+believe incapable of faith and constancy. Good God! It surely seems that
+he has at least been constant to himself!"
+
+"Oh, I hear talk of it all. I hear that a share in the new company
+promises dividends of two hundred livres. I hear talk of shares and
+'sub-shares,' called 'mothers,' and 'daughters,' and 'granddaughters,'
+and I know not what. It seems as though half the coin were divided into
+centimes, and as though each centime had been planted by your brother
+and had grown to be worth a thousand pounds. I admit somewhat of
+knowledge of these miracles."
+
+"True, Lady Catharine. Can there not be one miracle more?"
+
+Lady Catharine Knollys bent her face forward upon her hands, unhappiness
+in every gesture.
+
+"Sir," said she, "it grieves my heart to say it; yet this answer you
+must take to your brother, John Law. That miracle hath not yet been
+wrought which can give us back the past again."
+
+"This," said Will Law, sadly, "is this all the message I may take?"
+
+"It is all."
+
+"Though it is the last?"
+
+"It is the last."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+THE LITTLE SUPPER OF THE REGENT
+
+
+Paris, city of delights, Paris drunk with gold, mad with the delirium of
+excesses, Paris with no aim except joy, no method but extravagance, held
+within her gilded gates one citadel of sensuality which remained ever an
+object of mystery, a source of curiosity even in that dissipated and
+pleasure-sated city. In the Palais Royal, back of the regally beautiful
+gardens, back of the noble rows of trees, beyond the gates of iron and
+the guards in uniform, lived France's regent, in a city of libertines
+the prince of libertines. In a city where there were more mistresses
+than wives, he it was who led the list of the licentious. In a city of
+unregulated vice and yet of exquisitely ordered taste, he it was who
+accorded to himself daily pleasures which were admittedly beyond
+approach. How unspeakably unbridled, how delightfully wicked, how
+temptingly ingenious in their features the little suppers of the regent
+might be--these were matters of curious interest to all, of intimate
+knowledge to but few.
+
+It was to one of these famous yet mysterious gatherings that the regent
+of France had invited the master of that great and glittering bubble
+house, wherein dwelt so insecurely the affairs of France. John Law,
+director-general of the finances, controller of the Company of the
+Indies, was chosen by Philippe of Orléans for a position not granted to
+the crafty Dubois or to the shrewd D'Argenson, the last of that strange
+trinity who made his council. John Law, gallant, graceful, owner of a
+reputation as wit and beau scarce behind that of his sudden fame as
+financier, was admitted not only to the business affairs of the gay
+duke, but to his pleasures as well. To him and his brother Will, still
+associated in large measure in the stupendous operations of the
+director-general, there came the invitation of the regent, practically
+the command of the king, to join the regent after the opera for a little
+supper at the Palais Royal.
+
+Law would have excused himself from this unsought honor. "Your Grace
+will observe," said he, "that my time is occupied to the full. The
+people scarcely suffer me to rest at night. Perhaps your Grace might not
+care for company so dull as mine."
+
+"Fie! my friend, my very good friend," replied Philippe. "Have you
+become _dévot_? Whence this sudden change? Consider; 'tis no hardship to
+meet such ladies as Madame de Sabran, or Madame de Prie--designer
+though I fear De Prie is for the domestic felicity of the youthful
+king--nor indeed my good friend, La Parabère, somewhat pale and pensive
+though she groweth. And what shall I say for Madame de Tencin, the
+_spirituelle_, who is to be with us; or Madame de Caylus, niece of
+Maintenon, but the very opposite of Maintenon in every possible way?
+Moreover, we are promised the attendance of Mademoiselle Aïssé. She hath
+become devout of late, and thinks it a sin even to powder her hair, but
+Aïssé devout is none the less Aïssé the beautiful."
+
+"Surely your Grace hath never lacked in excellent taste, and that is the
+talk of Paris," replied Law.
+
+"Oh, well, long training bringeth perfection in due time," replied
+Philippe of Orléans, composedly, it having no ill effect with him to
+call attention to his numerous intrigues. "It should hardly be called a
+poor privilege, after all, to witness the results of that highly
+cultivated taste, as it shall be displayed this evening, not to mention
+the privilege you will have of meeting one or two other gentlemen; and
+lastly, of course, myself, if you be not tired of such company."
+
+"Your Grace," replied Law, "you both honor and flatter me."
+
+"Why, sir, you speak as if this were a new experience for you. Now, in
+the days--"
+
+"'Tis true; but of late years I have grown grave in the cares of state,
+as your Grace may know."
+
+"And most efficiently," replied the regent. "But stay! I have kept until
+the last my main attraction. You shall witness there, I give you my
+word, the making public of the secret of the fair unknown who is reputed
+to have been especially kind to Philippe of Orléans for these some
+months past. Join us at the little enterprise, my friend, and you shall
+see, I promise you, the most beautiful woman in Paris, crowned with the
+greatest gem of all the world. The regent's diamond, that great gem
+which you have made possible for France, shall, for the first time, and
+for one evening at least, adorn the forehead of the regent's queen of
+beauty!"
+
+As the gay words of the regent fell upon his ears, there came into Law's
+heart a curious tension, a presentiment, a feeling as though some great
+and curious thing were about to happen. Yet ever the challenge of danger
+was one to draw him forward, not to hold him back. If for a moment he
+had hesitated, his mind was now suddenly resolved.
+
+"Your Grace," said he, "your wish is for me command, and certainly in
+this instance is peculiarly agreeable."
+
+"As I thought," replied the regent. "Had you hesitated, I should have
+called your attention to the fact that the table of the Palais Royal is
+considered to possess somewhat of character. The Vicomte de Béchamel is
+at the very zenith of his genius, and he daily produces dishes such as
+all Paris has not ever dreamed. Moreover, we have been fortunate in some
+recent additions of most excellent _vin d'Ai_. I make no doubt, upon the
+whole, we shall find somewhat with which to occupy ourselves."
+
+Thus it came about that, upon that evening, there gathered at the
+entrance of the Palais Royal, after an evening with Lecouvreur at the
+Théâtre Français, some scattered groups of persons evidently possessing
+consequence. The chairs of others, from more distant locations,
+threading their way through the narrow, dark and unlighted streets of
+the old, crude capital of France, brought their passengers in time to a
+scene far different from that of the gloomy streets.
+
+The little supper of the regent, arranged in the private _salle_, whose
+decorations had been devised for the special purpose, was more
+entrancing than even the glitter of the mimic world of the Théâtre
+Français. There extended down the center of the room, though filling but
+a small portion of its vast extent, the grand table provided for the
+banquet, a reach of snowy linen, broken at the upper end by the arm of
+an abbreviated cross. At each end of this cross-arm stood magnificent
+candelabra, repeated at intervals along the greater extension of the
+board. Noble epergnes, filled with the choicest plants, found their
+reflections in plates of glass cunningly inlaid here and there upon the
+surface of the table. Vast mirrors, framed in wreaths of roses and
+surmounted by little laughing cupids, gleamed in the walls of the room,
+and in the faces of these mirrors were reflected the beams of the
+many-colored tapers, carried in brackets of engraved gold and silver and
+many-colored glasses. The ceiling of the room was a soft mass of silken
+draperies, depending edgewise from above, thousands of yards of the most
+expensive fabrics of the world. From these, as they were gently swayed
+by the breath of invisible fans, there floated delicious, languorous
+perfumes, intoxicating to the senses. On any hand within the great room,
+removed at some distance from the table, were rich, luxurious couches
+and divans.
+
+As one trod within the door of this temple of the senses, surely it must
+have seemed to him that he had come into another world, which at first
+glance might have appeared to be one of an unrighteous ease, an
+unprincipled enjoyment and an unmanly abandonment to embowered vice.
+Yet here it was that Philippe of Orléans, ruler of France, spent those
+hours most dear to him. If he gave thought to affairs of state during
+the day it was but that these affairs of state might give to him the
+means to indulge fancies of his own. Alike shrewd and easy, alike
+haughty and sensuous, here it was that Philippe held his real court.
+
+These young gentlemen of France, these _roués_ who have come to meet
+Philippe at his little supper--how different from the same beings under
+the rule of the Grand Monarque. Their coats are no longer dark in hue.
+Their silks and velvets have blossomed out, even as Paris has blossomed
+since the death of Louis the Grand. Jabots of lace are shown in full
+abundance, and so far from the abolishment of jewels from their garb,
+rubies, sapphires, diamonds sparkle everywhere, from the clasp of the
+high ruffles of the neck to the buckles of the red-heeled shoes. Powder
+sparkles on the head coverings of these new gallants of France. They
+step daintily, yet not ungracefully, into this brilliantly-lighted room,
+these creatures, gracious and resplendent, sparkling, painted,
+ephemeral, not unsuited to the place and hour.
+
+For the ladies, witness the attire, for instance, of that Madame de
+Tencin, the wonder of the wits of Paris. A full blue costume, with
+pannier more than five yards in circumference, under a skirt of silver
+gauze, trimmed with golden gauze and pink crape, and a train lying six
+yards upon the floor, showing silver embroideries with white roses. The
+sleeves are half-draped, as is the skirt, and each caught up with
+diamonds, showing folds lying above and below the silk underneath.
+Madame wears a necklace of rubies and of diamonds, and above the pannier
+a belt of diamonds and rubies. Her hair is dressed, following the mental
+habit of madame, in the Greek style, and abundantly trimmed with roses
+and gems and bits of silver gauze. There is a little crown upon the top
+of madame's coiffure. Her bodice, cut sufficiently low, is seen to be of
+light silken weave. From her hair depends a veil of light gauze covered
+with gold spangles, and it is secured upon the left side by a hand's
+grasp of pink and white feathers, surmounted by a magnificent heron
+plume of long and silken whiteness. The gloves of madame are white silk,
+and so also, as she is not reluctant to advise, are her stockings,
+picked out with pink and silver clocks. Her shoes, made by the
+celebrated _cordonnier_, Raveneau, show heels three inches in height. As
+madame enters she casts aside the camlet coat which has covered her
+costume. She sweeps back the veil, endangering its confining clasp of
+plumes. Madame makes a deliberate and open inspection of her face in her
+little looking-glass to discover whether her _mouches_ are well placed.
+She carefully arranges the patch upon the middle of her cheek. She would
+be "gallant" to-night, would lay aside things _spirituelle_. She twirls
+carelessly her fan, a creation of ivory and mother of pearl, elaborately
+carved, tipped with gold and silver and set with precious stones.
+
+Close at the elbow of Madame de Tencin steps a figure of different type,
+a woman not accustomed to please by brilliance of mind or vivacity of
+speech, but by sheer femininity of face and form. Tall, slender, yet
+with figure divinely proportioned, this beautiful girl, Haideé, or
+Mademoiselle Aïssé, reputed to be of Turkish or Circassian birth, and
+possessed of a history as strange as her own personality is attractive,
+would seem certainly as pure as angel of the skies. Not so would say the
+gossips of Paris, who whisper that mademoiselle is not happy from her
+_chevalier_--who speak of a certain visit to England, and a little child
+born across seas and not acknowledged by its parent. Aïssé, the devout,
+the beautiful, is no better than others of her sex in this gay city.
+True, she has abandoned all artificial aids to the complexion and
+appears distinct among her flattering rivals, the clear olive of her
+skin showing in strange contrast to the heightened colors of her
+sisters. Yet Aïssé, the toast of Europe and the text of poets, proves
+herself not behind the others in the loose gaiety of this occasion.
+
+And there came others: Madame de Prie, later to hold such intimate
+relations with the fortunes of France in the selection of a future queen
+for the boy king; De Sabran, plain, gracious and good-natured; Parabère,
+of delicately oval face, of tiny mouth, of thin high nose and large
+expressive eyes, her soft hair twined with a deep flushed rose, and over
+her corsage drooping a continuous garland of magnificent flowers. Also
+Caylus the wit, Caylus the friend of Peter the Great, by duty and by
+devotion a _religieuse_, but by thought and training a gay woman of the
+world--all these butterflies of the bubble house of Paris came swimming
+in as by right upon this exotic air.
+
+And all of these, as they advanced into the room, paused as they met,
+coming from the head of the apartment, the imposing figure of their
+host. Philippe of Orléans, his powdered wig drawn closely into a
+half-bag at the nape of the neck, his full eye shining with merriment
+and good nature, his soft, yet not unmanly figure appearing to good
+advantage in his well-chosen garments, advances with a certain dignity
+to meet his guests. He is garbed in a coat made of watered silk, its
+straight collar faced with dark-green material edged with gold. A green
+and gold shoulder knot sets off the garment, which is provided with
+large opal buttons set in brilliants, this same adornment appearing on
+the hilt of his sword, which he lays aside as he approaches. From the
+sides of his wig depend two carefully-arranged locks, dusted with a
+tan-colored powder. His small-clothes, of lighter hue than the coat,
+display fitly the proportions of his lower limbs. The high-heeled shoes
+blaze with the glare of reflected lights as the diamonds change their
+angles during the calm advance down the room.
+
+"Welcome, my very dear ladies," exclaimed Philippe, advancing to the
+head of the board and at once setting all at ease, if any there needed
+such encouragement, by the grace and good feeling of his air. "You do me
+much honor, ladies. If I be not careful, the fair Adrienne will become
+jealous, since I fear you have deserted the pomp of the play full early
+for the table of Philippe. Ladies, as you know, I am your devoted slave.
+Myself and the Vicomte de Béchamel have labored, seriously labored, for
+your welfare this day. I promise you something of the results of those
+painstaking efforts, which we both hope will not disappoint you.
+Meantime, that the moments may not lag, let me recommend, if I am
+allowed, this new vintage of Ai, which Béchamel advises me we have
+never yet surpassed in all our efforts. Madame de Tencin, let me beg of
+you to be seated close to my arm. Not upon this side, Mademoiselle
+Haidée, if you please, for I have been wheedled into promising that
+station this night to another. Who is it to be, my dear Caylus? Ah, that
+is my secret! Presently we shall see. Have I not promised you an
+occasion this evening? And did Philippe ever fail in his endeavors to
+please? At least, did he ever cease to strive to please his angels? Now,
+my children, accept the blessing of your father Philippe, your friend,
+who, though years may multiply upon him, retains in his heart, none the
+less, for each and all of you, those sentiments of passion and of
+admiration which constitute for him his dearest memories! Ladies, I pray
+you be seated. I pray you tarry not too long before proving the judgment
+of Béchamel in regard to this new vintage of Ai."
+
+"Ah, your Grace," exclaimed De Tencin, "were it not Philippe of Orléans,
+we women might not be apt to sit in peace together. Yet, as we have
+earlier proved your hospitality, we may perhaps not scruple to
+continue."
+
+Philippe smiled blandly. The remark was not ill-fitted to the actual
+case. Though the regent counted his sweethearts by scores, he dismissed
+the one with the same air of interest as he welcomed the other, and
+indeed ended by retaining all as his friends.
+
+"Madame de Tencin, in admiration there can be no degrees," said he. "In
+love there can be no rank."
+
+"Why, then, do you place as your chief guest this other, this unknown?"
+pouted Mademoiselle Aïssé, as she seated herself, turning upon her host
+the radiance of her large, dark eyes. "Is this stranger, then, so
+passing fair?"
+
+"Not so fair as you, my lovely Haidée, that I may swear, and safely,
+since she is not yet present. Yet I announce to you that she is _très
+intéressante_, my unknown queen of beauty, my _belle sauvage_ from
+America. But see! Here she comes. 'Tis time for her to appear, and not
+keep our guests in waiting."
+
+There sounded at the back of the great hall the tinkle of a little bell
+of some soft metal. It approached, and with it the sweeping stir of
+heavy silken garb. The door opened, admitting a still greater blaze of
+light, and there swept into the hall, as though swimming upon the flood
+of this added brilliance, a figure striking enough to arouse attention
+even at that time and place, even among the beauties of the court of
+France. There advanced, calm and stately, with the gliding ease of a
+perfect carriage, the figure of a woman, slender, with full bright eyes
+and somber hair--so much might be seen at a glance. Yet the newcomer
+left somewhat of query in the mind of womankind accustomed to view in
+detail any costume.
+
+The stranger was enveloped in a wide and undefining garment, a sweeping
+robe fit for any duchess of the realm, whose flowing folds showed a
+magnificent tissue of silver embroidery covered with golden flowers,
+below the plum-color and green. The high corsage of the white robe
+covered the bosom fully, and was caught at the throat with a bunch of
+blazing jewels. Under these soft draperies, tinkling in time with the
+movements of an otherwise noiseless tread, there sounded ever the faint
+note of the little bell. At the toe of shoes otherwise silent, there
+peeped in and out the flash of diamonds, and in the dark masses of her
+hair, shifting as she trod beneath each new sconce in turn, and catching
+more and more brilliance as she advanced, there smoldered the flame of a
+mass of scintillating gems. A queen's raiment was that of this unknown
+beauty, and she herself might have been a queen as she swept down the
+great hall, scornfully careless of the eyes of those other beauties.
+
+She stepped to the place at the regent's right hand, with head high and
+eyes undrooping. For a dramatic instant she paused, as though in the
+rehearsal of a part--a part of which it might be said that the regent
+was not alone the author. This triumph of woman over other women, this
+triumph of vice over other vice, of effrontery over effrontery
+akin--this could not have been so planned and executed by any but a
+woman. One another these beauties might tolerate, knowing one another's
+frailties as they did; yet the elegance, the disdain, the indifference
+of this newcomer--this they could not support. Hatred sat in the bosom
+of each woman there as she swept her courtesy to the new guest of the
+regent, who took her place as of right at the head of the board and near
+the regent's arm.
+
+"Our gentlemen are somewhat late this evening," exclaimed Philippe.
+"'Tis too bad the Abbé Dubois could not be with us to-night to
+administer clerical consolation."
+
+"Ah! _le drôle_ Dubois!" exclaimed Madame de Tencin.
+
+"And that vagabond, the Due de Richelieu--but we may not wait. Again
+ladies, the glasses, or Béchamel will be aggrieved. And finally, though
+I perceive most of you have graciously unmasked, let me say that the
+moment has now arrived when we make plain all secrets."
+
+He turned his gaze upon the woman at his right. As though at a signal,
+she half rose, unclasped the circlet of gems at her throat, and swept
+back across the arm of her chair the soft garment which enveloped her.
+
+A sigh, a long breath of amazement broke from those other dames of
+Paris. Not one of them but was sated with the blaze of diamonds, the
+rich, red light of rubies and the fathomless radiance of sapphires.
+Silks and satins and cloth of gold and silver had few novelties for
+them. The costumers of Paris, center of the world of art, even in those
+times of unrivaled extravagance and unbridled self-gratification, held
+no new surprise for these beauties, possessed so long of all that their
+imagination required or that princely liberality could supply. Yet here
+indeed was a surprise.
+
+As she stood at the regent's right, calmly and composedly looking down
+the long board as she arranged her drapery before reseating herself,
+this new favorite of the regent appeared in the full costume of the
+American native! A long soft tunic of exquisitely dressed white leather
+fell below her hips, intricately embroidered in the native bead work of
+America, and stained with great blotches of colors done in the quills of
+the porcupine--heavy reds, sprightly yellows, and deep blues. Down the
+seams of this loose-fitting tunic depended little waving fringes. The
+belt which caught it at the waist was wrought likewise in beads. Beneath
+the level of the table, as she stood, the inquiring eyes might not so
+clearly see; yet the white leggings, fringed and beaded, and covered by
+a sweeping blanket of snowy buckskin, might have been seen to finish at
+the ankle and blend in texture and ornamentation with tiny shoes, which
+covered the smallest foot yet seen in Paris--shoes at the side of which
+there dangled the little bells of metal whose tones had told her coming.
+
+Here and there upon the bead work of the native artist, who had made
+this attire at the expense of so much patient effort, there blazed the
+changing rays of real gems, diamonds, rubies, emeralds--every stone
+known as precious. As the full bosom of the scornful beauty rose and
+fell there were cast about in sprays of light the reflections of these
+gems. Bracelets of dull, beaten metal hung about her wrists. In her hair
+were ornaments of some dull blue stone. Barbaric, beautiful,
+fascinating, savage she surely seemed as she met unruffled the startled
+gaze of these beautiful women of the court, who never, at even the most
+fanciful _bal masque_ in all Paris, had seen costume like to this.
+
+"Ladies, _la voilà_!" spoke the regent. "_Ma belle sauvage_!"
+
+The newcomer swept a careless courtesy as she took her seat. As yet she
+had spoken no word. The door at the lower end of the hall opened.
+
+"His Grace le Duc de Richelieu," announced the attendant, who stood
+beneath the board.
+
+There advanced into the room, with slouchy, ill-bred carriage, a young
+man whose sole reputation was that of being the greatest rake in Paris,
+the Duc de Richelieu, half-gamin, half-nobleman, who counted more
+victims among titled ladies than he had fingers on his hands, whose sole
+concern of living was to plan some new impassioned avowal, some new and
+pitiless abandonment. This creature, meeting the salute of the regent,
+and catching at the same moment a view of the regent's guest, found eyes
+for nothing else, and stood boldly gazing at the face of her whom Paris
+knew for the first time and under no more definite title than that of
+"_Belle Sauvage_."
+
+"Pray you, be seated, Monsieur le Duc," said the regent, calmly, and the
+latter was wise enough to comply.
+
+"Your Grace," said Madame de Sabran, "was it not understood that we were
+to meet to-night none less than the wizard, Monsieur L'as?"
+
+"Monsieur L'as will be with us, and his brother," replied Philippe.
+"But now I ask you to bear witness to the shrewdness of your friend
+Philippe in entertainment. I bethought me that, as we were to have with
+us the master of the Messasebe, it were well to have with us also the
+typified genius of that same Messasebe. 'Twas but a little conceit of my
+own. And why--_mon enfant_, what is it to you? What do you know of our
+controller of finance?"
+
+The face of the woman at his right had suddenly gone white with a pallor
+visible even beneath its rouge and patches. She half turned, as though
+to push back her chair from the board, would have arisen, would have
+spoken perhaps; yet act and gesture were at the time unnoticed.
+
+"His Excellency, Monsieur Jean L'as, _le contrôleur-général_," came the
+soft tones of the attendant near the door. "Monsieur Guillaume L'as,
+brother of the _contrôleur-général_."
+
+The eyes of all were turned toward the door.. Every petted bolle of
+Paris there assembled shifted bodily in her seat, turning her gaze upon
+that man whose reputation was the talk of all the realm of France.
+
+There appeared now the tall, erect and vigorous form of a man owning a
+superb physical beauty. Powerful, yet not too heavy for ease, his figure
+retained that elasticity and grace which had won him favor in more than
+one court of Europe. He himself might have been king as he advanced
+steadily up the brilliantly-illuminated room. His costume, simply made,
+yet of the richest materials of the time; his wig, highly powdered
+though of modest proportions; his every item of apparel appeared alike
+of great simplicity and barren of pretentiousness. As much might be said
+for the garb of his brother, who stepped close behind him, a figure less
+self-contained than that of the man who now occupied the absorbed
+attention of the public mind, even as he now filled the eager eyes of
+those who turned to greet his entrance.
+
+"Ah, Monsieur L'as, Monsieur L'as!" exclaimed Philippe of Orléans,
+stepping forward to welcome him and taking the hand of Law in both his
+own. "You are welcome, you are very welcome indeed. The soup will be
+with us presently, and the wine of Ai is with us now. You and your
+brother are with us; so all at last is well. These ladies are, as I
+believe, all within your acquaintance. You have been present at the
+_salon_ of Madame de Tencin. You know her Grace the Duchesse de Falari,
+recently Madame d'Artague? Mademoiselle de Caylus you know very well,
+and of course also Mademoiselle Aïssé, _la belle Circassienne_--But
+what? _Diable_! Have you too gone mad? Come, is the sight of my guest
+too much for you also, Monsieur L'as?"
+
+There was irritation in the tone with which the regent uttered this
+protest, yet he continued.
+
+"Monsieur L'as, 'tis but a little surprise I had planned for you.
+Mademoiselle, my princess of the Messasebe, let me present Monsieur Jean
+L'as, king of the Messasebe, and hence your sovereign! This is my fair
+unknown, whose face I have promised you should see to-night--this,
+Monsieur L'as, is my princess, the one whom I have seen fit to honor
+this evening by the wearing of the chief gem of France."
+
+The regent fumbled for an instant at his fob. He stepped to the side of
+the faltering figure which stood arrayed in all its savage finery. One
+movement, and upon the dark locks which fell about her brow there blazed
+the unspeakable fires of a stone whose magnificence brought forth
+exclamations of awe from every person present.
+
+"See!" cried Philippe of Orléans. "'Twas on the advice and by the aid of
+Monsieur L'as that I secured the gem, whose like is not known in all the
+world. 'Tis chief of the crown jewels of the realm of France, this
+stone, now to be known as the regent's diamond. And now, as regent of
+France and master for a day of her jewels, I place this gem upon the
+brow of her who for this night is to be your queen of beauty!"
+
+The wine of Ai had already done part of its work. There were brightened
+eyes, easy gestures and ready compliance as the guests arose to quaff
+the toast to this new queen.
+
+As for the queen herself, she stood faltering, her eyes averted, her
+limbs trembling. John Law, tall, calm, self-possessed, did not take his
+seat, but stood with set, fixed face, gazing at the woman who held the
+place of honor at the table of the regent.
+
+"Come! Come!" cried the latter, testily, his wine working in his brain.
+"Why stand you there, Monsieur L'as, gazing as though spellbound?
+Salute, sir, as I do, the chief gem of France, and her who is most fit
+to wear it!"
+
+John Law stood, as though he had not heard him speak. There swept
+through the softly brilliant air, over the flash and glitter of the
+great banquet board, across the little group which stood about it, a
+sudden sense of a strange, tense, unfamiliar situation. There came to
+all a presentiment of some unusual thing about to happen. Instinctively
+the hands paused, even as they raised the bright and brimming glasses.
+The eyes of all turned from one to the other, from the stern-faced man
+to the woman decked in barbaric finery, who now stood trembling,
+drooping, at the head of the table.
+
+Law for a moment removed his gaze from the face of the regent's guest.
+He flicked lightly at the deep cuff of lace which hung about his hands.
+"Your Grace is not far wrong," said he. "I regret that you do not have
+your way in planning for me a surprise. Yet I must say to you, that I
+have already met this lady."
+
+"What?" cried the regent. "You have met her? Impossible! Incredible!
+How, Monsieur L'as? We will admit you wizard enough, and owner of the
+philosopher's stone--owner of anything you like, except this secret of
+mine own. According to mademoiselle's own words, it would have been
+impossible."
+
+"None the less, what I have said is true," said John Law, calmly, his
+voice even and well-modulated, vibrating a little, yet showing no trace
+of anger nor of emotional uncontrol.
+
+"But I tell you it could not be!" again exclaimed the regent.
+
+"No, it is impossible," broke in the young Duc de Richelieu. "I would
+swear that had such beauty ever set foot in Paris before now, the news
+would so have spread that all France had been at her feet."
+
+Law looked at the impudent youth with a gaze that seemed to pass
+through him, seeing him not. Then suddenly this scene and its
+significance, its ultimate meaning seemed to take instant hold upon him.
+He could feel rising within his soul a flood of irresistible emotions.
+All at once his anger, heritage of an impetuous youth, blazed up hot and
+furious. He trod a step farther forward, after his fashion advancing
+close to that which threatened him.
+
+"This lady, your Grace," said he, "has been known to me for years. Mary
+Connynge, what do you masquerading here?"
+
+A sudden silence fell, a silence broken at length by the voice of the
+regent himself.
+
+"Surely, Monsieur L'as," said Philippe, "surely we must accept your
+statements. But Monsieur must remember that this is the table of the
+regent, that these are the friends of the regent. We bring no
+recollections here which shall cut short the joy of any person. Sir, I
+would not reprimand you, but I must beg that you be seated and be calm!"
+
+Yet the imperious nature of the other brooked not even so pointed a
+rebuke. As though he had not heard, Law stepped yet a pace nearer to the
+woman, upon whom he now bent the blaze of his angered eyes. He looked
+neither to right nor left, but visually commanded the woman until in
+turn her eyes sought his own.
+
+"This woman, your Grace," said Law, at length, "was for some time in
+effect my wife. This I do not offer as matter of interest. What I would
+say to your Grace is this--she was also my slave!"
+
+"Sirrah!" cried the regent.
+
+"Ah, Dame!" exclaimed the Duc de Richelieu. And even from the women
+about there came little murmurs of expostulation. Indeed there might
+have been pity, even in this assemblage, for the agony now visible upon
+the brow of Mary Connynge.
+
+"Monsieur, the wine has turned your head," said the regent scornfully.
+"You boast!"
+
+"I boast of nothing," cried Law, savagely, his voice now ringing with a
+tone none present had ever known it to assume. "I say to you again, this
+woman was my slave, and that she will again do as I shall choose. Your
+Grace, she would come and wipe the dust from my shoes if I should
+command it! She would kneel at my feet, and beg of me, if I should
+command it! Shall I prove this, your Grace?"
+
+"Oh, assuredly!" replied the regent, with a sarcasm which now seemed his
+only relief. "Assuredly, if Monsieur L'as should please. We here in
+Paris are quite his humble servants."
+
+Law said nothing. He stood with his biting blue eyes still fixed upon
+Mary Connynge, whose own eyes faltered, trying their utmost to escape
+from his; whose fingers, resting just lightly on the snowy Hollands of
+the table cloth, moved tremulously; whose limbs appeared ready to sink
+beneath her.
+
+"Come, then, Mary Connynge!" cried Law at last, his teeth setting
+savagely together. "Come, then, traitress and slave, and kneel before
+me, as you did once before!"
+
+Then there ensued a strange and horrible spectacle. A hush as of death
+fell upon the group. Mary Connynge, trembling, halting, yet always
+advancing, did indeed as her master had bidden! She passed from the head
+of the table, back of the chair of the regent, who stood gazing with
+horror in his eyes; she passed the chair of Aïssé, near which Law now
+stood; she paused in front of him, and stood as though in a dream. Her
+knees would have indeed sunk beneath her. She drew from her bosom a
+silken kerchief, as though she would indeed have performed the ignoble
+service which had been threatened for her. There came neither voice nor
+motion to those who saw this thing. The sheer force of one strong
+nature, terrible in the intensity of one supreme moment--this might have
+been the spell which commanded at the table of the regent. Yet this did
+occur.
+
+There came a sound which broke the silence, which caused all to start as
+with swift relief. A sob, short, dry, hard, as from one whose heart is
+broken, came from beyond the place where Law stood facing the trembling
+woman. The eyes of all turned upon Will Law, from whom had burst this
+irrepressible exclamation of agony. Will Law, as one grown swiftly old,
+haggard, broken-down, stood gazing in wide-eyed horror at this woman, so
+humiliated in the presence of all in this brilliantly-lighted hall;
+before the blazing mirrors which should have reflected back naught but
+beauty and joy; under the twining roses, which should have been the
+signs manual of undying love; under the smiling cherubs, which should
+have typified the deities of happy love. Will Law, too, had loved.
+Perhaps still he loved.
+
+This sharp sound served to break also the spell under which Law himself
+seemed held. He cast aloft his arms, as in remorse or in despair. Then
+he extended a hand to the woman who would have sunk before him.
+
+"God forgive me! Madam," he cried. "I had forgot. Savage indeed you are
+and have been, but 'tis not for me to treat you brutally."
+
+"Your Grace," said he, turning toward the regent, "I crave your
+pardon. Our explanations shall reach you on the morrow."
+
+[Illustration]
+
+He turned, and taking his brother by the arm, advanced toward the door
+at which he had recently entered, pausing not to look behind him. Had
+his eye been more curious as he and his half-fainting brother bowed
+before passing through the door, it might have seen that which he must
+long have borne in memory.
+
+Mary Connynge, trembling, pallid, utterly broken, never found her way
+back to the right hand of the regent. She half stumbled into a chair
+near the foot of the table. Her bosom fluttered at the base of the
+throat. Half blindly she reached out her hand toward a glass of wine
+which stood near by, foaming and sparkling, its gem-like drops of keen
+pungency swimming continuously up to the surface. Her hand caught at the
+slender stem of the glass. Leaning upon her left arm, she half rose as
+though to put it to her lips. Her head moved, as though she would follow
+the retreating figure of the man who had thus scornfully used her. All
+at once, slowly, and then with a sudden crash, she sank down upon her
+seat and fell forward across the table. The fragile glass snapped in her
+fingers. The amber wine rushed in swift flood across the linen. In the
+broadening stain there fell and lay blazing the great gem of France.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+THE NEWS
+
+
+"Lady Kitty! Lady Kitty! Have you heard the news?"
+
+Thus, breathless, the Countess of Warrington, Lady Catharine's English
+neighbor in exile, who burst into the drawing-room early in the morning,
+not waiting for announcement of her presence.
+
+"Nay, not yet, my dear," said Lady Catharine, advancing and embracing
+her. "What is it, pray? Has the poodle swallowed a bone, or the baby
+perhaps cut another tooth? And, forsooth, how is the little one?"
+
+Lady Emily Warrington, slender, elegant, well clad, and for the most
+part languorously calm, was in a state of excitement quite without her
+customary _aplomb_. She sank into a seat, fanning herself with a vigor
+which threatened ruin to the precious slats of a fan which bore the
+handiwork of Watteau.
+
+"The streets are full of it," said she. "Have you not heard, really?"
+
+"I must say, not yet. But what is it?"
+
+"Why, the quarrel between the regent and his director-general, Mr.
+Law."
+
+"No, I have not heard of it." Lady Catharine sought refuge behind her
+own fan. "But tell me" she continued.
+
+"But that is not all. 'Twas the reason for the quarrel. Paris is all
+agog. 'Twas about a woman!"
+
+"You mean--there was--a woman?"
+
+"Yes, it all happened last night, at the Palais Royal. The woman is
+dead--died last night. 'Tis said she fell in a fit at the very
+table--'twas at a little supper given by the regent--and that when they
+came to her she was quite dead."
+
+"But Mr. Law--"
+
+"'Twas he that killed her!"
+
+"Good God! What mean you?" cried Lady Catharine, her own face blanching
+behind her protecting fan. The blood swept back upon her heart, leaving
+her cold as a statue.
+
+"Why," continued the caller, in her own excitement to tell the news
+scarce noting what went on before her, "it seems that this mysterious
+beauty of the regent's, of whom there has been so much talk, proved to
+be none other than a former mistress of this same Mr. Law, who is
+reputed to have been somewhat given to that sort of thing, though of
+late monstrous virtuous, for some cause or other. Mr. Law came suddenly
+upon her at the table of the regent, arrayed in some kind of savage
+finery--for 'twas in fashion a mask that evening, as you must know. And
+what doth my director-general do, so high and mighty? Why, in spite of
+the regent and in spite of all those present, he upbraids her, taunts
+her, reviles her, demanding that she fall on her knees before him, as it
+seems indeed she would have done--as, forsooth, half the dames of Paris
+would do to-day! Then, all of a sudden, my Lord Director changes, and he
+craves pardon of the woman and of the regent, and so stalks off and
+leaves the room! And now then the poor creature walks to the table,
+would lift a glass of wine, and so--'tis over! 'Twas like a play! Indeed
+all Paris is like a play nowadays. Of course you know the rest."
+
+A gesture of negative came from the hand that lay in Lady Catharine's
+lap. The busy gossip went on.
+
+"The regent, be sure, was angry enough at this cheapening of his own
+wares before all, and perhaps 'tis true he had a fancy for the woman. At
+any rate, 'tis said that this very morning he quarreled hotly with Mr.
+Law. The latter gave back words hot as he received, and so they had it
+violent enough. 'Tis stated on the Quinquempoix that another must take
+Mr. Law's place. But if Mr. Law goes, what will become of the System?
+And what would the System be without Mr. Law? And what would Paris be
+without the System? Why, listen, Lady Catharine! I gained fifty thousand
+livres yesterday, and my coachman, the rascal, in some manner seems to
+have done quite as well for himself. I doubt not he will yet build a
+mansion of his own, and perhaps my husband may drive for him! These be
+strange days indeed. I only hope they may continue, in spite of what my
+husband says."
+
+"And what says he?" asked Lady Catharine, her own voice sounding to her
+unfamiliar and far away.
+
+"Why, that the city is mad, and that this soon must end--this
+Mississippi bubble, as my Lord Stair calls it at the embassy."
+
+"Yet I have heard all France is prosperous."
+
+"Oh, yes indeed. 'Tis said that but yesterday the kingdom paid four
+millions of its debt to Bavaria, three millions of its debt to
+Sweden--yet these are not the most pressing debts of France."
+
+"Meaning--"
+
+"Why, the debts of the regent to his friends--those are the important
+things. But the other day he gave eighty thousand livres to Madame
+Châteauthiers, as a little present. He gave two hundred thousand livres
+to the Abbé Something-or-other, who asked for it, and another thousand
+livres to that rat Dubois. The thief D'Argenson ever counsels him to
+give in abundance now that he hath abundance, and the regent is ready
+with a vengeance with his compliance. Saint Simon, that priggish duke,
+has had a million given him to repay a debt his father took on for the
+king a generation ago. To the captain of the guard the regent gives six
+hundred thousand livres, for carrying the fan of the regent's forgotten
+wife; to the Prince Courtenay, two hundred thousand, most like because
+the prince said he had need of it; a pension of two hundred thousand
+annually to the Marquise de Bellefonte, the second such sum, because
+perhaps she once made eyes at him; a pension of sixty thousand livres to
+a three-year-old relative to the Prince de Conti, because Conti cried
+for it; one hundred thousand livres to Mademoiselle Haidée, because she
+has a consumption; and as much more to the Duchesse de Falari, because
+she has not a consumption. Bah! The credit of France might indeed, as my
+husband says, be called leaking through the slats of fans."
+
+"But, look you!" she went on, "how Mr. Law feathers his own nest. He
+bought lately, for a half million livres, the house of the Comte de
+Tesse; and on the same day, as you know, the Hôtel Mazarin. There is no
+limit to his buying of estates. This, so says my husband, is the great
+proof of his honesty. He puts his money here in France, and does not
+send it over seas. He seems to have no doubt, and indeed no fear, of
+anything."
+
+Lady Warrington paused, half for want of breath. Silence fell in the
+great room. A big and busy fly, deep down in the crystal _cylindre_
+which sheltered a taper on a near-by table, buzzed out a droning
+protest. The face of Lady Catharine was averted.
+
+"You did not tell me, Lady Emily," said she, with woman's feigned
+indifference, "what was the name of this poor woman of the other
+evening."
+
+"Why, so I had forgot--and 'tis said that Mr. Law, after all, comported
+himself something of the gentleman. No one knows how far back the affair
+runs, nor how serious it was. And indeed I have seen no one who ever
+heard of the woman before."
+
+"And the name?"
+
+"'Twas said Mr. Law called her Mary Connynge."
+
+The big fly, deep down in the crystal cage, buzzed on audibly; and to
+one who heard it, the drone of the lazy wings seemed like the roars of a
+thousand tempests.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+MASTER AND MAN
+
+
+John Law, idle, preoccupied, sat gazing out at the busy scenes of the
+street before him. The room in which he found himself was one of a suite
+in that magnificent Hôtel de Soisson, bought but recently of the Prince
+de Carignan for the sum of one million four hundred thousand livres,
+which had of late been chosen as the temple of Fortuna. The great
+gardens of this distinguished site were now filled with hundreds of
+tents and kiosks, which offered quarters for the wild mob of speculators
+which surged and swirled and fought throughout the narrow avenues,
+contending for the privilege of buying the latest issue of the priceless
+shares of the Company of the Indies.
+
+The System was at its height. The bubble was blown to its last limit.
+The popular delirium had grown to its last possible degree.
+
+From the window these mad mobs of infuriated human beings might have
+seemed so many little ants, running about as though their home had been
+destroyed above their heads. They hastened as though fleeing from the
+breath of some devouring flame. Surely the point of flame was there, at
+that focus of Paris, this focus of all Europe; and thrice refined was
+the quality of this heat, burning out the hearts of those distracted
+ones.
+
+Yet it was a scene not altogether without its fascinations. Hither came
+titled beauties of Paris, peers of the realm, statesmen, high officials,
+princes of the blood; all these animated but by one purpose--to bid and
+outbid for these bits of paper, which for the moment meant wealth,
+luxury, ease, every imaginable desire. It seemed indeed that the world
+was mad. Tradesmen, artisans, laborers, peasants, jostled the princes
+and nobility, nor met reproof. Rank was forgotten. Democracy, for the
+first time on earth, had arrived. All were equal who held equal numbers
+of these shares. The mind of each was blank to all but one absorbing
+theme.
+
+Law looked over this familiar scene, indifferent, calm, almost moody,
+his cheek against his hand, his elbow on his chair. "What was the call,
+Henri," asked he, at length, of the old Swiss who had, during these
+stormy times, been so long his faithful attendant. "What was the last
+quotation that you heard?"
+
+"Your Honor, there are no quotations," replied the attendant. "'Tis
+only as one is able to buy. The _actions_ of the last issue, three
+hundred thousand in all, were swept away at a breath at fifteen thousand
+livres the share."
+
+"Ninety times what their face demands," said Law, impassively.
+
+"True, some ninety times," said the Swiss. "'Tis said that of this issue
+the regent has taken over one-third, or one hundred thousand, himself.
+'Tis this that makes the price of the other two-thirds run the higher,
+since 'tis all that the public has to buy."
+
+"Lucky regent," said Law, sententiously. "Plenty would seem to have been
+his fortune!"
+
+He grimly turned again to his study of the crowds which swarmed among
+the pavilions before his window. Outside his door he heard knockings and
+cries, and impatient footfalls, but neither he nor the impassive Swiss
+paid to these the least attention. It was to them an old experience.
+
+"Your Honor, the Prince de Conti is in the antechamber and would see
+you," at length ventured the attendant, after listening for some time
+with his ear at an aperture in the door.
+
+"Let the Prince de Conti wait," said Law, "and a plague take him for a
+grasping miser! He has gained enough. Time was when I waited at his
+door."
+
+"The Abbé Dubois--here is his message pushed beneath the door."
+
+"My dearest enemy," replied Law, calmly. "The old rat may seek another
+burrow."
+
+"The Duchesse de la Rochefoucauld."
+
+"Ah, then, she hath overcome her husband's righteousness of resolution,
+and would beg a share or so? Let her wait. I find these duchesses the
+most tiresome animals in the world."
+
+"The Madame de Tencin."
+
+"I can not see the Madame de Tencin."
+
+"A score of dukes and foreign princes. My faith! master, we have never
+had so large a line of guests as come this morning." The stolid
+impassiveness of the Swiss seemed on the point of giving way.
+
+"Let them wait," replied Law, evenly as before. "Not one of them would
+listen to me five years ago. Now I shall listen to them--shall listen to
+them knocking at my door, as I have knocked at theirs. To-day I am
+aweary, and not of mind to see any one. Let them wait."
+
+"But what shall I say? What shall I tell them, my master?"
+
+"Tell them nothing. Let them wait."
+
+Thus the crowd of notables packed into the anterooms waited at the
+door, fuming and execrating, yet not departing. They all awaited the
+magician, each with the same plea--some hope of favor, of advancement,
+or of gain.
+
+At last there arose yet a greater tumult in the hall which led to the
+door. A squad of guardsmen pushed through the packed ranks with the cry:
+"For the king!" The regent of France stood at the closed door of the man
+who was still the real ruler of France.
+
+"Open, open, in the name of the king!" cried one, as he beat loudly on
+the panels.
+
+Law turned languidly toward the attendant. "Henri," said he, "tell them
+to be more quiet."
+
+"My master, 'tis the regent!" expostulated the other, with somewhat of
+anxiety in his tones.
+
+"Let him wait," replied Law, coolly. "I have waited for him."
+
+"But, my master, they protest, they clamor--"
+
+"Very well. Let them do so--but stay. If it is indeed the regent, I may
+as well meet him now and say that which is in my mind. Open the door."
+
+The door swung open and there entered the form of Philippe of Orléans,
+preceded by his halberdiers and followed close by a rush of humanity
+which the guards and the Swiss together had much pains to force back
+into the anteroom.
+
+"How now, Monsieur L'as, how now?" fumed the regent, his heavy face
+glowing a dull red, his prominent eyes still more protruding, his
+forehead bent into a heavy frown. "You deny entrance to our person, who
+are next to the body of his Majesty?"
+
+"Did you have delay?" asked Law, sweetly. "'Twas unfortunate."
+
+"'Twas execrable!"
+
+"True. I myself find these crowds execrable."
+
+"Nay, execrable to suffer this annoyance of delay!"
+
+"Your Grace's pardon," said Law, coolly. "You should have made an
+appointment a few days in advance."
+
+"What! The regent of France need to arrange a day when he would see a
+servant!"
+
+"Your Grace is unfortunate in his choice of words," replied Law,
+blandly. "I am not your servant. I am your master."
+
+The regent sank back into a chair, gasping, his hand clutching at the
+hilt of his sword.
+
+"Seize him! Seize him! To the Bastille with him! The presumer! The
+impostor!"
+
+Yet even the guards hesitated before the commanding presence of that man
+whom all had been so long accustomed to obey. With hand upraised, Law
+gazed at them for one instant, and then gave them no further attention.
+
+"Yet these words I must hasten to qualify," resumed he. "True, I am at
+this moment your master, your Grace, but two minutes hence, and for all
+time thereafter, I shall no longer be your master. Your Grace was once
+so good as to make me head of certain financial matters, and to give me
+control of them. The fabric of this Messasebe, which you see without,
+was all my own. It was this which made me master of Paris, and of every
+man within the gates of Paris. So far, very well. My plans were honest,
+and the growth of France--nay, let us say the resurrection of
+France--the new life of France--shows how my own plans were made and how
+well I knew that which was to happen. I made you rich, your Grace. I
+gave you funds to pay off millions of your private debts, millions to
+gratify your fancies. I gave you more millions to pay the debts of
+France. France and her regent have again taken a position of honor in
+the eyes of the world. You may well call me master of your fate, who
+have been able to accomplish these things. So long as you knew your
+master, you did well. Now your Grace has seen fit to change masters. He
+would be his own master again. There can not be two in control of a
+concern like this. Sir, the two minutes hare elapsed. I am your very
+humble servant!"
+
+The regent still sat staring from his chair, and speech was yet denied
+him.
+
+"There are your people. There is your France," said Law, beckoning as he
+turned toward the window and pointing to the crowd without. "There is
+your France. Now handle it, my master! Here are the reins! Now drive;
+but see that you be careful how you drive. Come, your Grace," said he,
+mockingly, over his shoulder. "Come, and see your France!"
+
+The audacity of John Law was a thing without parallel, as had been
+proved a hundred times in his strange life and in a hundred places. His
+sheer contemptuous daring brought Philippe of Orléans to his senses. He
+relaxed now in his purpose, changeable as was his wont, and advanced
+towards Law with hand outstretched.
+
+"There, there, Monsieur L'as, I did you wrong, perhaps," said he. "But
+as to these hasty words, pray reconsider them at once. 'Twill have a bad
+effect should a breath of this get afloat. Indeed, 'twas because of some
+such thing that I came to see you this morning. A most unspeakable, a
+most incredible thing hath occurred. It comes to me with certain
+confirmation that there have been shares sold upon the street at twelve
+thousand livres to the _action_, whereas, as you very well know,
+fifteen thousand should be the lowest price to-day."
+
+"And what of that, your Grace?" said Law, calmly. "Is it not what you
+planned? Is it not what you have been expecting?"
+
+"How, sirrah! What do you mean?"
+
+"Why, I mean this, your Grace," said Law, calmly, "that since you have
+taken the reins, it is you who must drive the chariot. I shall suggest
+no plans, shall offer no remedy. But, if you still lack ability to see
+how and why this thing has attained this situation, I will take so much
+trouble as to make it plain."
+
+"Go on, then, sir," said the regent. "Is not all well? Is there any
+danger?"
+
+"As to danger," said Law, "we can not call it a time of danger after the
+worst has happened."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"Why, that the worst has happened. But, as I was about to say, I shall
+tell you how it happened."
+
+The gaze of the regent fell. His hand trembled as he fumbled at his
+sword hilt.
+
+"Your Grace," said Law, calmly, "will do me the kindness to remember
+that when I first asked of you the charter of the Banque Générale, to be
+taken privately in the name of myself and my brother, I told you that
+any banker merited the punishment of death if he issued notes or bills
+of exchange without having their effective value safe in his own strong
+boxes."
+
+"Well, what of that?" queried the regent, weakly.
+
+"Nothing, your Grace, except that your Grace deserves the punishment of
+death."
+
+"How, sir! Good God!"
+
+"If the truth of this matter should ever become known, those people out
+there, that France yonder, would tear your Grace limb from limb, and
+trample you in the dust!"
+
+The livid face of the regent went paler as the other spoke. There was
+conviction in those tones which could not fail to reach even his heavy
+wits.
+
+"Let me explain," went on Law. "I beg your Grace to remember again, that
+when your Grace was good enough to take out of the hands of my brother
+and myself our little bank--which we had run honorably and
+successfully--you changed at one sweep the whole principle of honest
+banking. You promised to pay something which was unstipulated. You
+issued a note back of which there was no value, no fixed limit of
+measurement. Twice you have changed the coinage of the realm, and twice
+assigned a new value to your specie. No one can tell what one of your
+shares in the stock of the Indies means in actual coin. It means
+nothing, stands for nothing, is good for nothing. Now, think you, when
+these people, when this France shall discover these facts, that they
+will be lenient with those who have thus deceived them?"
+
+"Yet your theory always was that we had too great a scarcity of money
+here in France," expostulated the regent.
+
+"True, so I did. We had not enough of good money. We can not have too
+little of false money, of money such as your Grace--as you thought
+without my knowledge--has been so eager to issue from the presses of our
+Company. It had been an easy thing for the regent of France to pay off
+all the debts of the world from now until the verge of eternity, had not
+his presses given out. Money of that sort, your Grace, is such as any
+man could print for himself, did he but have the linen and the ink."
+
+The regent again dropped to his chair, his head falling forward upon his
+breast.
+
+"But what does it all mean? What shall be done? What will be the
+result?" he asked, his voice showing well enough the anxiety which had
+swiftly fallen upon his soul.
+
+"As to that," replied Law, laconically, "I am no longer master here. I
+am not controller of finance. Appoint Dubois, appoint D'Argenson. Send
+for the Brothers Paris. Take them to this window, your Grace, and show
+them your people, show them your France, and then ask them to tell you
+what shall be done. Cry out to all the world, as I know you will, that
+this was the fault of an unknown adventurer, of a Scotch gambler, of one
+John Law, who brought forth some pretentious schemes to the detriment of
+the realm. Saddle upon me the blame for all this ruin which is coming.
+Malign me, misrepresent me, imprison me, exile me, behead me if you
+like, and blame John Law for the discomfiture of France! But when you
+come to seek your remedies, why, ask no more of John Law. Ask of Dubois,
+ask of D'Argenson, ask of the Paris Frères; or, since your Grace has
+seen fit to override me and to take these matters in his own hands, let
+your Grace ask of himself! Tell me, as regent of France, as master of
+Paris, as guardian of the rights of this young king, as controller of
+the finances of France, as savior or destroyer of the welfare of these
+people of France and of that America which is greater than this
+France--tell me, what will you do, your Grace? What do you suggest as
+remedy?"
+
+"You devil! you arch fiend!" exclaimed the regent, starting up and
+laying his hand on his sword. "There is no punishment you do not
+deserve! You will leave me in this plight--you--you, who have supplanted
+me at every turn; you who made that horrible scene but last night at my
+own table, within the very gates of the Palais Royal; you, the murderer
+of the woman I adored! And now, you mocker and flouter of what may be my
+bitterest misfortune--why, sir, no punishment is sharp enough for you!
+Why do you stand there, sir? Do you dare to mock me--to mock us, the
+person of the king?"
+
+"I mock not in the least, your Grace," said John Law, "nor do aught else
+that ill beseems a gentleman. I should have been proud to be known as
+the friend of Philippe of Orléans, yet I stand before that Philippe of
+Orléans and tell him that that man doth not live, nor that set of
+terrors exist, which can frighten John Law, nor cause him to depart from
+that stand which he once has taken. Sir, if you seek to frighten me, you
+fail."
+
+"But, look you--consider," said the regent. "Something must be done."
+
+"As I said," replied Law.
+
+"But what is going to happen? What will the people do?"
+
+"First," said Law, judicially, flicking at the deep lace of his cuff as
+though he were taking into consideration the price of a wig or cane,
+"first, the price of a share having gone to twelve thousand livres this
+morning, by two o'clock will be so low as ten thousand. By three
+o'clock this afternoon it will be six thousand. Then, your Grace, there
+will be panic. Then the spell will be broken. France will rub her eyes
+and begin to awaken. Then, since the king can do no wrong, and since the
+regent is the king, your Grace can do one of two things. He can send a
+body-guard to watch my door, or he can see John Law torn into fragments,
+as these people would tear the real author of their undoing, did they
+but recognize him."
+
+"But can nothing be done to stop this? Can it not be accommodated?"
+
+"Ask yourself. But I must go on to say what these people will do. All at
+once they will demand specie for their notes. The Prince de Conti will
+drive his coaches to the door of your bank, and demand that they be
+loaded with gold. Jacques and Raoul and Pierre, and every peasant and
+pavior in Paris will come with boxes and panniers, and each of them will
+also demand his gold. Make edicts, your Grace. Publish broadcast and
+force out into publicity, on every highway of France, your decree that
+gold and silver are not so good as your bank notes; that no one must
+have gold or silver; that no one must send his gold and silver out of
+France, but that all must bring it to the king and take for it in
+exchange these notes of yours. Try that. It ought to succeed, ought it
+not, your Grace?" His bantering tone sank into one of half plausibility.
+
+"Why, surely. That would be the solution."
+
+"Oh, think you so? Your Grace is wondrous keen as a financier! Now take
+the counsel of Dubois, of D'Argenson, my very good friends. This is what
+they will counsel you to do. And I will counsel you at the same time to
+avail yourself of their advice. Tell all France to bring in its gold, to
+enable you to put something essential under the value of all this paper
+money which you have been sending out so lavishly, so unthinkingly, so
+without stint or measure."
+
+"Yes. And then?"
+
+"Why, then, your Grace," said Law, "then we shall see what we shall
+see!"
+
+The regent again choked with anger. Law continued. "Go on. Smooth down
+the back of this animal. Continue to reduce these taxes. The specie of
+the realm of France, as I am banker enough to know, is not more than
+thirteen hundred millions of livres, allowing sixty-five livres to the
+marc. Yet long before this your Grace has crowded the issue of our
+_actions_ until there are out not less than twenty-six hundred millions
+of livres in the stock of our Company. Your Brothers Paris, your
+D'Argenson, your Dubois will tell you how you can make the people of
+France continue to believe that twice two is not four, that twice
+thirteen is not twenty-six!"
+
+"But this they are doing," broke in the regent, with a ray of hope in
+his face. "This they are doing. We have provided for that. In the
+council not an hour ago the Abbé Dubois and Monsieur d'Argenson decided
+that the time had come to make some fixed proportion between the specie
+and these notes. We have to-day framed an edict, which the Parliament
+will register, stating that the interests of the subjects of the king
+require that the price of these bank notes should be lessened, so that
+there may be some sort of accommodation between them and the coin of the
+realm. We have ordered that the shares shall, within thirty days, drop
+to seventy-five hundred livres, in another thirty days to seven thousand
+livres, and so on, at five hundred livres a month, until at last they
+shall have a value of one-half what they were to-day. Then, tell me, my
+wise Monsieur L'as, would not the issue of our notes and the total of
+our specie be equal, one with the other? The only wrong thing is this
+insulting presumption of these people, who have sold _actions_ at a
+price lower than we have decreed."
+
+Law smiled as he replied. "You say excellently well, my master. These
+plans surely show that you and your able counselors have studied deeply
+the questions of finance! I have told you what would happen to-day
+without any decree of the king. Now go you on, and make your decrees.
+You will find that the people are much more eager for values which are
+going up than values which are going down. Start your shares down hill,
+and you will see all France scramble for such coin, such plate, such
+jewels as may be within the ability of France to lay her hands upon.
+Tell me, your Grace, did Monsieur d'Argenson advise you this morning as
+to the total issue of the _actions_ of this Company?"
+
+"Surely he did, and here I have it in memorandum, for I was to have
+taken it up with yourself," replied the regent.
+
+"So," exclaimed Law, a look of surprise passing over his countenance,
+until now rigidly controlled, as he gazed at the little slip of paper.
+"Your Grace advises me that there are issued at this time in the shares
+of the Company no less than two billion, two hundred and thirty-five
+million, eighty-five thousand, five hundred and ninety livres in notes!
+Against this, as your Grace is good enough to agree with me, we have
+thirteen hundred millions of specie. Your Grace, yourself and I have
+seen some pretty games in our day. Look you, the merriest game of all
+your life is now but just before you!"
+
+"And you would go and leave me at this time?"
+
+"Never in my life have I forsaken a friend at the time of distress,"
+replied Law. "But your Grace absolved me when you forsook me, when you
+doubted and hesitated regarding me, and believed the protestations of
+those not so able as myself to judge of what was best. And now it is too
+late. Will your Grace allow me to suggest that a place behind stout
+gates and barred doors, deep within the interior of the Palais Royal,
+will be the best residence for him to-night--perhaps for several nights
+to come?"
+
+"And yourself?"
+
+"As for myself, it does not matter," replied Law, slowly and
+deliberately. "I have lived, and I thought I had succeeded. Indeed,
+success was mine for some short months, though now I must meet failure.
+I have this to console me--that 'twas failure not of my own fault. As
+for France, I loved her. As for America, I believe in her to-day, this
+very hour. As for your Grace in person, I was your friend, nor was I
+ever disloyal to you. But it sometimes doth seem that, no matter how
+sincere be one in one's endeavors, no matter how cherished, no matter
+how successful for a time may be his ambitions, there is ever some
+little blight to eat the face of the full fruit of his happiness.
+To-morrow I shall perhaps not be alive. It is very well. There is
+nothing I could desire, and it is as well to-morrow as at any time."
+
+"But surely, Monsieur L'as," interrupted the regent, with a trace of his
+old generosity, "if there should be outbreak, as you fear, I shall, of
+course, give you a guard. I shall indeed see you safe out of the city,
+if you so prefer, though I had much liefer you would remain and try to
+help us undo this coil, wherein I much misdoubt myself."
+
+"Your Grace, I am a disappointed man, a man with nothing in the world to
+comfort him. I have said that I would not help you, since 'twas yourself
+brought ruin on my plans, and cast down that work which I had labored
+all my life to finish. Yet I will advise this, as being your most
+immediate plan. Smooth down this France as best you may. Remit more
+taxes, as I said. Depreciate the value of these shares gently, but
+rapidly as you can. Institute great numbers of perpetual annuities.
+Juggle, temporize, postpone, get for yourself all the time you can.
+Trade for the people's shares all you have that they will take. You can
+never strike a balance, and can never atone for the egregious error of
+this over-issue of stock which has no intrinsic value. Eventually you
+may have to declare void many of these shares and withdraw from the
+currency these _actions_ for which so recently the people have been
+clamoring."
+
+"That means repudiation!" broke in the regent.
+
+"Certainly, your Grace, and in so far your Grace has my extremest
+sympathy. I know it was your resolve not to repudiate the debts of
+France, as those debts stood when I first met you some years ago. That
+was honorable. Yet now the debts of France are immeasurably greater,
+rich as France thinks herself to be. Not all France, were the people and
+the produce of the commerce counted in the coin, could pay the debt of
+France as it now exists. Hence, honorable or not, there is nothing
+else--it is repudiation which now confronts you. France is worse than
+bankrupt. And now it would seem wise if your Grace took immediate steps,
+not only for the safety of his person, but for the safety of the
+Government."
+
+"Sir, do you mean that the people would dare, that they would presume--"
+
+"The people are not what they were. There hath come into Europe the
+leaven of the New World. I had looked there to see a nobler and a better
+France. It is too late for that, and surely it is too late for the old
+ways of this France which we see about us. You can not presume now upon
+the temper of these folk as you might have done fifty years ago. The
+Messasebe, that noble stream, it hath swept its purifying flood
+throughout the world! Look you, at this moment there is tumbling this
+house which we have built of bubbles, one bubble upon another, blowing
+each bubble bigger and thinner than the last. Mine is not the only
+fault, nor yet the greatest fault. I was sincere, where others cared
+naught for sincerity. Another day, another people, may yet say the world
+was better for my effort, and that therefore at the last I have not
+failed."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+THE BREAKING OF THE BUBBLE
+
+
+It was the evening of the day following that on which John Law and the
+regent of France had met in their stormy interview. During the morning
+but little had transpired regarding the significant events of the
+previous day. In these vast and excited crowds, divided into groups and
+cliques and factions, aided by no bulletins, counseled by no printed
+page, there was but little cohesion of purpose, since there was little
+unity of understanding. The price of shares at one kiosk might be
+certain thousands of livres, whereas a square away, the price might vary
+by half as many livres; so impetuous was the advance of these
+continually rising prices, and so frenzied and careless the temper of
+those who bargained for them.
+
+Yet before noon of the day following the decree of the regent, which
+fixed the value of _actions_ upon a descending scale, the news, after a
+fashion of its own, spread rapidly abroad, and all too swiftly the truth
+was generally known. The story started in a rumor that shares had been
+offered and declined at a price which had been current but a few moments
+before. This was something which had not been known in all these
+feverish months of the Messasebe. Then came the story that shares could
+not be counted upon to realize over eight thousand livres. At that the
+price of all the _actions_ dropped in a flash, as Law had prophesied. A
+sudden wave of sanity, a panic chill of sober understanding swept over
+this vast multitude of still unreasoning souls who had traded so long
+upon this impossible supposition of an ever-advancing market. Reason
+still lacked among them, yet fear and sudden suspicion were not wanting.
+Man after man hastened swiftly away to sell privately his shares before
+greater drop in the price might come. He met others upon the same
+errand.
+
+Precisely the reverse of the old situation now obtained. As all Paris
+had fought to buy, so now all Paris fought to sell. The streets were
+filled with clamoring mobs. If earlier there had been confusion, now
+there was pandemonium. Never was such a scene witnessed. Never was there
+chronicled so swift and utter reversion of emotion in the minds of a
+great concourse of people. Bitter indeed was the wave of agony that
+swept over Paris. It began at the Messasebe, in the gardens of the Hôtel
+de Soisson, at that focus hard by the temple of Fortuna. It spread and
+spread, edging out into all the remoter portions of the walled city. It
+reached ultimately the extreme confines of Paris. Into the crowded
+square which had been decreed as the trading-place of the Messasebe
+System, there crowded from the outer purlieus yet other thousands of
+excited human beings. The end had come. The bubble had burst. There was
+no longer any System of the Messasebe!
+
+It was late in the day, in fact well on toward might, when the knowledge
+of the crash came into the neighborhood where dwelt the Lady Catharine
+Knolls. To her the news was brought by a servant, who excitedly burst
+unannounced into her mistress's presence.
+
+"Madame! Madame!" she cried. "Prepare! 'Tis horrible! 'Tis impossible!
+All is at an end!"
+
+"What mean you, girl!" cried Lady Catharine, displeased at the
+disrespect. "What is happening? Is there fire? And even if there were,
+could you not remember your duty more seemly than this?"
+
+"Worse, worse than fire, Madame! Worse than anything! The bank has
+failed! The shares of the System are going down! 'Tis said that we can
+get but three thousand livres the share, perhaps less--perhaps they will
+go down to nothing. I am ruined, ruined! We are all ruined! And within
+the month I was to have been married to the footman of the Marquis
+d'Allouez, who has bought himself a title this very week!"
+
+"And if it has fallen so ill," said Lady Catharine, "since I have not
+speculated in these things like most folk, I shall be none the worse for
+it, and shall still have money to pay your wages. So perhaps you can
+marry your marquis after all."
+
+"But we shall not be rich, Madame! We are ruined, ruined! _Mon Dieu_! we
+poor folk! We had the hope to be persons of quality. 'Tis all the work
+of this villain Jean L'as. May the Bastille get him, or the people, and
+make him pay for this!"
+
+"Stop! Enough of this, Marie!" said the Lady Catharine, sternly. "After
+this have better wisdom, and do not meddle in things which you do not
+understand."
+
+Yet scarce had the girl departed before there appeared again the sound
+of running steps, and presently there broke, equally unannounced, into
+the presence of his mistress, the coachman, fresh from his stables and
+none too careful of his garb. Tears ran down his cheeks. He flung out
+his hands with gestures as of one demented.
+
+"The news!" cried he. "The news, my Lady! The horrible news! The System
+has vanished, the shares are going down!"
+
+"Fellow, what do you here?" said Lady Catharine. "Why do you come with
+this same story which Marie has just brought to me? Can you not learn
+your place?"
+
+"But, my Lady, you do not understand!" reiterated the man, blankly.
+"'Tis all over. There is no Messasebe; there is no longer any System, no
+longer any Company of the Indies. There is no longer wealth for the
+stretching out of the hand. 'Tis all over. I must go back to horses--I,
+Madame, who should presently have associated with the nobility!"
+
+"Well, and if so," replied his mistress, "I can say to you, as I have to
+Marie, that there will still be money for your wages."
+
+"Wages! My faith, what trifles, my Lady! This Monsieur L'as, the
+director-general, he it is who has ruined us! Well enough it is that the
+square in front of his hotel is filled with people! Presently they will
+break down his doors. And then, pray God they punish him for this that
+he has done!"
+
+The cheek of Lady Catharine paled and a sudden flood of contending
+emotions crossed her mind. "You do not tellme that Monsieur L'as is in
+danger, Pierre?" said she.
+
+"Assuredly. Perhaps within the very hour they will tear down his doors
+and rend him limb from limb. There is no punishment which can serve him
+right--him who has ruined our pretty, pretty System. _Mon Dieu_! It was
+so beautiful!"
+
+"Is this news certain?"
+
+"Assuredly, most certain. Why should it not be? The entire square in
+front of the Hôtel de Soisson is packed. Unless my Lady needs me, I
+myself must hasten thither to aid in the punishment of this Jean L'as!"
+
+"You will stay here," said Lady Catharine. "Wait! There may be need! For
+the present, go!"
+
+Left alone, Lady Catharine stood for a moment pale and motionless, in
+the center of the room. She strode then to the window and stood looking
+fixedly out. Her whole figure was tense, rigid. Yonder, over there,
+across the gabled roofs of Paris, they were clamoring at the door of him
+who had given back Paris to the king, and Franceagain to its people.
+They were assailing him--this man so long unfaltering, so insistent on
+his ambitions, so--so steadfast! Could she call him steadfast? And they
+would seize him in spite of the courage which she knew would never fail.
+They would kill, they would rend, they would trample him! They would
+crush that glorious body, abase the lips that had spoke so well of love!
+
+The clenched fingers of Lady Catharine broke apart, her arms were flung
+wide in a gesture of resolution. She turned from the window, looking
+here and there about the room. Unconsciously she stopped before the
+great cheval-glass that hung against the wall. She stood there, looking
+at her own image, keenly, deeply.
+
+She saw indeed a woman fit for sweet usages of love, comely and rounded,
+deep-bosomed, her oval face framed in the piled masses of glorious
+red-brown hair. But her wide, blue eyes, scarce seeing this outward
+form, stared into the soul of that other whom she witnessed.
+
+It was as though the Lady Catharine Knollys at last saw another self and
+recognized it! A quick, hard sob broke from her throat. In haste she
+flew, now to one part of the room, now to another, picking up first this
+article and then that which seemed of need. And so at last she hurried
+to the bell-cord.
+
+"Quick," cried she, as the servant at length appeared. "Quick! Do not
+delay an instant! My carriage at once!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+THAT WHICH REMAINED
+
+
+As for John Law, all through that fatal day which meant for him the ruin
+of his ambitions, he continued in the icy calm which, for days past, had
+distinguished him. He discontinued his ordinary employments, and spent
+some hours in sorting and destroying numbers of papers and documents.
+His faithful servant, the Swiss, Henri, he commanded to make ready his
+apparel for a journey.
+
+"At six this evening," said he, "Henri, we shall be ready to depart. Let
+us be quite ready well before that time."
+
+"Monsieur is leaving Paris?" asked the Swiss, respectfully.
+
+"Quite so."
+
+"Perhaps for a stay of some duration?"
+
+"Quite so, indeed, Henri."
+
+"Then, sir," expostulated the Swiss, "it would require a day or so for
+me to properly arrange your luggage."
+
+"Not at all," replied Law. "Two valises will suffice, not more, and I
+shall perhaps not need even these."
+
+"Not all the apparel, the many coats, the jewels--"
+
+"Do not trouble over them."
+
+"But what disposition shall I make--?"
+
+"None at all. Leave all these things as they are. But stay--this package
+which I shall prepare for you--take it to the regent, and have it marked
+in his care and for the Parliament of France."
+
+Law raised in his hands a bundle of parchments, which one by one he tore
+across, throwing the fragments into a basket as he did so.
+
+"The seat of Tancarville," he said. "The estate of Berville; the Hôtel
+Mazarin; the lands of Bourget; the Marquisat of Charleville; the lands
+of Orcher; the estate of Roissy--Gad! what a number of them I find."
+
+"But, Monsieur," expostulated the Swiss, "what is that you do? Are these
+not your possessions?"
+
+"Not so, _mon ami_," replied Law. "They once were mine. They are estates
+in France. Take back these deeds. Dead Sully may have his own again, and
+each of these late owners of the lands. I wished them for a purpose.
+That purpose is no longer possible, and now I wish them no more. Take
+back your deeds, my friends, and bear in your minds that John Law tore
+them in two, and thus canceled the obligation."
+
+"But the moneys you have paid--they are enormous. Surely you will exact
+restitution?"
+
+"Sirrah, could I not afford these moneys?"
+
+"Admirably at the time," replied the Swiss, with the freedom of long
+service. "But for the future, what do we know? Besides, it is a matter
+of right and justice."
+
+"Ah, _mon ami_" said Law, "right and justice are no more. But since you
+speak of money, let us take precautions as to that. We shall need some
+money for our journey. See, Henri! Take this note and get the money
+which it calls for. But no! The crowd may be too great. Look in the
+drawer of my desk yonder, and take out what you find."
+
+The Swiss did as he was bidden, but at length returned with troubled
+face.
+
+"Monsieur," said he, "I can find but a hundred louis."
+
+"Put half of it back," said Law. "We shall not need so much."
+
+"But, Monsieur, I do not understand."
+
+"We shall not need more than fifty louis. That is enough. Leave the
+rest," said Law. "Leave it where you found it"
+
+"But for whom? Does Monsieur soon return?"
+
+"No. Leave it for him who may be first to find it. These dear people
+without, these same people whom I have enriched, and who now will claim
+that I have impoverished them--these people will demand of me everything
+that I have. As a man of honor I can not deny them. They shall have
+every Jot and stiver of the property of John Law, even the million or so
+of good coin which he brought here to Paris with him. The coat on my
+back, the wheels beneath me, gold enough to pay for the charges of the
+inns through France--that is all that John Law will take away with him."
+
+The arms of the old servant fell helpless at his side. "Sir, this is
+madness," he expostulated.
+
+"Not so, Henri," replied Law, leniently. "Madness enough there has been
+in Paris, it is true, but madness not mine nor of my making. For
+madness, look you yonder."
+
+He pointed a finger through the window where the stately edifice of the
+Palais Royal rose.
+
+"My good friend the regent--it is he who hath been mad," continued Law.
+"He, holding France in trust, has ruined France forever."
+
+"Monsieur, I grieve for you," said the Swiss. "I have seen your success
+in these years and, as you may imagine, have understood something of
+your affairs as time went on."
+
+"And have you not profited by your knowledge in these times?"
+
+"I have had the salary your Honor has agreed to pay me," replied the
+Swiss.
+
+"And no more?"
+
+"No more."
+
+"Why, there are serving folk in France by the hundreds who have grown
+millionaires by the knowledge of their employers' affairs these last two
+years in Paris. Never was such a time in all the world for making money.
+Have you been more blind than they? Why did you not tell me? Why did you
+not ask?"
+
+"I was content with your employment. Monsieur L'as. I would ask no
+better master."
+
+"It is not so with certain others. They think me a hard master enough,
+and having displaced me, will do all they can to punish me. But now,
+Henri, you will perhaps need to look elsewhere for a master. I am going
+far away--perhaps across the seas. It may he--but I know not where and
+care not where my foot may wander hereafter, nor will I seek now to plan
+for it. As for you, Henri, since you admit you have been thus blind to
+your own interests, let us look to that. Go to the desk again. Take out
+the drawer--that one on the left hand. So--bring it to me."
+
+The servant obeyed. Law took from his hand the receptacle, and with a
+sweep of his hand poured out on the table its contents. A mass of
+glittering gems, diamonds, sapphires, pearls, emeralds, fell and spread
+over the table top. The light cast out by their thousand facets lit up
+the surroundings with shimmering, many-colored gleams. The wealth of a
+kingdom might have been here in the careless possession of this man,
+whose resources had been absolutely without measure.
+
+"Help yourself, Henri," said Law, calmly, and turned about to his
+employment among the papers. A moment later he turned again to see his
+servant still standing motionless.
+
+"Well?" said Law.
+
+"I do not understand," said the Swiss.
+
+"Take what you like," said Law. "I have said it, and I mean it. It is
+for your pay, because you have been honest, because I understand you as
+a faithful man."
+
+"But, Monsieur, these things have very great value," said the Swiss.
+"Let me ask how is it that you yourself take so little gold along? Does
+Monsieur purpose to take with him his fortune in gems and jewels
+instead?"
+
+"By no means. I purpose taking but fifty louis, as I have said."
+
+"Monsieur would have me replace the drawer?"
+
+"How do you mean?"
+
+"Why, I want none of them."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because Monsieur wants none of them."
+
+"Fie! Your case is quite different from mine."
+
+"Perhaps, but I want none of them."
+
+"Are you afraid?"
+
+"Monsieur!"
+
+"Do you not think them genuine stones?"
+
+"Assuredly," said the Swiss, "else why should we have cared for them
+among our gems?"
+
+"Well, then, I command you as your master, to take forth some of these
+jewels and keep them for your own."
+
+"But no," replied the Swiss. "It is only after Monsieur."
+
+"What? Myself?"
+
+"Assuredly."
+
+"Then, for the sake of precedent," said Law, "let me see. Well, then, I
+will take one gem, only one. Here, Henri, is the diamond which I brought
+with me when I came to Paris years ago. It was the sole jewel owned then
+by my brother and myself, though we had somewhat of gold between us,
+thanks to this same diamond. It was once my sole capital, in years gone
+by. Perhaps we may need a carriage through France, and this may serve to
+pay the hire of a vehicle from one of my late dukes or marquises. Or
+perhaps at best I may send this same stone across the channel to my
+brother Will, who has wisely gone to Scotland, or should have departed
+before this. So, very well, Henri, to oblige you I will take this single
+stone. Now, do you help yourself."
+
+"Since Monsieur limits himself to so little," said the Swiss, sturdily,
+"I shall not want more. This little pin will serve me, and I shall wear
+it long in memory of your many kindnesses."
+
+Law rose to his feet and caught the good fellow by the hand.
+
+"By heaven, I find you of good blood!" said he. "My friend, I thank you.
+And now put up the box. I shall not counsel you to take more than this.
+We shall leave the rest for those who will presently come to claim it."
+
+For some time silence reigned in the great room, as Law, deeply engaged
+in the affairs before him, buried himself in the mass of scattered books
+and papers. Hour after hour wore on, and at last he turned from his
+employment. His face showed calm, pale, and furrowed with a sadness
+which till now had been foreign to it. He arose at last, and with a
+sweep of his arm pushed back the papers which lay before him.
+
+"There," said he. "This should conclude it all. It should all be plain
+enough now to those who follow."
+
+"Monsieur is weary," mentioned the faithful attendant. "He would have
+some refreshment."
+
+"Presently, but I think not here, Henri. My household is not all so
+faithful as yourself, and I question if we could find cook or servants
+for the table below. No, we are to leave Paris to-night, Henri, and it
+is well the journey should begin. Get you down to the stables, and, if
+you can, have my best coach brought to the front door."
+
+"It may not be quite safe, if Monsieur will permit me to suggest."
+
+"Perhaps not. These fools are so deep in their folly that they do not
+know their friends. But safe or not, that is the way I shall go. We
+might slip out through the back door, but 'tis not thus John Law will go
+from Paris."
+
+The servant departed, and Law, left alone, sat silent and motionless,
+buried in thought. Now and again his head sank forward, like that of one
+who has received a deep hurt. But again he drew himself up sternly, and
+so remained, not leaving his seat nor turning toward the window, beyond
+which could now be heard the sound of shouting, and cries whose confused
+and threatening tones might have given ground for the gravest
+apprehension. At length the Swiss again reported, much agitated and
+shaken from his ordinary self-control.
+
+"Monsieur," said he, "come. I have at last the coach at the door.
+Hasten, Monsieur; a crowd is gathering. Indeed, we may meet violence."
+
+Law seemed not to hear him, but sat for a time, his head still bowed,
+his eyes gazing straight before him.
+
+"But, Monsieur," again broke in the Swiss, anxiously, "if I may
+interrupt, there is need to hasten. There will be a mob. Our guard is
+gone."
+
+"So," said Law. "They were afraid?"
+
+"Surely. They fled forthwith when they heard the people below crying out
+at the house. They are indeed threatening death to yourself. They cry
+that they will burn the house--that should you appear, they will have
+your blood at once."
+
+"And are you not afraid?" asked Law.
+
+"I am here. Does not Monsieur fear for himself?"
+
+Law shrugged his shoulders. "There are many of them, and we are but
+two," said he. "For yourself, go you down the back way and care for your
+own safety. I will go out the front and meet these good people. Are we
+quite ready for the journey?"
+
+"Quite ready, as you have directed."
+
+"Have you the two valises, with the one change of clothing?"
+
+"They are here."
+
+"And have you the fifty louis, as I stated?"
+
+"Here in the purse."
+
+"And I think you have also the single diamond."
+
+"It is here."
+
+"Then," said Law, "let us go."
+
+He rose, and scarce looking behind him, even to see that his orders to
+the servant had been obeyed, he strode down the vast stairway of the
+great hôtel, past many precious works of art, between walls hung with
+richest tapestries and noble paintings. The click of his heel on a
+chance bit of exposed marble here and there echoed hollow, as though
+indeed the master of the palace had been abandoned by all his people.
+The great building was silent, empty.
+
+"What! Are you, then, here?" he said, seeing the servant had disobeyed
+his instructions and was following close behind him. He alone out of
+those scores of servants, those hundreds of fawning nobles, those
+thousands of sycophant souls who had but lately cringed before him, now
+accompanied the late master of France as he turned to leave the house
+in which he no longer held authority.
+
+Without, but the door's thickness from where he stood, there arose a
+tumult of sound, shouts, cries, imprecations, entreaties, as though the
+walls of some asylum for the unfortunate had broken away and allowed its
+inmates to escape unrestrained, irreclaimable, impossible to control.
+
+"Down with Jean L'as! Down with Jean L'as!" rose a cadenced, rhythmic
+shout, the accord of a mob of Paris beating into its tones. And this
+steady burden was broken by the cries of "Enter! Enter! Break down the
+door! Kill the monster! Assassin! Thief! Traitor!" No word of the
+vocabulary of scorn and loathing was wanting in their cries.
+
+Hearing these cries, the face of this fighting man now grew hot with
+anger, and now it paled with grief and sorrow. Yet he faltered not, but
+stepped on, confidently. The Swiss opened the door and stood at the head
+of the flight of stairs. Tall, calm, pale, fearless, John Law stood
+facing the angry mob, his eyes shining brightly. He laid his hand for an
+instant upon his sword, yet it was but to unbuckle the belt. The weapon
+he left leaning against the wall, and so stepped on down toward the
+crowd.
+
+He was met by a rush of excited men and women, screaming, cursing,
+giving vent to inarticulate and indistinguishable speech. A man laid his
+hand upon his shoulder. Law caught the hand, and with a swift wrench of
+the wrist, threw the owner of it to the ground. At this the others gave
+back, and for half a moment silence ensued. The mob lacked just the
+touch of rage to hurl themselves upon him. He raised his hand and
+motioned them aside.
+
+"Are you not Jean L'as?" cried one dame, excitedly, waving in his face a
+handful of the paper shares of the latest issue in the Company of the
+Indies. "Are you not Jean L'as? Tell me, then, where is my money for
+these things? What shall I get for this rotten paper?"
+
+"You are Jean L'as, the director-general!" cried a man, pushing up to
+his side. "'Twas you that ruined the Company. See! Here is all that I
+have!" He wept as he shook his bunch of paper in John Law's face. "Last
+week I was worth half a million!" He wept, and tore across, with
+impotent rage, the bundle of worthless paper.
+
+"Down with Jean L'as! Down with Jean L'as!" came the recurrent cry. A
+rush followed. The carriage, towering above the ring of the surrounding
+crowd, showed its coat of arms, and thus was recognized. A paving-stone
+crashed through its heavy window. A knife ripped up the velvets of the
+cushions.
+
+The coachman was pulled from his box. The horses, plunging with terror,
+were cut loose from the pole and led away. With shouts and cries of rage
+and busy zeal, one madman vied with another in tearing, cutting and
+destroying the vehicle, until it stood there ruined, without means of
+locomotion, defaced and useless. And still the ring of desperate
+humanity closed around him who had late been master of all France.
+
+"What do you want, my friends?" asked he, calmly, as for an instant
+there came a lull in the tumult. He stood looking at them curiously now,
+his dulling eyes regarding them as though they presented some new and
+interesting study. "What is it that you desire?" he repeated.
+
+"We want our money," cried a score of voices. "We want back that which
+you have stolen."
+
+"You are not exact," replied Law, calmly. "I have not your money, nor
+yet have I stolen it. If you have suffered by this foolish panic, you do
+not mend matters by thus treating me. By heaven, you go the wrong way to
+get anything from me! Out of the way, you _canaille_! Do you think to
+frighten me? I made your city. I made you all Now, do you think to
+frighten me, John Law?"
+
+"Oh! You would go away, you want to escape!" cried the voices of those
+near at hand. "We will see as to that!"
+
+Again they fell upon the carriage, and still they hemmed him in the
+closer.
+
+"True, I am going away," said Law. "But you can not say that I tried to
+steal away without your knowing it. There, up the stairs, are my papers.
+You will see in time that I have concealed nothing. Now I am going to
+leave Paris, it is true; but not because I am afraid to stay here. 'Tis
+for other reason, and reason of mine own."
+
+"'Twas you who ruined Paris--this city which you now seek to leave!"
+shrieked the dame who had spoken before, still shaking her useless
+bank-notes in her hand.
+
+"Oh, very well, my friend. For the argument, let us agree upon that,"
+said Law.
+
+"You ruined our Company, our beautiful Company!" cried another.
+
+"Certainly. Since I was the originator of it, that follows as matter of
+reason," replied Law.
+
+"Ah, he admits it! He admits it!" cried yet another. "Don't let him
+escape. Kill him! Down with Jean L'as!"
+
+"We are going to kill you precisely here!" cried a huge fellow,
+brandishing a paving-stone before his eyes. "You are not fit to live."
+
+"As to that," said Law, "I agree with you perfectly. My hand upon it; I
+am not fit to live. I have found that I made mistakes. I have found that
+there is nothing left to desire. I have found out that all this money is
+not worth the having. I have found out so many things, my very dear
+friends, that I quite agree with you. For if one must want to live
+before he is fit to live, then indeed I am not fit. But what then?"
+
+"Kill him! Kill him! Strike him down!" cried out a voice back of the
+giant with the menacing paving-stone.
+
+"Oh, very well, my friends," resumed the object of their fury, flicking
+again with his old, careless gesture at the deep cuff of his wrist. "As
+you like in regard to that. More than one man has offered me that
+happiness in the past, yet it was many a long year since, any man could
+trouble me by announcing that he was about to kill me."
+
+Something in the attitude of the man stayed the hands of the most
+dangerous members of the mob. Yet ever there came the cry from back of
+them. "Down with Jean L'as! He has ruined everything!"
+
+"Friends," responded Law to this cry, bitterly, "you little know how
+true you speak. It was indeed John Law who brought ruin to everything.
+It was indeed he who threw away what was worth more than all the gold in
+France. It is indeed he who has failed, and failed most utterly. You can
+not frighten John Law, but you may do as you like with him, for surely
+he has failed!"
+
+The bitterness of despair was in his tones. Then, perhaps, the sullen,
+savage crowd had wrought their last act of anger and revenge on him, had
+it not been for a sudden change in that tide of ill fortune that now
+seemed to carry him forward to his doom. There came a sound of far-off
+cries, a distant clacking of hoofs, the clatter of steel, many shouts,
+entreaties and commands. The close-packed crowd which filled the open
+space in front of the hôtel writhed, twisted, turned and would have
+sought to resolve itself into groups and individuals. Some cried out
+that the troops were coming. A detachment of the king's household, sent
+out to disperse these dangerous gatherings, came full front down the
+street, as had so often come the arm of the military in this turbulent
+old city of Paris. Remorselessly they rode over and through the mob,
+driving them, dispersing them. A moment later, and Law stood almost
+alone at the steps of his own house. The squadron wheeled, headed by an
+officer, who rode upon him with sword uplifted as though to cut him
+down. Law raised his hand at this new menace.
+
+"Stop!" he cried. "I am the cause of this rioting. I am John Law."
+
+"What! Monsieur L'as?" cried the lieutenant. "So the people have found
+you, have they?"
+
+"It would so seem. They have destroyed my carriage, and they would have
+killed me," replied Law. "But I perceive it is Captain Mirabec. 'Twas I
+who got you your commission, as you may remember."
+
+"Is it so?" replied the other, with a grin. "I have no recollection.
+Since you are Jean L'as, the late director-general, the pity is I did
+not let the people kill you. You are the cause of the ruin of us all,
+the cause of my own ruin. Three days more, and I had been a
+major-general. I had nearly the sum in _actions_ ready to pay over at
+the right place. By our Lady of Grace, I am minded to run you through
+myself, for a greater villain never set foot in France!"
+
+"Monsieur, I am about to leave France," said Law.
+
+"Oh, you would leave us? You would run away?"
+
+"As you like. But most of all, I am now very weary. I would not remain
+here longer talking. Henri, where are you?"
+
+The faithful Swiss, who had remained close to his employer all the time,
+and who had been not far from his side during the scenes just concluded,
+was in a moment at his side. He hardly reached his master too soon, for
+as he passed his arm about him, the head of Law sank wearily forward. He
+might, perhaps, have sunk to the ground had he lacked a supporting arm.
+
+At this moment there came again the sound of hoofs upon the pavement.
+There was the rush of a mounted outrider, and hard after him sped the
+horses of a carriage, whose driver pulled up close at the curb and
+scarce clear of the little group gathered there. The door of the coach
+was opened, and at it appeared the figure of a woman, who quickly
+descended from the step.
+
+"What is it?" she cried. "Is not this the residence of Monsieur Law?"
+The officer saluted, and the few loiterers gave back and made room, as
+she stepped fully into the street and advanced with decision towards
+those whom she saw.
+
+"Madam," replied the Swiss, "this is the residence of Monsieur L'as, and
+this is Monsieur L'as himself. I fear he is taken suddenly ill."
+
+The lady stepped quickly to his side. As she did so, Law, as one not
+fully hearing, half raised his head. He looked full into her face, and
+releasing himself from the arms of his servant, stood thus, staring
+directly at the visitor, his face haggard, his fixed eyes bearing no
+sign of actual recognition.
+
+"Catharine! Catharine!" he exclaimed. "Oh God, how cruel of you too to
+mock me! Catharine!"
+
+The unspeakable yearning of the cry went to the heart of her who heard
+it. She put out a hand and laid it on his forehead. The Swiss motioned
+toward the house. And even as the officer wheeled his troop to depart,
+these two again ascended the steps, half carrying between them a
+stumbling man, who but repeated mumblingly to himself the same words:
+
+"Mockery! Mockery!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+THE QUALITY OF MERCY
+
+
+Within the great house there was silence, for the vistas of the wide
+interior led far back from the street and its tumult; nor did there
+arise within the walls any sound of voice or footfall. Of the entire
+household there was but one left to do the master service.
+
+They entered the great hall, passed the foot of the wide stairway, and
+turned at the first _entresol_, where were seats and couches. The
+servant paused for a moment and looked inquiringly at the lady with whom
+he now found himself in company.
+
+"The times are serious," he began. "I would not intrude, Madame, yet
+perhaps you are aware--"
+
+"I am a friend of monsieur," replied Lady Catharine. "He is ill. See, he
+is not himself. Tell me, what is this illness?"
+
+"Madame," said the Swiss, gravely, "his illness is that of grief.
+Monsieur's failure sits heavily upon him."
+
+[Illustration]
+
+"How long is it since he slept?" asked the lady, for she noted the
+drooping head of the man now reclining upon the couch.
+
+"Not for many days and nights," replied the Swiss. "He has for the last
+few days been under much strain. But shall I not assist you, Madame? You
+are, perhaps--pardon me, since I do not know your relationship with
+monsieur--"
+
+"A friend of years ago. I knew Mr. Law when he lived in England."
+
+"I perceive. Perhaps Madame would be alone for a time? If you please, I
+will seek aid."
+
+They approached the side of the couch. Law's head lay back upon the
+cushions. His breath came deeply and slowly, not stertorously nor
+labored.
+
+"How strange," whispered the Swiss, "he sleeps!"
+
+Such was indeed the truth. The iron nature, so long overwrought, now
+utterly unstrung, had yielded for the first time to the stress of nature
+and of events. The relief from what he had taken to be death had come
+swiftly, and the reaction brought a lethal calm of its own. If he had
+indeed recognized the face of the woman who had touched him with her
+hand, it was as though he had witnessed her in a vision, a dream bitter
+and troubled, since it was a dream impossible to be true.
+
+The Swiss looked still hesitatingly at the lady who had thus strangely
+come upon the scene, noticing her sweet and tender mouth, her cheeks
+just faintly tinged with pink, her eyes shining with a soft, mysterious
+radiance. She approached the couch and laid both her hands upon the face
+of the unconscious man. Tears sprang within her eyes and fell from her
+dark lashes. The old servant looked up at her, simply.
+
+"Madame would be alone with monsieur?" asked he. "It will be better."
+
+Lady Catharine Knollys, left alone, gazed upon the sleeper. John Law,
+the failure, lay there, supine, abased, cast-down, undone, shorn utterly
+of his old arrogance of mind and mien. Fortune, wealth, even the boon of
+physical well-being--all had fled from him. The pride of a superb
+manhood had departed from the lines of this limp figure. The cheeks were
+lined and sunken, the eye, even had the lid not covered it, lacked the
+late convincing fire. No longer commanding, no longer strong, no longer
+gay and debonair, he lay, a man whose fate was failure, as he himself
+had said.
+
+The woman who stood with clasped hands, gazing at him, tears welling in
+her eyes--she, so closely linked to his every thought for these many
+years--well enough she knew the story of his boundless ambitions, now so
+swiftly ended. Well enough, too, she knew the shortcomings of this
+mortal man before her. Even as she had in her mirror looked into her own
+soul, so now she saw deep into his heart as he lay there, helpless,
+making no further plea for himself, urging no claim, making no
+explanations nor denials, no asseverations, no promises. Did she indeed
+see and recognize again, as sometimes gloriously happens in this poor
+life of ours, that other and inner man, the only one fit to touch a
+woman's hand--the man who might have been? Did she see this, and greet
+again the friend of long ago? God, who hath given mercy, remedy alone
+sufficing for the ill that men may do, He alone may know these things.
+
+Could John Law failing be John Law succeeding, and in his most sublime
+success? Upon the wreck and ruin of the old nature could there grow
+another and a better man? Mayhap the answer to this was what the eye of
+woman saw. How else could there have come into this great room, so late
+the scene of turbulent activities, this vast and soothing calm? How else
+could this man's breath come now so deep and regular and content? The
+angels of God may know, they who drop down the gentle dew of heaven.
+
+An hour passed by. A soft tread came to the door, but Henri heard no
+sound, and saw only the prone figure of the sleeper, and beside it the
+form of the woman, who still held his hand in her own. Still the hours
+wore on, and still the watch continued, there under the mysteries of
+Life and of Love, of Mercy and of Forgiveness. And so at last the gray
+dawn broke again. The panes of the high mullioned windows were tinged
+with splashes of color. The pale light crept into the room, slowly
+revealing and lighting up its splendors.
+
+With the dawn there came into the heart of Catharine Knollys a flood of
+light and joy. Why, she knew not; how, she cared not; yet she knew that
+the shadows were gone. The same tide of peace and calm might have swept
+into the bosom of the man before her. He stirred, moved. His eyes opened
+wide, in their gaze wonder and disbelief, yet hope and longing.
+
+"Catharine," he murmured, "Catharine! Is it you? Catharine! Dear Kate!"
+
+She bent over and softly kissed his face. "Dear heart," she whispered,
+"I have loved you always. Awake. The day has come. There is another
+world before us. See, I have come to you, dear heart, for Faith, and for
+Love, and for Hope!"
+
+
+
+***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE***
+
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+<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN">
+<html>
+<head>
+<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1">
+<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Mississippi Bubble, by Emerson Hough</title>
+    <style type="text/css">
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+<body>
+<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Mississippi Bubble, by Emerson Hough,
+Illustrated by Henry Hutt</h1>
+<pre>
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.net">www.gutenberg.net</a></pre>
+<p>Title: The Mississippi Bubble</p>
+<p>Author: Emerson Hough</p>
+<p>Release Date: November 10, 2004  [eBook #14001]</p>
+<p>Language: English</p>
+<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p>
+<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE***</p>
+<br><br><h3>E-text prepared by Rick Niles, John Hagerson, Jon King,<br>
+            and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team</h3><br><br>
+<hr class="full" noshade>
+<br />
+
+
+<center>
+<img src="images/img1.jpg" height="391" width="300"
+alt="Frontispiece">
+</center>
+
+<h1>THE MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE</h1>
+
+<br />
+
+<h2>HOW THE STAR OF GOOD FORTUNE ROSE
+AND SET AND ROSE AGAIN, BY A WOMAN'S
+GRACE, FOR ONE JOHN LAW <i>of</i> LAURISTON</h2>
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+
+<h2>A NOVEL <i>by</i> EMERSON HOUGH</h2>
+<h3>THE ILLUSTRATIONS <i>by</i> HENRY HUTT</h3>
+
+<h4>NINETEEN HUNDRED TWO</h4>
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+
+<h3>TO<br />
+L.C.H.</h3>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<h2>CONTENTS</h2>
+
+<!-- Autogenerated TOC. Modify or delete as required. -->
+ <a href='#BOOK_I'><b>BOOK I</b></a><br />
+ <br />
+ <a href='#CHAPTER_I'><b>CHAPTER I&mdash;THE RETURNED TRAVELER</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#CHAPTER_II'><b>CHAPTER II&mdash;AT SADLER'S WELLS</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#CHAPTER_III'><b>CHAPTER III&mdash;JOHN LAW OF LAURISTON</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#CHAPTER_IV'><b>CHAPTER IV&mdash;THE POINT OF HONOR</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#CHAPTER_V'><b>CHAPTER V&mdash;DIVERS EMPLOYMENTS OF JOHN LAW</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#CHAPTER_VI'><b>CHAPTER VI&mdash;THE RESOLUTION OF MR. LAW</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#CHAPTER_VII'><b>CHAPTER VII&mdash;TWO MAIDS A-BROIDERING</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#CHAPTER_VIII'><b>CHAPTER VIII&mdash;CATHARINE KNOLLYS</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#CHAPTER_IX'><b>CHAPTER IX&mdash;IN SEARCH OF THE QUARREL</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#CHAPTER_X'><b>CHAPTER X&mdash;THE RUMOR OF THE QUARREL</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#CHAPTER_XI'><b>CHAPTER XI&mdash;AS CHANCE DECREED</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#CHAPTER_XII'><b>CHAPTER XII&mdash;FOR FELONY</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#CHAPTER_XIII'><b>CHAPTER XIII&mdash;THE MESSAGE</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#CHAPTER_XIV'><b>CHAPTER XIV&mdash;PRISONERS</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#CHAPTER_XV'><b>CHAPTER XV&mdash;IF THERE WERE NEED</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#CHAPTER_XVI'><b>CHAPTER XVI&mdash;THE ESCAPE</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#CHAPTER_XVII'><b>CHAPTER XVII&mdash;WHITHER</b></a><br />
+
+ <br />
+ <a href='#BOOK_II'><b>BOOK II</b></a><br />
+ <br />
+ <a href='#BOOK_II_CHAPTER_I'><b>CHAPTER I&mdash;THE DOOR OF THE WEST</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#BOOK_II_CHAPTER_II'><b>CHAPTER II&mdash;THE STORM</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#BOOK_II_CHAPTER_III'><b>CHAPTER III&mdash;AU LARGE</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#BOOK_II_CHAPTER_IV'><b>CHAPTER IV&mdash;THE PATHWAY OF THE WATERS</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#BOOK_II_CHAPTER_V'><b>CHAPTER V&mdash;MESSASEBE</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#BOOK_II_CHAPTER_VI'><b>CHAPTER VI&mdash;MAIZE</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#BOOK_II_CHAPTER_VII'><b>CHAPTER VII&mdash;THE BRINK OF CHANGE</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#BOOK_II_CHAPTER_VIII'><b>CHAPTER VIII&mdash;TOUS SAUVAGES</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#BOOK_II_CHAPTER_IX'><b>CHAPTER IX&mdash;THE DREAM</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#BOOK_II_CHAPTER_X'><b>CHAPTER X&mdash;BY THE HILT OF THE SWORD</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#BOOK_II_CHAPTER_XI'><b>CHAPTER XI&mdash;THE IROQUOIS</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#BOOK_II_CHAPTER_XII'><b>CHAPTER XII&mdash;PRISONERS OF THE IROQUOIS</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#BOOK_II_CHAPTER_XIII'><b>CHAPTER XIII&mdash;THE SACRIFICE</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#BOOK_II_CHAPTER_XIV'><b>CHAPTER XIV&mdash;THE EMBASSY</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#BOOK_II_CHAPTER_XV'><b>CHAPTER XV&mdash;THE GREAT PEACE</b></a><br />
+
+ <br />
+ <a href='#BOOK_III'><b>BOOK III</b></a><br />
+ <br />
+ <a href='#BOOK_III_CHAPTER_I'><b>CHAPTER I&mdash;THE GRAND MONARQUE</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#BOOK_III_CHAPTER_II'><b>CHAPTER II&mdash;EVER SAID SHE NAY</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#BOOK_III_CHAPTER_III'><b>CHAPTER III&mdash;SEARCH THOU MY HEART</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#BOOK_III_CHAPTER_IV'><b>CHAPTER IV&mdash;THE REGENT'S PROMISE</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#BOOK_III_CHAPTER_V'><b>CHAPTER V&mdash;A DAY OF MIRACLES</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#BOOK_III_CHAPTER_VI'><b>CHAPTER VI&mdash;THE GREATEST NEED</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#BOOK_III_CHAPTER_VII'><b>CHAPTER VII&mdash;THE MIRACLE UNWROUGHT</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#BOOK_III_CHAPTER_VIII'><b>CHAPTER VIII&mdash;THE LITTLE SUPPER OF THE REGENT</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#BOOK_III_CHAPTER_IX'><b>CHAPTER IX&mdash;THE NEWS</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#BOOK_III_CHAPTER_X'><b>CHAPTER X&mdash;MASTER AND MAN</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#BOOK_III_CHAPTER_XI'><b>CHAPTER XI&mdash;THE BREAKING OF THE BUBBLE</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#BOOK_III_CHAPTER_XII'><b>CHAPTER XII&mdash;THAT WHICH REMAINED</b></a><br />
+ <a href='#BOOK_III_CHAPTER_XIII'><b>CHAPTER XIII&mdash;THE QUALITY OF MERCY</b></a><br />
+
+<!-- End Autogenerated TOC. -->
+<br />
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+
+<h2><b>THE MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE</b></h2>
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+
+<a name='BOOK_I'></a><h2>BOOK I</h2>
+
+<h3>ENGLAND</h3>
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+
+<a name='CHAPTER_I'></a><h3>CHAPTER I</h3>
+
+<h4>THE RETURNED TRAVELER</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>&quot;Gentlemen, this is America!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The speaker cast upon the cloth-covered table a singular object, whose
+like none of those present had ever seen. They gathered about and bent
+over it curiously.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;This is that America,&quot; the speaker repeated. &quot;Here you have it,
+barbaric, wonderful, abounding!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>With sudden gesture he swept his hand among the gold coin that lay on
+the gaming table. He thrust into the mouth of the object before him a
+handful of louis d'or and English sovereigns. &quot;There is your America,&quot;
+said he. &quot;It runs over with gold. No man may tell its richness. Its
+beauty you can not imagine.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Faith,&quot; said Sir Arthur Pembroke, bending over the table with glass in
+eye, &quot;if the ladies of that land have feet for this sort of shoon,
+methinks we might well emigrate. Take you the money of it. For me, I
+would see the dame could wear such shoe as this.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>One after another this company of young Englishmen, hard players, hard
+drinkers, gathered about the table and bent over to examine the little
+shoe. It was an Indian moccasin, cut after the fashion of the Abenakis,
+from the skin of the wild buck, fashioned large and full for the spread
+of the foot, covered deep with the stained quills of the porcupine, and
+dotted here and there with the precious beads which, to the maker, had
+more worth than any gold. A little flap came up for cover to the ankle,
+and a thong fell from its upper edge. It was the ancient foot-covering
+of the red race of America, made for the slight but effectual protection
+of the foot, while giving perfect freedom to the tread of the wearer.
+Light, dainty and graceful, its size was much less than that of the
+average woman's shoe of that time and place.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Bah! Pembroke,&quot; said Castleton, pushing up the shade above his eyes
+till it rested on his forehead, &quot;'tis a child's shoe.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Not so,&quot; said the first speaker. &quot;I give you my word 'tis the moccasin
+of my sweetheart, a princess in her own right, who waits my coming on
+the Ottawa. And so far from the shoe being too small, I say as a
+gentleman that she not only wore it so, but in addition used somewhat
+of grass therein in place of hose.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The earnestness of this speech in no wise prevented the peal of laughter
+that followed.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There you have it, Pembroke,&quot; cried Castleton. &quot;Would you move to a
+land where princesses use hay for hosiery?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis curious done,&quot; said Pembroke, musingly, &quot;none the less.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And done by her own hand,&quot; said the owner of the shoe, with a certain
+proprietary pride.</p>
+
+<p>Again the laughter broke out. &quot;Do your princesses engage in shoemaking?&quot;
+asked a third gamester as he pushed into the ring. &quot;Sure it must be a
+rare land. Prithee, what doth the king in handicraft? Doth he take to
+saddlery, or, perhaps, smithing?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Have done thy jests, Wilson,&quot; cried Pembroke. &quot;Mayhap there is somewhat
+to be learned here of this New World and of our dear cousins, the
+French. Go on, tell us, Monsieur du Mesne&mdash;as I think you call yourself,
+sir?&mdash;tell us more of your new country of ice and snow, of princesses
+and little shoes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The original speaker went a bit sullen, what with his wine and the jests
+of his companions. &quot;I'll tell ye naught,&quot; said he. &quot;Go see for
+yourselves, by leave of Louis.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Come now,&quot; said Pembroke, conciliatingly. &quot;We'll all admit our
+ignorance. 'Tis little we know of our own province of Virginia, save
+that Virginia is a land of poverty and tobacco. Wealth&mdash;faith, if ye
+have wealth in your end of the continent, 'tis time we English fought ye
+for it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Methinks you English are having enough to do here close at home,&quot;
+sneered Du Mesne. &quot;I have heard somewhat of Steinkirk, and how ye ran
+from the half-dressed gentlemen of France.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Dark looks followed this bold speech, which cut but too closely to the
+quick of English pride. Pembroke quelled the incipient outcry with
+calmer speech.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Peace, friends,&quot; said he. &quot;'Tis not arms we argue here, after all. We
+are but students at the feet of Monsieur du Mesne, who hath returned
+from foreign parts. Prithee, sir, tell us more.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Tell ye more&mdash;and if I did, would ye believe it? What if I tell ye of
+great rivers far to the west of the Ottawa; of races as strange to my
+princess's people as we are to them; of streams whose sands run in gold,
+where diamonds and sapphires are to be picked up as ye like? If I told
+ye, would ye believe?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The martial hearts and adventurous souls of the circle about him began
+to show in the heightened color and closer crowding of the young men to
+the table. Silence fell upon the group.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ye know nothing, in this old rotten world, of what there is yet to be
+found in America,&quot; cried Du Mesne. &quot;For myself, I have been no farther
+than the great falls of the Ontoneagrea&mdash;a mere trifle of a cataract,
+gentlemen, into which ye might pitch your tallest English cathedral and
+sink it beyond its pinnacle with ease. Yet I have spoke with the holy
+fathers who have journeyed far to the westward, even to the vast
+Messasebe, which is well known to run into the China sea upon some
+far-off coast not yet well charted. I have also read the story of
+Sagean, who was far to the west of that mighty river. Did not the latter
+see and pursue and kill in fair fight the giant unicorn, fabled of
+Scripture? Is not that animal known to be a creature of the East, and
+may we not, therefore, be advised that this new country takes hold upon
+the storied lands of the East? Why, this holy friar with whom I spoke,
+fresh back from his voyaging to the cold upper ways of the Northern
+tribes, who live beyond the far-off channel at Michilimackinac&mdash;did he
+not tell of a river of the name of the Blue Earth, and did he not
+himself see turquoises and diamonds and emeralds taken in handfuls from
+this same blue earth? Ah, bah! gentlemen, Europe for you if ye like, but
+for me, back I go, so soon as I may get proper passage and a connection
+which will warrant me the voyage. Back I go to Canada, to America, to
+the woods and streams. I would see again my ancient Du L'hut, and my
+comrade Pierre Noir, and T&ecirc;te Gris, the trapper from the Mistasing&mdash;free
+traders all. Life is there for the living, my comrades. This Old World,
+small and outworn, no more of it for me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And why came you back to this little Old World of ours, an you loved
+the New World so much?&quot; asked the cynical voice of him who had been
+called Wilson.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;By the body of God!&quot; cried Du Mesne, &quot;think ye I came of my own free
+will? Look here, and find your reason.&quot; He stripped back the opening of
+his doublet and under waistcoat, and showed upon his broad shoulder the
+scar of a red tri-point, deep and livid upon his flesh. &quot;Look! There is
+the fleur-de-lis of France. That is why I came. I have rowed in the
+galleys, me&mdash;me a free man, a man of the woods of New France!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Murmurs of concern passed among the little group. Castleton rose from
+his chair and leaned with his hands upon the table, gazing now at the
+face and now at the bared shoulder of this stranger, who had by chance
+become a member of their nightly party.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I have not been in London a fortnight since my escape,&quot; said the man
+with the brand. &quot;I was none the less once a good servant of Louis in New
+France, for that I found many a new tribe and many a bale of furs that
+else had never come to the Mountain for the robbery of the lying
+officers who claim the robe of Louis. I was a soldier for the king as
+well as a traveler of the forest. Was I not with the Le Moynes and the
+band that crossed the icy North and destroyed your robbing English fur
+posts on the Bay of Hudson? I fought there and helped blow down your
+barriers. I packed my own robe on my back, and walked for the king, till
+the <i>raquette</i> thongs cut my ankles to the bone. For what? When I came
+back to the settlements at Quebec I was seized for a <i>coureur de bois</i>,
+a free trader. I was herded like a criminal into a French ship, sent
+over seas to a French prison, branded with a French iron, and set like a
+brute to pull without reason at a bar of wood in the king's galleys&mdash;the
+king's hell!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And yet you are a Frenchman,&quot; sneered Wilson.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yet am I not a Frenchman,&quot; cried the other. &quot;Nor am I an Englishman. I
+am no man of a world of galleys and brands. I am a man of America!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis true what he says,&quot; spoke Pembroke. &quot;'Tis said the minister of
+Louis was feared to keep these men in the galleys, lest their fellows in
+New France should become too bitter, and should join the savages in
+their inroads on the starving settlements of Quebec and Montr&eacute;al.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;True,&quot; exclaimed Du Mesne. &quot;The <i>coureurs</i> care naught for the law and
+little for the king. As for a ruler, we have discovered that a man makes
+a most excellent sovereign for himself.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And excellent said,&quot; cried Castleton.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;None of ye know the West,&quot; went on the <i>coureur</i>. &quot;Your Virginia, we
+know well of it&mdash;a collection of beggars, prostitutes and thieves. Your
+New England&mdash;a lot of cod-fishing, starving snivelers, who are most
+concerned how to keep life in their bodies from year to year. New France
+herself, sitting ever on the edge of an icy death, with naught but
+bickerings at Quebec and naught but reluctant compliance from
+Paris&mdash;what hath she to hope? I tell ye, gentlemen, 'tis beyond, in the
+land of the Messasebe, where I shall for my part seek out my home; and
+no man shall set iron on my soul again.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He spoke bitterly. The group about him, half amused, half cynical and
+all ignorant, as were their kind at this time of the reign of William,
+were none the less impressed and thoughtful. Yet once more the sneering
+voice of Wilson broke in.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;A strange land, my friend,&quot; said he, &quot;monstrous strange. Your unicorns
+are great, and your women are little. Methinks to give thy tale
+proportion thou shouldst have shown shoon somewhat larger.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Peace! Beau,&quot; said Castleton, quickly. &quot;As for the size of the human
+foot&mdash;gad! I'll lay a roll of louis d'or that there's one dame here in
+London town can wear this slipper of New France.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Done!&quot; cried Wilson. &quot;Name the one.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;None other than the pretty Lawrence whom thou hast had under thine
+ancient wing for the past two seasons.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The face of Wilson gathered into a sudden frown at this speech. &quot;What
+doth it matter&quot;&mdash;he began.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Have done, fellows!&quot; cried Pembroke with some asperity. &quot;Lay wagers
+more fit at best, and let us have no more of this thumb-biting. Gad! the
+first we know, we'll be up for fighting among ourselves, and we all know
+how the new court doth look on that.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Come away,&quot; laughed Castleton, gaily. &quot;I'm for a pint of ale and an
+apple; and then beware! 'Tis always my fortune, when I come to this
+country drink, to win like a very countryman. I need revenge upon Lady
+Betty and her lap-dog. I've lost since ever I saw them last.&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='CHAPTER_II'></a><h3>CHAPTER II</h3>
+
+<h4>AT SADLER'S WELLS</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>Sadler's Wells, on this mild and cheery spring morning, was a scene of
+fashion and of folly. Hither came the elite of London, after the custom
+of the day, to seek remedy in the reputed qualities of the springs for
+the weariness and lassitude resultant upon the long season of polite
+dissipations which society demanded of her votaries. Bewigged dandies,
+their long coats of colors well displayed as they strutted about in the
+open, paid court there, as they did within the city gates, to the
+powdered and painted beauties who sat in their couches waiting for their
+servants to bring out to them the draft of which they craved healing for
+crow's-feet and hollow eyes. Here and there traveling merchants called
+their wares, jugglers spread their carpets, bear dancers gave their
+little spectacles, and jockeys conferred as to the merits of horse or
+hound. Hawk-nosed Jews passed among the vehicles, cursed or kicked by
+the young gallants who stood about, hat in hand, at the steps of their
+idols' carriages.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Buy my silks, pretty lady, buy my silks! Fresh from the Turkey walk on
+the Exchange, and cheaper than you can buy their like in all the
+city&mdash;buy my silks, lady!&quot; Thus the peddler with his little pack of
+finery.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;My philter, lady,&quot; cried the gipsy woman, who had left her donkey cart
+outside the line. &quot;My philter! 'Twill keep-a your eyes bright and your
+cheeks red for ay. Secret of the Pharaohs, lady; and but a shilling!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Have ye a parrot, ma'am? Have ye never a parrot to keep ye free and
+give ye laughter every hour? Buy my parrot, lady. Just from the Gold
+Coast. He'll talk ye Spanish, Flemish or good city tongue. Buy my parrot
+at ten crowns, and so cheap, lady!&quot; So spoke the ear-ringed sailor, who
+might never have seen a salter water than the Thames.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Powder-puffs for the face, lady,&quot; whispered a lean and weazen-faced
+hawker, slipping among the crowd with secrecy. &quot;See my puff, made from
+the foot of English hares. Rubs out all wrinkles, lady, and keeps ye
+young as when ye were a lass. But a shilling, a shilling. See!&quot; And with
+the pretense of secrecy the seller would sidle up to a carriage of some
+dame, slip to her the hare's foot and take the shilling with an air as
+though no one could see what none could fail to notice.</p>
+
+<p>Above these mingled cries of the hangers-on of this crowd of nobility
+and gentles rose the blare of crude music, and cries far off and
+confused. Above it all shone the May sun, brighter here than lower
+toward the Thames. In the edge of London town it was, all this little
+pageant, and from the residence squares below and far to the westward
+came the carriages and the riders, gathering at the spot which for the
+hour was the designated rendezvous of capricious fashion. No matter if
+the tower at the drinking curb was crowded, so that inmates of the
+coaches could not find way among the others. There was at least magic in
+the morning, even if one might not drink at the chalybeate spring.
+Cheeks did indeed grow rosy, and eyes brightened under the challenge not
+only of the dawn but of the ardent eyes that gazed impertinently bold or
+reproachfully imploring.</p>
+
+<p>Far-reaching was the line of the gentility, to whose flanks clung the
+rabble of trade. Back upon the white road came yet other carriages,
+saluted by those departing. Low hedges of English green reached out into
+the distance, blending ultimately at the edge of the pleasant sky. Merry
+enough it was, and gladsome, this spring day; for be sure the really ill
+did not brave the long morning ride to test the virtue of the waters of
+Sadler's Wells. It was for the most part the young, the lively, the
+full-blooded, perhaps the wearied, but none the less the vital and
+stirring natures which met in the decreed assemblage.</p>
+
+<p>Back of Sadler's little court the country came creeping close up to the
+town. There were fields not so far away on these long highways.
+Wandering and rambling roads ran off to the westward and to the north,
+leading toward the straight old Roman road which once upon a time ran
+down to London town. Ill-kept enough were some of the lanes, with their
+hedges and shrubs overhanging the highways, if such the paths could be
+called which came braiding down toward the south. One needed not to go
+far outward beyond Sadler's Wells of a night-time to find adventure, or
+to lose a purse.</p>
+
+<p>It was on one of these less crowded highways that there was this morning
+enacted a curious little drama. The sun was still young and not too
+strong for comfort, and as it rose back of the square of Sadler's it
+cast a shadow from a hedge which ran angling toward the southeast. Its
+rays, therefore, did not disturb the slumbers of two young men who were
+lying beneath the shelter of the hedge. Strange enough must have been
+the conclusions of the sun could it have looked over the barrier and
+peered into the faces of these youths. Evidently they were of good
+breeding and some station, albeit their garb was not of the latest
+fashion. The gray hose and the clumsy shoes plainly bespoke some
+northern residence. The wig of each lacked the latest turn, perhaps the
+collar of the coat was not all it should have been. There was but one
+coat visible, for the other, rolled up as a pillow, served to support
+the heads of both. The elder of the two was the one who had sacrificed
+his covering. The other was more restless in his attitude, and though
+thus the warmer for a coat, was more in need of comfort. A white bandage
+covered his wrist, and the linen was stained red. Yet the two slept on,
+well into the morn, well into the rout of Sadler's Wells. Evidently they
+were weary.</p>
+
+<p>The elder man was the taller of the two; as he lay on the bank beneath
+the hedge, he might even in that posture have been seen to own a figure
+of great strength and beauty. His face, bold of outline, with well
+curved, wide jaw and strong cheek bones, was shaded by the tangled mat
+of his wig, tousled in his sleep. His hands, long and graceful, lay idly
+at his side, though one rested lightly on the hilt of the sword which
+lay near him. The ruffles of his shirt were torn, and, indeed, had
+almost disappeared. By study one might have recognized them in the
+bandage about the hand of the other. Somewhat disheveled was this
+youth, yet his young, strong body, slender and shapely, seemed even in
+its rest strangely full of power and confidence.</p>
+
+<p>The younger man was in some fashion an epitome of the other, and it had
+needed little argument to show the two were brothers. But why should two
+brothers, well-clad and apparently well-to-do, probably brothers from a
+country far to the north, be thus lying like common vagabonds beneath an
+English hedge?</p>
+
+<p>Far down the roadway there rose a cloud of dust, which came steadily
+nearer, following the only vehicle in sight, probably the only one which
+had passed that morning. As this little dust-cloud came slowly nearer it
+might have been seen to rise from the wheels of a richly-built and
+well-appointed coach. Four dark horses obeyed the reins handled by a
+solemn-visaged lackey on the box, and there was a goodly footman at the
+back. Within the coach were two passengers such as might have set
+Sadler's Wells by the ears. They sat on the same seat, as equals, and
+their heads lay close together, as confidantes. The tongues of both ran
+fast and free. Long gloves covered the arms of these beauties, and their
+costumes showed them to be of station. The crinoline of the two filled
+all the body of the ample coach from seat to seat, and the folds of
+their figured muslins, flowing out over this ample outline, gave to the
+face of each a daintiness of contour and feature which was not ill
+relieved by the high head-dress of ribbons and bepowdered hair. Of the
+two ladies, one, even in despite of her crinoline, might have been seen
+to be of noble and queenly figure; the towering head-dress did not fully
+disguise the wealth of red-bronze hair. Tall and well-rounded, vigorous
+and young, not yet twenty, adored by many suitors, the Lady Catharine
+Knollys had rarely looked better than she did this morning as she drove
+out to Sadler's, for Providence alone knew what fault of a superb vital
+energy. Her eyes sparkled as she spoke, and every gesture betokened
+rather the grand young creature that she was than the valetudinarian
+going forth for healing. Her cheek, turned now and again, showed a
+clear-cut and untouched soundness that meant naught but health. It
+showed also the one blemish upon a beauty which was toasted in the court
+as faultless. Upon the left cheek there was a <i>mouche</i>, excessive in its
+size. Strangers might have commented on it. Really it covered a
+deep-stained birth-mark, the one blur upon a peerless beauty. Yet even
+this might be forgotten, as it was now.</p>
+
+<p>The companion of the Lady Catharine in her coach was a young woman,
+scarce so tall and more slender. The heavy hoop concealed much of the
+grace of figure which was her portion, but the poise of the upper body,
+free from the seat-back and erect with youthful strength as yet
+unspared, showed easily that here, too, was but an indifferent subject
+for Sadler's. Dark, where her companion was fair, and with the glossy
+texture of her own somber locks showing in the individual roll which ran
+back into the absurd <i>fontange</i> of false hair and falser powder, Mary
+Connynge made good foil for her bosom friend; though honesty must admit
+that neither had yet much concern for foils, since both had their full
+meed of gallants. Much seen together, they were commonly known, as the
+Morning and Eve, sometimes as Aurora and Eve. Never did daughter of the
+original Eve have deeper feminine guile than Mary Connynge. Soft of
+speech&mdash;as her friend, the Lady Catharine, was impulsive,&mdash;slow, suave,
+amber-eyed and innocent of visage, this young English woman, with no
+dower save that of beauty and of wit, had not failed of a sensation at
+the capital whither she had come as guest of the Lady Catharine. Three
+captains and a squire, to say nothing of a gouty colonel, had already
+fallen victims, and had heard their fate in her low, soft tones, which
+could whisper a fashionable oath in the accent of a hymn, and say &quot;no&quot;
+so sweetly that one could only beg to hear the word again. It was
+perhaps of some such incident that these two young maids of old London
+conversed as they trundled slowly out toward the suburb of the city.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Twould have killed you, Lady Kitty; sure 'twould have been your end to
+hear him speak! He walked the floor upon his knees, and clasped his
+hands, and followed me about like a dog in a spectacle. Lord! but I
+feared he would have thrown over the tabouret with his great feet. And
+help me, if I think not he had tears in his eyes!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;My friend,&quot; said Lady Kitty, solemnly, &quot;you must have better care of
+your conduct. I'll not have my father's old friend abused in his own
+house.&quot; At which they both burst into laughter. Youth, the blithely
+cruel, had its own way in this old coach upon the ancient dusty road, as
+it has ever had.</p>
+
+<p>But now serious affairs gained the attention of these two fairs. &quot;Tell
+me, sweetheart,&quot; said Lady Catharine, &quot;what think you of the fancy of my
+new dresser? He insists ever that the mode in Paris favors a deep bow,
+placed high upon the left side of the 'tower.' Montespan, of the French
+court, is said to have given the fashion. She hurried at her toilet, and
+placed the bow there for fault of better care. Hence, so must we if we
+are to live in town. So says my new hair-dresser from Paris. 'Tis to
+Paris we must go for the modes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I am not so sure,&quot; began Mary Connynge, &quot;as to this arrangement. Now I
+am much disposed to believe&mdash;&quot; but what she was disposed to believe at
+that time was not said, then or ever afterward, for at that moment there
+happened matters which ended their little talk; matters which divided
+their two lives, and which, in the end, drove them as far apart as two
+continents could carry them.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;O Gemini!&quot; called out Mary Connynge, as the coachman for a moment
+slackened his pace. &quot;Look! We shall be robbed!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The driver irresolutely pulled up his horses. From under the shade of
+the hedge there arose two men, of whom the taller now stood erect and
+came toward the carriage.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis no robber,&quot; said Lady Catharine Knollys, her eyes fastened on the
+tall figure which came forward.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Save us,&quot; said Mary Connynge, &quot;what a pretty man!&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='CHAPTER_III'></a><h3>CHAPTER III</h3>
+
+<h4>JOHN LAW OF LAURISTON</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>Unconsciously the coachman obeyed the unvoiced command of this man, who
+stepped out from the shelter of the hedge. Travel-stained, just awakened
+from sleep, disheveled, with dress disordered, there was none the less
+abundant boldness in his mien as he came forward, yet withal the grace
+and deference of the courtier. It was a good figure he made as he
+stepped down from the bank and came forward, hat in hand, the sun, now
+rising to the top of the hedge, lighting up his face and showing his
+bold profile, his open and straight blue eye.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ladies,&quot; he said, as he reached the road, &quot;I crave your pardon humbly.
+This, I think, is the coach of my Lord, the Earl of Banbury. Mayhap this
+is the Lady Catharine Knollys to whom I speak?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The lady addressed still gazed at him, though she drew up with dignity.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You have quite the advantage of us,&quot; said she. She glanced uneasily at
+the coachman, but the order to go forward did not quite leave her lips.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I am not aware&mdash;I do not know&mdash;,&quot; she began, afraid of her adventure
+now it had come, after the way of all dreaming maids who prate of men
+and conquests.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I should be dull of eye did I not see the Knollys arms,&quot; said the
+stranger, smiling and bowing low. &quot;And I should be ill advised of the
+families of England did I not know that the daughter of Knollys, the
+sister of the Earl of Banbury, is the Lady Catharine, and most charming
+also. This I might say, though 'tis true I never was in London or in
+England until now.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The speech, given with all respectfulness, did not fail of flattery.
+Again the order to drive on remained unspoken. This speaker, whose foot
+was now close to the carriage step, and whose head, gravely bowed as he
+saluted the occupants of the vehicle, presented so striking a type of
+manly attractiveness, even that first moment cast some spell upon the
+woman whom he sought to interest. The eyes of the Lady Catharine Knollys
+did not turn from him. As though it were another person, she heard
+herself murmur, &quot;And you, sir?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I am John Law of Lauriston, Scotland, Madam, and entirely at your
+service. That is my brother Will, yonder by the bank.&quot; He smiled, and
+the younger man came forward, hesitatingly, and not with the address of
+his brother, though yet with the breeding of a gentleman.</p>
+
+<p>The eyes of Mary Connynge took in both men with the same look, but her
+eyes, as did those of the Lady Catharine, became most concerned with the
+first speaker.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;My brother and I are on our first journey to London,&quot; continued he,
+with a gay laugh which did not consort fully with the plight in which he
+showed. &quot;We started by coach, as gentlemen; and now we come on foot,
+like laborers or thieves. 'Twas my own fault. Yesterday I must needs
+quit the Edinboro' stage. Last night our chaise was stopped, and we were
+asked to hand our money to a pair of evil fellows who had made prey of
+us. In short&mdash;you see&mdash;we fared ill enough. Lost in the dark, we made
+what shift we could along this road, where we both are strangers. At
+last, not able to pay for better quarters even had we found them, we lay
+down to sleep. I have slept far worse. And 'tis a lovely morning. Madam,
+I thank you for this happy beginning of the day.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Mary Connynge pointed to the bandage on the younger man's arm, speaking
+a low word to her companion.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;True,&quot; said the Lady Catharine, &quot;you are injured, sir; you did not come
+off whole.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, we would hardly suffer the fellows to rob us without making some
+argument over it,&quot; said the first speaker. &quot;Indeed, I think we are the
+better off hereabouts for a brace of footpads gone to their account. I
+made them my duties as we came away. Will, here, was pricked a trifle,
+but you see we have done very well.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The face of Will Law hardly offered complete proof of this assertion. He
+had slept ill enough, and in the morning light his face showed gaunt and
+pale. Here, then, was a situation most inopportune; the coach of two
+ladies, unattended, stopped by two strangers, who certainly could not
+claim introduction by either friend or reputation.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I did but wish to ask some advice of the roads hereabout,&quot; said the
+elder brother, turning his eyes full upon those of the Lady Catharine.
+&quot;As you see, we are in ill plight to get forward to the city. If you
+will be so good as to tell me which way to take, I shall remember it
+most gratefully. Once in the city, we should do better, for the rascals
+have not taken certain papers, letters which I bear to gentlemen in the
+city&mdash;Sir Arthur Pembroke I may name as one&mdash;a friend of my father's,
+who hath had some dealings with him in the handling of moneys. I have
+also word for others, and make sure that, once we have got into town, we
+shall soon mend our fortune.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lady Catharine looked at Mary Connynge and the latter in turn gazed at
+her. &quot;There could be no harm,&quot; said each to the other with her eyes.
+&quot;Surely it is our duty to take them in with us; at least the one who is
+wounded.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Will Law had said nothing, though he had come forward to the road, and,
+bowing, stood uncovered. Now he leaned against the flank of one of the
+horses, in a tremor of vertigo which seized him as he stood. It was
+perhaps the paleness of his face that gave determination to the issue.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;William,&quot; called the Lady Catharine Knollys, &quot;open the door for Mr. Law
+of Lauriston!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The footman sprang to the ground and held open the door. Therefore, into
+the coach stepped John Law and his brother, late of Edinboro', sometime
+robbed and afoot, but now to come into London in circumstances which
+surely might have been far worse.</p>
+
+<p>John Law entered the coach with the dignity and grace of a gentleman
+born. He bowed gravely as he took his seat beside his brother, facing
+the ladies. Will Law sank back into the corner, not averse to rest. The
+eyes of the two young women did not linger more upon the wounded man
+than upon his brother. He, in turn, looked straight into their eyes,
+courteously, respectfully, gravely, yet fearlessly and calmly, as
+though he knew what power and possibilities were his. Enigma and
+autocrat alike, Beau Law of Edinboro', one of the handsomest and
+properest men ever bred on any soil, was surely a picture of vigorous
+young manhood, as he rode toward Sadler's Wells, with two of the
+beauties of the hour, and in a coach and four which might have been his
+own.</p>
+
+<p>Now all the sweet spring morning came on apace, and from the fields and
+little gardens came the breath of flowers. The sky was blue. The languor
+of springtime pulsed through the veins of those young creatures, those
+engines of life, of passion and desire. Neither of the two women saw the
+torn garb of the man before them. They saw but the curve of the strong
+chest beneath. They heard, and the one heard and felt as keenly as the
+other, the voice of the young man, musical and rich, touching some
+deep-seated and vibrating heart-string. So in the merry month of May,
+with the birds singing in the trees, and the scent of the flowers wafted
+coolly to their senses, they came on apace to the throng at Sadler's
+Wells. There it was that John Law, finding in a pocket a coin that had
+been overlooked, reached out to a vender and bought a rose. He offered
+his flower with a deep inclination of the body to the Lady Catharine.</p>
+
+<p>It was at this moment that Mary Connynge first began to hate her friend,
+the Lady Catharine Knollys.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='CHAPTER_IV'></a><h3>CHAPTER IV</h3>
+
+<h4>THE POINT OF HONOR</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>&quot;Tell me, friend Castleton,&quot; said Pembroke, banteringly, &quot;art still
+adhering to thy country drink of lamb's-wool? Methinks burnt ale and
+toasted apple might better be replaced in thy case by a beaker of
+stronger waters. You lose, and still you lose.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;May a plague take it!&quot; cried Castleton. &quot;I've had no luck these four
+days. 'Tis that cursed lap-dog of the duchess. Ugh! I saw it in my
+dreams last night.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Gad! your own fortune in love must be ill enough, Sir Arthur,&quot; said
+Beau Wilson, as he pushed back his chair during this little lull in the
+play of the evening.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And tell me why, Beau?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Because of us all who have met here at the Green Lion these last
+months, not one hath ever had so steady a run of luck. Sure some fairy
+hath befriended thee. <i>Sept et le va</i>, <i>sept et le va</i>&mdash;I'll hear it in my
+ears to-night, even as Castleton sees the lap-dog. Man, you play as
+though you read the pack quite through.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah, then, you admit that there is some such thing as a talisman. I'll
+not deny that I have had one these last three evenings, but I feared to
+tell ye all, lest I might be waylaid and robbed of my good-luck charm.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Tell us, tell us, man, what it is!&quot; cried Castleton. &quot;<i>Sept et le va</i>
+has not been made in this room before for many a month, yet here thou
+comest with the run of <i>sept et le va</i> thrice in as many hours.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, then,&quot; continued Pembroke, still smiling, &quot;I'll make a small
+confession. Here is my charm. Salute it!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He cast on the table the Indian moccasin which had been shown the same
+party at the Green Lion a few evenings before. Eager hands reached for
+it.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Treachery!&quot; cried Castleton. &quot;I bid Du Mesne four pounds for the shoe
+myself.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh ho!&quot; said Pembroke, &quot;so you too were after it. Well, the long purse
+won, as it doth ever. I secretly gave our wandering wood ranger,
+ex-galley slave of France, the neat sum of twenty-five pounds for this
+little shoe. Poor fellow, he liked ill enough to part with it; but he
+said, very sensibly, that the twenty-five pounds would take him back to
+Canada, and once there, he could not only get many such shoes, but see
+the maid who made this one for him, or, rather, made it for herself. As
+for me, the price was cheap. You could not replace it in all the
+Exchange for any money. Moreover, to show my canniness, I've won back
+its cost a score of times this very night.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He laughingly extended his hand for the moccasin, which Wilson was
+examining closely.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis clever made,&quot; said the latter. &quot;And what a tale the owner of it
+carried. If half he says be true, we do ill to bide here in old England.
+Let us take ship and follow Monsieur du Mesne.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Twould be a long chase, mayhap,&quot; said Pembroke, reflectively. Yet each
+of the men at that little table in the gaming room of the Green Lion
+coffee-house ceased in his fingering the cards, and gazed upon this
+product of another world.</p>
+
+<p>Pembroke was first to break the silence, and as he heard a footfall at
+the door, he called out:</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ho, fellow! Go fetch me another bottle of Spanish, and do not forget
+this time the brandy and water which I told thee to bring half an hour
+ago.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The step came nearer, and as it did not retreat, but entered the room,
+Pembroke called out again: &quot;Make haste, man, and go on!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The footsteps paused, and Pembroke looked up, as one does when a strange
+presence comes into the room. He saw, standing near the door, a tall and
+comely young man, whose carriage betokened him not ill-born. The
+stranger advanced and bowed gravely. &quot;Pardon me, sir,&quot; he said, &quot;but I
+fear I am awkward in thus intruding. The man showed me up the stair and
+bade me enter. He said that I should find here Sir Arthur Pembroke, upon
+whom I bear letters from friends of his in the North.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir,&quot; said Pembroke, rising and advancing, &quot;you are very welcome, and I
+ask pardon for my unwitting speech.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I come at this hour and at this place,&quot; said the newcomer, &quot;for reasons
+which may seem good a little later. My name is John Law, of Edinboro',
+sir.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>All those present arose.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir,&quot; responded Pembroke, &quot;I am delighted to have your name. I know of
+the acquaintance between your father and my own. These are friends of
+mine, and I am delighted to name ye to each other. Mr. Charles
+Castleton; Mr. Edward Wilson. We are all here to kill the ancient enemy,
+Time. 'Tis an hour of night when one gains an appetite for one thing or
+another, cards or cold joint. I know not why we should not have a bit of
+both?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;With your permission, I shall be glad to join ye at either,&quot; said John
+Law. &quot;I have still the appetite of a traveler&mdash;in faith, rather a better
+appetite than most travelers may claim, for I swear I've had no more to
+eat the last day and night than could be purchased for a pair of
+shillings.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Pembroke raised his eyebrows, scarce knowing whether to be amused at
+this speech or nettled by its cool assurance.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Some ill fortune?&quot;&mdash;he began politely.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There is no such thing as ill fortune,&quot; quoth John Law. &quot;We fail always
+of our own fault. Forsooth I must explore Roman roads by night. England
+hath builded better, and the footpads have the Roman ways. My brother
+Will&mdash;he waiteth below, if ye please, good friends, and is quite as
+hungry as myself, besides having a pricked finger to boot&mdash;and I lost
+what little we had about us, and we came through with scarce a good
+shirt between the two.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>A peal of laughter greeted him as he pulled apart the lapels of his coat
+and showed ruffles torn and disfigured. The speaker smiled gravely.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;To-morrow,&quot; said he, &quot;I must seek me out a goldsmith and a haberdasher,
+if you will be so good as to name such to me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir,&quot; said Sir Arthur Pembroke, &quot;in this plight you must allow me.&quot; He
+extended a purse which he drew from his pocket. &quot;I beg you, help
+yourself.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Thank you, no,&quot; replied John Law. &quot;I shall ask you only to show me the
+goldsmith in the morning, him upon whom I hold certain credits. I make
+no doubt that then I shall be quite fit again. I have never in my life
+borrowed a coin. Besides, I should feel that I had offended my good
+angel did I ask it to help me out of mine own folly. If we have but a
+bit of this cold joint, and a place for my brother Will to sit in
+comfort as we play, I shall beg to hope, my friends, that I shall be
+allowed to stake this trifle against a little of the money that I see
+here; which, I take it, is subject to the fortunes of war.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He tossed on the board a ring, which carried in its setting a diamond of
+size and brilliance.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;This fellow hath a cool assurance enough,&quot; muttered Beau Wilson to his
+neighbor as he leaned toward him at the table.</p>
+
+<p>Pembroke, always good-natured, laughed at the effrontery of the
+newcomer.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You say very well; it is there for the fortune of war,&quot; said he. &quot;It is
+all yours, if you can win it; but I warn you, beware, for I shall have
+your jewel and your letters of credit too, if ye keep not sharp watch.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes,&quot; said Castleton, &quot;Pembroke hath warrant for such speech. The man
+who can make <i>sept et le va</i> thrice in one evening is hard company for
+his friends.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>John Law leaned back comfortably in his chair.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I make no doubt,&quot; said he, &quot;that I shall make <i>trente et le va</i>, here
+at this table, this very evening.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Smiles and good-natured sneerings met this calm speech.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;<i>Trente et le va</i>&mdash;it hath not come out in the history of London play
+for the past four seasons!&quot; cried Wilson. &quot;I'll lay you any odds that
+you're not within eye-sight of <i>trente et le va</i> these next five
+evenings, if you favor us with your company.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Be easy with me, good friends,&quot; said John. Law, calmly. &quot;I am not yet
+in condition for individual wagers, as my jewel is my fortune, till
+to-morrow at least. But if ye choose to make the play at Lands-knecht, I
+will plunge at the bank to the best of my capital. Then, if I win, I
+shall be blithe to lay ye what ye like.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The young Englishmen sat looking at their guest with some curiosity. His
+strange assurance daunted them.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Surely this is a week of wonders,&quot; said Beau Wilson, with scarce
+covered sarcasm in his tone. &quot;First we have a wild man from Canada, with
+his fairy stories of gold and gems, and now we have another gentleman
+who apparently hath fathomed as well how to gain sudden wealth at will,
+and yet keep closer home.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Law took snuff calmly. &quot;I am not romancing, gentlemen,&quot; said he. &quot;With
+me play is not a hazard, but a science. I ought really not to lay on
+even terms with you. As I have said, there is no such thing as chance.
+There are such things as recurrences, such things as laws that govern
+all happenings.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Laughter arose again at this, though it did not disturb the newcomer,
+nor did the cries of derision which followed his announcement of his
+system.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Many a man hath come to London town with a system of play,&quot; cried
+Pembroke. &quot;Tell us, Mr. Law, what and where shall we send thee when we
+have won thy last sixpence?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Good sir,&quot; said Law, &quot;let us first of all have the joint.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I humbly crave a pardon, sir,&quot; said Pembroke. &quot;In this new sort of
+discourse I had forgot thine appetite. We shall mend that at once. Here,
+Simon! Go fetch up Mr. Law's brother, who waits below, and fetch two
+covers and a bit to eat. Some of thy new Java berry, too, and make
+haste! We have much yet to do.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That have ye, if ye are to see the bottom of my purse more than once,&quot;
+said Law gaily. &quot;See! 'tis quite empty now. I make ye all my solemn
+promise that 'twill not be empty again for twenty years. After
+that&mdash;well, the old Highland soothsayer, who dreamed for me, always told
+me to forswear play after I was forty, and never to go too near running
+water. Of the latter I was born with a horror. For play, I was born with
+a gift. Thus I foresee that this little feat which you mention is sure
+to be mine this very night. You all say that <i>trente</i> has not come up
+for many months. Well, 'tis due, and due to-night. The cards never fail
+me when I need.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;By my faith,&quot; cried Wilson, &quot;ye have a pretty way about you up in
+Scotland!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>John Law saw the veiled ill feeling, and replied at once:</p>
+
+<p>&quot;True, we have a pretty way. We had it at Killiecrankie not so long ago;
+and when the clans fight among themselves, we need still prettier ways.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Now, gentlemen,&quot; said Pembroke, &quot;none of this talk, by your leave. The
+odds are fairer here than they were at Killiecrankie's battle, and 'tis
+all of us against the Scotch again. We English stand together, but we
+stand to-night only against this threat of the ultimate fortune of the
+cards. Moreover, here comes the supper, and if I mistake not, also the
+brother of our friend.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Will bowed to one and the other gentlemen, unconsciously drifting toward
+his brother's chair.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Now we must to business,&quot; cried Castleton, as the dishes were at last
+cleared away. &quot;Show him thy talisman, Pem, and let him kiss his jewel
+good by.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Pembroke threw upon the table once more the moccasin of the Indian girl.
+John Law picked it up and examined it long and curiously, asking again
+and again searching questions regarding its origin.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I have read of this new land of America,&quot; said he. &quot;Some day it will be
+more prominent in all plans.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He laid down the slipper and mused for a moment, apparently forgetful of
+the scene about him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Perhaps,&quot; cried Castleton, the zeal of the gambler now showing in his
+eye. &quot;But let us make play here to-night. Let Pembroke bank. His luck is
+best to win this vaunter's stake.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Pembroke dealt the cards about for the first round. The queen fell. John
+Law won. &quot;<i>Deux</i>,&quot; he said calmly, and turned away as though it were a
+matter of course. The cards went round again. &quot;<i>Trois</i>,&quot; he said, as he
+glanced at his stakes, now doubled again.</p>
+
+<p>Wilson murmured. &quot;Luck's with him for a start,&quot; said he, &quot;but 'tis a
+long road.&quot; He himself had lost at the second turn. &quot;<i>Quint!</i>&quot; &quot;<i>Seix!</i>&quot;
+&quot;<i>Sept et le va!</i>&quot; in turn called Law, still coolly, still regarding with
+little interest the growing heap of coin upon the board opposite the
+glittering ring which he had left lying on the table.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;<i>Vingt-un, et le va!</i>&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Good God!&quot; cried Castleton, the sweat breaking out upon his forehead.
+&quot;See the fellow's luck!&mdash;Pembroke, sure he hath stole thy slipper. Such
+a run of cards was never seen in this room since Rigby, of the Tenth,
+made his great game four years ago.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;<i>Vingt-cinq; et le va!</i>&quot; said John Law, calmly.</p>
+
+<p>Will touched his sleeve. The stake had now grown till the money on the
+hoard meant a matter of hundreds of pounds, which might he removed at
+any turn the winner chose. It was there but for the stretching out of
+the hand. Yet this strange genius sat there, scarce deigning to smile at
+the excited faces of those about him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I'll lay thee fifty to one that the next turn sees thee lose!&quot; cried
+Castleton.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Done,&quot; said John Law.</p>
+
+<p>The iciness in the air seemed now an actual thing. There was, in the
+nature of this play, something which no man at that board, hardened
+gamesters as they all were, had ever met before. It was indeed as though
+Fate were there, with her hand upon the shoulder of a favored son.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You lose, Mr. Castleton,&quot; said Law, calmly, as the cards came again his
+way. He swept his winnings from the coin pushed out to him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Now we have thee, Mr. Law!&quot; cried Pembroke. &quot;One more turn, and I hope
+your very good nerve will leave the stake on the board, for so we'll see
+it all come back to the bank, even as the sheep come home at eventide.
+Here your lane turns. And 'tis at the last stage, for the next is the
+limit of the rules of the game. But you'll not win it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Anything you like for a little personal wager,&quot; said the other, with no
+excitement in his voice.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, then, anything you like yourself, sir,&quot; said Pembroke.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Your little slipper against fifty pounds?&quot; asked John Law.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why&mdash;yes&mdash;,&quot; hesitated Pembroke, for the moment feeling a doubt of the
+luck that had favored him so long that evening. &quot;I'd rather make it
+sovereigns, but since you name the slipper, I even make it so, for I
+know there is but one chance in hundreds that you win.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The players leaned over the table as the deal went on. Once, twice,
+thrice, the cards went round. A sigh, a groan, a long breath broke from
+those who looked at the deal. Neither groan nor sigh came from John Law.
+He gazed indifferently at the heap of coin and paper that lay on the
+table, and which, by the law of play, was now his own.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;<i>Trente et le va</i>,&quot; he said. &quot;I knew that it would come. Sir Arthur, I
+half regret to rob thee thus, but I shall ask my slipper in hand paid.
+Pardon me, too, if I chide thee for risking it in play. Gentlemen, there
+is much in this little shoe, empty as it is.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He dandled it upon his finger, hardly looking at the winnings that lay
+before him. &quot;'Tis monstrous pretty, this little shoe,&quot; he said, rousing
+himself from his half reverie.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Confound thee, man!&quot; cried Castleton, &quot;that is the only thing we
+grudge. Of sovereigns there are plenty at the coinage&mdash;but of a shoe
+like this, there is not the equal this day in England!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;So?&quot; laughed Law. &quot;Well, consider, 'tis none too easy to make the run
+of <i>trente</i>. Risk hath its gains, you know, by all the original laws of
+earth and nature.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But heard you not the wager which was proposed over the little shoe?&quot;
+broke in Castleton. &quot;Wilson, here, was angered when I laid him odds that
+there was but one woman in London could wear this shoe. I offered him
+odds that his good friend, Kittie Lawrence&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Nor had ye the right to offer such bet!&quot; cried Wilson, ruffled by the
+doings of the evening.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I'll lay you myself there's no woman in England whom you know with foot
+small enough to wear it,&quot; cried Castleton.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Meaning to me?&quot; asked Law, politely.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;To any one,&quot; cried Castleton, quickly, &quot;but most to thee, I fancy,
+since 'tis now thy shoe!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I'll lay you forty crowns, then, that I know a smaller foot than that
+of Madam Lawrence,&quot; said Law, suavely. &quot;I'll lay you another forty
+crowns that I'll try it on for the test, though I first saw the lady
+this very morning. I'll lay you another forty crowns that Madam Lawrence
+can not wear this shoe, though her I have never seen.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>These words rankled, though they were said offhand and with the license
+of coffee-house talk at so late an hour. Beau Wilson rose, in a somewhat
+unsteady attitude, and, turning towards Law, addressed him with a tone
+which left small option as to its meaning.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sirrah!&quot; cried he, &quot;I know not who you are, but I would have a word or
+two of good advice for you!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir, I thank you,&quot; said John Law, &quot;but perhaps I do not need advice.&quot;
+He did not rise from his seat.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Have it then at any rate, and be civil!&quot; cried the older man. &quot;You seem
+a swaggering sort, with your talk of love and luck, and such are sure to
+get their combs cut early enough here among Englishmen. I'll not
+tolerate your allusion to a lady you have never met, and one I honor
+deeply, sir, deeply!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I am but a young man started out to seek his fortune,&quot; said John Law,
+his eye kindling now for the first time, &quot;and I should do very ill if I
+evaded that fortune, whatsoever it may be.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then you'll take back that talk of Mrs. Lawrence!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I have made no talk of Mrs. Lawrence, sir,&quot; said Law, &quot;and even had I,
+I should take back nothing for a demand like yours. 'Tis not meet, sir,
+where no offense was meant, to crowd in an offensive remark.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Pembroke said nothing. The situation was ominous enough at this point. A
+sudden gravity and dignity fell upon the young men who sat there,
+schooled in an etiquette whose first lesson was that of personal
+courage.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sirrah!&quot; cried Beau Wilson, &quot;I perceive your purpose. If you prove good
+enough to name lodgings where you may he found by my friends, I shall
+ask leave to bid you a very good night.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>So speaking, Wilson flung out of the room. A silence fell upon those
+left within.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sirs,&quot; said Law, a moment later, &quot;I beg you to bear witness that this
+is no matter of my seeking or accepting. This gentleman is a stranger to
+me. I hardly got his name fair.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Wilson is his name, sir,&quot; said Pembroke, &quot;a very good friend of us all.
+He is of good family, and doth keep his coach-and-four like any
+gentleman. For him we may vouch very well.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Wilson!&quot; cried Law, springing now to his feet. &quot;'Tis not him known as
+Beau Wilson? Why, my dear sirs, his father was friend to many of my kin
+long ago. Why, sir, this is one of those to whom my mother bade me look
+to get my first ways of London well laid out.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;These are some of the ways of London,&quot; said Pembroke, grimly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But is there no fashion in which this matter can be accommodated?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Pembroke and Castleton looked at each other, rose and passed him, each
+raising his hat and bowing courteously.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Your servant, sir,&quot; said the one; and, &quot;Your servant, sir,&quot; said the
+other.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='CHAPTER_V'></a><h3>CHAPTER V</h3>
+
+<h4>DIVERS EMPLOYMENTS OF JOHN LAW</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>&quot;And when shall I send these garments to your Lordship?&quot; asked the
+haberdasher, with whom Law was having speech on the morning following
+the first night in London.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Two weeks from to-day,&quot; said Law, &quot;in the afternoon, and not later than
+four o'clock. I shall have need for them.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Impossible!&quot; said the tradesman, hitherto obsequious, but now smitten
+with the conviction regarding the limits of human possibilities.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;At that hour, or not at all,&quot; said John Law, calmly. &quot;At that time I
+shall perhaps be at my lodgings, 59 Bradwell Street, West. As I have
+said to you, I am not clad as I could wish. It is not a matter of your
+convenience, but of mine own.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But, sir,&quot; expostulated the other, &quot;you order of the best. Nothing, I
+am sure, save the utmost of good workmanship would please you. I should
+like a month of time upon these garments, in order to make them worthy
+of yourself. Moreover, there are orders of the nobility already in our
+hands will occupy us more than past the time you name. Make it three
+weeks, sir, and I promise&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>His customer only shook his head and reiterated, &quot;You heard me well.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The tailor, sore puzzled, not wishing to lose a customer who came so
+well recommended, and yet hesitating at the exactions of that customer,
+sat with perplexity written upon his brow.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;So!&quot; exclaimed Law. &quot;Sir Arthur Pembroke told me that you were a clever
+fellow and could execute exact any order I might give you. Now it
+appears to me you are like everybody else. You prate only of hardships
+and of impossibilities.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The perspiration fairly stood out on the forehead of the man of trade.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir,&quot; said he, &quot;I should be glad to please not only a friend of Sir
+Arthur Pembroke, but also a gentleman of such parts as yourself. I
+hesitate to promise&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But you must promise,&quot; said John Law.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, then, I do promise! I will have this apparel at your place on the
+day which you name. 'Tis most extraordinary, but the order shall be
+executed.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;As I thought,&quot; said John Law.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But I must thank you besides,&quot; resumed the tradesman. &quot;In good truth I
+must say that of all the young gentlemen who come hither&mdash;and I may show
+the names of the best nobility of London and of some ports beyond
+seas&mdash;there hath never stepped within these doors a better figure than
+yourself&mdash;nay, not so good. And I am a judge of men.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Law looked at him carelessly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You shall make me none the easier, nor yourself the easier, by soft
+speech,&quot; said he, &quot;if you have not these garments ready by the time
+appointed. Send them, and you shall have back the fifty sovereigns by
+the messenger, with perhaps a coin or so in addition if all be well.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The air of this nobility!&quot; said the tailor, but smiling with pleasure
+none the less. &quot;This is, perhaps, some affair with a lady?&quot; he added.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis an affair with a lady, and also with certain gentlemen.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, so,&quot; said the tailor. &quot;If it he, forsooth, an enterprise with a
+lady, methinks I know the outcome now.&quot; He gazed with professional pride
+upon the symmetrical figure before him. &quot;You shall be all the better
+armed when well fitted in my garments. Not all London shall furnish a
+properer figure of a man, nor one better clad, when I shall have done
+with you, sir.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Law but half heard him, for he was already turning toward the door,
+where he beckoned again for his waiting chair.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;To the offices of the Bank of England,&quot; he directed. And forthwith he
+was again jogging through the crowded streets of London.</p>
+
+<p>The offices of the Bank of England, to which this young adventurer now
+so nonchalantly directed his course, were then not housed in any such
+stately edifice as that which now covers the heart of the financial
+world, nor did the location of the young and struggling institution, in
+a by-street of the great city, tend to give dignity to a concern which
+still lacked importance and assuredness. Thither, then, might have gone
+almost any young traveler who needed a letter of credit cashed, or a
+bill changed after the fashion of the passing goldsmiths.</p>
+
+<p>Yet it was not as mere transient customer of a money-changer that young
+Law now sought the Bank of England, nor was it as a commercial house
+that the bank then commanded attention. That bank, young as it was, had
+already become a pillar of the throne of England. William, distracted by
+wars abroad and factions at home, found his demands for funds ever in
+excess of the supply. More than that, the people of England discovered
+themselves in possession of a currency fluctuating, mutilated, and
+unstable, so that no man knew what was his actual fortune. The shrewd
+young financier, Montague, chancellor of the exchequer, who either by
+wisdom or good fortune had sanctioned the founding of the Bank of
+England, was at this very time addressing himself to the question of a
+recoinage of the specie of the realm of England. He needed help, he
+demanded ideas; nor was he too particular whence he obtained either the
+one or the other.</p>
+
+<p>John Law was in London on no such blind quest as he had himself
+declared. He was here by the invitation, secret yet none the less
+obligatory, of Montague, controller of the financial policy of England.
+And he was to meet, here upon this fair morning, none less than my Lord
+Somers, keeper of the seals; none less than Sir Isaac Newton, the
+greatest mathematician of his time; none less than John Locke, the most
+learned philosopher of the day. Strong company this, for a young and
+unknown man, yet in the belief of Montague, himself a young man and a
+gambler by instinct, not too strong for this young Scotchman who had
+startled the Parliament of his own land by some of the most remarkable
+theories of finance which had ever been proposed in any country or to
+any government. As Law had himself arrogantly announced, he was indeed a
+philosopher and a mathematician, young as he was; and these things
+Montague was himself keen enough to know.</p>
+
+<p>It promised, then, to be a strange and interesting council, this which
+was to meet to-day at the Bank of England, to adjust the value of
+England's coinage; two philosophers, one pompous trimmer, and two
+gamblers; the younger and more daring of whom was now calmly threading
+the streets of London on his way to a meeting which might mean much to
+him.</p>
+
+<p>To John Law, adventurer, mathematician, philosopher, gambler, it seemed
+a natural enough thing that he should be asked to sit at the council
+table with the ablest minds of the day and pass upon questions the most
+important. This was not what gave him trouble. This matter of the
+coinage, these questions of finance&mdash;they were easy. But how to win the
+interest of the tall and gracious English girl whom he had met by chance
+that other morn, who had left no way open for a further meeting; how to
+gain access to the presence of that fair one&mdash;these were the questions
+which to John Law seemed of greater importance, and of greater
+difficulty in the answering.</p>
+
+<p>The chair drew up at the somber quarters where the meeting had been set.
+Law knew the place by instinct, even without seeing the double row of
+heavy-visaged London constabulary which guarded the entrance. Here and
+there along the street were carriages and chairs, and multiplied
+conveyances of persons of consequence. Upon the narrow pavement, and
+within the little entrance-way that led to the inner room, there bustled
+about important-looking men, some with hooked noses, most with florid
+faces and well-fed bodies, but all with a certain dignity and sobriety
+of expression.</p>
+
+<p>Montague himself, young, smooth-faced, dark-eyed, of active frame, of
+mobile and pleasing features, sat at the head of a long table. The
+high-strung quality of his nervous system was evidenced in his restless
+hands, his attitude frequently changed.</p>
+
+<p>At the left of Montague sat Somers, lord keeper; older, of more steady
+demeanor, of fuller figure, of bold face and full light eye, a
+politician, not a ponderer. At the right of Montague, grave, silent,
+impassive, now and again turning a contemplative eye about him, sat that
+great man. Sir Isaac Newton, known then to every nobleman, and now to
+every schoolboy, of the world. A gem-like mind, keen, clear, hard and
+brilliant, exact in every facet, and forsooth held in the setting of an
+iron body. Gentle, unmoved, self-assured, Sir Issac Newton was calm as
+morn itself as he sat in readiness to give England the benefit of his
+wisdom.</p>
+
+<p>Beyond sat John Locke, abstruse philosopher, a man thinner and darker
+than his <i>confr&egrave;re</i>, with large full orb, with the brow of the student
+and the man of thought. In dignity he shared with the learned gentleman
+sitting near him.</p>
+
+<p>All those at the board looked with some intentness at the figure of the
+young man from the North, who came as the guest of Montague. With small
+formality, the latter rose and advanced to meet Law with an eager grasp
+of the hand. He made him known to the others present promptly, but with
+a half apology.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Gentlemen,&quot; said he, &quot;I have made bold to ask the presence with us of a
+young man who has much concerned himself with problems such as those
+which we have now in hand. Sir Isaac Newton, this is Mr. Law of
+Edinboro'. Mr. Law, the fame of John Locke I need not lay before you,
+and of my Lord Somers you need no advice. Mr. Law, I shall pray you to
+be seated.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I shall but serve as your mouthpiece to the Court, gentlemen,&quot; resumed
+Montague, seating himself and turning at once to the business of the
+day. &quot;We are all agreed as to the urgency of the case. The king needs
+behind him in these times a contented people. You have already seen the
+imminence of a popular discontent which may shake the throne of England,
+none too safe in these days of change. That we must reorganize the
+coinage is understood and agreed. The question is, how best to do this
+without further unsettling the times. My Lord Keeper, I must beg you for
+your suggestions.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir,&quot; said Somers, shifting and coughing, &quot;it is as you say. The
+question is of great moment. I should suggest a decree that the old coin
+shall pass by weight alone and not by its face value. Call in all the
+coin and have it weighed, the government to make future payment to the
+owner of the coin of the difference between its nominal and its real
+value. The coin itself should be restored forthwith to its owner. Hence
+the trade and the credit of the realm would not suffer. The money of the
+country would be withdrawn from the use of the country only that short
+time wherein it was in process of counting. This, it occurs to me, would
+surely be a practical method, and could work harm to none.&quot; My Lord
+Somers sat back, pulling out his chest complacently.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir Isaac,&quot; said Montague, &quot;and Mr. Locke, we must beg you to find such
+fault as you may with this plan which my Lord Keeper hath suggested.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Sir Isaac made no immediate reply. John Locke stirred gently in his
+chair. &quot;There seemeth much to commend in this plan of my Lord Keeper,&quot;
+said he, leaning slightly forward, &quot;but in pondering my Lord Keeper's
+suggestion for the bringing in of this older coin, I must ask you if
+this plan can escape that selfish impulse of the human mind which
+seeketh for personal gain? For, look you, short as would be the time
+proposed, it taketh but still shorter time to mutilate a coin; and it
+doth seem to me that, under the plan of my Lord Keeper, we should see
+the old currency of England mutilated in a night. Sir, I should opine in
+the contrary of this plan, and would base my decision upon certain
+principles which I believe to be ever present in the human soul.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Montague cast down his eye for a moment. &quot;Sir Isaac,&quot; at length he
+began, &quot;we are relying very much upon you. Is there no suggestion which
+you can offer on this ticklish theme?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The large, full face of the great man was turned calmly and slowly upon
+the speaker. His deep and serene eye apparently saw not so much the man
+before him as the problem which lay on that man's mind.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir,&quot; said Sir Isaac, &quot;as John Locke hath said, this is after all much
+a matter of clear reasoning. There come into this problem two chief
+questions: First, who shall pay the expense of the recoinage? Shall the
+Government pay the expense, or shall the owner of the coin, who is to
+obtain good coin for evil?</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Again, this matter applieth not to one man but to many men. Now if one
+half the tradesmen of England rush to us with their coin for reminting,
+surely the trade of the country will have left not sufficient medium
+with which to prosper. This I take to be the second part of this
+problem.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There be certain persons of the realm who claim that we may keep our
+present money as it is, but mark from its face a certain amount of
+value. Look you, now, this were a small thing; yet, in my mind, it
+clearly seemeth dishonesty. For, if I owe my neighbor a debt, let us say
+for an hundred sovereigns, shall I not be committing injustice upon my
+neighbor if I pay him an hundred sovereigns less that deduction which
+the realm may see fit thus to impose upon the face of my sovereign?
+This, in justice, sirs, I hold it to be not the part of science, nor the
+part of honesty, neither of statesmanship, to endorse.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir Isaac,&quot; cried Montague, striking his nervous hands upon the table,
+&quot;recoin we must. But how, and, as you say, at whose expense? We are as
+far now from a plan as when we started. We but multiply difficulties.
+What we need now is not so much negative measures as positive ones. We
+must do this thing, and we must do it promptly. The question is still
+of how it may best be done. Mr. Law, by your leave and by the leave of
+these gentlemen here present, I shall take the liberty of asking you if
+there doth occur to your mind any plan by which we may be relieved of
+certain of these difficulties. I am aware, sir, that you are much a
+student in these matters.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>A grave silence fell upon all. John Law, young, confident and arrogant
+in many ways as he was, none the less possessed sobriety and depth of
+thought, just as he possessed the external dignity to give it fitting
+vehicle. He gazed now at the men before him, not with timorousness or
+trepidation. His face was grave, and he returned their glances calmly as
+he rose and made the speech which, unknown to himself, was presently to
+prove so important in his life.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;My Lords,&quot; said he, &quot;and gentlemen of this council, I am ill-fitted to
+be present here, and ill-fitted to add my advice to that which has been
+given. It is not for me to go beyond the purpose of this meeting, or to
+lay before you certain plans of my own regarding the credit of nations.
+I may start, as does our learned friend, simply from established
+principles of human nature.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It is true that the coinage is a creature of the government. Yet I
+believe it to be true that the government lives purely upon credit;
+which is to say, the confidence of the people in that government.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Now, we may reason in this matter perhaps from the lesser relations of
+our daily life. What manner of man do we most trust among those whom we
+meet? Surely, the honest man, the plain man, the one whose directness
+and integrity we do not doubt. Truly you may witness the nature of such
+a man in the manner of his speech, in his mien, in his conduct.
+Therefore, my Lords and gentlemen, it seems to me plain that we shall
+best gain confidence for ourselves if we act in the most simple fashion.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Let us take up this matter directly with Parliament, not seeking to
+evade the knowledge of Parliament in any fashion; for, as we know, the
+Parliament and the king are not the best bed-fellows these days, and the
+one is ready enough to suspect the other. Let us have a bill framed for
+Parliament&mdash;such bill made upon the decisions of these learned gentlemen
+present. Above all things, let us act with perfect openness.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;As to the plan itself, it seems that a few things may be held safe and
+sure. Since we can not use the old coin, then surely we must have new
+coin, milled coin, which Charles, the earlier king of England, has
+decreed. Surely, too, as our learned friend has wisely stated, the loss
+in any recoinage ought, in full justice and honesty, to fall not upon
+the people of England, but upon the government of England. It seems
+equally plain to me there must be a day set after which the old coin may
+no longer be used. Set it some months ahead, not, as my Lord Keeper
+suggests, but a few days; so that full notice may be given to all. Make
+your campaign free and plain, and place it so that it may be known, not
+only of Parliament, but of all the world. Thus you establish yourselves
+in the confidence of Parliament and in the good graces of this people,
+from whom the taxes must ultimately come.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Montague's hands smote again upon the table with a gesture of
+conviction. John Locke shifted again in his chair. Sir Isaac and the
+lord keeper gazed steadfastly at this young man who stood before them,
+calmly, assuredly, and yet with no assumption in his mien.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Moreover,&quot; went on John Law, calmly, &quot;there is this further benefit to
+be gained, as I am sure my countryman, Mr. Paterson, has long ago made
+plain. It is not a question of the wealth of England, but a question of
+the confidence of the people in the throne. There is money in abundance
+in England. It is the province of my Lord Chancellor to wheedle it out
+of those coffers where it is concealed and place it before the uses of
+the king. Gentlemen, it is confidence that we need. There will be no
+trouble to secure loans of money in this rich land, but the taxes must
+be the pledge to your bankers. This new Bank of England will furnish you
+what moneys you may need. Secure them only by the pledge of such taxes
+as you feel the people may not resent; give the people, free of cost, a
+coinage which they can trust; and then, it seems to me, my Lords and
+gentlemen, the problem of the revenue may be thought solved simply and
+easily&mdash;solved, too, without irritating either the people or the
+Parliament, or endangering the relations of Parliament and the throne.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The conviction which fell upon all found its best expression in the face
+of Montague. The youth and nervousness of the man passed away upon the
+instant. He sat there sober and thoughtful, quiet and resolved.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Gentlemen,&quot; said he at last, slowly, &quot;my course is plain from this
+instant. I shall draw the bill and it shall go to Parliament. The
+expense of this recoinage I am sure we can find maintained by the
+stockholders of the Bank of England, and for their pay we shall propose
+a new tax upon the people of England. We shall tax the windows of the
+houses of England, and hence tax not only the poor but the rich of
+England, and that proportionately with their wealth. As for the coin of
+England, it shall be honest coin, made honest and kept honest, at no
+cost to the people of old England. Sirs, my heart is lighter than it has
+been for many days.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The last trace of formality in the meeting having at length vanished,
+Montague made his way rapidly to the foot of the table. He caught Law by
+both his hands.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir,&quot; said he, &quot;you helped us at the last stage of our ascent. A
+mistake here had been ruinous, not only to myself and friends, but to
+the safety of the whole Government. You spoke wisely and practically.
+Sir, if I can ever in all my life serve you, command me, and at whatever
+price you name. I am not yet done with you, sir,&quot; resumed Montague,
+casting his arm boyishly about the other's shoulder as they walked out.
+&quot;We must meet again to discuss certain problems of the currency which, I
+bethink me, you have studied deeply. Keep you here in London, for I
+shall have need of you. Within the month, perhaps within the week, I
+shall require you. England needs men who can do more than dawdle. Pray
+you, keep me advised where you may be found.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>There was ill omen in the light reply. &quot;Why, as to that, my Lord,&quot; said
+Law, &quot;if you should think my poor service useful, your servants might
+get trace of me at the Green Lion&mdash;unless I should be in prison! No man
+knoweth what may come.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Montague laughed lightly. &quot;At the Green Lion, or in Newgate itself,&quot;
+said he. &quot;Be ready, for I have not yet done with you.&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='CHAPTER_VI'></a><h3>CHAPTER VI</h3>
+
+<h4>THE RESOLUTION OF MR. LAW</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>The problems of England's troubled finances, the questions of the
+coinage, the gossip of the king's embroilments with the
+Parliament&mdash;these things, it may again be said, occupied Law's mind far
+less than the question of gaining audience with his fair rescuer of the
+morn at Sadler's Wells. This was the puzzle which, revolve it as he
+might, not even his audacious wit was able to provide with plausible
+solution. He pondered the matter in a hundred different pleasing phases
+as he passed from the Bank of England through the crowded streets of
+London, and so at length found himself at the shabby little lodgings in
+Bradwell Street, where he and his brother had, for the time, taken up
+their quarters.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It starteth well, my boy,&quot; cried he, gaily, to his brother, when at
+length he had found his way up the narrow stair into the little room,
+and discovered Will patiently awaiting his return. &quot;Already two of my
+errands are well acquit.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You have, then, sent the letters to our goldsmith here?&quot; said Will.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Now, to say truth, I had not thought of that. But letters of
+credit&mdash;why need we trouble over such matters? These English are but
+babes. Give me a night or so in the week at the Green Lion, and we'll
+need no letters of credit, Will. Look at your purse, boy&mdash;since you are
+the thrifty cashier of our firm!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I like not this sort of gold,&quot; said Will Law, setting his lips
+judicially.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yet it seems to purchase well as any,&quot; said the other, indifferently.
+&quot;At least, such is my hope, for I have made debt against our purse of
+some fifty sovereigns&mdash;some little apparel which I have ordered. For,
+look you, Will, I must be clothed proper. In these days, as I may tell
+you, I am to meet such men as Montague, chancellor of the exchequer&mdash;my
+Lord Keeper Somers&mdash;Sir Isaac Newton&mdash;Mr. John Locke&mdash;gentry of that
+sort. It is fitting I should have better garb than this which we have
+brought with us.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You are ever free with some mad jest or other, Jack; but what is this
+new madness of which you speak?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No madness at all, my dear boy; for in fact I have but come from the
+council chamber, where I have met these very gentlemen whom I have
+named to you. But pray you note, my dear brother, there are those who
+hold John Law, and his studies, not so light as doth his own brother.
+For myself, the matter furnishes no surprise at all. As for you, you had
+never confidence in me, nor in yourself. Gad! Will, hadst but the
+courage of a flea, what days we two might have together here in this old
+town!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I want none of such days, Jack,&quot; said Will Law, soberly. &quot;I care most
+to see you settled in some decent way of living. What will your mother
+say, if we but go on gaming and roistering, with dangers of some sudden
+quarrel&mdash;as this which has already sprung up&mdash;with no given aim in life,
+with nothing certain for an ambition&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Now, Will,&quot; began his brother, yet with no petulance in his tone, &quot;pray
+go not too hard with me at the start. I thought I had done fairly well,
+to sit at the table of the council of coinage on my first day in London.
+'Tis not every young man gets so far as that. Come, now, Will!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But after all, there must be serious purpose.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Know then,&quot; cried the elder man, suddenly, &quot;that I have found such
+serious purpose!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The speaker stood looking out of the window, his eye fixed out across
+the roofs of London. There had now fallen from his face all trace of
+levity, and into his eye and mouth there came reflex of the decision of
+his speech. Will stirred in his chair, and at length the two faced each
+other.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And pray, what is this sudden resolution, Jack?&quot; said Will Law.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;If I must tell you, it is simply this: I am resolved to marry the girl
+we met at Sadler's Wells.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;How&mdash;what&mdash;?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, how&mdash;what&mdash;?&quot; repeated his brother, mockingly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But I would ask, which?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There was but one,&quot; said John Law. &quot;The tall one, with the
+brassy-brown, copper-red hair, the bright blue eye, and the figure of a
+queen. Her like is not in all the world!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Methought 'twas more like to be the other,&quot; replied Will. &quot;Yet you&mdash;how
+dare you think thus of that lady? Why, Jack, 'twas the Lady Catharine
+Knollys, sister to the Earl of Banbury!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Law did not at once make any answer. He turned to the dressing-table and
+began making such shift as he could to better his appearance.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Will,&quot; said he, at length, &quot;you are, as ever, a babe and a suckling. I
+quite despair of you. 'Twould serve no purpose to explain anything to so
+faint a heart as yours. But you may come with me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And whither?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Whither? Where else, than to the residence of this same lady! Look
+you, I have learned this. She is, as you say, the sister of the Earl of
+Banbury, and is for the time at the town house in Knightwell Terrace.
+Moreover, if that news be worth while to so white-feathered a swain as
+yourself, the other, damsel, the dark one&mdash;the one with the mighty
+pretty little foot&mdash;lives there for the time as the guest of Lady
+Catharine. They are rated thick as peas in a pod. True, we are
+strangers, yet I venture we have made a beginning, and if we venture
+more we may better that beginning. Should I falter, when luck gave me
+the run of <i>trente et le va</i> but yesterday? Nay, ever follow fortune
+hard, and she waits for you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes,&quot; said Will, scornfully. &quot;You would get the name of gambler, and
+add to it the name of fortune-hunting, heiress-seeking adventurer.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Not so,&quot; replied John Law, taking snuff calmly and still keeping the
+evenness of his temper. &quot;My own fortune, as I admit, I keep safe at the
+Green Lion. For the rest, I seek at the start only respectful footing
+with this maid herself. When first I saw her, I knew well enough how the
+end would be. We were made for each other. This whole world was made for
+us both. Will, boy, I could not live without the Lady Catharine
+Knollys!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, cease such talk, Jack! 'Tis ill-mannered, such presumption
+regarding a lady, even had you known her long. Besides, 'tis but another
+of your fancies, Jack,&quot; said Will. &quot;Wilt never make an end of such
+follies?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, my boy,&quot; said his brother, gravely. &quot;I have made an end. Indeed, I
+made it the other morning at Sadler's Wells.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Methinks,&quot; said Will, dryly, &quot;that it might be well first to be sure
+that you can win past the front door of the house of Knollys.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>John Law still kept both his temper and his confidence.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Come with me,&quot; said he, blithely, &quot;and I will show you how that thing
+may be done.&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='CHAPTER_VII'></a><h3>CHAPTER VII</h3>
+
+<h4>TWO MAIDS A-BROIDERING</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>&quot;Now a plague take all created things, Lady Kitty!&quot; cried Mary Connynge,
+petulantly flinging down a silken pattern over which she had pretended
+to be engaged. &quot;There are devils in the skeins to-day. I'll try no more
+with't.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Fie! For shame, Mary Connynge,&quot; replied Lady Catharine Knollys,
+reprovingly. &quot;So far from better temperance of speech, didst ever hear
+of the virtue of perseverance? Now, for my own part&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And what, for your own part? Have I no eyes to see that thou'rt
+puttering over the same corner this last half hour? What is it thou art
+making to-day?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The Lady Catharine paused for a moment and held her embroidery frame
+away from her at arm's length, looking at it with brow puckering into a
+perplexed frown.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I was working a knight,&quot; said she. &quot;A tall one&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, a tall one, with yellow hair, I warrant.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, so it was. I was but seeking floss of the right hue, and found it
+difficult.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And with blue eyes?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;True; or perhaps gray. I could not state which. I had naught in my box
+would serve to suit me for the eyes. But how know you this, Mary
+Connynge?&quot; asked the Lady Catharine.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Because I was making some such knight for myself,&quot; replied the other.
+&quot;See! He was to have been tall, of good figure, wearing a wide hat and
+plume withal. But lest I spoil him, my knight&mdash;now a plague take me
+indeed if I do not ruin him complete!&quot; So saying, she drew with vengeful
+fingers at the intricately woven silks until she had indeed undone all
+that had gone before.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Nay, nay! Mary Connynge! Do not so!&quot; replied Lady Catharine in
+expostulation. &quot;The poor knight, how could he help himself? Why, as for
+mine, though I find him not all I could wish, I'll e'en be patient as I
+may, and seek if I may not mend him. These knights, you know, are most
+difficult. 'Tis hard to make them perfect.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Mary Connynge sat with her hands in her lap, looking idly out of the
+window and scarce heeding the despoiled fabric which lay on her lap.
+&quot;Come, confess, Lady Kitty,&quot; said she at length, turning toward her
+friend. &quot;Wert not trying to copy a knight of a hedge-row after all? Did
+not a certain tall young knight, with eyes of blue, or gray, or the
+like, give pattern for your sampler while you were broidering to-day?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Fie! For shame!&quot; again replied Lady Catharine, flushing none the less.
+&quot;Rather ask, does not such a thought come over thine own broidering? But
+as to the hedge-row, surely the gentleman explained it all proper
+enough; and I am sure&mdash;yes, I am very sure&mdash;that my brother Charles had
+quite approved of my giving the injured young man the lift in the
+coach&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Provided that your Brother Charles had ever heard of such a thing!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, of that, to be sure, why trouble my brother over such a trifle,
+when 'twas so obviously proper?&quot; argued Lady Catharine, bravely. &quot;And
+certainly, if we come to knights and the like, good chivalry has ever
+demanded succor for those in distress; and if, forsooth, it was two
+damsels in a comfortable coach, who rescued two knights from underneath
+a hedge-row, why, such is but the way of these modern days, when knights
+go seeking no more for adventures and ladies fair; as you very well
+know.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;As I do not know, Lady Catharine,&quot; replied Mary Connynge. &quot;To the
+contrary, 'twould not surprise me to learn that he would not shrink
+from any adventure which might offer.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You mean&mdash;that is&mdash;you mean the tall one, him who said he was Mr. Law
+of Lauriston?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, perhaps. Though I must say,&quot; replied Mary Connynge, with
+indirection, &quot;that I fancy the other far more, he being not so forward,
+nor so full of pure conceit. I like not a man so confident.&quot; This with
+an eye cast down, as much as though there were present in the room some
+man subject to her coquetry.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, I had not found him offering such an air,&quot; replied Lady Catharine,
+judicially. &quot;I had but thought him frank enough, and truly most
+courteous.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, truly,&quot; replied Mary Connynge. &quot;But saw you naught in his eye?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, but that it was blue, or gray,&quot; replied Lady Catharine.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, ho! then my lady did look a bit, after all! And so this is why the
+knight flourisheth so bravely in silks to-day&mdash;Fie! but a mere
+adventurer, Lady Kitty. He says he is Law of Lauriston; but what proof
+doth he offer? And did he find such proof, it is proof of what? For my
+part, I did never hear of Lauriston nor its owner.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah, but that I have, to the contrary,&quot; said Lady Catharine. &quot;John
+Law's father was a goldsmith, and it was he who bought the properties of
+Lauriston and Randleston. And so far from John Law being ill-born, why,
+his mother was Jean Campbell, kinswoman of the Campbell, Duke of Argyll;
+and a mighty important man is the Duke of Argyll these days, I may tell
+you, as the king's army hath discovered before this. You see, I have not
+talked with my brother about these things for naught.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;So you make excuse for this Mr. Law of Lauriston,&quot; said Mary Connynge.
+&quot;Well, I like better a knight who comes on his own horse, or in his own
+chariot, and who rescues me when I am in trouble, rather than asks me to
+give him aid. But, as to that, what matter? We set those highway
+travelers down, and there was an end of it. We shall never see either of
+them again.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Of course not,&quot; said Lady Catharine.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It were impossible.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, quite impossible!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Both the young women sighed, and both looked out of the window.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Because,&quot; said Mary Connynge, &quot;they are but strangers. That talk of
+having letters may be but deceit. They themselves may be coiners. I have
+heard it said that coiners are monstrous bold.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;To be sure, he mentioned Sir Arthur Pembroke,&quot; ventured Lady
+Catharine.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh! And be sure Sir Arthur Pembroke will take pains enough that no tall
+young man, who offers roses to ladies on first acquaintance, shall ever
+have opportunity to present himself to Lady Catharine Knollys. Nay, nay!
+There will be no introduction from that source, of that be sure. Sir
+Arthur is jealous as a wolf of thee already, Lady Kitty. See! He hath
+followed thee about like a dog for three years. And after all, why not
+reward him, Lady Kitty? Indeed, but the other day thou wert upon the
+very point of giving him his answer, for thou saidst to me that he sure
+had the prettiest eyes of any man in London. Pray, are Sir Arthur's eyes
+blue, or gray&mdash;or what? And can you match his eyes among the color of
+your flosses?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It might be,&quot; said Lady Catharine, musingly, &quot;that he would some day
+find means to send us word.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Who? Sir Arthur?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No. The young man, Mr. Law of Lauriston.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes; or he might come himself,&quot; replied Mary Connynge.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Fie! He dare not!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, but be not too sure. Now suppose he did come&mdash;'twill do no harm for
+us to suppose so much as that. Suppose he stood there at your very
+door, Lady Kitty. Then what would you do?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Do! Why, tell James that we were not in, and never should be, and
+request the young man to leave at once.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And never let him pass the door again.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Certainly not! 'Twould be presumption. But then&quot;&mdash;this with a gentle
+sigh&mdash;&quot;we need not trouble ourselves with this. I doubt not he hath
+forgot us long ago, just as indeed we have forgotten him&mdash;though I would
+say&mdash;. But I half believe he hit thee, girl, with his boldness and his
+bow, and his fearlessness withal.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Who, I? Why, heavens! Lady Kitty! The idea never came to my mind.
+Indeed no, not for an instant. Of course, as you say, 'twas but a
+passing occurrence, and 'twas all forgot. But, by the way, Lady Kitty,
+go we to Sadler's Wells to-morrow morn?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I see no reason for not going,&quot; replied Lady Catharine. &quot;And we may
+drive about, the same way we took the other morn. I will show you the
+same spot where he stood and bowed so handsomely, and made so little of
+the fight with the robbers the night before, as though 'twere trifling
+enough; and made so little of his poverty, as though he were owner of
+the king's coin.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But we shall never see him more,&quot; said Mary Connynge.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;To be sure not. But just to show you&mdash;see! He stood thus, his hat off,
+his eye laughing, I pledge you, as though for some good jest he had. And
+'twas 'your pardon, ladies!' he said, as though he were indeed nobleman
+himself. See! 'Twas thus.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>What pantomime might have followed did not appear, for at that moment
+the butler appeared at the door with an admonitory cough. &quot;If you
+please, your Ladyship,&quot; said he, &quot;there are two persons waiting.
+They&mdash;that is to say, he&mdash;one of them, asks for admission to your
+Ladyship.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What name does he offer, James?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Mr. John Law of Lauriston, your Ladyship, is the name he sends. He
+says, if your Ladyship please, that he has brought with him something
+which your Ladyship left behind, if your Ladyship please.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lady Catharine and Mary Connynge had both arisen and drawn together, and
+they now turned each a swift half glance upon the other.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Are these gentlemen waiting without the street door?&quot; asked Lady
+Catharine.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No, your Ladyship. That is to say, before I thought, I allowed the tall
+one to come within.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, well then, you see, Mary Connynge,&quot; replied Lady Catharine, with
+the pink flush rising in her cheek, &quot;it were rude to turn them now from
+our door, since they have already been admitted.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, we will send to the library for your brother,&quot; said Mary Connynge,
+dimpling at the corners of her mouth.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No, I think it not needful to do that,&quot; replied Lady Catharine, &quot;but we
+should perhaps learn what this young man brings, and then we'll see to
+it that we chide him so that he'll no more presume upon our kindness. My
+brother need not know, and we ourselves will end this forwardness at
+once, Mary Connynge, you and I. James, you may bring the gentlemen in.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Enter, therefore, John Law and his brother Will, the former seeming thus
+with ease to have made good his promise to win past the door of the Earl
+of Banbury.</p>
+
+<p>John Law, as on the morning of the roadside meeting, approached in
+advance of his more timid brother, though both bowed deeply as they
+entered. He bowed again respectfully, his eyes not wandering hither and
+yon upon the splendors of this great room in an ancestral home of
+England. His gaze was fixed rather upon the beauty of the tall girl
+before him, whose eyes, now round and startled, were not quite able to
+be cold nor yet to be quite cast down; whose white throat throbbed a bit
+under its golden chain; whose bosom rose and fell perceptibly beneath
+its falls of snowy laces.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lady Catharine Knollys,&quot; said John Law, his voice deep and even, and
+showing no false note of embarrassment, &quot;we come, as you may see, to
+make our respects to yourself and your friend, and to thank you for your
+kindness to two strangers.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;To two strangers, Mr. Law,&quot; said Lady Catharine, pointedly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes&quot;&mdash;and the answering smile was hard to be denied&mdash;&quot;to two strangers
+who are still strangers. I did but bethink me it was sweet to have such
+kindness. We were advised that London was cruel cold, and that all folk
+of this city hated their fellow-men. So, since 'twas welcome to be thus
+kindly entreated, I believed it but the act of courtesy to express our
+thanks more seeming than we might as that we were two beggars by the
+wayside. Therefore, I pay the first flower of my perpetual tribute.&quot; He
+bowed and extended, as he spoke, a deep red rose. His eye, though still
+direct, was as much imploring as it was bold.</p>
+
+<p>Instinctively Mary Connynge and Lady Catharine had drawn together,
+retreating somewhat from this intrusion. They were now standing, like
+any school girls, looking timidly over their shoulders, as he advanced.
+Lady Catharine hesitated, and yet she moved forward a half pace, as
+though bidden by some unheard voice. &quot;'Twas nothing, what we did for you
+and your brother,&quot; said she. She extended her hand as she spoke. &quot;As for
+the flower, I think&mdash;I think a rose is a sweet-pretty thing.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>She bent her cheek above the blossom, and whether the cheek or the petal
+were the redder, who should say? If there were any ill at ease in that
+room, it was not Law of Lauriston. He stood calm as though there by
+right. It was an escapade, an adventure, without doubt, as both these
+young women saw plainly enough. And now, what to do with this adventure
+since it had arrived?</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir,&quot; said Lady Catharine at length, &quot;I am sure you must be wearied
+with the heavy heats of the town. Your brother must still be weak from
+his hurt. Pray you, be seated.&quot; She placed the rose upon the tabouret as
+she passed, and presently pulled at the bell cord.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;James,&quot; said she, standing very erect and full of dignity, &quot;go to the
+library and see if Sir Charles be within.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>When the butler's solemn cough again gave warning, it was to bring
+information which may or may not have been news to Lady Catharine. &quot;Your
+Ladyship,&quot; said he, &quot;Sir Charles is said to have taken carriage an hour
+ago, and left no word.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Send me Cecile, James,&quot; said Lady Catharine, and again the butler
+vanished.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Cecile,&quot; said she, as the maid at length appeared, &quot;you may serve us
+with tea.&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='CHAPTER_VIII'></a><h3>CHAPTER VIII</h3>
+
+<h4>CATHARINE KNOLLYS</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>&quot;You mistake, sir! I am no light o' love, John Law!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Thus spoke Catharine Knollys. She stood near the door of the great
+drawing-room of the Knollys mansion, her figure beseeming well its
+framing of deep hangings and rich tapestries. Her eyes were wide and
+flashing, her cheeks deeply pink, the sweet bow of her lips half
+a-quiver in her vehemence. Her surpassing personal beauty, rich, ripe,
+enticing, gave more than sufficient challenge for the fiery blood of the
+young man before her.</p>
+
+<p>It was less than two weeks since these two had met. Surely the flood of
+time had run swiftly in those few days. Not a day had passed that Law
+had not met Catharine Knollys, nor had yet one meeting been such as the
+girl in her own conscience dared call better than clandestine, even
+though they met, as now, under her own roof. Yet, reason as she liked,
+struggle as she could, Catharine Knollys had not yet been quite able to
+end this swift voyaging on the flood of fate. It was so strange, so new,
+so sweet withal, this coming of her suitor, as from the darkness of some
+unknown star, so bold, so strong, so confident, and yet so humble! All
+the old song of the ages thrilled within her soul, and each day its
+compelling melody had accession. That this delirious softening of all
+her senses meant danger, the Lady Catharine could not deny. Yet could
+aught of earth be wrong when it spelled such happiness, such
+sweetness&mdash;when the sound of a footfall sent her blood going the faster,
+when the sight of a tall form, the ring of a vibrant tone, caused her
+limbs to weaken, her throat to choke?</p>
+
+<p>But ah! whence and why this spell, this sorcery&mdash;why this sweetness
+filling all her being, when, after all, duty and seemliness bade it all
+to end, as end it must, to-day? Thus had the Lady Catharine reflected
+but the hour before John Law came; her knight of dreams&mdash;tall,
+yellow-haired, blue-eyed, bold and tender, and surely speaking truth if
+truth dwelt beneath the stars. Now he would come&mdash;now he had come again.
+Here was his red, red rose once more. Here, burning in her ears, singing
+in her heart, were his avowing, pleading words. And this must end!</p>
+
+<p>John Law looked at her calmly, but said nothing. One hand, in a gesture
+customary with him, flicked lightly at the deep cuff of the other
+wrist, and this nervous movement was the sole betrayal of his
+uneasiness.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You come to this house time and again,&quot; resumed Catharine Knollys, &quot;as
+though it were an ancient right on your part, as though you had always
+been a friend of this family. And yet&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And so I have been,&quot; broke in her suitor. &quot;My people were friends of
+yours before we two were born. Why, then, should you advise your
+servant, as you have, fairly to deny me admission at the door?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I have done ill enough to admit you. Had I dreamed of this last
+presumption on your part I should never have seen your face again.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis not presumption,&quot; said the young man, his voice low and even,
+though ringing with the feeling to which even he dared not give full
+expression. &quot;I myself might call this presumption in another, but with
+myself 'tis otherwise.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir,&quot; said Lady Catharine Knollys, &quot;you speak as one not of good mind.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Not of good mind!&quot; broke out John Law. &quot;Say rather of mind too good to
+doubt, or dally, or temporize. Why, 'tis plain as the plan of fate! It
+was in the stars that I should come to you. This face, this form, this
+heart, this soul&mdash;I shall see nothing else so long as I live! Oh, I
+feel myself unworthy; you have right to think me of no station. Yet some
+day I shall bring to you all that wealth can buy, all that station can
+mean. Catharine&mdash;dear Lady Kitty&mdash;dear Kate&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I like not so fast a soothsaying in any suitor of mine,&quot; replied Lady
+Catharine, hotly, &quot;and this shall go no further.&quot; Her hand restrained
+him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then you find me distasteful? You would banish me? I could not learn to
+endure it!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lady Catharine looked at him curiously. &quot;Actually, sir,&quot; said she, &quot;you
+cause me to chill. I could half fear you. What is in your heart? Surely,
+this is a strange love-making.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And by that,&quot; cried John Law, &quot;know, then the better of the truth.
+Listen! I know! And this is what I know&mdash;that I shall succeed, and that
+I shall love you always!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis what one hears often from men, in one form or another,&quot; said the
+girl, coolly, seating herself as she spoke.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Talk not to me of other men&mdash;I'll not brook it!&quot; cried he, advancing
+toward her a few rapid paces. &quot;Think you I have no heart?&quot; His eye
+gleamed, and he came on yet a step in his strange wooing. &quot;Your face is
+here, here,&quot; he cried, &quot;deep in my heart! I must always look upon it, or
+I am a lost man!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis a face not so fair as that,&quot; said the Lady Catharine, demurely.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis the fairest face in England, or in the world!&quot; cried her lover;
+and now he was close at her side. Her hand, she knew not how, rested in
+his own. Something of the honesty and freedom from coquetry of the young
+woman's nature showed in her next speech, inconsequent, illogical,
+almost unmaidenly in its swift sincerity and candor.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis a face but blemished,&quot; said she, slowly, the color rising to her
+cheek. &quot;See! Here is the birth-mark of the house of Knollys. They tell
+me&mdash;my very good friends tell me, that this is the mark of shame, the
+bar sinister of the hand of justice. You know the story of our house.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Somewhat of it,&quot; said Law.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;My brother is not served of the writ when Parliament is called. This
+you know. Tell me why?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I know the so-called reason,&quot; replied John Law. &quot;'Twas brought out in
+his late case at the King's Bench.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;True. 'Twas said that my grandfather, past eighty, was not the father
+of those children of his second wife. There is talk that&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Twas three generations ago, this talk of the Knollys shortcoming. I am
+not eighty. I am twenty-four, and I love you, Catharine Knollys.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It was three generations ago,&quot; said the Lady Catharine, slowly and
+musingly, as though she had not heard the speech of her suitor. &quot;Three
+generations ago. Yet never since then hath there been clean name for the
+Banbury estate. Never yet hath its peer sat in his rightful place in
+Parliament. And never yet hath eldest daughter of this house failed to
+show this mark of shame, this unpurged contempt for that which is
+ordained. Surely it would seem fate holds us in its hands.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You tell me these things,&quot; said John Law, &quot;because you feel it is right
+to tell them. And I tell you of my future, as you tell me of your past.
+Why? Because, Lady Catharine Knollys, it has already come to matter of
+faith between us.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The girl leaned back against the wall near which she had seated herself.
+The young man bent forward, taking both her hands quietly in his own
+now, and gazing steadily into her eyes. There was no triumph in his
+gaze. Perhaps John Law had prescience of the future.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, sir, I had far liefer I had never seen you,&quot; cried Catharine
+Knollys, bending a head from whose eyes there dropped sudden tears.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah, dear heart, say anything but that!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis a hard way a woman must travel at best in this world,&quot; murmured
+the Lady Catharine, with wisdom all unsuited to her youth. &quot;But I can
+not understand. I had thought that the coming of a lover was a joyous
+thing, a time of happiness alone.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah, now, in the hour of mist can you not foresee the time of sunshine?
+All life is before us, my sweet, all life. There is much for us to do,
+there are so many, many days of love and happiness.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>But now the Lady Catharine Knollys veered again, with some sudden change
+of the inner currents of the feminine soul.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I have gone far with you, Mr. Law,&quot; said she, suddenly disengaging her
+hand. &quot;Yet I did but give you insight of things which any man coming as
+you have come should have well within his knowledge. Think not, sir,
+that I am easy to be won. I must know you equally honest with myself.
+And if you come to my regard, it must be step by step and stair by
+stair. This is to be remembered.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I shall remember.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Go, then, and leave me for this time,&quot; she besought him. But still he
+could not go, and still the Lady Catharine could not bid him more
+sternly to depart. Youth&mdash;youth, and love, and fate were in that room;
+and these would have their way.</p>
+
+<p>The beseeching gaze of an eye singular in its power rested on the girl,
+a gaze filled with all the strange, half mandatory pleading of youth and
+yearning. Once more there came a shift in the tidal currents of the
+woman's heart. The Lady Catharine slowly became conscious of a delicious
+helplessness, of a sinking and yielding which she could not resist. Her
+head lost power to be erect. It slipped forward on a shoulder waiting as
+by right. Her breath came in soft measure, and unconsciously a hand was
+raised to touch the cheek pressed down to hers. John Law kissed her once
+upon the lips. Suddenly, without plan&mdash;in spite of all plan&mdash;the seal of
+a strange fate was set forever on her life!</p>
+
+<p>For a long moment they stood thus, until at length she raised a face
+pale and sharp, and pushed back against his breast a hand that trembled.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis wondrous strange,&quot; she whispered.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ask nothing,&quot; said John Law, &quot;fear nothing. Only believe, as I
+believe.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Neither John Law nor the Lady Catharine Knollys saw what was passing
+just without the room. They did not see the set face which looked down
+from the stairway. Through the open door Mary Connynge could see the
+young man as he stepped out of the door, could see the conduct of the
+girl now left alone in the drawing-room. She saw the Lady Catharine sink
+down upon the seat, her head drooped in thought, her hand lying
+languidly out before her. Pale now and distraught, the Lady Catharine
+Knollys wist little of what went on before her. She had full concern
+with the tumult which waged riot in her soul.</p>
+
+<p>Mary Connynge turned, and started back up the stair unseen. She paused,
+her yellow eyes gone narrow, her little hand clutched tight upon the
+rail.</p>
+
+<center>
+<img src="images/img2.jpg" height="414" width="300"
+alt="Illustration">
+</center>
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='CHAPTER_IX'></a><h3>CHAPTER IX</h3>
+
+<h4>IN SEARCH OF THE QUARREL</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>As Law turned away from the door of the Knollys mansion, he walked with
+head bent forward, not looking upon the one hand or the other. He raised
+his eyes only when a passing horseman had called thrice to him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What!&quot; cried Sir Arthur Pembroke. &quot;I little looked to see you here, Mr.
+Law. I thought it more likely you were engaged in other business&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Meaning by that&mdash;?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What should I mean, except that I supposed you preparing for your
+little affair with Wilson?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;My little affair?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Certainly, with Wilson, as I said. I saw our friend Castleton but now,
+and he advised me of your promptness. He had searched for you for days,
+he being chosen by Wilson for his friend&mdash;and said he had at last found
+you in your lodgings. Egad! I have mistook your kidney completely. Never
+in London was a duel brought on so swift. 'Fight? This afternoon!' said
+you. Jove! but the young bloods laughed when they heard of it. 'Bloody
+Scotland' is what they have christened you at the Green Lion. 'He said
+to me,' said Charlie, 'that he was slow to find a quarrel, but since
+this quarrel was brought home to him, 'twere meet 'twere soon finished.
+He thought, forsooth, that four o'clock of the afternoon were late
+enough.' Gad! But you might have given Wilson time at least for one more
+dinner.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What do you mean?&quot; exclaimed Law, mystified still.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Mean! Why, I mean that I've been scouring London to find you. My faith,
+man, but thou'rt a sudden actor! Where caught you this unseemly haste?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir Arthur,&quot; said the other, slowly, &quot;you do me too much justice. I
+have made no arrangement to meet Mr. Wilson, nor have I any wish to do
+so.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Pish, man! You must not jest with me in such a case as this. 'Tis no
+masquerading. Let me tell you, Wilson has a vicious sword, and a temper
+no less vicious. You have touched him on his very sorest spot. He has
+gone to meet you this vary hour. His coach will be at Bloomsbury Square
+this afternoon, and there he will await you. I promise you he is eager
+as yourself. 'Tis too late now to accommodate this matter, even had you
+not sent back so prompt and bold an answer.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I have sent him no answer at all!&quot; cried Law. &quot;I have not seen
+Castleton at all.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, come!&quot; expostulated Sir Arthur, his face showing a flush of
+annoyance.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir Arthur,&quot; continued Law, as he raised his head, &quot;I am of the
+misfortune to be but young in London, and I am in need of your
+friendship. I find myself pressed for rapid transportation. Pray you,
+give me your mount, for I must have speed. I shall not need the service
+of your seconding. Indulge me now by asking no more, and wait until we
+meet again. Give me the horse, and quickly.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But you must be seconded!&quot; cried the other. &quot;This is too unusual.
+Consider!&quot; Yet all the time he was giving a hand at the stirrup of Law,
+who sprang up and was off before he had time to formulate his own
+wonder.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Who and what is he?&quot; muttered the young nobleman to himself as he gazed
+after the retreating form. &quot;He rides well, at least, as he does
+everything else well. 'Till I return,' forsooth, 'till I return!' Gad! I
+half wish you had never come in the first place, my Bloody Scotland!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>As for Law, he rode swiftly, asking at times his way, losing time here,
+gaining it again there, creating much hatred among foot folk by his
+tempestuous speed, but giving little heed to aught save his own purpose.
+In time he reached Bradwell Street and flung himself from his panting
+horse in front of the dingy door of the lodging house. He rushed up the
+stairs at speed and threw open the door of the little room. It was
+empty.</p>
+
+<p>There was no word to show what his brother had done, whither he had
+gone, when he would return. Around the lodgings in Bradwell Street lay a
+great and unknown London, with its own secrets, its own hatreds, its own
+crimes. A strange feeling of on-coming ill seized upon the heart of Law,
+as he stood in the center of the dull little room, now suddenly grown
+hateful to him. He dashed his hand upon the table, and stood so, scarce
+knowing which way to turn. A foot sounded in the hallway, and he went to
+the door. The ancient landlady confronted him. &quot;Where has my brother
+gone?&quot; he demanded, fiercely, as she came into view along the
+ill-lighted passage-way.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Gone, good sir?&quot; said she, quaveringly. &quot;Why, how should I know where
+he has gone? More quality has been here this morning than ever I saw in
+Bradwell Street in all my life. First comes a coach this morning, with
+four horses as fine as the king's, and a man atop would turn your
+blood, he was that solemn-like, sir. Then your brother was up here
+alone, sir, and very still. I will swear he was never out of this room.
+Then, but an hour ago, here comes another coach, as big as the first,
+and yellower. And out of it steps another fine lord, and he bows to your
+brother, and in they get, and off goes the coach. But, God help me, sir!
+How should I know which way they went, or what should be their errand?
+Methinks it must be some servant come from the royal palace. Sir, be you
+two of the nobility? And if you be, why come you here to Bradwell
+Street? Sir, I am but a poor woman. If you be not of the nobility, then
+you must be either coiners or smugglers. Sir, I am bethought that you
+are dangerous guests in my house. I am a poor woman, as you know.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Law flung a coin at her as he sped through the hall and down the stair.
+&quot;'Twas to Bloomsbury Square,&quot; he said, as he sprang into saddle and set
+heel to the flank of the good horse. &quot;To Bloomsbury Square, then, and
+fast!&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='CHAPTER_X'></a><h3>CHAPTER X</h3>
+
+<h4>THE RUMOR OF THE QUARREL</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>Meantime, at the Knollys mansion, there were forthcoming other parts of
+the drama of the day. The butler announced to Lady Catharine, still
+sitting dreaming by the window, Sir Arthur Pembroke, now late arrived on
+foot. Lady Catharine hesitated. &quot;Show the gentleman to this room,&quot; she
+said at length.</p>
+
+<p>Pembroke came forward eagerly as he entered. &quot;Such a day of it, Lady
+Kitty!&quot; he exclaimed, impulsively. &quot;You will pardon me for coming thus,
+when I say I have just been robbed of my horse. 'Twas at your very door,
+and methinks you must know the highwayman. I have come to tell you of
+the news.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You don't mean&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, but I do! 'Twas no less than Mr. Law, of Scotland. He hath taken
+my horse and gone off like a whirlwind, leaving me afoot and friendless,
+save for your good self. I am begging a taste of tea and a little
+biscuit, for I vow I am half famished.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The Lady Catharine Knollys, in sheer reaction from the strain, broke out
+into a peal of laughter.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sure, he has strange ways about him, this same Mr. Law,&quot; said she.
+&quot;That young man would have come here direct, and would have made himself
+quite at home, methinks, had he had but the first encouragement.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Gad! Lady Catharine, but he has a conceit of himself. Think you of what
+he has done in his short stay here in town! First, as you know, he sat
+at cards with two or three of us the other evening&mdash;Charlie Castleton,
+Beau Wilson, myself and one or two besides. And what doth he do but
+stake a bauble against good gold that he would make <i>sept et le va</i>.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And did it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And did it. Yes, faith, as though he saw it coming. Yet 'twas I who cut
+and dealt the cards. Nor was that the half of it,&quot; he went on. &quot;He let
+the play run on till 'twas <i>seize et le va</i>, then <i>vingt-un et le va</i>,
+then twenty-five. And, strike me! Lady Catharine, if he sat not there
+cool as my Lord Speaker in the Parliament, and saw the cards run to
+<i>trente et le va</i>, as though 'twere no more to him than the eating of an
+orange!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And showed no anxiety at all?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;None, as I tell you, and he proved to us plain that he had not
+two-pence to his name, for that he had been robbed the night before
+while on his way to town. He staked a diamond, a stone of worth. I must
+say, his like was never seen at cards.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;He hath strange quality.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That you may say. Now read me some farther riddles of this same young
+man. He managed to win from me a little shoe of an American savage,
+which I had bought at a good price but the day before. It came to idle
+talk of ladies' shoes, and wagers&mdash;well, no matter; and so Mr. Law
+brought on a sudden quarrel with Beau Wilson. Then, though he seemed not
+wanting courage, he half declined to face Wilson on the field. Sudden
+to change as ever, this very morning he sent word to Wilson by Mr.
+Castleton that he was ready to meet him at four this afternoon. God save
+us! what a haste was there! And now, to cap it all, he hath taken my
+horse from me and ridden off to keep an appointment which he says he
+never made! Gad! These he odd ways enough, and almost too keen for me to
+credit. Why, 'twould not surprise me to hear that he had been here to
+make love to the Lady Catharine Knollys, and to offer her the proceeds
+of his luck at faro. And, strike me! if that same luck holds, he'll
+have all the money in London in another fortnight! I wish him joy of
+Wilson.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;He may be hurt!&quot; exclaimed the Lady Catharine, starting up.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Who? Beau Wilson?&quot; exclaimed Sir Arthur. &quot;Take no fear. He carries a
+good blade.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir Arthur,&quot; said the girl, &quot;is there no way to stop this foolish
+matter? Is there not yet time?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, as to that,&quot; said Sir Arthur, &quot;it all depends upon the speed of my
+own horse. I should think myself e'en let off cheaply if he took the
+horse and rode on out of London, and never turned up again. Yet, I
+bethink me, he has a way of turning up. If so, then we are too late. Let
+him go. For me, I'd liefer sit me here with Lady Catharine, who, I
+perceive, is about now to save my death of hunger, since now I see the
+tea tray coming. Thank thee prettily.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lady Catharine poured for him with a hand none too steady. &quot;Sir Arthur,&quot;
+said she, &quot;you know why I have this concern over such a quarrel. You
+know well enough what the duello has cost the house of Knollys. Of my
+uncles, four were killed upon this so-called field of honor. My
+grandfather met his death in that same way. Another relative, before my
+time, is reputed to have slain a friend in this same manner. As you
+know, but three years ago, my brother, the living representative of our
+family, had the misfortune to slay his kinsman in a duel which sprang
+out of some little jest. I say to you, Sir Arthur, that this quarrel
+must be stopped, and we must do thus much for our friends forthwith. It
+must not go on.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;For our friends! Our friends!&quot; cried Sir Arthur. &quot;Ah, ha! so you mean
+that the old beau hath hit thee, too, with his ardent eye. Or&mdash;hang!
+What&mdash;you mean not that this stranger, this Scotchman, is a friend of
+yours?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I speak but confusedly,&quot; said the Lady Catharine. &quot;'Tis my prejudice
+against such fighting, as you know. Can we not make haste, and so
+prevent this meeting?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, I doubt if there be much need of haste,&quot; said Sir Arthur, balancing
+his cup in his hand judicially. &quot;This matter will fall through at most
+for the day. They assuredly can not meet until to-morrow. This will be
+the talk of London, if it goes on in this pell-mell, hurly-burly
+fashion. As to the stopping of it&mdash;well now, the law under William and
+Mary saith that one who slays another in a duel of premeditation is
+nothing but a murderer, and may be hanged like any felon; hanged by the
+neck, till he be dead. Alas, what a fate for this pretty Scotchman!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Sir Arthur paused. A look of wonder swept across his face. &quot;Open the
+window, Annie!&quot; he cried suddenly to the servant. &quot;Your mistress is
+ill.&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='CHAPTER_XI'></a><h3>CHAPTER XI</h3>
+
+<h4>AS CHANCE DECREED</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>Mischance delayed the carriage of Beau Wilson in its journeying to
+Bloomsbury Square. It had not appeared at that moment, far toward
+evening, when John Law, riding a trembling and dripping steed, came upon
+one side of this little open common and gazed anxiously across the
+space. He saw standing across from him a carriage, toward which he
+dashed. He flung open the carriage door, crying out, even before he saw
+the face within.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Will! Will Law, I say, come out!&quot; called he. &quot;What mad trick is this?
+What&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He saw indeed the face of Will Law inside the carriage, a face pale,
+melancholy, and yet firm.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Get you back into the city!&quot; cried Will Law. &quot;This is no place for you,
+Jack.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Boy! Are you mad, entirely mad?&quot; cried Law, pushing his way directly
+into the carriage and reaching out with an arm of authority for the
+sword which he saw resting beside his brother against the seat. &quot;No
+place for me! 'Tis no place for you, for either of us. Turn back. This
+foolishness must go no further!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It must go on now to the end,&quot; said Will Law, wearily. &quot;Mr. Wilson's
+carriage is long past due.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But you&mdash;what do you mean? You've had no hand in this. Even had
+you&mdash;why, boy, you would be spitted in an instant by this fellow.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And would not that teach you to cease your mad pranks, and use to
+better purpose the talents God hath given you? Yours is the better
+chance, Jack.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Peace!&quot; cried John Law, tears starting to his eyes. &quot;I'll not argue
+that. Driver, turn back for home!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The coachman at the box touched his hat with a puzzled air. &quot;I beg
+pardon, sir,&quot; said he, &quot;but I was under orders of the gentleman inside.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You were sent for Mr. John Law.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;For Mr. Law&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But I am John Law, sirrah!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You are both Mr. Law? Well, sir, I scarce know which of you is the
+proper Mr. Law. But I must say that here comes a coach drove fast
+enough, and perhaps this is the gentleman I was to wait for, according
+to the first Mr. Law, sir.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;He is coming, then,&quot; cried John Law, angrily. &quot;I'll see into this
+pretty meeting. If this devil's own fool is to have a crossing of steel,
+I'll fair accommodate him, and we'll look into the reasons for it later.
+Sit ye down! Be quiet, Will, boy, I say!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Law was a powerful man, over six feet in height. The sports of the
+Highlands, combined with much fencing and continuous play in the tennis
+court, indeed his ardent love for every hardy exercise, had given his
+form alike solid strength and great activity. &quot;Jessamy Law,&quot; they called
+him at home, in compliment of his slender though full and manly form.
+Cool and skilful in all the games of his youth, as John Law himself had
+often calmly stated, in fence he had a knowledge amounting to science, a
+knowledge based upon the study of first principles. The intricacies of
+the Italian school were to him an old story. With the single blade he
+had never yet met his master. Indeed, the thought of successful
+opposition seemed never to occur to him at all. Certainly at this
+moment, angered at the impatient insolence of his adversary, the thought
+of danger was farthest from his mind. Stronger than his brother, he
+pushed the latter back with one hand, grasping as he did so the
+small-sword with which the latter was provided. With one leap he sprang
+from the carriage, leaving Will half dazed and limp within.</p>
+
+<p>Even as he left the carriage step, he found himself confronted with an
+adversary eager as himself; for at that instant Beau Wilson was
+hastening from his coach. Vain, weak and pompous in a way, yet lacking
+not in a certain personal valor, Beau Wilson stopped not for his
+seconds, tarried not to catch the other's speech, but himself strode
+madly onward, his point raised slightly, as though he had lost all care
+and dignity and desired nothing so much as to stab his enemy as swiftly
+as might be.</p>
+
+<p>It would have mattered nothing now to this Highlander, this fighting
+Argyll, what had been the reason animating his opponent. It was enough
+that he saw a weapon bared. Too late, then, to reason with John Law,
+&quot;Beau&quot; Law of Edinboro', &quot;Jessamy&quot; Law, the best blade and the coolest
+head in all the schools of arms that taught him fence.</p>
+
+<p>For a moment Law paused and raised his point, whether in query or in
+salute the onlookers scarce could tell. Sure it was that Wilson was the
+first to fall into the assault. Scarce pausing in his stride, he came on
+blindly, and, raising his own point, lunged straight for his opponent's
+breast. Sad enough was the fate which impelled him to do this thing.</p>
+
+<p>It was over in an instant. It could not be said that there was an
+actual encounter. The side step of the young Highlander was soft as that
+of a panther, as quick, and yet as full of savagery. The whipping over
+of his wrist, the gliding, twining, clinging of his blade against that
+of his enemy was so swift that eye could scarce have followed it. The
+eye of Beau Wilson was too slow to catch it or to guard. He never
+stopped the <i>riposte</i>, and indeed was too late to attempt any guard.
+Pierced through the body, Wilson staggered back, clapping his hands
+against his chest. Over his face there swept a swift series of changes.
+Anger faded to chagrin, that to surprise, surprise to fright, and that
+to gentleness.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir,&quot; said he, &quot;you've hit me fair, and very hard. I pray you, some
+friend, give me an arm.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>And so they led him to his carriage, and took him home a corpse. Once
+more the code of the time had found its victim.</p>
+
+<p>Law turned away from the coach of his smitten opponent, turned away with
+a face stern and full of trouble. Many things revolved themselves in his
+mind as he stepped slowly towards the carriage, in which his brother
+still sat wringing his hands in an agony of perturbation.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Jack, Jack!&quot; cried Will Law, &quot;Oh, heavens! You have killed him! You
+have killed a man! What shall we do?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Law Raised his head and looked his brother in the face, but seemed
+scarce to hear him. Half mechanically he was fumbling in the side pocket
+of his coat. He drew forth from it now a peculiar object, at which he
+gazed intently and half in curiosity, It was the little beaded shoe of
+the Indian woman, the very object over which this ill-fated quarrel had
+arisen, and which now seemed so curiously to intermingle itself with his
+affairs.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Twas a slight shield enough,&quot; he said slowly to himself, &quot;yet it
+served. But for this little piece of hide, methinks there might be two
+of us going home to-day to take somewhat of rest.&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='CHAPTER_XII'></a><h3>CHAPTER XII</h3>
+
+<h4>FOR FELONY</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>Late in the afternoon of the day following the encounter in Bloomsbury
+Square, a little group of excited loiterers filled the entrance and
+passage way at 59 Bradwell Street, the former lodgings of the two young
+gentlemen from Scotland. The motley assemblage seemed for the most part
+to make merry at the expense of a certain messenger boy, who bore a long
+wicker box, which presently he shifted from his shoulder to a more
+convenient resting place on the curb.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Do 'ee but look at un,&quot; said one ancient dame. &quot;He! he! Hath a parcel
+of fine clothes for the tall gentleman was up in third floor! He! he!
+Clothes for Mr. Law, indeed!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Fine clothes, eh?&quot; cried another, a portly dame of certain years. &quot;Much
+fine clothes he'll need where he'm gone.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, indeed, that he will na. Bad luck 'twas to Mary Cullen as took un
+into her house. Now she's no lodging money for her rooms, and her
+lodgers be both in Newgate; least ways, one of un.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah now, 'tis a pity for Mary Cullen, she do need the money so much&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Shut ye all your mouths, the lot o' you,&quot; cried Mary Cullen herself,
+appearing at the door. &quot;'Tis not she is needing the little money, for
+she has it right here in the corner of her apron. Every stiver Mary
+Cullen's young men said they'd pay they paid, like the gentlemen they
+were. I'll warrant the raggle of ye would do well to make out fine as
+Mary Cullen hath.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh now, is that true, Mary Cullen?&quot; said a voice. &quot;'Twas said that
+these two were noble folk come here for the sport of it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What else but true? Do you never know the look of gentry? My fakes,
+I'll warrant the young gentleman is back within a fortnight. His
+brother, the younger one, said to me hisself but this very morn, his
+brother was hinnocent as a child; that he was obliged to strike the
+other man for fear of his own life. Now, what can judge do but turn un
+loose? Four sovereigns he gave me this very morn. What else can judge do
+but turn un free? Tell me that, now!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Let's see the fine clothes,&quot; said the first old lady to the apprentice
+boy, reaching out a hand and pulling at the corner of the box-lid. The
+youth was nothing loath to show, with professional pride, the quality of
+his burden, and so raised the lid.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Land save us! 'Tis gentry sure enough they are,&quot; cried the inquisitive
+one. &quot;Do-a look in there! Such clothes and laces, such a brand new wig,
+such silken hose! Law o' land! Must have cost all of forty crowns. Mary
+Cullen, right ye are; 'twas quality ye had with ye, even if 'twas but
+for little while.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And them gone to prison, him on trial for his life! I saw un ride out
+this very yesterday, fast as though the devil was behind un, and a finer
+body of a man never did I look at in my life. What pity 'tis, what pity
+'tis!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well,&quot; said the apprentice, with a certain superiority in his air. &quot;I
+dare wait no longer. My master said the gentleman was to have the
+clothes this very afternoon. So if to prison he be gone, to prison must
+I go too.&quot; Upon which he set off doggedly, and so removed one of the
+main causes for the assemblage at the curb.</p>
+
+<p>The apprentice was hungry and weary enough before he reached the somber
+portals, yet his insistence won past gate-keeper and turnkey, one after
+another, till at length he reached the jailer who adjudged himself fit
+to pass upon the stolid demand that the messenger be admitted with the
+parcel for John Law, Esquire, late of Bradwell Street, marked urgent,
+and collect fifty sovereigns. The humor of all this appealed to the
+Jailer mightily.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Send him along,&quot; he said. And the boy came in, much dismayed but still
+faithful to his trust.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Please, sir,&quot; said the youth, &quot;I would know if ye have John Law,
+Esquire, in this place; and if so, I would see him. Master said I was
+not to bring back this parcel till that I had seen John Law, Esquire,
+and got from him fifty sovereigns. 'Tis for his wedding, sir, and the
+clothes are of the finest.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The jailer smiled grimly. &quot;Mr. Law gets presents passing soon,&quot; said he.
+&quot;Set down your box. It might be weapons or the like.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Some clothes,&quot; said the apprentice. &quot;Some very fine clothes. They are
+of our best.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ha! ha!&quot; roared the jailer. &quot;Here indeed be a pretty jest. Much need
+he'll have of fine clothes here. He'll soon take his coat off the rack
+like the rest, and happen it fits him, very well. Take back your box,
+boy&mdash;or stay, let's have a look in't.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The jailer was a man not devoid of wisdom. Fine clothes sometimes went
+with a long purse, and a long purge might do wonders to help the comfort
+of any prisoner in London, as well as the comfort of his keeper. Truly
+his eyes opened wide as he saw the contents of the box. He felt the
+lapel of the coat, passing it approvingly between his thumb and finger.
+&quot;Well, e'en set ye down the box, lad,&quot; said he, &quot;and wait till I see
+where Mr. Law has gone. Hum, hum! What saith the record? Charged that
+said prisoner did kill&mdash;hum, hum! Taken of said John Law six sovereigns,
+three shillings and sixpence. Item, one snuff-box, gilt. Hour of
+admission, five o'clock of the afternoon. We shall see, we shall see.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir,&quot; said the jailer, approaching the prisoner and his brother, who
+both remained in the detention room, &quot;a lad hath arrived bearing a
+parcel for John Law, Esquire. 'Tis not within possibility that you have
+these goods, but we would know what disposition we shall make of them.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;By my faith!&quot; cried Law, &quot;I had entirely forgot my haberdasher.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The jailer stood on one foot and gave a cough, unnecessarily loud but
+sufficiently significant. It was enough for the quick wit of Law.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There was fifty sovereigns on the charge list,&quot; said the jailer.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sixty sovereigns, I heard you say distinctly,&quot; replied Law. &quot;Will, give
+me thy purse, man!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Will Law obeyed automatically.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There,&quot; said John Law to the jailer. &quot;I am sure the garments will be
+very proper. Is it not all very proper?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The turnkey looked calmly into the face of his prisoner and as calmly
+replied: &quot;It is, sir, as you say, very proper.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It would be much relief,&quot; said John Law, as the turnkey again appeared,
+bearing the box in his own hands, &quot;if I might don my new garments. I
+would liefer make a good showing for thy house, friend, and can not, in
+this garb.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sirrah,&quot; said the jailer, &quot;there be rules of this place, as you very
+well know. Your little chamber was to have been in corridor number four,
+number twelve of the left aisle. But, sir, as perhaps you know, there be
+rules which are rules, and rules which are not so much&mdash;that is to
+say&mdash;rules, as you might put it, sir. The main thing is that I produce
+your body on the day of the hearing, which cometh soon. Meantime, since
+you seem a gentleman, and are in for no common felony, but charged, as I
+might say, with a light offense, why, sir, in such a case, I might say
+that a gentleman like yourself, if he cared to wear a bit of good
+clothes and wear it here in the parlor like, why, sir, I can see no harm
+in it. And that's competent to prove, as the judge says.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Very well, then,&quot; said Law, &quot;I'll e'en deck out with the gear I should
+have had to-night had I been free; though I fear my employment this
+evening will scarce be pleasing as that which I had planned. Will, had I
+had but one more night at the Green Lion, we'd e'en have needed a
+special chair to carry home my winnings of their English gold.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Enter then, a few moments later, &quot;Beau&quot; Law, &quot;Jessamy&quot; Law, late of
+Edinboro', gentleman, and a right gallant figure of a man. Tall he was
+indeed, and, so clad, making a picture of superb manhood. Ease and grace
+he showed in every movement. His long fingers closed lightly at top of a
+lacquered cane which he had found within the box. Deep ruffles of white
+hung down from his wrists, and a fall of wide lace drooped from the
+bosom of his ruffled shirt. His wig, deep curled and well whitened, gave
+a certain austerity to his mien. At his instep sparkled new buckles of
+brilliants, rising above which sprang a graceful ankle, a straight and
+well-rounded leg. The long lapels of his rich coat hung deep, and the
+rich waistcoat of plum-colored satin added slimness to a torso not too
+bulky in itself. Neat, dainty, fastidious, &quot;Jessamy&quot; Law, late of
+Edinboro', for some weeks of London, and now of a London prison, scarce
+seemed a man about to be put on trial for his life.</p>
+
+<p>He advanced from the door of the side room with ease and dignity.
+Reaching out a snuff-box which he had found in the silken pocket of his
+new garment, he extended it to the turnkey with an indifferent gesture.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Kindly have it filled with maccaboy,&quot; he said. &quot;See, 'tis quite empty,
+and as such, 'tis useless.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Certainly, Captain Law,&quot; said the turnkey. &quot;I am a man as knows what a
+gentleman likes, and many a one I've had here in my day, sir. As it
+chances, I've a bit of the best in my own quarters, and I'll see that
+you have what you like.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Will,&quot; said Law to his brother, who had scarce moved during all this,
+&quot;come, cheer up! One would think 'twas thyself was to be inmate here,
+and not another.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Will Law burst into tears.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;God knows, 'twere better myself, and not thee, Jack,&quot; he said.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Pish! boy, no more of that! 'Twas as chance would have it. I'm never
+meant for staying here. Come, take this letter, as I said, and make
+haste to carry it. 'Twill serve nothing to have you moping here. Fare
+you well, and see that you sleep sound.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Will Law turned, obedient as ever to the commands of the superior mind.
+He passed out through the heavily-guarded door as the turnkey swung it
+for him; passed out, turned and looked back. He saw his brother standing
+there, easy, calm, indifferent, a splendid figure of a man.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='CHAPTER_XIII'></a><h3>CHAPTER XIII</h3>
+
+<h4>THE MESSAGE</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>To Will Law, as he turned away from the prison gate upon the errand
+assigned to him, the vast and shapeless shadows of the night-covered
+city took the form of appalling monsters, relentless, remorseless,
+savage of purpose. He passed, as one in some hideous dream, along
+streets that wound and wound until his brain lost distance and
+direction. It might have been an hour, two hours, and the clock might
+have registered after midnight, when at last he discovered himself in
+front of the dark gray mass of stone which the chairmen assured him was
+his destination. It was with trepidation that he stepped to the
+half-lighted door and fumbled for the knocker. The door slowly swung
+open, and he was confronted by the portly presence of a lackey who stood
+in silence waiting for his word.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;A message for Lady Catharine Knollys,&quot; said Will, with what courage he
+could summon. &quot;'Tis of importance, I make no doubt.&quot; For it was to the
+Lady Catharine that John Law had first turned. His heart craved one
+more sight of the face so beloved, one more word from the voice which so
+late had thrilled his soul. Away from these&mdash;ah! that was the prison for
+him, these were the bars which to him seemed imperatively needful to be
+broken. Aid he did not think of asking. Only, across London, in the
+night, he had sent the cry of his heart: &quot;Come to me!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The Lady Catharine is not in at this hour,&quot; said the butler, with, some
+asperity, closing the door again in part.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But 'tis important. I doubt if 'twill bear the delay of a night.&quot;
+Indeed, Will Law had hitherto hardly paused to reflect how unusual was
+this message, from such a person, to such address, and at such an hour.</p>
+
+<p>The butler hesitated, and so did the unbidden guest at the door. Neither
+heard at first the light rustle of garments at the head of the stair,
+nor saw the face bent over the balustrade in the shadows of the hall.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What is it, James?&quot; asked a voice from above.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;A message for the Lady Catharine,&quot; replied the servant. &quot;Said to be
+important. What should I do?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lady Catharine Knollys is away,&quot; said the soft voice of Mary Connynge,
+speaking from the stair. Her voice came nearer as she now descended and
+appeared at the first landing.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;We may crave your pardon, sir,&quot; said she, &quot;that we receive you so ill,
+but the hour is very late. Lady Catharine is away, and Sir Charles is
+forth also, as usual, at this time. I am left proxy for my entertainers,
+and perhaps I may serve you in this case. Therefore pray step within.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Reluctantly the butler swung open the door and admitted the visitor.
+Will Law stood face to face with Mary Connynge, just from her boudoir,
+and with time for but half care as to the details of her toilet; yet
+none the less Mary Connynge, Eve-like, bewitching, endowed with all the
+ancient wiles of womankind. Will Law gazed, since this was his fate.
+Unconsciously the sorcery of the sight enfolded the youth as he stood
+there uncertainly. He saw the round throat, the heavy masses of the dark
+hair, the full round form. He noted, though he could not define; felt,
+though he could not classify. He was young. Utterly helpless might have
+been even an older man in the hands of Mary Connynge at a time like
+this, Mary Connynge deliberately seeking to ensnare.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Pardon this robe, but half concealing,&quot; said her drooping eye and her
+half uplifted hands which caught the defining folds yet closer to her
+bosom. &quot;'Tis in your chivalry I trust. I would not so with others.&quot; This
+to the beholder meant that he was the one man on earth to whom so much
+could be conceded.</p>
+
+<p>Therefore, following to his own undoing, as though led by some actual
+command, while but bidden gently by the softest voice in all the
+kingdom, the young man entered the great drawing-room and waited as the
+butler lessened the shadows by the aid of candles. He saw the smallest
+foot in London just peep in and out, suddenly withdrawn as Mary Connynge
+sat her down.</p>
+
+<p>She held the message now in her hand. In her soul sat burning
+impatience, in her heart contempt for the callow youth before her. Yet
+to that youth her attitude seemed to speak naught but deference for
+himself and doubt for this unusual situation.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir, I am in some hesitation,&quot; said Mary Connynge. &quot;There is indeed
+none in the house except the servants. You say your message is of
+importance&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It has indeed importance,&quot; responded Will. &quot;It comes from my brother.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Your brother, Mr. Law?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;From my brother, John Law. He is in trouble. I make no doubt the
+message will set all plain.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis most grievous that Lady Catharine return not till to-morrow.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Mary Connynge shifted herself upon her seat, caught once more with swift
+modesty at the robe which fell from her throat. She raised her eyes and
+turned them full upon the visitor. Never had the spell of curve and
+color, never had the language of sex addressed this youth as it did now.
+Intoxicating enough was this vague, mysterious speech even at this
+inappropriate time. The girl knew that the mesh had fallen well. She but
+caught again at her robe, and cast down again her eyes, and voiced again
+her assumed anxiety. &quot;I scarce know what to do,&quot; she murmured.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;My brother did not explain&mdash;&quot; said Will.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;In that case,&quot; said Mary Connynge, her voice cool, though her soul was
+hot with impatience, &quot;it might perhaps be well if I took the liberty of
+reading the message in Lady Catharine's absence. You say your brother is
+in trouble?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Of the worst. Madam, to make plain with you, he is in prison, charged
+with the crime of murder.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Mary Connynge sank back into her chair. The blood fled from her cheek.
+Her hands caught each other in a genuine gesture of distress.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;In prison! John Law! Oh heaven! tell me how?&quot; Her voice was trembling
+now.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;My brother slew Mr. Wilson in a duel not of his own seeking. It
+happened yesterday, and so swift I scarce can tell you. He took up a
+quarrel which I had fixed to settle with Mr. Wilson myself. We all met
+at Bloomsbury Square, my brother coming in great haste. Of a sudden,
+after his fashion, he became enraged. He sprang from the carriage and
+met Mr. Wilson. And so&mdash;they passed a time or so, and 'twas done. Mr.
+Wilson died a few moments later. My brother was taken and lodged in
+jail. There is said to be bitter feeling at the court over this custom
+of dueling, and it has long been thought that an example would be made.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And this letter without doubt bears upon all this? Perhaps it might be
+well if I made both of us owners of its contents.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Assuredly, I should say,&quot; replied Will, too distracted to take full
+heed.</p>
+
+<p>The girl tore open the inclosure. She saw but three words, written
+boldly, firmly, addressed to no one, and signed by no one.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Come to me!&quot; Thus spoke the message. This was the summons that had
+crossed black London town that night.</p>
+
+<p>Mary Connynge rose quickly to her feet, forgetting for the time the man
+who stood before her. The instant demanded all the resources of her
+soul. She fought to remain mistress of herself. A moment, and she
+passed Will Law with swift foot, and gained again the stairway in the
+hall, the letter still fast within her hand. Will Law had not time to
+ask its contents.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There is need of haste,&quot; said she. &quot;James, have up the calash at once.
+Mr. Law, I crave your excuse for a time. In a moment I shall be ready to
+go with you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>In two minutes she was sobbing alone, her face down upon the bed. In
+five, she was at the door, dressed, cloaked, smiling sweetly and ready
+for the journey. And thus it was that, of two women who loved John Law,
+that one fared on to see him for whom he had not sent.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='CHAPTER_XIV'></a><h3>CHAPTER XIV</h3>
+
+<h4>PRISONERS</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>The turnkey at the inner door was slothful, sleepy and ill disposed to
+listen when he heard that certain callers would be admitted to the
+prisoner John Law.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Tis late,&quot; said he, &quot;and besides, 'tis contrary to the rules. Must not
+a prison have rules? Tell me that!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;We have come to arrange for certain matters regarding Mr. Law's
+defense,&quot; said Mary Connynge, as she threw back her cloak and bent upon
+the turnkey the full glance of her dark eye. &quot;Surely you would not deny
+us.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The turnkey looked at Will Law with a hesitation in his attitude. &quot;Why,
+this gentleman I know,&quot; he began.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes; let us in,&quot; cried Will Law, with sudden energy. &quot;'Tis time that we
+took steps to set my brother free.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;True, so say they all, young master,&quot; replied the turnkey, grinning.
+&quot;'Tis easy to get ye in, but passing hard to get ye out again. Yet,
+since the young man ye wish to see is a very decent gentleman, and
+knoweth well the needs of a poor working body like myself, we will take
+the matter under advisement, as the court saith, forsooth.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>They passed through the heavy gates, down a narrow and heavy-aired
+passage, and finally into a naked room. It was here, in such somber
+surroundings, that Mary Connynge saw again the man whose image had been
+graven on her heart ever since that morn at Sadler's Wells. How her
+heart coveted him, how her blood leaped for him&mdash;these things the Mary
+Connynges of the world can tell, they who own the primeval heart of
+womankind.</p>
+
+<p>When John Law himself at length entered the room, he stepped forward at
+first confidently, eagerly, though with surprise upon his face. Then,
+with a sudden hesitation, he looked sharply at the figure which he saw
+awaiting him in the dingy room. His breath came sharp, and ended in a
+sigh. For a half moment his face flushed, his brow showed question and
+annoyance. Yet rapidly, after his fashion, he mastered himself.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Will,&quot; said he, calmly, to his brother, &quot;kindly ask the coachman to
+wait for this lady.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He stood for a moment gazing after the form of his brother as it
+disappeared in the outer shadows. For this half-moment he took swift
+counsel of himself. It was a face calm and noncommittal that he turned
+toward the girl who sat now in the darkest corner of the room, her head
+cast down, her foot beating a signal of perturbation upon the floor.
+From the corner of her eye Mary Connynge saw him, a tall and manly man,
+superbly clad, faultless in physique and raiment from top to toe. He
+stood as though ready to step into his carriage for some voyage to rout
+or ball. Youth, vigor, self-reliance, confidence, this was the whole
+message of the splendid figure. The blood of Mary Connynge, this
+survival, this half-savage woman, unregulated, unsubdued, leaped high
+within her bosom, fled to her face, gave color to her cheek and
+brightness to her eye. Her breath shortened after feline fashion. Deep
+was calling unto deep, ancient unto ancient, primitive unto primitive.
+Without the gate of London prison there was one abject prisoner. Within
+its gates there were two prisoners, and one of them was slave for life!</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Madam,&quot; said John Law, in deep and vibrant tone, &quot;you will pardon me if
+I say that it gives me surprise to see you here.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes; I have come,&quot; said the girl, not logically.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You bring, perhaps, some message?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I&mdash;I brought a message.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It is from the Lady Catharine?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Mary Connynge was silent for a moment. It was necessary that, at least
+for a moment, the poison of some &aelig;ons should distil. There was need of
+savagery to say what she proposed to say. The voice of training, of
+civilization, of unselfishness, of friendship raised a protest. Wait
+then for a moment. Wait until the bitterness of an ambitious and
+unrounded life could formulate this evil impulse. Wait, till Mary
+Connynge could summon treachery enough to slay her friend. And yet, wait
+only until the primitive soul of Mary Connynge should become altogether
+imperative in its demands! For after all, was not this friend a woman,
+and is not the earth builded as it is? And hath not God made male and
+female its inhabitants; and as there is war of male and male, is there
+not war of female and female, until the end of time?</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I came from the Lady Catharine,&quot; said Mary Connynge, slowly, &quot;but I
+bring no message from her of the sort which perhaps you wished.&quot; It was
+a desperate, reckless lie, a lie almost certain of detection yet it was
+the only resource of the moment, and a moment later it was too late to
+recall. One lie must now follow another, and all must make a deadly
+coil.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Madam, I am sorry,&quot; said John Law, quietly, yet his face twitched
+sharply at the impact of these cutting words. &quot;Did you know of my letter
+to her?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Am I not here?&quot; said Mary Connynge.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;True, and I thank you deeply. But how, why-pray you, understand that I
+would be set right. I would not undergo more than is necessary. Will you
+not explain?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There is but little to explain&mdash;little, though it may mean much. It
+must be private. Your brother&mdash;he must never know. Promise me not to
+speak to him of this.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;This means much to me, I doubt not, my dear lady,&quot; said John Law. &quot;I
+trust I may keep my counsel in a matter which comes so close to me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, truly,&quot; replied Mary Connynge, &quot;if you had set your heart upon a
+kindly answer.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What! You mean, then, that she&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Do you promise?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The brows of Law settled deeper and deeper into the frown which marked
+him when he was perturbed. The blood, settled back, now slowly mounted
+again into his face, the resentful, fighting blood of the Highlander.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I promise,&quot; he cried. &quot;And now, tell me what answer had the Lady
+Catharine Knollys.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;She declined to answer,&quot; said Mary Connynge, slowly and evenly.
+&quot;Declined to come. She said that she was ill enough pleased to hear of
+your brawling. Said that she doubted not the law would punish you, nor
+doubted that the law was just.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>John Law half whirled upon his heel, smote his hands together and
+laughed loud and bitterly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Madam,&quot; said he, &quot;I had never thought to say it to a woman, but in very
+justice I must tell you that I see quite through this shallow
+falsehood.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir,&quot; said Mary Connynge, her hands clutching at the arms of her chair,
+&quot;this is unusual speech to a lady!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But your story, Madam, is most unusual.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Tell me, then, why should I be here?&quot; burst out the girl. &quot;What is it
+to me? Why should I care what the Lady Catharine says or does? Why
+should I risk my own name to come of this errand in the night? Now let
+me pass, for I shall leave you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Tho swift jealous rage of Mary Connynge was unpremeditated, yet nothing
+had better served her real purpose. The stubborn nature of Law was ever
+ready for a challenge. He caught her arm, and placed her not unkindly
+upon the chair.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;By heaven, I half believe what you say is true!&quot; said he, as though to
+himself.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yet you just said 'twas false,&quot; said the girl, her eyes flashing.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I meant that what you add is true, and hence the first also must be
+believed. Then you saw my message?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I did, since it so fell out.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But you did not read the real message. I asked no aid of any one for my
+escape. I but asked her to come. In sheer truth, I wished but to see
+her.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And by what right could you expect that?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I asked her as my affianced wife,&quot; replied John Law.</p>
+
+<p>Mary Connynge stood an inch taller, as she sprang to her feet in sudden
+scorn and bitterness.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Your affianced wife!&quot; cried she. &quot;What! So soon! Oh, rare indeed must
+be my opinion of this Lady Catharine!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It was never my way to waste time on a journey,&quot; said John Law, coolly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Your wife, your affianced wife?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;As I said.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes,&quot; cried Mary Connynge, bitterly, and again, unconsciously and in
+sheer anger, falling upon that course which best served her purpose.
+&quot;And what manner of affianced wife is it would forsake her lover at the
+first breath of trouble? My God! 'tis then, it seems to me, a woman
+would most swiftly fly to the man she loved.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>John Law turned slowly toward her, his eyes scanning her closely from
+top to toe, noting the heaving of her bosom, the sparkling of her
+gold-colored eye, now darkened and half ready to dissolve in tears. He
+stood as though he were a judge, weighing the evidence before him,
+calmly, dispassionately.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Would you do so much as that, Mary Connynge?&quot; asked John Law.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I, sir?&quot; she replied. &quot;Then why am I here to-night myself? But, God pity
+me, what have I said? There is nothing but misfortune in all my life!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>It was one rebellious, unsubdued nature speaking to another, and of the
+two each was now having its own sharp suffering. The instant of doubt is
+the time of danger. Then comes revulsion, bitterness, despair, folly.
+John Law trod a step nearer.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;By God! Madam,&quot; cried he, &quot;I would I might believe you. I would I might
+believe that you, that any woman, would come to me at such a time! But
+tell me&mdash;and I bethink me my message was not addressed, was even
+unsigned&mdash;whom then may I trust? If this woman scorns my call at such a
+time, tell me, whom shall I hold faithful? Who would come to me at any
+time, in any case, in my trouble? Suppose my message were to you?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Mary Connynge stirred softly under her deep cloak. Her head was lifted
+slightly, the curve of cheek and chin showing in the light that fell
+from the little lamp. The masses of her dark hair lay piled about her
+face, tumbled by the sweeping of her hood. Her eyes showed tremulously
+soft and deep now as he looked into them. Her little hands half twitched
+a trifle from her lap and reached forward and upward. Primitive she
+might have been, wicked she was, sinfully sweet; and yet she was woman.
+It was with the voice of tears that she spoke, if one might claim
+vocalization for her speech.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Have I not come?&quot; whispered she.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;By God! Mary Connynge, yes, you have come!&quot; cried Law. And though there
+was heartbreak in his voice, it sounded sweet to the ear of her who
+heard it, and who now reached up her arms about his neck.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah, John Law,&quot; said Mary Connynge, &quot;when a woman loves&mdash;when a woman
+loves, she stops at nothing!&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='CHAPTER_XV'></a><h3>CHAPTER XV</h3>
+
+<h4>IF THERE WERE NEED</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>Time wore on in the ancient capital of England. The tramp of troops
+echoed in the streets, and the fleets of Britain made ready to carry her
+sons over seas for wars and for adventures. The intrigues of party
+against party, of church against church, of Parliament against king; the
+loves, the hates, the ambitions, the desires of all the city's hurrying
+thousands went on as ever. Who, then, should remember a single prisoner,
+waiting within the walls of England's jail? The hours wore on slowly
+enough for that prisoner. He had faced a jury of his peers and was
+condemned to face the gallows. Meantime he had said farewell to love and
+hope and faithfulness, even as he bade farewell to life. &quot;Since she has
+forsaken me whom I thought faithful,&quot; said he to himself, &quot;why, let it
+end, for life is a mockery I would not live out.&quot; And thenceforth,
+haggard but laughing, pale but with unbroken courage, he trod on his way
+through his few remaining days, the wonder of those who saw him.</p>
+
+<p>As for Mary Connynge, surely she had matters enough which were best kept
+secret in her own soul. While Lady Catharine was hoping, and praying,
+and dreaming and believing, even as the roses left her cheek and the
+hollows fell beneath her eyes, she saw about her in the daily walks of
+life Mary Connynge, sleek and rounded as ever. They sat at table
+together, and neither did the one make sign to the other of her own
+anxiety, nor did that other give sign of her own treachery. Mary
+Connynge, false guest, false friend, false woman, deceived so perfectly
+that she left no indication of deceit. She herself knew, and blindly
+satisfied herself with the knowledge, that she alone now came close into
+the life of &quot;Beau&quot; Law, the convict; &quot;Jessamy&quot; Law, the student, the
+financier, the thinker; John Law, her lord and master. Herein she found
+the sole compensation possible in her savage nature. She had found the
+master whom she sought!</p>
+
+<p>Cynically mirthful or irreverently indifferent, yet never did her
+master's strength forsake him, never did his heart lose its
+undauntedness. And when he bade Mary Connynge do this or that she obeyed
+him; when he bade her arise she arose; at his word she came or departed.
+A dozen nights in the month she was absent from the house of Knollys. A
+dozen nights Will Law was cozened into frenzy, alternating between a
+heaven of delight and a hell of despair, and ignorant of her twofold
+duplicity. A dozen nights John Law knew well enough where Mary Connynge
+was, though no one else might know. There was feminine triumph now in
+full in the heart of this Mary Connynge, who had gone white with rage at
+the sight of a rose offered across her face to another woman. Had she
+not her master? Was he not hers, all hers, belonging in no wise to any
+other?</p>
+
+<p>For the future, Mary Connynge did not ponder it. An ephemera, once
+buried generations deep in the mire and slime of lower conditions, and
+now craving blindly but the sunlight of the day, she would have sought
+the deadly caress of life even though at that moment it had sealed her
+doom. Foolish or wise, she was as she was; since, under our frail
+society, life is as it is.</p>
+
+<p>Only at night, on those nights when she was sleepless on her own couch
+beneath the roof of Catharine Knollys, did Mary Connynge allow herself
+to think. Tell, then, ye who may, whether or not she was a mere survival
+of some forgotten day of the forest and the glade, as she lay with her
+hands clasped in brief moments of emotion. Surely she hoped, as all
+women hope who love, that this might endure for her forever. Yet the
+next moment there came the thought that inevitably it all must end, and
+soon. Then her hand clenched, her eyes grew dry and brilliant. She said
+to herself: &quot;There is no hope. He can not be saved! For this short
+period of his life he shall be mine, all mine! He shall not be set free!
+He shall not go away, to belong, at any time, in any part, to any other
+woman! Though he die, yet shall he love me to the end; me, Mary
+Connynge, and no other woman!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Now, under this same roof of Knollys, separated by but a few yards of
+space, there lay another woman, thinking also of this convict behind the
+prison bars. But this was a woman of another and a nobler mold. Into the
+heart of Catharine Knollys there came no mere mad selfishness of desire,
+yearn though she did in every fiber of her being since that first time
+she felt the mastering kiss of love. There was born in her soul emotion
+of a higher sort. The Lady Catharine Knollys prayed, and her prayer was
+not that her lover should die, but that he might live; that he might be
+free.</p>
+
+<p>Nor was this hope left to wither unnourished in the mind of the
+high-bred and courageous English girl. Alone, without confidant to
+counsel her, with no woman friend to aid her, the Lady Catharine
+Knollys backed her own hopes and wishes with resource and energy. There
+came a time, perilously late, when a faint rose showed once more in her
+cheek, long so worn, a faintly brighter light glowed in her deep eye.</p>
+
+<p>When Sir Arthur Pembroke received a message from the Lady Catharine
+Knollys advising him that the latter would receive him at her home, it
+was left for the impulses, the hopes, the imaginings of that modest
+young nobleman to establish a reason for the message. Puzzling all along
+his rapid way in answer to the summons, Sir Arthur found the answer
+which best suited his hopes in the faint flush, the brightened eye of
+the young woman who received him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lady Catharine,&quot; he began, impetuously, &quot;I have come, and let me hope
+that 'tis at last to have my answer. I have waited&mdash;each moment has been
+a year that I have spent away from you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Now, that is very pretty said.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But I am serious.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And that is why I do not like you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But, Lady Catharine!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I should like it better did you but continue as in the past. We have
+met on the Row, at the routs and drums, in the country; and always I
+have felt free to ask any favor of Sir Arthur Pembroke. Why could it not
+be always thus?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You might ask my very life, Lady Catharine.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah, there it is! When a man offers his life, 'tis time for a woman to
+ask nothing.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>She turned from the open window, her attitude showing an unwonted
+weakness and dejection. Sir Arthur still stood near by, his own face
+frowning and uncertain.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lady Catharine,&quot; he broke out at length, &quot;for years, as you know, I
+have sought your favor. I have dared think that sometime the day would
+come when&mdash;my faith! Lady Catharine, the day has come now when I feel it
+my right to demand the cause of anything which troubles you. And that
+you are troubled is plain enough. Ever since this man Law&mdash;&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There,&quot; cried Lady Catharine, raising her hand. &quot;I beg you to say no
+more.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But I will say more! There must be a reason for this.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The face of the young woman flushed in spite of herself, as Pembroke
+strode closer and gazed at her with sternness.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lady Catharine,&quot; said he, slowly, &quot;I am a friend of your family.
+Perhaps now I may be of aid to you. Prove me, and at the last, ask who
+was indeed your friend.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;We have had misfortunes, we of the family of the Knollys,&quot; said Lady
+Catharine. &quot;This is, perhaps, but the fate of the house of Knollys. It
+is my fate.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Your fate!&quot; said Sir Arthur, slowly. &quot;Your fate! Lady Catharine, I
+thank you. It is at least as well to know the truth.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Pick out the truth, then, Sir Arthur, as you like it. I am not on the
+witness stand before you, and you are not my judge. There has been
+forsworn testimony enough already in this town. Were it not for that,
+Mr. Law would at this moment be free as you or I.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Sir Arthur struck his hands together in despair, and turning away,
+strode down the room.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, I see it all well enough,&quot; cried he. &quot;You are mad as any who have
+hitherto had dealings with this madman from the North.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The girl rose to her full height and stood before him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It may be I am mad,&quot; said she. &quot;It may be the old Knollys madness. If
+so, why should I struggle against it? It may be that I am mad. But I
+venture to say to you that Mr. Law is not born to die in Newgate yards.
+My life! sir, if I love him, who should say me nay? Now, say to
+yourself, and to your friends&mdash;to all London, if you like, since you
+have touched me to this point&mdash;that Catharine Knollys is friend to Mr.
+Law, and believes in him, and declares that he shall be freed from his
+prison, and that within short space! Say that, Sir Arthur; tell them
+that! And if they argue somewhat from it, why, let them reason it as
+best they may.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The young man stood, his lips close together, his head still turned
+away. The girl continued with growing energy.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I have sent for you to tell you that Mr. Law's life has a value in my
+eyes. And now, I say to you, Sir Arthur, that you must aid me in his
+escape.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>A beautiful picture she made, tearful, pleading, a lock of her soft
+red-brown hair falling unnoticed across her tear-wet cheek. It had been
+ill task, indeed, to make refusal of any sort to a woman so gloriously
+feminine, so noble, now so beseeching.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lady Catharine,&quot; said the young man, turning toward her, &quot;this illness,
+this anxiety&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No, I know perfectly well whereof I speak! Listen, and I'll tell you
+somewhat of news. Montague, chancellor of the exchequer, is my warrant
+for what I say to you when I tell you that Mr. Law is to be free.
+Montague himself has said to me, in this very room, that Mr. Law was
+like to be half the salvation of England in these uncertain times. I
+could tell you more, but may not. Only look you, Sir Arthur, John Law
+does not rest in Newgate more than one week from this time!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Sir Arthur took snuff, his voice at length regaining that composure for
+which he had sought.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis very excellent,&quot; he said. &quot;For myself, two centuries have been
+spent in my family to teach me to love like a gentleman, and to deserve
+you like a man. What does this young man need? A few days of bluster, of
+assertion! A few weeks of gaming and of roistering, of self-asserted
+claims! Gad! Lady Catharine, this is passing bitter! And now you ask me
+to help him.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I wish you to help him,&quot; said Lady Catharine, slowly, &quot;only in that I
+ask you to help me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And if I did?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And if you did, you should dwell in a part of my heart forever! Let it
+be as you like.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then,&quot; cried the young man, flushing suddenly and hotly as he strode
+toward her, &quot;do with me as you like! Let me be fool unspeakable!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And do you promise?&quot; said Lady Catharine, rising and advancing toward
+him. Her face was sad and appealing. Her eyes swam in tears, her lips
+were trembling.</p>
+
+<p>Sir Arthur held out his hand. The Lady Catharine extended both her own,
+and he bent and kissed them, tears springing in his eyes. For a time the
+room was silent. Then the girl turned, her own lashes wet. She stepped
+at length to a cabinet and took from an inner drawer a paper.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir Arthur, look at this,&quot; she Said.</p>
+
+<p>He took it from her and scrutinized it carefully.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, this seems to be a street bill, a placard for posting upon the
+walls,&quot; said he.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Read it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, well&mdash;so, so. 'Five hundred pounds reward for information
+regarding the escaped felon, Captain John Law, convicted of murder and
+under sentence of death of the King's Bench. The same Law escaped from
+Newgate prison on the night of'&mdash;hum&mdash;well&mdash;well&mdash;'May be known by this
+description: Is tall, of dark complexion, spare of build, raw-boned,
+face hath deep pock-marks. Eyes dark; hair dark and scanty. Speaketh
+broad and loud.' How&mdash;how, why my dear Lady Catharine, this is the last
+proof that thou'rt stark, staring mad! This no more tallies with the
+true John Law than it does with my hunting horse!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And but few would know him by this description?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;None, absolutely none.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;None could tell 'twas he, even did they meet him full face to face&mdash;no
+one would know it was Mr. Law?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, assuredly not. 'Tis as unlike him as it could be.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then it is well!&quot; said Lady Catharine.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well? Very badly done, I should say.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, my poor Sir Arthur, where are your wits? 'Tis very well because
+'tis very ill, this same description.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah, ha!&quot; said he, a sudden light dawning upon him. &quot;Then you mean to
+tell me that this description was misconceived deliberately?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What would you think?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Did you do this work yourself?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Guess for yourself. Montague, as you know, was once of a pretty
+imagination, ere he took to finance. If he and the poet Prior could
+write such conceits as they have created, could not perhaps Montague&mdash;or
+Prior&mdash;or some one else&mdash;have conceived this description of Mr. Law?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The young man threw himself into a seat, his head between his hands.
+&quot;'Tis like a play,&quot; said he. &quot;And surely the play of fortune ever runs
+well enough for Mr. Law.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir Arthur,&quot; said Lady Catharine, rising uneasily and standing before
+him, &quot;I must confess to you that I bear a certain active part in private
+plans looking to the escape of Mr. Law. I have come to you for aid. Sir
+Arthur, I pray God that we may be successful.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The young man also rose and began to pace the floor.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Even did Law escape,&quot; he began, &quot;it would mean only his flight from
+England.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;True,&quot; said the Lady Catharine, &quot;that is all planned. The ship even now
+awaits him in the Pool. He is to take ship at once upon leaving prison,
+and he sails at once from England. He goes to France.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But, my dear Lady Catharine, this means that he must part from you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Of course, it means our parting.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, but you said&mdash;but I thought&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But I said&mdash;but you thought&mdash;Sir Arthur, do not stand there prating
+like a little boy!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You do not, then, keep your prisoner bound by other fetters after he
+escapes from Newgate?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I do nothing unwomanly, and I do nothing, I trust, ignoble. I go to
+meet the Knollys fate, whatever it may be.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lady Catharine,&quot; cried Pembroke, passionately, &quot;I have said I loved
+you. Never in my life did I love you as I do now!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I like to hear your words,&quot; said the girl, frankly. &quot;There shall always
+be your corner in my heart&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yet you will do this thing?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I will do this thing. I shall not whimper nor repine. I am sending him
+away forever, but 'tis needful for his sake. I shall be ready for
+whatever fate hath for me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Tell me, then,&quot; said Pembroke, his face haggard and unhappy, &quot;how am I
+to serve you in this matter.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;In this way: To-morrow night call here with your coach. My household,
+if they note it, may take your coach for my own, and may perhaps
+understand that I go to the rout of my Lady Swearingsham. We shall go,
+instead, to Newgate. For the night, Sir Arthur Pembroke shall serve as
+coachman. You must drive the carriage to Newgate jail.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And 'tis there,&quot; said Pembroke, slowly, &quot;that the Lady Catharine
+Knollys, the dearest woman of all England, would take the man who
+honorably loves her&mdash;to Newgate, to feloniously set free a felon? Is it
+there, then, Lady Catharine, you would go to meet your lover?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The tall figure of the girl straightened up to its full height. A shade
+of color came to her cheeks, but her voice was firm, though tears came
+to her eyes as she answered:</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Aye, sir, I would go to Newgate if there were need!&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='CHAPTER_XVI'></a><h3>CHAPTER XVI</h3>
+
+<h4>THE ESCAPE</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>On a certain morning a messenger rode in hot haste up to the prison
+gate. He bore the livery of Montague. Turnkey after turnkey admitted
+him, until finally he stood before the cell of John Law and delivered
+into his hand, as he had been commanded, the message that he bore. That
+afternoon this same messenger paused at the gate of the house of
+Knollys. Here, too, he was admitted promptly. He delivered into the
+hands of the Lady Catharine Knollys a certain message. This was of a
+Wednesday. On the following Friday it was decreed that the gallows
+should do its work. Two more days and there would be an end of &quot;Jessamy&quot;
+Law.</p>
+
+<p>That Wednesday night a covered carriage came to the door of the house of
+Knollys. Its driver was muffled in such fashion that he could hardly
+have been known. There stepped from the house the cloaked figure of a
+woman, who entered the carriage and herself pulled shut the door. The
+vehicle was soon lost among the darkling streets.</p>
+
+<p>Catharine Knollys had heard the summons of her fate. She now sat
+trembling in the carriage.</p>
+
+<p>When finally the vehicle stopped at the curb of the walk which led to
+the prison gate, a second carriage, as mysterious as the first, came
+down the street and stopped at a little distance, but close to the curb
+on the side nearest to the gate. The driver of the first carriage,
+evidently not liking the close neighborhood at the time, edged a trifle
+farther down the way. The second carriage thereupon drew up into the
+spot just vacated, and the two, not easily distinguishable at the hour
+and in the dark and unlighted street, stood so, each apparently watchful
+of the other, each seemingly without an occupant.</p>
+
+<p>Lady Catharine had left her carriage before this interchange, and had
+passed the prison gate alone. Her steps faltered. It was hardly
+consciously that she finally found her way into the court, through the
+gate, down the evil-smelling corridors, past the sodden and leering
+constables, up to the last gate which separated her from him whom she
+had come to see.</p>
+
+<p>She had been admitted without demur as far as this point, and even now
+her coming seemed not altogether a matter of surprise. The burly turnkey
+at the last door stood ready to meet her. With loud commands, he drove
+out of the corridor the crowd of prison attendants. He approached Lady
+Catharine, hat in hand and bowing deeply.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I presume you are the man whom I would see,&quot; said she, faintly, almost
+unequal to the task imposed upon her.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Aye, Madam, I doubt not, with my best worship for you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I was to come&quot;&mdash;said Lady Catharine. &quot;I was to speak to you&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Aye,&quot; replied the turnkey. &quot;You were to come, and you were to speak.
+And now, what were you to say to me? Was there no given word?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There was such a word,&quot; she said. &quot;You will understand. It is in the
+matter of Mr. Law.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;True,&quot; said the turnkey. &quot;But I must have the countersign. There are
+heads to lose in this, yours and mine, if there be mistake.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lady Catharine raised her head proudly. &quot;It was for Faith,&quot; said she,
+&quot;for Love, and for Hope! These were the words.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Saying which, as though she had called to her aid the last atom of her
+strength, she staggered back and half fell against the wall near the
+inner gate. The rude jailer sprang forward to steady her.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, yes,&quot; he whispered, eagerly. &quot;'Tis all proper. Those be the
+words. Pray you, have courage, lady.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>There came into the corridor a murmur of voices, and there was audible
+also the sound of a man's footfalls approaching along the flags.
+Catharine Knollys looked through the bars of the gate which the turnkey
+was already beginning to throw open for her. She looked, and there
+appeared upon her vision, a sight which caused her heart to stop, which
+confounded all her reason. From a side door there advanced John Law,
+magnificently clad, walking now as though he trod the floor of some
+great hall or banquet room.</p>
+
+<p>The woman waiting without the gate reached out her arms. She would have
+cried aloud. Then she fell back against the wall, whereat had she not
+grasped she must have sunk down to the floor.</p>
+
+<p>Upon the arm of John Law, and looking up to him as she walked, there
+hung the clinging figure of a woman, half-hidden by the flickering
+shadows of the torches. A deep cloak fell back from her shoulders. It
+might have been the light fabric of the aborigine. Upon the foot of Mary
+Connynge, twinkling in and out as she walked, showed the crudely
+garnished little shoe of the Indian princess over seas, dainty, bizarre,
+singular, covering the smallest foot in all London town.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;By all the saints!&quot; Law was saying, &quot;you might be the very maker of
+this little slipper yourself. I have won the forty crowns, I swear!
+Perforce, I'll leave them to you in my will.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The shock of the light speech made even Mary Connynge wince. For the
+moment she averted her eyes from the handsome face above her. She
+looked, and saw what gave her greater shock. Law, too, stared, as her
+own startled gaze grew fixed. He advanced close to the gate, only to
+start back in a horror of surprise which racked even his steeled
+composure.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Madam!&quot; he cried; and then, &quot;Catharine!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Catharine Knollys made no answer to him, though she looked straight and
+calmly into his face, seeming not in the least to see the woman near
+him. Her eyes were wide and shining. &quot;Sir,&quot; said she, &quot;keep fast to
+Hope! This was for Faith, and for Love!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The jailer with one quick gesture swung wide the gate. &quot;Haste, haste!&quot;
+he cried. &quot;Quick and begone! This night may mean my ruin! Get ye gone,
+all of ye, and give me time to think. Out with ye all, for I must lock
+the gate!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>John Law passed as one stupefied, the slender form of Mary Connynge
+still upon his arm. Hands of men hurried them. &quot;Quick! Into the
+carriage!&quot; one cried.</p>
+
+<p>And now the sounds of feet and voices approaching along the corridor
+were heard. The jailer swiftly swung the heavy gate to and locked it.
+Catharine Knollys caught his last gesture, which bade her begone as fast
+as might be. Her feet were strangely heavy, in spite of her. She reached
+the curb in time to hear only the whir of wheels as a carriage sped away
+over the stones of the street. She stood alone, irresolute for half an
+instant as the crunch of wheels spun up to the curb again. A hand
+reached out and beckoned; involuntarily she obeyed the summons. Her
+wrist was seized, and she was half pulled through the door of the
+carriage.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What!&quot; cried a voice. &quot;You, Lady Catharine! Why, how is this?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>It was the voice of Will Law, whom she knew, but who certainly was not
+the one who had brought her hither. The Lady Catharine accepted this
+last situation as one no longer able to reason. She sank down in the
+carriage seat, shivering.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Is all well?&quot; asked Will Law, eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;He is safe,&quot; said Lady Catharine Knollys. &quot;It is done. It is finished.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What does this mean?&quot; exclaimed Will.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;His carriage&mdash;there it is. It goes to the ship&mdash;to the Pool. He and
+Mary Connynge are only just ahead of us. You may hear the wheels. Do you
+not hear them?&quot; She spoke with leaden voice, and her head sank heavily.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What! My brother&mdash;Mary Connynge&mdash;in that carriage&mdash;what can you mean?
+My God! Lady Catharine, tell me, what do you mean?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I do not know,&quot; said Catharine Knollys. All things now seemed very far
+away from her. Her head sank gently forward, and she heard not the words
+of the man who frantically sought to awaken her to speech.</p>
+
+<p>From the prison to London Pool was a journey of some distance across the
+streets of London. Will Law called out to the driver with savagery in
+his voice. He shouted, cursed, implored, promised, and betimes held one
+hand under the soft, heavy tresses of the head now sunk so humbly
+forward.</p>
+
+<p>The mad ride ended at the quay on Thames side, where the shadows of the
+tall buildings lay rank and thick upon the earth, where tarry smells and
+evil odors filled the heavy air, penetrated none the less by the savor
+of the keen salt air. More than one giant form was outlined in the broad
+stream, vessels tall and ghost-like in the gloom, shadowy, suggestive,
+bearing imprint and promise of far lands across the sea.</p>
+
+<p>Here was the initial point of England's greatness. Here on this heavy
+stream had her captains taken ship. Thence had sailed her admirals to
+encompass all the world. In these dark massed shadows, how much might
+there not be of fate and mystery! Whither might not these vessels carry
+one! To France, to the far-off Indies, to the new-owned islands, to
+America with its little half-grown ports. Whence and whither? What might
+not one do, here at this gateway of the world?</p>
+
+<p>&quot;To the brigantine beyond!&quot; cried Will Law to the wherryman who came up.
+&quot;We want Captain McMasters, of the Polly Perkins. For God's sake, quick!
+There's that afoot must be caught up within the moment, do you hear!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The wherryman touched his cap and quickly made ready his boat. Will Law,
+understanding naught of this swift coil of events, and not daring to
+leave Lady Catharine behind him at the carriage, made down the stairway,
+half carrying the drooping figure which now leaned weakly upon his
+shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Pull now, man! Pull as you never did before!&quot; cried he, and the
+wherryman bent hard to his oars.</p>
+
+<p>Yet great as was the haste of those who put forth into the foggy
+Thames, it was more than equalled by that of one who appeared upon the
+dock, even as the creak of the oars grew fainter in the gloom. There
+came the rattle of wheels upon the quay, and the sound of a driver
+lashing his horses. A carriage rolled up, and there sprang from the box
+a muffled figure which resolved itself into the very embodiment of
+haste.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Hold the horses, man!&quot; he cried to the nearest by-stander, and sprang
+swiftly to the head of the stairs, where a loiterer or two stood idly
+gazing out into the mist which overhung the water.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Saw you aught of a man,&quot; he demanded hastily, &quot;a man and a woman, a
+tall young woman&mdash;you could not mistake her? 'Twas the Polly Greenway
+they should have found. Tell me, for God's sake, has any boat put out
+from this stair?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, sir,&quot; replied one of the wherrymen who stood near by, pipe in
+mouth and hand in pocket, &quot;since you mention it, there was a boat
+started but this instant for midstream. They sought McMaster's
+brigantine, the Polly Perkins, that lies waiting for the tide. 'Twas, as
+you say, a young gentleman, and with him was a young woman. I misdoubt
+the lady was ill.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Get me a boat!&quot; cried the new-comer. &quot;A sovereign, five sovereigns, ten
+sovereigns, a hundred&mdash;but that ship must not weigh anchor until I
+board her, do you hear!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The ring of the imperative voice, and moreover the ring of good English
+coin, set all the dock astir. Straightway there came up another wherry
+with two lusty fellows, who laid her at the stair where stood the
+impatient stranger.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Hurry, men!&quot; he cried. &quot;'Tis life and death&mdash;'tis more than life and
+death!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>And such fortune attended Sir Arthur Pembroke that forsooth he went over
+the side of the Polly Perkins, even as the gray dawn began to break over
+the narrow Thames, and even as the anchor-song of the crew struck up.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='CHAPTER_XVII'></a><h3>CHAPTER XVII</h3>
+
+<h4>WHITHER</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>A few hours later a coppery sun slowly dispersed the morning mists above
+the Thames. The same sun warmed the court-yards of the London jail,
+which lately had confined John Law, convicted of the murder of Beau
+Wilson, gentleman. It was discovered that the said John Law had, in some
+superhuman fashion, climbed the spiked walls of the inner yard. The
+jailer pointed out the very spot where this act had been done. It was
+not so plain how he had passed the outer gates of the prison, yet those
+were not wanting who said that he had overpowered the turnkey at the
+gate, taken from him his keys, and so forced his way out into London
+city.</p>
+
+<p>Far and wide went forth the proclamation of reward for the apprehension
+of this escaped convict. The streets of London were placarded broadcast
+with bills bearing this description of the escaped prisoner:</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Five hundred pounds reward for information regarding the escaped
+felon, John Law, convicted in the King's Bench of murder and under
+sentence of death. The same Law escaped from prison on the night of 20
+July. May be known by the following description: Is tall, of dark
+complexion, spare of build, raw-boned, face hath deep pock-marks. Eyes
+dark, hair dark and scanty. Speaks broad and loud. Carries his shoulders
+stooped, and is of mean appearance.</p>
+
+<span style='margin-left: 15em;'>&quot;WESTON, High Sheriff.</span><br />
+<span style='margin-left: 15em;'>Done at Newgate prison, this 21 July.&quot;</span><br />
+
+<p>Yet though the authorities of the law made full search in London, and
+indeed in other of the principal cities of England, they got no word of
+the escaped prisoner.</p>
+
+<p>The clouded dawn which broke over the Thames below the Pool might have
+told its own story. There sat upon the deck of the good ship Polly
+Greenway, outbound from Thames' mouth, this same John Law. He regarded
+idly the busy scenes of the shipping about him. His gaze, dull and
+listless, looked without joy upon the dawn, without inquiry upon the far
+horizon. For the first time in all his life John Law dropped his head
+between his hands.</p>
+
+<p>Not so Mary Connynge. &quot;Good sir,&quot; cried she, merrily, &quot;'tis morning.
+Let's break our fast, and so set forth proper on our voyage.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;So now we are free,&quot; said Law, dully. &quot;I could swear there were
+shackles on me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, we are free,&quot; said Mary Connynge, &quot;and all the world is before us.
+But saw you ever in all your life a man so dumfounded as was Sir Arthur
+when he discovered 'twas I, and not the Lady Catharine, had stepped into
+the carriage? That confusion of the carriages was like to have cost us
+everything. I know not how your brother made such mistake. He said he
+would fetch me home the night. Gemini! It sure seems a long way about!
+And where may be your brother now, or Sir Arthur, or the Lady
+Catharine&mdash;why, 'tis as much confused as though 'twere all in a play!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But Sir Arthur cried that my ship was for France. Yet here they tell me
+that this brigantine is bound for the mouth of the St. Lawrence, in
+America! What then of this other, and what of my brother&mdash;what of
+us&mdash;what of&mdash;?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, I think this,&quot; said Mary Connynge, calmly. &quot;That you do very well
+to be rid of London jail; and for my own part, 'tis a rare appetite the
+salt air ever gives me!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Upon the same morning tide there was at this very moment just setting
+aloft her sails for the first high airs of dawn the ship of McMasters,
+the Polly Perkins, bound for the port of Brest.</p>
+
+<p>She came down scarce a half-dozen cable lengths behind the craft which
+bore the fugitives now beginning their journey toward another land. Upon
+the deck of this ship, even as upon the other, there were those who
+waited eagerly for the dawn. There were two men here, Will Law and Sir
+Arthur Pembroke, and whether their conversation had been more eager or
+more angry, were hard to tell. Will Law, broken and dejected, his heart
+torn by a thousand doubts and a thousand pains, sat listening, though
+but half comprehending.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Every plan gone wrong!&quot; cried Sir Arthur. &quot;Every plan gone wrong, and
+out of it all we can only say that he has escaped from prison for whom
+no prison could be enough of hell! Though he be your brother, I tell it
+to your face, the gallows had been too good for John Law! Look you
+below. See that girl, pure as an angel, as noble and generous a soul us
+ever breathed&mdash;what hath she done to deserve this fate? You have brought
+her from her home, and to that home she can not now return unsmirched.
+And all this for a man who is at this moment fleeing with the woman whom
+she deemed her friend! What is there left in life for her?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Will Law groaned and buried his own head deeper in his hands. &quot;What is
+there left for any of us?&quot; said he. &quot;What is there left for me?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;For you?&quot; said Sir Arthur, questioningly. &quot;Why, the next ship back from
+Brest, or from any other port of France. 'Tis somewhat different with a
+woman.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You do not understand,&quot; said Will Law. &quot;The separation means somewhat
+for me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Surely you do not mean&mdash;you have no reference to Mary Connynge?&quot; cried
+Sir Arthur.</p>
+
+<p>Will bowed his head abjectly and left the other to guess that which sat
+upon his mind. Sir Arthur drew a long breath and stopped his angry
+pacing up and down.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It ran on for weeks,&quot; said Will Law. &quot;We were to have been married. I
+had no thought of this. 'Twas I who took her to and from the prison
+regularly, and 'twas thus that we met. She told me she was but the
+messenger of the Lady Catharine.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Sir Arthur drew a long, slow breath. &quot;Then I may say to you,&quot; said he,
+&quot;that your brother, John Law, is a hundred times more traitor and felon
+than even now I thought him. Yonder he goes&quot;&mdash;and he shook his fist into
+the enveloping mist which hung above the waters. &quot;Yonder he goes,
+somewhere, I give you warning, where he deems no trail shall be left
+behind him. But I promise you, whatever be your own wish, I shall follow
+him into the last corner of the earth, but he shall see me and give
+account for this! There is none of us he has not deceived, utterly, and
+like a black-hearted villain. He shall account for it, though it be
+years from now.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>So now, inch by inch, fathom after fathom, cable length after cable
+length, soon knot after knot, there sped two English ships out into the
+open seaway. Before long they began to toss restlessly and to pull
+eagerly at the helm as the scent of the salt seas came in. Yet neither
+knew fully the destination of the other, and neither knew that upon the
+deck of that other there was full solution of those questions which now
+sat so heavily upon these human hearts. Thus, silently, slowly,
+steadily, the two drew outward and apart, and before that morn was done,
+both were tossing widely upon the swell of that sea beyond which there
+lay so much of fate and mystery.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='BOOK_II'></a><h2>BOOK II</h2>
+
+<h3>AMERICA </h3>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='BOOK_II_CHAPTER_I'></a><h3>CHAPTER I</h3>
+
+<h4>THE DOOR OF THE WEST</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>&quot;Nearly a league farther, Du Mesne, and the sun but an hour high. Come,
+let us hasten!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You are right, Monsieur L'as,&quot; replied the one addressed, as the first
+speaker seated himself on the thwart of the boat in whose bow he had
+been standing. &quot;Bend to it, <i>mes amis!</i>&quot;</p>
+
+<p>John Law turned about on the seat, gazing back over the length of the
+little ship which had brought him and his comrades thus far on the
+wildest journey he had ever undertaken. Six paddlers there were for this
+great <i>canot du Nord</i>, and steadily enough they sent the thin-shelled
+craft along over the curling blue waves of the great inland sea. And now
+their voices in one accord fell into the cadences of an ancient
+boat-song of New France:</p>
+
+<span style='margin-left: 2em;'>&quot;<i>En roulant ma loule, roulant,</i></span><br />
+<span style='margin-left: 2.25em;'><i>Roulant, rouler, ma boule roulant</i>.&quot;</span><br />
+
+<p>The ictus of the measure marked time for the sweeping paddles, and
+under the added impetus the paper shell, reinforced as it was by
+close-laid splints of cedar, and braced by the fiber-fastened thwarts,
+fairly yielded to the rush of the waves as the stalwart paddlers sent it
+flying forward. A tiny blur of white showed about the bows, and now and
+again a splash of spray came inboard, as some little curling white cap
+was divided by the rush of the swiftly moving prow.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;We shall not arrive too soon, my friend,&quot; rejoined the captain of the
+<i>voyageurs</i>, casting an eye back across the great lake, which lay black
+and ominous under a threatening sky, the sweep and swirl of its white
+caps ever racing hard after the frail craft, as though eager to break
+through its paper sides and tear away the human beings who thus fled on
+so lightly.</p>
+
+<p>This boat, mysteriously appearing as though it were some spirit craft
+railed from the ancient deeps, was far from the beginning of its wild
+journey. Wide as the eye might reach, there arose no fleck of snowy
+canvas, nor showed the dark line of any similar craft propelled by oar
+or paddle. They were alone, these travelers. Before them, at the
+entrance of the wide arm of the great lake Michiganon, lay the point
+even at that early day known as the Door of the West, the beginning of
+the winding water-way which led on into the interior of that West, then
+so alluring and unknown. The eyes of all were fixed on the low,
+white-fronted bluffs, crowned by dark forest growth, which guarded the
+bay at either hand. This spot, so wild, so remote, so significant&mdash;it
+was home for these <i>voyageurs</i> as much as any; as much, too, for Law and
+the woman who lay back, pale-faced and wide-eyed, among the bales in the
+great canoe.</p>
+
+<p>In time the graceful craft approached the beach, on which the long waves
+rolled and curled, now gently, now with imposing force. With the water
+yet half-leg deep, Du Mesne and two of the paddlers sprang bodily
+overboard and held the boat back from the pebbles, so that its tender
+shell might not be damaged. Law himself was as soon as they in the
+water, and he waded back along the gunwale until he reached the stern,
+the water nearly up to his hips. Reaching out his arms, he picked up
+Mary Connynge from her seat and carried her dry-shod ashore, bending
+down to catch some whispered word. Not so gallant was Du Mesne, the
+leader of the <i>voyageurs</i>. He uttered a few short words of semi-command
+to the Indian woman, who had been seated on the floor of the canoe, and
+she, without protest, crawled forward over the thwarts and the heaped
+bundles until she reached the bow, and then went ankle deep into the
+creaming flood. The great canoe, left empty and anchored safe from the
+pebbles of the beach, tossed light as a cork on the incoming waves.</p>
+
+<p>A little open space was quickly found at the edge of the cove in which
+the disembarkation was made, and here Du Mesne and his followers soon
+kicked away the twigs and leveled out a smooth place upon the grass.
+Each man produced from his belt a broad-bladed knife, and for the moment
+disappeared in the deep fringe of evergreens which lined the shore.
+Fairly in the twinkling of an eye a rude frame of bent poles was made,
+above which were spread strips of unrolled birch bark from the cargo of
+the canoe. Over the spaces left uncovered by the supply of bark sheets
+there were laid down long mats made by Indian hands from dried reeds and
+bulrushes, affording no inconsiderable protection against the weather.
+Inside the lodge, bales of goods and packages of provisions were quickly
+arranged in comfortable fashion. Gaudy blankets were spread upon layers
+of soft skins of the buffalo. The Indian woman had meantime struck a
+fire, whose faint blue smoke curled lakeward in the soft evening air.
+Quickly, and with the system of experienced campaigners, the evening
+bivouac had been prepared; and wildly picturesque it must have seemed
+to a bystander, had there been indeed any possible spectator within many
+leagues.</p>
+
+<p>Far enough was this from the turmoil of London, which Law and his
+companion had left nearly a year before; far enough still from the wild
+capital of New France, where they had spent the winter, after landing,
+as much by chance as through any plan, at the port of the St. Lawrence.
+Ever a demon of unrest drove Law forward; ever there beckoned to him
+that irresistible West, of which he was one of the earliest to feel the
+charm. Farther and farther westward, swift and swifter than ever the
+boats of the fur traders had made the journey before, he and his party,
+led by Du Mesne, the ex-galley-slave and wanderer whom Law had by chance
+met again, and gladly, at Montr&eacute;al, had made the long and dangerous run
+up the lakes, past Michilimackinac, down the lake of Michiganon, headed
+toward the interior of a new continent which was then, as for
+generations after then, the land of wondrous distances, of grand
+enterprises, of magnificent promises and immense fulfilments. The bales
+and bundles of this bivouac belonged to John Law, bought by gold from
+the gaming tables of Montr&eacute;al and Quebec, and ventured in the one great
+hazard which appealed to him most irresistibly, the hazard of life and
+fortune in a far land, where he might live unneighbored, and where he
+might forget. Gambler in England, gambler again in New France, now
+trading fur-merchant and <i>voyageur</i>, he was, as always, an adventurer.
+Du Mesne and his hardy crew hailed him already as a new captain of the
+trails, a new <i>coureur</i>, won from the Old World by the savage witchery
+of the New. He was their brother; and had he indeed owned longer years
+of training, his keenness of eye, his strength of arm, his tirelessness
+of limb could hardly have been greater than they seemed in his first
+voyage to the West.</p>
+
+<span style='margin-left: 2em;'>&quot;<i>Tous les printemps,</i></span><br />
+<span style='margin-left: 2.25em;'><i>Tant des nouvelles</i>&quot;</span><br />
+
+<p>hummed Du Mesne, as he busied himself about the camp, casting the while
+a cautious eye to note the progress of the threatening storm.</p>
+
+<span style='margin-left: 2em;'>&quot;<i>Tous les amants</i></span><br />
+<span style='margin-left: 2.25em;'><i>Changent des ma&icirc;tresses.</i></span><br />
+<span style='margin-left: 2.25em;'><i>Jamais le bon vin n'endort&mdash;</i></span><br />
+<span style='margin-left: 2.25em;'><i>L'amour me r&eacute;veille!</i>&quot;</span><br />
+
+<p>&quot;The best is before us now, Monsieur L'as,&quot; said Du Mesne, joining Law,
+at length. &quot;Assuredly the best is always that which is ahead and which
+is unknown; but in point of fact the hardest of our journey is over,
+for henceforth we may stretch our legs ashore, and hunt and fish, and
+make good camps for madame, who, as we both perceive, is much in need of
+ease and care. We shall make all safe and comfortable for this night,
+doubt not.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Meantime,&quot; continued he, &quot;let us see that all is well with our men and
+arms, for henceforth we must put out guards. Attention, comrades!
+Present your pieces and answer the roll-call! Pierre Berthier!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;<i>Ici!</i> Monsieur,&quot; replied the one better known as Pierre Noir, a tall
+and dark-visaged Canadian, clad in the common costume, half-Indian and
+half-civilized, which marked his class. A shirt of soft dressed buckskin
+fell about his thighs; his legs were encased in moose-skin leggings,
+deeply fringed at the seams. About his middle was a broad sash, once
+red, and upon his head a scanty cap of similar color was pushed back. At
+his belt hung the great hunting knife of the <i>voyageur</i>, balanced by a
+keen steel tomahawk such as was in common use among the Indians. In his
+hand he supported a long-barreled musket, which he now examined
+carefully in the presence of the captain of the <i>voyageurs</i>.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Robert Challon!&quot; next commanded Du Mesne, and in turn the one addressed
+looked over his piece, the captain also scrutinizing the flint and
+priming with careful eye.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Naturally, <i>mes enfants</i>,&quot; said he, &quot;your weapons are perfect, as ever.
+Kataikini, and you, Kabayan, my brothers, let me see,&quot; said he to the
+two Indians, the former a Huron and the latter an Ojibway, both from the
+shores of Superior. The Indians arose silently, and without protest
+submitted to the scrutiny which ever seemed to them unnecessary.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Jean Breboeuf!&quot; called Du Mesne; and in response there arose from the
+shadows a wiry little Frenchman, who might have been of any age from
+twenty to forty-five, so sun-burnt and wrinkled, yet so active and
+vigorous did he seem.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;<i>Mon ami</i>,&quot; said Du Mesne to him, chidingly, &quot;see now, here is your
+flint all but out of its engagement. Pray you, have better care of your
+piece. For this you shall stand the long watch of the night. And now let
+us all to bed.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>One by one the little party was lost to view within the dark interior of
+the hut which they had arranged for themselves. Du Mesne retired a
+distance from the fire and seated himself upon a fallen log, his pipe
+glowing like a coal in the enveloping darkness.</p>
+
+<p>Law himself did not so soon leave the outer air. He remained gazing out
+at the wild scene about him, at the rolling waves dashing on the shore,
+their crests whitening in the glare of the lightning, now approaching
+more closely. He harkened to the roll of the far-off thunder re&euml;nforced
+by the thunder of the waves upon the shore, and noted the sweep of the
+black forest about, of the black sky overhead, unlit save for one
+far-off, faint and feeble star.</p>
+
+<p>It was a new world, this that lay around him, a new and savage world. If
+there were a world behind him, a world which once held sunlight and
+flowers, and love and hope&mdash;why then, it was a world lost and gone
+forever, and it was very well that this new world should be so different
+and so stern.</p>
+
+<p>In the darkness John Law heard a voice, the voice of a woman in terror.
+Swiftly he stepped to the door of the rude lodge.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Don't let them sing it again&mdash;never any more&mdash;that song.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And what, Madam?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That one&mdash;'<i>Tous les amants changent des ma&icirc;tresses!</i>'&quot;</p>
+
+<p>A moment later she whispered, &quot;I am afraid.&quot;</p>
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='BOOK_II_CHAPTER_II'></a><h3>CHAPTER II</h3>
+
+<h4>THE STORM</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>Marshaling to the imperious orders of the tempest, and crowding close
+upon the flaming standards of the lightning, the armies of the clouds
+came on. The sea-wide surface of the lake went dull, and above it bent a
+sky appalling in its blackness. The wind at first was light, then fitful
+and gusty, like the rising choler of a man affronted and nursing his own
+anger. It gained in volume and swept on across the tops of the forest
+trees, as though with a hand contemptuous in its strength, forbearing
+only by reason of its own whimsy. Now and again the cohorts of the
+clouds just hinted at parting, letting through a pale radiance from the
+western sky, where lingered the departing day. This light, as did the
+illuminating glare of the forked flames above, disclosed the while
+helmets of the trooping waters, rushing on with thunderous unison of
+tread; and the rattling thunder-shocks, intermittent, though coming
+steadily nearer, served but to emphasize these foot strokes of the
+waves. The heavens above and the waters under the earth&mdash;these
+conspired, these marched together, to assail, to overwhelm, to utterly
+destroy.</p>
+
+<p>To destroy what? Why this wild protest of the wilderness? Was it this
+wide-blown, scattered fire, whose sparks and ashes were sown broadcast,
+till but stubborn remnants clung under the sheltering back-log of the
+bivouac hearth? Was it this frail lodge, built upon pliant, yielding
+poles, covered cunningly with mats and bark, carpeted with robe of elk
+and buffalo? Yet why should the elements rage at a tiny fire, and why
+should they tear at a little house of nomad man, since these things were
+old upon the earth? Was it somewhat else that incited this elemental
+rage? This might have been; for surely, builder of this hearth-fire
+which would not quench, master of this house which would not yield,
+there was now come up to the door of the wilderness the white man, risen
+from the sea, heralding the day which the tribes had for generations
+blindly prophesied! The white man, stern, stubborn, fruitful, had come
+to despoil the West of its secrets!</p>
+
+<p>Let all the elements therefore join in riotous revolt! Let earth and sea
+and sky make common cause! Rage, waves, and blaze, ye fiery tongues,
+and threaten, forests, with all your ominous voices! Smite, destroy, or
+terrify into swift retreat this little band! Crush out their tenement!
+Loosen and brush off this feeble finger-grasp at the ancient threshold!
+With banners of flame, with armies of darkness, with shoutings of the
+captains of the storms, assail, denude, destroy, if even by the agony of
+their terrors, these feeble folk now come hither! And by this more
+especially, since they would set the seal of fruitfulness upon the land,
+and bring upon the earth a generation yet to follow. Hover about this
+bed in the frail and swaying lodge of bark and boughs, all ye most
+terrifying spirits! Let not this thing be!</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Mother of God!&quot; cried Jean Breboeuf, bending low and pulling his tunic
+tighter by the belt, as he came gasping into the faint circle of light
+which still remained at the fire log. &quot;'Tis murderous, this storm! Ah,
+Monsieur du Mesne, we are dead men! But what matter? 'Tis as well now as
+later. Said I not so to you all the way down Michiganon from the
+Straits? A rabbit crossed my path at the last camp before
+Michilimackinac, and when we took boat to leave the mission at the
+Straits, three crows flew directly across our way. Did I not beseech you
+to turn back? Did I not tell you, most of all, that we had no right,
+honest <i>voyageurs</i> that we are, to leave for the woods without
+confessing to the good father? 'Tis two years now since I have been
+proper shriven, and two years is too long for a <i>voyageur</i> to remain
+unabsolved. Mother of God! When I see the lightnings and listen to that
+wind, I bethink me of my sins&mdash;my sins! I vow a bale of beaver&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Pish! Jean,&quot; responded Du Mesne, who had come in from the cover of the
+wood and was casting about in the darkness as best he might to see that
+all was made secure. &quot;Thou'lt feel better when the sun shines again.
+Call Pierre Noir, and hurry, or our canoe will pound to bits upon the
+beach. Come!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>All three went now knee-deep in the surf, and Du Mesne, clinging to the
+gunwale as he passed out, was soon waist deep, and time and again lost
+his footing in the flood.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Pull!&quot; he cried at last. &quot;Now, <i>en avant!</i>&quot; He had flung himself over
+the stern, and with his knife cut the hide rope of the anchor-stone.
+Overboard again in an instant, he joined the others in their rush up the
+beach, and the three bore their ship upon their shoulders above the
+reach of the waves.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Myself,&quot; said Pierre Noir, &quot;shall sleep beneath the boat to-night, for
+since she sheds water from below, she may do as well from above.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Even so, Pierre Noir,&quot; said Du Mesne, &quot;but get you the boat farther
+toward your own camp to-night. Do you not see that Monsieur L'as is not
+with us?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;<i>Eh bien?</i>&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And were he not surely with us at such time, unless&mdash;?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, <i>assur&eacute;ment!</i>&quot; replied Pierre Noir. &quot;Jean Breboeuf, aid me in
+taking the boat back to our camp in the woods.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Now came the rain. Not in steady and even downpour, not with
+intermittent showers, but in a sidelong, terrifying torrent, drenching,
+biting, cutting in its violence. The swift weight of the rain gave to
+the trees more burden than they could bear. As before the storm, when
+all was still, there had come time and again the warning boom of a
+falling tree, stricken with mysterious mortal dread of that which was to
+come, so now, in the riot of that arrived danger, first one and then
+another wide-armed monarch of the wood crashed down, adding with its
+downfall to the testimony of the assailing tempest's strength and fury.
+The lightning now came not only in ragged blazes and long ripping lines
+of light, but in bursts and shocks, and in bomb-like balls, exploding
+with elemental detonations. Balls of this tense surcharged essence
+rolled out over the comb of the bluff, fell upon the shadows of the
+water, and seemed to bound from crest to white-capped crest, till at
+last they split and burst asunder like some ominous missiles from
+engines of wrath and destruction.</p>
+
+<p>And now, suddenly, all grew still again. The sky took on a lighter,
+livid tone, one of pure venom. There came a whisper, a murmur, a rush as
+of mighty waters, a sighing as of an army of the condemned, a shrieking
+as of legions of the lost, a roaring as of all the soul-felt tortures of
+a world. From the forest rose a continuous rending crash. The whiplash
+of the tempest cracked the tree trunks as a child beheads a row of
+daisies. Piled up, falling, riven asunder, torn out by the wind, the
+giant trees joined the toys which the cynic storm gathered in its hands
+and bore along until such time as it should please to crush and drop
+them.</p>
+
+<p>There passed out over the black sea of Michiganon a vast black wraith; a
+thing horrible, tremendous, titanic in organic power. It howled,
+execrated, menaced; missed its aim, and passed. The little swaying house
+still stood! Under the sheltered log some tiny sparks of fire still
+burned, omen of the unquenchable hearthstones which the land was yet to
+know!</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Holy God! what was it? What was that which passed?&quot; cried Jean
+Breboeuf, crawling out from beneath his shelter. &quot;Saint Mary defend us
+all this night! 'Twas the great Canoe of the Damned, running <i>au large</i>
+across the sky! Mary, Mother of God, hear my vow! Prom this time Jean
+Breboeuf shall lead a better life!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The storm, baffled, passed on. The rain, unsatisfied, sullenly ceased in
+its attack. The waves, hopeless but still vindictive, began to call back
+their legions from the narrow shore. The lightnings, unsated in their
+wrath, flared and flickered on and out across the eastward sea. With
+wild laughter and shrieks and imprecations, the spirit of the tempest
+wailed on its furious way. The red West had raised its hand to smite,
+but it had not smitten sure.</p>
+
+<p>In the silence of the night, in the hush following the uproar of the
+storm, there came a little wailing cry; so faint, so feeble, yet so
+mighty, so conquering, this sign of the coming generation, the voice of
+the new-born babe. At this little human voice, born of sorrow and sin,
+born to suffering and to knowledge, born to life in all its wonders and
+to death in all its mystery&mdash;the elements perchance relented and averted
+their fury. Not yet was there to be punished sin, or wrong, or doubt, or
+weakness. Not at once would justice punish the parents of this babe and
+blot out at once the record of their fault. Storm and lightning,
+darkness and the night yielded to the voice of the infant and allowed
+the old story of humanity and sin, and hope and mercy to run on.</p>
+
+<p>The babe wailed faintly in the silence of the night. Under the
+hearth-log there still endured the fire. And then the red West, seeing
+itself conquered, smiled and flung wide its arms, and greeted them with
+the burgeoning dawn, and the voices of birds, with a sky blue and
+repentant, a sun smiling and not unkind.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='BOOK_II_CHAPTER_III'></a><h3>CHAPTER III</h3>
+
+<h4>AU LARGE</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>It was weeks after the night of the great storm, and the camp of the
+<i>voyageurs</i> still held its place on the shore of the great Green Bay.
+The wild game and the abundant fishes of the lake gave ample provender
+for the party, and the little bivouac had been rendered more comfortable
+in many ways best known to those dwellers of the forest. The light jest,
+the burst of laughter, the careless ease of attitude showed the
+light-hearted <i>voyageurs</i> content with this, their last abode, nor for
+the time did any word issue which threatened to end their tarrying.</p>
+
+<p>Law one morning strolled out from the lodge and seated himself on a bit
+of driftwood at the edge of the forest's fringe of cedars, where,
+seemingly half forgetting himself in the witchery of the scene, he gazed
+out idly over the wide prospect which lay before him. He was the same
+young man as ever. Surely, this increased gauntness was but the result
+of long hours at the paddle, the hollow cheeks but betokened hard fare
+and the defining winds of the outdoor air. If the eye were a trace more
+dim, that could be due but to the reflectiveness induced by the quiet
+scene and hour. Yet why should John Law, young and refreshed, drop chin
+in hand and sit there moodily looking ahead of him, comprehending not at
+all that which he beheld?</p>
+
+<p>Indeed there appeared now to the eye of this young man not the white
+shores and black crowned bluffs and distant islands, not the sweep of
+broad-winged birds circling near the waters, nor the shadow of the
+high-poised eagle drifting far above. He felt not the soft wind upon his
+cheek, nor noted the warmth of the on-coming sun. In truth, even here,
+on the very threshold of a new world and a new life, he was going back,
+pausing uncertainly at the door of that life and of that world which he
+had left behind. There appeared to him not the rolling undulations of
+the black-topped forest, not the tossing surface of the inland sea, nor
+the white-pebbled beach laved by its pulsing waters. He saw instead a
+white and dusty road, lined by green English hedge-rows. Back, over
+there, beyond these rolling blue waves, back of the long water trail
+over which he had come, there were chapel and bell and robed priest, and
+the word which made all fast forever. But back of the wilderness
+mission, back of the straggling settlements of Montr&eacute;al and Quebec, back
+of the blue waters of the ocean, there, too, were church and minister;
+and there dwelt a woman whose figure stood now before his eyes, part of
+this mental picture of the white road lined with the hedges of green.</p>
+
+<p>A hand was laid on his shoulder, and he half started up in sudden
+surprise. Before him, the sun shining through her hair, her eyes dark in
+the shadow, stood Mary Connynge. A fair woman indeed, comely, round of
+form, soft-eyed, and light of touch, she might none the less have been a
+very savage as she stood there, clad no longer in the dress of
+civilization, but in the soft native garb of skins, ornamented with the
+stained quills of the porcupine and the bizarre adornments of the native
+bead work; in her hair dull metal bands, like any Indian woman, upon her
+feet little beaded moccasins&mdash;the very moccasin, it might have been,
+which Law had first seen in ancient London town and which had played so
+strange a part in his life since then.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You startled me,&quot; said Law, simply. &quot;I was thinking.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>A sudden jealous wave of woman's divining intuition came upon the woman
+at his side. &quot;I doubt not,&quot; said she, bitterly, &quot;that I could name the
+subject of your thought! Why? Why sit here and dream of her, when here
+am I, who deserve everything that you can give?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>She stood erect, her eyes flashing, her arms outstretched, her bosom
+panting under the fringed garments, her voice ringing as it might have
+been with the very essence of truth and passion. Law looked at her
+steadily. But the shadow did not lift from his brow, though he looked
+long and pondered.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Come,&quot; said he, at length, gently. &quot;None the less we are as we are. In
+every game we take our chances, and in every game we pay our debts. Let
+us go back to the camp.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>As they turned back down the beach Law saw standing at a little distance
+his lieutenant, Du Mesne, who hesitated as though he would speak.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What is it, Du Mesne?&quot; asked Law, excusing himself with a gesture and
+joining the <i>voyageur</i> where he stood.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, Monsieur L'as,&quot; said Du Mesne, &quot;I am making bold to mention it,
+but in good truth there was some question in my mind as to what might be
+our plans. The spring, as you know, is now well advanced. It was your
+first design to go far into the West, and there to set up your station
+for the trading in furs. Now there have come these little incidents
+which have occasioned us some delay. While I have not doubted your
+enterprise, Monsieur, I bethought me perhaps it might be within your
+plans now to go but little farther on&mdash;perhaps, indeed, to turn back&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;To go back?&quot; said Law.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, yes; that is to say, Monsieur L'as, back again down the Great
+Lakes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Have you then known me so ill as this, Du Mesne?&quot; said Law. &quot;It has not
+been my custom to set backward foot on any sort of trail.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, well, to be sure, Monsieur, that I know quite well,&quot; replied Du
+Mesne, apologetically. &quot;I would only say that, if you do go forward, you
+will do more than most men accomplish on their first voyage <i>au large</i>
+in the wilderness. There comes to many a certain shrinking of the heart
+which leads them to find excuse for not faring farther on. Yonder, as
+you know, Monsieur, lie Quebec and Montr&eacute;al, somewhat better fitted for
+the abode of monsieur and madame than the tents of the wilderness. Back
+of that, too, as we both very well know, Monsieur, lie London and old
+England; and I had been dull of eye indeed did I not recognize the
+opportunities of a young gallant like yourself. Now, while I know
+yourself to be a man of spirit, Monsieur L'as, and while I should
+welcome you gladly as a brother of the trail, I had only thought that
+perhaps you would pardon me if I did but ask your purpose at this time.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Law bent his head in silence for a moment. &quot;What know you of this
+forward trail, Du Mesne?&quot; said he. &quot;Have you ever gone beyond this point
+in your own journeyings?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Never beyond this,&quot; replied Du Mesne, &quot;and indeed not so far by many
+hundred miles. For my own part I rely chiefly upon the story of my
+brother, Greysolon du L'hut, the boldest soul that ever put paddle in
+the St. Lawrence. My brother Greysolon, by the fire one night, told me
+that some years before he had been at the mouth of the Green
+Bay&mdash;perhaps near this very spot&mdash;and that here he and his brothers
+found a deserted Indian camp. Near it, lying half in the fire, where he
+had fallen in exhaustion, was an old, a very old Indian, who had been
+abandoned by his tribe to die&mdash;for that, you must know, Monsieur, is one
+of the pleasant customs of the wilderness.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Greysolon and his men revived this savage in some fashion, and meantime
+had much speech with him about this unknown land at whose edge we have
+now arrived. The old savage said that he had been many moons north and
+west of that place. He knew of the river called the Blue Earth, perhaps
+the same of which Father Hennepin has told. And also of the Divine
+River, far below and tributary to the Messasebe. He said that his father
+was once of a war party who went far to the north against the Ojibways,
+and that his people took from the Ojibways one of their prisoners, who
+said that he came from some strange country far to the westward, where
+there was a very wide plain, of no trees. Beyond that there were great
+mountains, taller than any to be found in all this region hereabout.
+Beyond these mountains the prisoner did not know what there might be,
+but these mountains his people took to be the edge of the world, beyond
+which could live only wicked spirits. This was what the prisoner of the
+Ojibways said. He, too, was an old man.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The captive of my brother Greysolon was an Outagamie, and he said that
+the Outagamies burned this prisoner of the Ojibways, for they knew that
+he was surely lying to them. Without doubt they did quite right to burn
+him, for the notion of a great open country without trees or streams is,
+of course, absurd to any one who knows America. And as for mountains,
+all men know that the mountains lie to the east of us, not to the
+westward.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Twould seem much hearsay,&quot; said Law, &quot;this information which comes at
+second, third and fourth hand.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;True,&quot; said Du Mesne, &quot;but such is the source of the little we know of
+the valley of the Messasebe, and that which lies beyond it. None the
+less this idea offers interest.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yet you ask me if I would return.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Twas but for yourself, Monsieur. It is there, if I may humbly confess
+to you, that it is my own ambition some day to arrive. Myself&mdash;this
+West, as I said long ago to the gentlemen in London&mdash;appeals to me,
+since it is indeed a land unoccupied, unowned, an empire which we may
+have all for ourselves. What say you, Monsieur L'as?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>John Law straightened and stiffened as he stood. For an instant his eye
+flashed with the zeal of youth and of adventure. It was but a transient
+cloud which crossed his face, yet there was sadness in his tone as he
+replied.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;My friend,&quot; said he, &quot;you ask me for my answer. I have pondered and I
+now decide. We shall go on. We shall go forward. Let us have this West,
+my friend. Heaven helping us, let me find somewhere, in some land, a
+place where I may be utterly lost, and where I may forget!&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='BOOK_II_CHAPTER_IV'></a><h3>CHAPTER IV</h3>
+
+<h4>THE PATHWAY OF THE WATERS</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>The news of the intended departure was received with joy by the crew of
+<i>voyageurs</i>, who, on the warning of an instant, fell forthwith to the
+simple tasks of breaking camp and storing the accustomed bales and
+bundles in their places in the great <i>canot du Nord</i>.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;<i>La voil&agrave;!</i>&quot; said T&ecirc;te Gris. &quot;Here she sits, this canoe, eager to go
+on. 'Tis forward again, <i>mes amis!</i> Forward once more; and glad enough
+am I for this day. We shall see new lands ere long.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;For my part,&quot; said Jean Breboeuf, &quot;I also am most anxious to be away,
+for I have eaten this white-fish until I crave no more. I had bethought
+me how excellent are the pumpkins of the good fathers at the Straits;
+and indeed I would we had with us more of that excellent fruit, the
+bean.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Bah! Jean Breboeuf,&quot; retorted Pierre Noir. &quot;'Tis but a poor-hearted
+<i>voyageur</i> would hang about a mission garden with a hoe in his hand
+instead of a gun. Perhaps the good sisters at the Mountain miss thy
+skill at pulling weeds.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Nay, now, I can live as long on fish and flesh as any man,&quot; replied
+Jean Breboeuf, stoutly, &quot;nor do I hold myself, Monsieur T&ecirc;te Gris, one
+jot in courage back of any man upon the trail.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Of course not, save in time of storm,&quot; grinned T&ecirc;te Gris. &quot;Then, it is
+'Holy Mary, witness my vow of a bale of beaver!' It is&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, so be it,&quot; said Jean Breboeuf, stoutly. &quot;'Tis sure a bale of
+beaver will come easily enough in these new lands; and&mdash;though I insist
+again that I have naught of superstition in my soul&mdash;when a raven sits
+on a tree near camp and croaks of a morning before breakfast&mdash;as upon my
+word of honor was the case this morning&mdash;there must be some ill fate in
+store for us, as doth but stand to reason.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But say you so?&quot; said T&ecirc;te Gris, pausing at his task, with his face
+assuming a certain seriousness.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Assuredly,&quot; said Jean Breboeuf. &quot;'Tis as I told you. Moreover, I insist
+to you, my brothers, that the signs have not been right for this trip at
+any time. For myself, I look for nothing but disaster.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The humor of Jean Breboeuf's very gravity appealed so strongly to his
+older comrades that they broke out into laughter, and so all fell again
+to their tasks, in sheer light-heartedness forgetting the superstitions
+of their class.</p>
+
+<p>Thus at length the party took ship again, and in time made the head of
+the great bay within whose arms they had been for some time encamped.
+They won up over the sullen rapids of the river which came into the bay,
+toiling sometimes waist-deep at the <i>cordelle</i>, yet complaining not at
+all. So in time they came out on the wide expanse of the shallow lake of
+the Winnebagoes, which body of water they crossed directly, coming into
+the quiet channel of the stream which fell in upon its western shore. Up
+this stream in turn steadily they passed, amid a panorama filled with
+constant change. Sometimes the gentle river bent away in long curves,
+with hardly a ripple upon its placid surface, save where now and again
+some startled fish sprang into the air in fright or sport, or in the
+rush upon its prey. Then the stream would lead away into vast seas of
+marsh lands, waving in illimitable reaches of rushes, or fringed with
+the unspeakably beautiful green of the graceful wild rice plant.</p>
+
+<p>In these wide levels now and again the channel divided, or lost itself
+in little <i>cul de sacs</i>, from which the paddlers were obliged to retrace
+their way. All about them rose myriads of birds and wild fowl, which
+made their nests among these marshes, and the babbling chatter of the
+rail, the high-keyed calling of the coot, or the clamoring of the
+home-building mallard assailed their ears hour after hour as they passed
+on between the leafy shores. Then, again, the channel would sweep to one
+side of the marsh, and give view to wide vistas of high and rolling
+lands, dotted with groves of hardwood, with here and there a swamp of
+cedar or of tamarack. Little herds of elk and droves of deer fed on the
+grass-covered slopes, as fat, as sleek and fearless of mankind as though
+they dwelt domesticated in some noble park.</p>
+
+<p>It was a land obviously but little known, even to the most adventurous,
+and as chance would have it, they met not even a wandering party of the
+native tribes. Clearly now the little boat was climbing, climbing slowly
+and gently, yet surely, upward from the level of the great Lake
+Michiganon. In time the little river broadened and flattened out into
+wide, shallow expanses, the waters known as the Lakes of the Foxes; and
+beyond that it became yet more shallow and uncertain, winding among
+quaking bogs and unknown marshes; yet still, whether by patience, or by
+cheerfulness, or by determination, the craft stood on and on, and so
+reached that end of the waterway which, in the opinion of the more
+experienced Du Mesne, must surely be the place known among the Indian
+tribes as the &quot;Place for the carrying of boats.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Here they paused for a few days, at that mild summit of land which marks
+the portage between the east bound and the west bound waters; yet,
+impelled ever by the eager spirit of the adventurer, they made their
+pause but short. In time they launched their craft on the bright, smooth
+flood of the river of the Ouisconsins, stained coppery-red by its
+far-off, unknown course in the north, where it had bathed leagues of the
+roots of pine and tamarack and cedar. They passed on steadily westward,
+hour after hour, with the current of this great stream, among little
+islands covered with timber; passed along bars of white sand and flats
+of hardwood; beyond forest-covered knolls, in the openings of which one
+might now and again see great vistas of a scenery now peaceful and now
+bold, with turreted knolls and sweeping swards of green, as though some
+noble house of old England were set back secluded within these wide and
+well-kept grounds. The country now rapidly lost its marshy character,
+and as they approached the mouth of the great stream, it being now well
+toward the middle of the summer, they reached, suddenly and without
+forewarning, that which they long had sought.</p>
+
+<p>The sturdy paddlers were bending to their tasks, each broad back
+swinging in unison forward and back over the thwart, each brown throat
+bared to the air, each swart head uncovered to the glare of the midday
+sun, each narrow-bladed paddle keeping unison with those before and
+behind, the hand of the paddler never reaching higher than his chin,
+since each had learned the labor-saving fashion of the Indian canoeman.
+The day was bright and cheery, the air not too ardent, and across the
+coppery waters there stretched slants of shadow from the embowering
+forest trees. They were alone, these travelers; yet for the time at
+least part of them seemed care-free and quite abandoned to the sheer
+zest of life. There arose again, after the fashion of the <i>voyageurs</i>,
+the measure of the paddling song, without which indeed the paddler had
+not been able to perform his labor at the thwart.</p>
+
+<span style='margin-left: 2em;'>&quot;<i>Dans mon chemin j'ai rencontr&eacute;</i>&mdash;&quot;</span><br />
+
+<p>chanted the leader; and voices behind him responded lustily with the
+next line:</p>
+
+<span style='margin-left: 2em;'>&quot;<i>Trois cavaliers bien mont&eacute;</i>s&mdash;&quot;</span><br />
+<span style='margin-left: 2em;'>&quot;<i>Trois cavaliers bien mont&eacute;</i>s&mdash;&quot;</span><br />
+
+<p>chanted the leader again.</p>
+
+<span style='margin-left: 2em;'>&quot;<i>L'un &agrave; cheval et l'autre &agrave; pied</i>&mdash;&quot;</span><br />
+
+<p>came the response; and then the chorus:</p>
+
+<span style='margin-left: 2em;'>&quot;<i>Lon, lon laridon daine</i>&mdash;</span><br />
+<span style='margin-left: 2.25em;'><i>Lon, lon laridon dai!</i>&quot;</span><br />
+
+<p>The great boat began to move ahead steadily and more swiftly, and bend
+after bend of the river was rounded by the rushing prow. None knew this
+country, nor wist how far the journey might carry him. None knew as of
+certainty that he would ever in this way reach the great Messasebe; or
+even if he thought that such would be the case, did any one know how far
+that Messasebe still might be. Yet there came a time in the afternoon of
+that day, even as the chant of the <i>voyageurs</i> still echoed on the
+wooded bluffs, and even as the great birch-bark ship still responded
+swiftly to their gaiety, when, on a sudden turn in the arm of the river,
+there appeared wide before them a scene for which they had not been
+prepared. There, rippling and rolling under the breeze, as though itself
+the arm of some great sea, they saw a majestic flood, whose real nature
+and whose name each man there knew on the instant and instinctively.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Messasebe! Messasebe!&quot; broke out the voices of the paddlers.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Stop the paddles!&quot; cried Du Mesne. &quot;<i>Voil&agrave;!</i>&quot;</p>
+
+<p>John Law rose in the bow of the boat and uncovered his head. It was a
+noble prospect which lay before him. His was the soul of the adventurer,
+quick to respond to challenge. There was a fluttering in his throat as
+he stood and gazed out upon this solemn, mysterious and tremendous
+flood, coming whence, going whither, none might say. He gazed and gazed,
+and it was long before the shadow crossed his face and before he drew a
+sigh.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Madam,&quot; said he, at length, turning until he faced Mary Connynge, &quot;this
+is the West. We have chosen, and we have arrived!&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='BOOK_II_CHAPTER_V'></a><h3>CHAPTER V</h3>
+
+<h4>MESSASEBE</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>The boat, now lacking its propelling power, drifted on and out into the
+clear tide of the mighty stream. The paddlers were idle, and silence had
+fallen upon all. The rush of this majestic flood, steady, mysterious,
+secret-keeping, created a feeling of awe and wonder. They gazed and
+gazed again, up the great waterway, across to its farther shore, along
+its rolling course below, and still each man forgot his paddle, and
+still the little ship of New France drifted on, just rocking gently in
+the mimic waves which ruffled the face of the mighty Father of the
+Waters.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;By our Lady!&quot; cried Du Mesne, at length, and tears stood in his
+tan-framed eyes as he turned, &quot;'tis true, all that has been said! Here
+it is, Messasebe, more mighty than any story could have told! Monsieur
+L'as, 'tis big enough to carry ships.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Twill carry fleets of them one day, Du Mesne,&quot; replied John Law. &quot;'Tis
+a roadway fit for a nation. Ah, Du Mesne! our St. Lawrence, our New
+France&mdash;they dwindle when compared to this new land.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Aye! and 'tis all our own!&quot; cried Du Mesne. &quot;Look; for the last ten
+days we have scarce seen even the smoke of a wigwam, and, so far as I
+can tell, there is not in all this valley now the home of a single white
+man. My friend Du L'hut&mdash;he may be far north of the Superior to-day for
+aught we know, or somewhere among the Sauteur people. If there he any
+man below us, let some one else tell who that may be. Sir, I promise
+you, when I see this big water going on so fast and heading so far away
+from home&mdash;well, I admit it causes me to shiver!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis much the same,&quot; said Law, &quot;where home may be for me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah, but 'tis different on the Lakes,&quot; said Du Mesne, &quot;for there we
+always knew the way back, and knew that 'twas down stream.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;He says well,&quot; broke in Mary Connynge. &quot;There is something in this big
+river that chills me. I am afraid.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And what say you, T&ecirc;te Gris, and you, Pierre Noir?&quot; asked Law.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, myself,&quot; replied the former, &quot;I am with the captain. It matters
+not. There must always be one trail from which one does not return.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;<i>Oui</i>,&quot; said Pierre Noir. &quot;To be sure, we have passed as good beaver
+country as heart of man could ask; but never was land so good but there
+was better just beyond.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;They say well, Du Mesne,&quot; spoke John Law, presently; &quot;'tis better on
+beyond. Suppose we never do return? Did I not say to you that I would
+leave this other world as far behind me as might be?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;<i>Eh bien</i>, Monsieur L'as, you reply with spirit, as ever,&quot; replied Du
+Mesne, &quot;and it is not for me to stand in the way. My own fortune and
+family are also with me, and home is where my fire is lit.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Very well,&quot; replied Law. &quot;Let us run the river to its mouth, if need
+be. 'Tis all one to me. And whether we get back or not, 'tis another
+tale.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, I make no doubt we shall win back if need be,&quot; replied Du Mesne.
+&quot;'Tis said the savages know the ways by the Divine River of the Illini
+to the foot of Michiganon; and that, perhaps, might be our best way back
+to the Lakes and to the Mountain with our beaver. We shall, provided we
+reach the Divine River, as I should guess by the stories I have heard,
+be then below the Illini, the Ottawas and the Miamis, with I know not
+what tribes from west of the Messasebe. 'Tis for you to say, Monsieur
+L'as, but for my own part&mdash;and 'tis but a hazard at best&mdash;I would say
+remain here, or press on to the river of the Illini.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis easy of decision, then,&quot; replied Law, after a moment of
+reflection. &quot;We take that course which leads us farther on at least.
+Again the paddles, my friends! To-night we sup in our own kingdom.
+Strike up the song, Du Mesne!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>A shout of approval broke from the hardy men along the boat side, and
+even Jean Breboeuf tossed up his cap upon his paddle shaft.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Forward, then, <i>mes amis!</i>&quot; cried Du Mesne, setting his own
+paddle-blade deep into the flood. &quot;<i>En roulant ma boule, roulant</i>&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Again the chorus rose, and again the hardy craft leaped onward into the
+unexplored.</p>
+
+<p>Day after day following this the journey was resumed, and day after day
+the travelers with eager eyes witnessed a prospect of continual change.
+The bluffs, bolder and more gigantic, towered more precipitous than the
+banks of the gentler streams which they had left behind. Forests ranged
+down to the shores, and wide, green-decked islands crept into view, and
+little timbered valleys of lesser streams came marching down to the
+imposing flood of Messasebe. Again the serrated bluffs broke back and
+showed vast vistas of green savannas, covered with tall, waving grasses,
+broken by little rolling hills, over which crossed herds of elk, and
+buffalo, and deer.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis a land of plenty,&quot; said Du Mesne one day, breaking the habitual
+silence into which the party had fallen. &quot;'Tis a great land, and a
+mighty. And now, Monsieur, I know why the Indians say 'tis guarded by
+spirits. Sure, I can myself feel something in the air which makes my
+shoulder-blades to creep.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis a mighty land, and full of wonders,&quot; assented Law, who, in
+different fashion, had felt the same mysterious spell of this great
+stream. For himself, he was nearer to reverence than ever yet he had
+been in all his wild young life.</p>
+
+<p>Now so it happened that at length, after a long though rapid journey
+down the great river, they came to that stream which they took to be the
+river of the Illini. This they ascended, and so finally, early in one
+evening, at the bank of a wide and placid bayou, shaded by willows and
+birch trees, and by great elms that bore aloft a canopy of clinging
+vines, they made a landing for the bivouac which was to prove their
+final tarrying place. The great <i>canot du Nord</i> came to rest at the foot
+of a timbered hill, back of which stretched high, rolling prairies,
+dotted with little groves and broken with wide swales and winding
+sloughs. The leaders of the party, with T&ecirc;te Gris and Pierre Noir,
+ascended the bluffs and made brief exploration; not more, as was tacitly
+understood, with view to choosing the spot for the evening encampment
+than with the purpose of selecting a permanent stopping place. Du Mesne
+at length turned to Law with questioning gaze. John Law struck the earth
+with his heel.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Here!&quot; said he. &quot;Here let us stop. 'Tis as well as any place. There are
+flowers and trees, and meadows and hedges, like to those of England.
+Here let us stay!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah, you say well indeed!&quot; cried Du Mesne, &quot;and may fortune send us
+happy enterprises.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But then, for the houses,&quot; continued Law. &quot;I presume we must keep close
+to this little stream which flows from the bluff. And yet we must have a
+place whence we can obtain good view. Then, with stout walls to protect
+us, we might&mdash;but see! What is that beyond? Look! There is, if I mistake
+not, a house already builded!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis true, as I live!&quot; cried Du Mesne, lowering his voice
+instinctively, as his quick eye caught the spot where Law was pointing.
+&quot;But, good God! what can it mean?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>They advanced cautiously into the little open space beyond them, a glade
+but a few hundred yards across and lined by encircling trees. They saw
+indeed a habitation erected by human hands, apparently not altogether
+without skill. There were rude walls of logs, reinforced by stakes
+planted in the ground. From the four corners of the inclosure projected
+overhanging beams. There was an opening in the inclosure, as they
+discovered upon closer approach, and entering at this rude door, the
+party looked about them curiously.</p>
+
+<p>Du Mesne shut his lips tight together. This was no house built by the
+hands of white men. There were here no quarters, no shops, no chapel
+with its little bell. Instead there stood a few dried and twisted poles,
+and all around lay the litter of an abandoned camp.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Iroquois, by the living Mother of God!&quot; cried Pierre Noir.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Look!&quot; cried T&ecirc;te Gris, calling them again outside the inclosure. He
+stood kicking in the ashes of what had been a fire-place. He disclosed,
+half buried in the charred embers, an iron kettle into which he gazed
+curiously. He turned away as John Law stepped up beside him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There must have been game here in plenty,&quot; said Law. &quot;There are bones
+scattered all about.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Du Mesne and T&ecirc;te Gris looked at each other in silence, and the former
+at length replied:</p>
+
+<p>&quot;This is an Iroquois war house, Monsieur L'as,&quot; said he. &quot;They lived
+here for more than a month, and, as you say, they fed well. But these
+bones you see are not the bones of elk or deer. They are the bones of
+men, and women, and children.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Law stood taking in each detail of the scene about him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Now you have seen what is before us,&quot; resumed Du Mesne. &quot;The Iroquois
+have gone, 'tis true. They have wiped out the villages which were here.
+There are the little cornfields, but I warrant you they have not seen a
+tomahawk hoe for a month or more. The Iroquois have gone, yet the fact
+that they have been here proves they may come again. What say you, T&ecirc;te
+Gris; and what is your belief, Pierre?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>T&ecirc;te Gris remained silent for some moments. &quot;'Tis as Monsieur says,&quot;
+replied he at length. &quot;'Tis all one to me. I go or stay, as it shall
+please the others. There is always the one trail over which one does not
+return.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And you, Pierre?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I stay by my friends,&quot; replied Pierre Noir, briefly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And you, Monsieur L'as?&quot; asked Du Mesne.</p>
+
+<p>Law raised his head with the old-time determination. &quot;My friends,&quot; said
+he, &quot;we have elected to come into this country and take its conditions
+as we find them. If we falter, we lose; of that we may rest assured.
+Let us not turn back because a few savages have been here and have
+slaughtered a few other savages. For me, there seems but one opinion
+possible. The lightning has struck, yet it may not strike again at the
+same tree. The Iroquois have been here, but they have departed, and they
+have left nothing to invite their return. Now, it is necessary that we
+make a pause and build some place for our abode. Here is a post already
+half builded to our hands.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But if the savages return?&quot; said Du Mesne.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then we will fight,&quot; said John Law.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And right you are,&quot; replied Du Mesne. &quot;Your reasoning is correct. I
+vote that we build here our station.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Myself also,&quot; said T&ecirc;te Gris. And Pierre Noir nodded his assent in
+silence.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='BOOK_II_CHAPTER_VI'></a><h3>CHAPTER VI</h3>
+
+<h4>MAIZE</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>&quot;Ola! Jean Breboeuf,&quot; called out Du Mesne to that worthy, who presently
+appeared, breathing hard from his climb up the river bluff. &quot;Know you
+what has been concluded?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No; how should I guess?&quot; replied Jean Breboeuf. &quot;Or, at least, if I
+should guess, what else should I guess save that we are to take boat at
+once and set back to Montr&eacute;al as fast as we may? But that&mdash;what is this?
+Whose house is that yonder?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis our own, <i>mon enfant</i>,&quot; replied Du Mesne, dryly. &quot;'Twas perhaps
+the property of the Iroquois a moon ago. A moon before that time the
+soil it stands on belonged to the Illini. To-day both house and soil
+belong to us. See; here stood the village. There are the cornfields, cut
+and trampled by the Iroquois. Here are the kettles of the natives&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But, but&mdash;why&mdash;what is all this? Why do we not hasten away?&quot; broke in
+Jean Breboeuf.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Pish! We do not go away. We remain where we are.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Remain? Stay here, and be eaten by the Iroquois? Nay! not Jean
+Breboeuf.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Du Mesne smiled broadly at his terrors, and a dry grin even broke over
+the features of the impassive old trapper, T&ecirc;te Gris.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Not so fast with your going away, Jean, my brother,&quot; said Du Mesne.
+&quot;Thou'rt ever hinting of corn and the bean; now see what can be done in
+this garden-place of the Iroquois and the Illini. You are appointed head
+gardener for the post!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Messieurs, <i>me voil&agrave;</i>,&quot; said Jean Breboeuf, dropping his hands in
+despair. &quot;Were I not the bravest man in all New France I should leave
+you at this moment. It is mad, quite mad you are, every one of you! I,
+Jean Breboeuf, will remain, and, if necessary, will protect. Corn, and
+perhaps the bean, ye shall have; perhaps oven some of those little roots
+that the savages dig and eat; but, look you, this is but because you are
+with one who is brave. <i>Enfin</i>, I go. I bend me to the hoe, here in this
+place, like any peasant.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;An excellent hoe can be made from the blade bone of an elk, as the
+woman Wabana will perhaps show you if you like,&quot; said Pierre Noir,
+derisively, to his comrade of the paddle.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Even so,&quot; said Jean Breboeuf. &quot;I make me the hoe. Could I have but
+thee, old Pierre, to sit on a stump and fright the crows away, I make no
+doubt that all would go well with our husbandry. I had as lief go
+<i>censitaire</i> for Monsieur L'as as for any seignieur on the Richelieu; of
+that be sure, old Pierre.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Faith,&quot; replied the latter, &quot;when it comes to frightening crows, I'll
+even agree to sit on a stump with my musket across my knees and watch
+you work. 'Tis a good place for a sentinel&mdash;to keep the crows from
+picking yet more bones than these which will embarrass you in your
+hoeing, Jean Breboeuf.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;He says the Richelieu, Du Mesne,&quot; broke in John Law, musingly. &quot;Very
+far away it sounds. I wonder if we shall ever see it again, with its
+little narrow farms. But here we have our own trails and our own lands,
+and let us hope that Monsieur Jean shall prosper in his belated farming.
+And now, for the rest of us, we must look presently to the building of
+our houses.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Thus began, slowly and in primitive fashion, the building of one of the
+first cities of the vast valley of the Messasebe; the seeds of
+civilization taking hold upon the ground of barbarism, the one
+supplanting the other, yet availing itself of that other. As the white
+men took over the crude fields of the departed savages, so also they
+appropriated the imperfect edifice which the conquerors of those savages
+had left for them. It was in little the story of old England herself,
+builded upon the races and the ruins of Briton, and Koman, and Saxon, of
+Dane and Norman.</p>
+
+<p>Under the direction of Law, the walls of the old war house were
+strengthened with an inner row of palisades, supporting an embankment of
+earth and stone. The overlap of the gate was extended into a re-entrant
+angle, and rude battlements were erected at the four corners of the
+inclosure. The little stream of unfailing water was led through a corner
+of the fortress. In the center of the inclosure they built the houses; a
+cabin for Law, one for the men, and a larger one to serve as store room
+and as trading place, should there be opportunity for trade.</p>
+
+<p>It was in these rude quarters that Law and his companion established
+that which was the nearest approach to a home that either for the time
+might claim; and it was thus that both undertook once more that old and
+bootless human experiment of seeking to escape from one's own self.
+Silent now, and dutifully obedient enough was this erstwhile English
+beauty, Mary Connynge; yet often and often Law caught the question of
+her gaze. And often enough, too, he found his own questioning running
+back up the water trails, and down the lakes and across the wide ocean,
+in a demand which, fiercer and fiercer as it grew, he yet remained too
+bitter and too proud to put to the proof by any means now within his
+power. Strange enough, savage enough, hopeless enough, was this wild
+home of his in the wilderness of the Messasebe.</p>
+
+<p>The smoke of the new settlement rose steadily day by day, but it gave
+signal for no watching enemy. All about stretched the pale green ocean
+of the grasses, dotted by many wild flowers, nodding and bowing like
+bits of fragile flotsam on the surface of a continually rolling sea. The
+little groves of timber, scattered here and there, sheltered from the
+summer sun the wild cattle of the plains. The shorter grasses hid the
+coveys of the prairie hens, and on the marsh-grown bayou banks the wild
+duck led her brood. A great land, a rich, a fruitful one, was this that
+lay about these adventurers.</p>
+
+<p>A soberness had come over the habit of the master mind of this little
+colony. His hand took up the ax, and forgot the sword and gun. Day after
+day he stood looking about him, examining and studying in little all the
+strange things which he saw; seeking to learn as much as might be of
+the timorous savages, who in time began to straggle back to their ruined
+villages; talking, as best he might, through such interpreting as was
+possible, with savages who came from the west of the Messasebe, and from
+the South and from the far Southwest; hearing, and learning and
+wondering of a land which seemed as large as all the earth, and various
+as all the lands that lay beneath the sun&mdash;that West, so glorious, so
+new, so boundless, which was yet to be the home of countless
+hearth-fires and the sites of myriad fields of corn. Let others hunt,
+and fish, and rob the Indians of their furs, after the accepted fashion
+of the time; as for John Law, he must look about him, and think, and
+watch this growing of the corn.</p>
+
+<p>He saw it fairly from its beginning, this growth of the maize, this
+plant which never yet had grown on Scotch or English soil; this tall,
+beautiful, broad-bladed, tender tree, the very emblem of all
+fruitfulness. He saw here and there, dropped by the careless hand of
+some departed Indian woman, the little germinating seeds, just thrusting
+their pale-green heads up through the soil, half broken by the tomahawk.
+He saw the clustering green shoots&mdash;numerous, in the sign of plenty&mdash;all
+crowding together and clamoring for light, and life, and air, and room.
+He saw the prevailing of the tall and strong upthrusting stalks, after
+the way of life; saw the others dwarf and whiten, and yet cling on at
+the base of the bolder stem, parasites, worthless, yet existing, after
+the way of life.</p>
+
+<p>He saw the great central stalks spring boldly up, so swiftly that it
+almost seemed possible to count the successive leaps of progress. He saw
+the strong-ribbed leaves thrown out, waving a thousand hands of cheerful
+welcome and assurance&mdash;these blades of the corn, so much mightier than
+any blades of steel. He saw the broad beckoning banners of the pale
+tassels bursting out atop of the stalk, token of fecundity and of the
+future. He caught the wide-driven pollen as it whitened upon the earth,
+borne by the parent West Wind, mother of increase. He saw the thickening
+of the green leaf at the base, its swelling, its growth and expansion,
+till the indefinite enlargement showed at length the incipient ear.</p>
+
+<p>He noted the faint brown of the ends of the sweetly-enveloping silk of
+the ear, pale-green and soft underneath the sheltering and protecting
+husk, He found the sweet and milk-white tender kernels, row upon row,
+forming rapidly beneath the husk, Mud saw at length the hardening and
+darkening of the husk at its free end, which told that man might pluck
+and eat.</p>
+
+<p>And then he saw the fading of the tassels, the darkening of the silk
+and the crinkling of the blades; and there, borne on the strong parent
+stem, he noted now the many full-rowed ears, protected by their husks
+and heralded by the tassels and the blades. &quot;Come, come ye, all ye
+people! Enter in, for I will feed ye all!&quot; This was the song of the
+maize, its invitation, its counsel, its promise.</p>
+
+<p>Under the warped lodge frames which the fires of the Iroquois had
+spared, there were yet visible clusters of the ears of last year's corn.
+Here, under his own eye, were growing yet other ears, ripe for the
+harvesting and ripe for the coming growth. A strange spell fell upon the
+soul of Law. Visions crossed his mind, born in the soft warm air of
+these fecundating winds, of this strange yet peaceful scene.</p>
+
+<p>At times he stood and looked out from the door of the palisade, when the
+prairie mists were rising in the morning at the mandate of the sun, and
+to his eyes these waving seas of grasses all seemed beckoning fields of
+corn. These smokes, coming from the broken tepees of the timid
+tribesmen, surely they arose from the roofs of happy and contented
+homes! These wreaths and wraiths of the twisting and wide-stalking
+mists, surely these were the captains of a general husbandry! Ah, John
+Law, John Law! Had God given thee the right feeling and contented
+heart, happy indeed had been these days in this new land of thine own,
+far from ignoble strivings and from fevered dreams, far from aimless
+struggles and unregulated avarice, far from oppression and from misery,
+far from bickerings, heart-burnings and envyings! Ah, John Law! Had God
+but given thee the pure and well-contented heart! For here in the
+Messasebe, that Mind which made the universe and set man to be one of
+its little inhabitants&mdash;surely that Mind had planned that man should
+come and grow in this place, tall and strong, and fruitful, useful to
+all the world, even as this swift, strong growing of the maize.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='BOOK_II_CHAPTER_VII'></a><h3>CHAPTER VII</h3>
+
+<h4>THE BRINK OF CHANGE</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>The breath of autumn came into the air. The little flowers which had
+dotted the grassy robe of the rolling hills had long since faded away
+under the ardent sun, and now there appeared only the denuded stalks of
+the mulleins and the flaunting banners of the goldenrod. The wild grouse
+shrank from the edges of the little fields and joined their numbers into
+general bands, which night and morn crossed the country on sustained and
+strong-winged flight. The plumage of the young wild turkeys, stalking in
+droves among the open groves, began to emulate the iridescent splendors
+of their elders. The marshes above the village became the home of yet
+more numerous thousands of clamoring wild fowl, and high up against the
+blue there passed, on the south-bound journey, the harrow of the wild
+geese, wending their way from North to South across an unknown empire.</p>
+
+<p>A chill came into the waters of the river, so that the bass and pike
+sought out the deeper pools. The squirrels busily hoarded up supplies
+of the nuts now ripening. The antlers of the deer and the elk which
+emerged from the concealing thickets now showed no longer ragged strips
+of velvet, and their tips were polished in the preliminary fitting for
+the fall season of love and combat. There came nights when the white
+frost hung heavy upon all the bending grasses and the broad-leafed
+plants, a frost which seared the maize leaves and set aflame the foliage
+of the maples all along the streams, and decked in a hundred flamboyant
+tones the leaves of the sumach and all the climbing vines.</p>
+
+<p>As all things now presaged the coming winter, so there approached also
+the time when the little party, so long companions upon the Western
+trails, must for the first time know division. Du Mesne, making ready
+for the return trip over the unknown waterways back to the Lakes, as had
+been determined to be necessary, spoke of it as though the journey were
+but an affair of every day.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Make no doubt, Monsieur L'as,&quot; said he, &quot;that I shall ascend this river
+of the Illini and reach Michiganon well before the snows. Once at the
+mission of the Miamis, or the village at the river Chicaqua, I shall be
+quite safe for the winter, if I decide not to go farther on. Then, in
+the spring, I make no doubt, I shall be able to trade our furs at the
+Straits, if I like not the long run down to the Mountain. Thus, you see,
+I may be with you again sometime within the following spring.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I hope it may be so, my friend,&quot; replied Law, &quot;for I shall miss you
+sadly enough.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis nothing, Monsieur; you will be well occupied. Suppose I take with
+me Kataikini and Kabayan, perhaps also T&ecirc;te Gris. That will give us four
+paddlers for the big canoe, and you will still have left Pierre Noir and
+Jean, to say nothing of our friends the Illini hereabout, who will be
+glad enough to make cause with you in case of need. I will leave Wabana
+for madame, and trust she may prove of service. See to it, pray you,
+that she observes the offices of the church; for methinks, unless
+watched, Wabana is disposed to become careless and un-Christianized.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;This I will look to,&quot; said Law, smiling.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then all is well,&quot; resumed Du Mesne, &quot;and my absence will be but a
+little thing, as we measure it on the trails. You may find a winter
+alone in the wilderness a bit dull for you, mayhap duller than were it
+in London, or even in Quebec. Yet 'twill pass, and in time we shall meet
+again. Perhaps some good father will be wishing to come back with me to
+set up a mission among the Illini. These good fathers, they so delight
+in losing fingers, and ears, and noses for the good of the
+Church&mdash;though where the Church be glorified therein I sometimes can not
+say. Perhaps some leech&mdash;mayhap some artisan&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Nay, 'tis too far a spot, Du Mesne, to tempt others than ourselves.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Upon the contrary rather, Monsieur L'as. It is matter for laughter to
+see the efforts of Louis and his ministers to keep New France chained to
+the St. Lawrence! Yet my good lord governor might as well puff out his
+cheeks against the north wind as to try to keep New France from pouring
+west into the Messasebe; and as much might be said for those good rulers
+of the English colonies, who are seeking ever to keep their people east
+of the Alleghanies.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis the Old World over again, there in the St. Lawrence,&quot; said Law.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Right you are, Monsieur L'as,&quot; exclaimed Du Mesne. &quot;New France is but
+an extension of the family of Louis. The intendant reports everything to
+the king. Monsieur So-and-so is married. Very well, the king must know
+it! Monsieur's eldest daughter is making sheep's eyes at such and such a
+soldier of the regiment of the king. Very well, this is weighty matter,
+of which the king must be advised! Monsieur's wife becomes expectant of
+a son and heir. 'Tis meet that Louis the Great should be advised of
+this! Mother of God! 'Tis a pretty mess enough back there on the St.
+Lawrence, where not a hen may cackle over its new-laid egg but the king
+must know it, and where not a family has meat enough for its children to
+eat nor clothes enough to cover them. My faith, in that poor medley of
+little lords and lazy vassals, how can you wonder that the best of us
+have risen and taken to the woods! Yet 'tis we who catch their beaver
+for them; and if God and the king be willing, sometime we shall get a
+certain price for our beaver&mdash;provided God and the king furnish currency
+to pay us; and that the governor, the priest and the intendant ratify
+the acts of God and the king!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Law smiled at the sturdy vehemence of the other's speech, yet there was
+something of soberness in his own reply.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir,&quot; said he, &quot;you see here my little crooked rows of maize. Look you,
+the beaver will pass away, but the roots of the corn will never be torn
+out. Here is your wealth, Du Mesne.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The sturdy captain scratched his head. &quot;I only know, for my part,&quot; said
+he, &quot;that I do not care for the settlements. Not that I would not be
+glad to see the king extend his arm farther to the West, for these
+sullen English are crowding us more and more along our borders. Surely
+the land belongs to him who finds it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Perhaps better to him who can both find and hold it. But this soil will
+one day raise up a people of its own.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yet as to that,&quot; rejoined Du Mesne, as the two turned and walked back
+to the stockade, &quot;we are not here to handle the affairs of either Louis
+or William. Let us e'en leave that to monsieur the intendant, and
+monsieur the governor, and our friends, the gray owls and the black
+crows, the Recollets and the Jesuits. I mind to call this spot home with
+you, if you like. I shall be back as soon as may be with the things we
+need, and we shall plant here no starving colony, but one good enough
+for the home of any man. Monsieur, I wish you very well, and I may
+congratulate you on your daughter. A heartier infant never was born
+anywhere on the water trail between the Mountain and the Messasebe. What
+name have you chosen for the young lady, Monsieur?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I have decided,&quot; said John Law, &quot;to call her Catharine.&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='BOOK_II_CHAPTER_VIII'></a><h3>CHAPTER VIII</h3>
+
+<h4>TOUS SAUVAGES</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>Had nature indeed intended Law for the wild life of the trail, and had
+he indeed spent years rather than months among these unusual scenes, he
+could hardly have been better fitted for the part. Hardy of limb, keen
+of eye, tireless of foot, with a hand which any weapon fitted, his
+success as hunter made his companions willing enough to assign to him
+the chase of the bison or the stag; so that he became not only patron
+but provider for the camp.</p>
+
+<p>Some weeks after the departure of Du Mesne, Law was returning from the
+hunt some miles below the station. His tall and powerful figure,
+hardened by continued outdoor exercise, was scarce bowed by the weight
+of the wild buck which he bore across his shoulders. His eye, accustomed
+to the instant readiness demanded in the <i>voyageur's</i> life, glanced
+keenly about, taking in each item of the scene, each movement of the
+little bird on the tree, the rustling of the grass where a rabbit
+started from its form, the whisk of the gray squirrel's tail on the
+limb far overhead.</p>
+
+<p>The touch of autumn was now in the air. The leaves of the wild grapevine
+were falling. The oaks had donned garments of somber brown, the
+hickories had lost their leaves, while here and there along the river
+shores the flaming sentinels of the maples had changed their scarlet
+uniform for one of duller hue. The wild rice in the marshes had shed its
+grain upon the mud banks. The acorns were loosening in their cups. Fall
+in the West, gorgeous, beautiful, had now set in, of all the seasons of
+the year, that most loved by the huntsman.</p>
+
+<p>This tall, lean man, clad in buckskin like a savage, brown almost as a
+savage, as active and as alert, seemed to fit not ill with these
+environments, nor to lack either confidence or contentment. He walked on
+steadily, following the path along the bayou bank, and at length paused
+for a moment, throwing down his burden and stooping to drink at the tiny
+pool made by the little rivulet which trickled down the face of the
+bluff. Here he bathed his face and hands in the cool stream, for the
+moment abandoning himself to that rest which the hunter earns. It was
+when at length he raised his head and turned to resume his burden that
+his suspicious eye caught a glimpse of something which sent him in a
+flash below the level of the grasses, and thence to the cover of a tree
+trunk.</p>
+
+<p>As he gazed from his hiding-place he saw the tawny waters of the bayou
+broken into a long series of advancing ripples. Passing the fringe of
+wild rice, swimming down beneath the heavy cordage of the wild
+grapevines, there came on two canoes, roughly made of elm bark, in
+fashion which would have shown an older frontiersman full proof of their
+Western origin.</p>
+
+<p>In the bow of the foremost boat, as Law could now clearly see, sat a
+slender young man, clad in the uniform, now soiled and faded, of a
+captain in the British army. His boat was propelled by four dusky
+paddlers, Indians of the East. Stalwart, powerful, silent, they sent the
+craft on down stream, their keen eyes glancing swiftly from one point to
+the other of the ever-changing panorama, yet finding nothing that would
+seem to warrant pause. Back of the first boat by a short distance came a
+kindred craft, its crew comprising two white men and two Indian
+paddlers. Of the white men, one might have been a petty officer, the
+other perhaps a private soldier.</p>
+
+<p>It was, then, as Du Mesne had said. Every party bound into the West must
+pass this very point upon the river of the Illini. But why should these
+be present here? Were they friends or foes? So queried the watcher,
+tense and eager as a waiting panther, now crouched with straining eye
+behind the sheltering tree.</p>
+
+<center>
+<img src="images/img3.jpg" height="383" width="300"
+alt="Illustration">
+</center>
+
+<p>As the leading boat swung clear of the shadows, the man in the prow
+turned his face, scanning closely the shore of the stream. As he did so,
+Law half started to his feet, and a moment later stepped from his
+concealment. He gazed again and again, doubting what he saw. Surely
+those clean-cut, handsome features could belong to no man but his former
+friend, Sir Arthur Pembroke!</p>
+
+<p>Yet how could Sir Arthur be here? What could be his errand, and how had
+he been guided hither? These sudden questions might, upon the instant,
+have confused a brain ready as that of this observer, who paused not to
+reflect that this meeting, seemingly so impossible, was in fact the most
+natural thing in the world; indeed, could scarce have been avoided by
+any one traveling with Indian guides down the waterway to the Messasebe.</p>
+
+<p>The keen eyes of the red paddlers caught sight of the crushed grasses at
+the little landing on the bayou bank, even as Law rose from his
+hiding-place. A swift, concerted sweep of the paddles sent the boat
+circling out into midstream, and before Law knew it he was covered by
+half a dozen guns. He hardly noticed this. His own gun he left leaning
+against a tree, and his hand was thrown out high, in front of him as he
+came on, calling out to those in the stream. He heard the command of the
+leader in the boat, and a moment later both canoes swung inshore.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Have down your guns, Sir Arthur,&quot; cried Law, loudly and gaily. &quot;We are
+none but friends here. Come in, and tell me that it is yourself, and not
+some miracle of mine eyes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The young man so surprisingly addressed half started from the thwart in
+his amazement. His face bent into an incredulous frown, scarce carrying
+comprehension, even as he approached the shore. As he left the boat, for
+an instant Pembroke's hand was half extended in greeting, yet a swift
+change came over his countenance, and his body stiffened.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Is it indeed you, Mr. Law?&quot; he said. &quot;I could not have believed myself
+so fortunate.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis myself and no one else,&quot; replied Law. &quot;But why this melodrama, Sir
+Arthur? Why reject my hand?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I have sworn to extend to you no hand but that bearing a weapon, Mr.
+Law!&quot; said Pembroke. &quot;This may be accident, but it seems to me the
+justice of God. Oh, you have run far, Mr. Law&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What mean you, Sir Arthur?&quot; exclaimed Law, his face assuming the dull
+red of anger. &quot;I have gone where I pleased, and asked no man's leave for
+it, and I shall live as I please and ask no man's leave for that. I
+admit that it seems almost a miracle to meet you here, but come you one
+way or the other, you come best without riddles, and still better
+without threats.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You are not armed,&quot; said Sir Arthur. He gazed at the bronzed figure
+before him, clad in fringed tunic and leggings of deer hide; at the belt
+with little knife and ax, at the gun which now rested in the hollow of
+his arm. Law himself laughed keenly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, as to that,&quot; said he, &quot;I had thought myself well enough equipped.
+But as for a sword, 'tis true my hand is more familiar, these days, with
+the ax and gun.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The late Jessamy Law shows change in his capacity of renegade,&quot; said
+Pembroke, raspingly. His face displayed a scorn which jumped ill with
+the nature of the man before him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I am what I am, Sir Arthur,&quot; said Law, &quot;and what I was. And always I am
+at any man's service who is in search of what you call God's justice, or
+what I may call personal satisfaction. I doubt not we shall find my
+other trinkets in good order not far away. But meantime, before you
+turn my hospitality into shame, bring on your men and follow me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>His face working with emotion, Law turned away. He caught up the body of
+the dead buck, and tossing it across his shoulders, strode up the
+winding pathway.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Come, Gray, and Ellsworth,&quot; said Pembroke. &quot;Get your men together. We
+shall see what there is to this.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>At the summit of the river-bluff Law awaited their arrival. He noted in
+silence the look of surprise which crossed Pembroke's face as at length
+they came into view of the little panorama of the stockade and its
+surroundings.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;This is my home, Sir Arthur,&quot; said he simply. &quot;These are my fields. And
+see, if I mistake not, yonder is some proof of the ability of my people
+to care for themselves.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He pointed to the gateway, from the loop-holes guarding which there
+might now be seen protruding two long dark barrels, leveled in the
+direction of the approaching party. There came a call from within the
+palisade, and the sound of men running to take their places along the
+wall. Law raised his hand, and the barrels of the guns were lowered.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;This, then, is your hiding-place!&quot; said Pembroke.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I call it not such. 'Tis public to the world.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Tush! You lack not in the least of your old conceit and assurance, Mr.
+Law!&quot; said Pembroke.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Nay, I lack not so much in assurance of myself,&quot; said Law, &quot;as in my
+patience, which I find, Sir Arthur, now begins to grow a bit short about
+its breath. But since the courtesy of the trail demands somewhat, I say
+to you, there is my home. Enter it as friend if you like, but if not,
+come as you please. Did you indeed come bearing war, I should be obliged
+to signify to you, Sir Arthur, that you are my prisoner. You see my
+people.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir,&quot; replied Sir Arthur, blindly, &quot;I have vowed to find you no matter
+where you should go.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It would seem that your vow is well fulfilled. But now, since you deal
+in mysteries, I shall even ask you definitely, Sir Arthur, who and what
+are you? Why do you come hither, and how shall we regard you?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I am, in the first place,&quot; said Sir Arthur, &quot;messenger of my Lord
+Bellomont, governor at Albany of our English colonies. I add my chief
+errand, which has been to find Mr. Law, whom I would hold to an
+accounting.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, granted,&quot; replied Law, flicking lightly at the cuff of his tunic,
+&quot;yet your errand still carries mystery.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You have at least heard of the Peace of Ryswick, I presume?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No; how should I? And why should I care?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;None the less, the king of England and the king of France are no longer
+at war, nor are their colonies this side of the water. There are to be
+no more raids between the colonies of New England and New France. The
+Hurons are to give back their English prisoners, and the Iroquois are to
+return all their captives to the French. The Western tribes are to
+render up their prisoners also, be they French, English, Huron or
+Iroquois. The errand of carrying this news was offered to me. It agreed
+well enough with my own private purposes. I had tracked you, Mr. Law, to
+Montr&eacute;al, lost you on the Richelieu, and was glad enough to take up this
+chance of finding you farther to the West. And now, by the justice of
+heaven, as I have said, I have found you easily.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And has Sir Arthur gone to sheriffing? Has my friend become constable?
+Is Sir Arthur a spy? Because, look you, this is not London, nor yet New
+France, nor Albany. This is Messasebe! This is my valley. I rule here.
+Now, if kings, or constables, or even spies, wish to find John
+Law&mdash;why, here is John Law. Now watch your people, and go you carefully
+here, else that may follow which will be ill extinguished.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Pembroke flung down his sword upon the ground in front of him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You are lucky, Mr. Law,&quot; said he, &quot;lucky as ever. But surely, never was
+man so eminently deserving of death as yourself.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You do me very much honor, Sir Arthur,&quot; replied Law. &quot;Here is your
+sword, sir.&quot; Stooping, he picked it up and handed it to the other. &quot;I
+did but ill if I refused to accord satisfaction to one bringing me such
+speech as that. 'Tis well you wear your weapons, Sir Arthur, since you
+come thus as emissary of the Great Peace! I know you for a gentleman,
+and I shall ask no parole of you to-night; but meantime, let us wait
+until to-morrow, when I promise you I shall be eager as yourself. Come!
+We can stand here guessing and talking no longer. I am weary of it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>They came now to the gate of the stockade, and there Pembroke stood for
+a moment in surprise and perplexity. He was not prepared to meet this
+dark-haired, wide-eyed girl, clad in native dress of skin, with tinkling
+metals at wrist and ankle, and on her feet the tiny, beaded shoes. For
+her part, Mary Connynge, filled with woman's curiosity, was yet less
+prepared for that which appeared before her&mdash;an apparition, as ran her
+first thought, come to threaten and affright.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir Arthur!&quot; she began, her trembling tongue but half forming the
+words. Her eyes stared in terror, and beneath her dark skin the blood
+shrank away and left her pale. She recoiled from him, her left hand
+carrying behind her instinctively the babe that lay on her arm.</p>
+
+<p>Sir Arthur bowed, but found no word. He could only look questioningly at
+Law.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Madam,&quot; said the latter, &quot;Sir Arthur Pembroke journeys through as the
+messenger of Lord Bellomont, governor at Albany, to spread peace among
+the Western tribes. He has by mere chance blundered upon our valley, and
+will delay over night. It seemed well you should be advised.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Mary Connynge, gray and pale, haggard and horrified, dreading all things
+and knowing nothing, found no manner of reply. Without a word she turned
+and fled back into the cabin.</p>
+
+<p>Sir Arthur once more looked about him. Motioning to the others of the
+party to remain outside the gate, Law led him within the stockade. On
+one hand stood Pierre Noir, tall, silent, impassive as a savage, leaning
+upon his gun and fixing on the red coat of the English uniform an eye
+none too friendly. Jean Breboeuf, his piece half ready and his voluble
+tongue half on the point of breaking over restraint, Law quieted with a
+gesture. Back of these, ranged in a silent yet watchful group, their
+weapons well in hand, stood numbers of the savage allies of this new
+war-lord. Pembroke turned to Law again.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You are strongly stationed, sir; but I do not understand.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It is my home.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But yet&mdash;why?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;As well this as any, where one leaves an old life and begins a new,&quot;
+said Law. &quot;'Tis as good a place as any if one would leave all behind,
+and if he would forget.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And this&mdash;that is to say&mdash;madam?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Sir Arthur stumbled in his speech. John Law looked him straight in the
+eye, a slow, sad smile upon his face.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Had we here the plank of poor La Salle his ship,&quot; said he, &quot;we might
+nail the message of that other renegade above our door&mdash;'<i>Nous sommes
+tous sauvages!</i>'&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='BOOK_II_CHAPTER_IX'></a><h3>CHAPTER IX</h3>
+
+<h4>THE DREAM</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>That night John Law dreamed as he slept, and it was in some form the
+same haunting and familiar dream. In his vision he saw not the low roof
+nor the rude walls about him. To his mind there appeared a little dingy
+room, smaller than this in which he lay, with walls of stone, with door
+of iron grating and not of rough-hewn slabs. He saw the door of the
+prison cell swing open; saw near it the figure of a noble young girl,
+with large and frightened eyes and lips half tremulous. To this vision
+he outstretched his hands. He was almost conscious of uttering some word
+supplicatingly, almost conscious of uttering a name.</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps he slept on. We little know the ways of the land of dreams. It
+might have been half an instant or half an hour later that he suddenly
+awoke, finding his hand clapped close against his side, where suddenly
+there had come a sharp and burning pain. His own hand struck another. He
+saw something gleaming in the light of the flickering fire which still
+survived upon the hearth. The dim rays lit up two green, glowing,
+venomous balls, the eyes of the woman whom he found bending above him.
+He reached out his hand in the instinct of safety. This which glittered
+in the firelight was the blade of a knife, and it was in the hand of
+Mary Connynge!</p>
+
+<p>In a moment Law was master of himself. &quot;Give it to me, Madam, if you
+please,&quot; he said, quietly, and took the knife from fingers which
+loosened under his grasp. There was no further word spoken. He tossed
+the knife into a crack of the bunk beyond him. He lay with his right arm
+doubled under his head, looking up steadily into the low ceiling, upon
+which the fire made ragged masses of shadows. His left arm, round, full
+and muscular, lay across the figure of the woman whom he had forced down
+upon the couch beside him. He could feel her bosom rise and pant in
+sheer sobs of anger. Once he felt the writhing of the body beneath his
+arm, but he simply tightened his grasp and spoke no word.</p>
+
+<p>It was not far from morning. In time the gray dawn came creeping in at
+the window, until at length the chinks between the logs in the little
+square-cut window and the ill-fitting door were flooded with a sea of
+sunlight. As this light grew stronger, Law slowly turned and looked at
+the face beside him. Out of the tangle of dark hair there blazed still
+two eyes, eyes which looked steadily up at the ceiling, refusing to turn
+either to the right or to the left. He calmly pulled closer to him, so
+that it might not stain the garments of the woman beside him, the
+blood-soaked shirt whose looseness and lack of definition had perhaps
+saved him from a fatal blow. He paid no attention to his wound, which he
+knew was nothing serious. So he lay and looked at Mary Connynge, and
+finally removed his arm.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Get up,&quot; said he, simply, and the woman obeyed him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The fire, Madam, if you please, and breakfast.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>These had been the duties of the Indian woman, but Mary Connynge obeyed.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Madam,&quot; said Law, calmly, after the morning meal was at last finished
+in silence, &quot;I shall be very glad to have your company for a few
+moments, if you please.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Mary Connynge rose and followed him into the open air, her eyes still
+fixed upon the dark-crusted stain which had spread upon his tunic. They
+walked in silence to a point beyond the cabin.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You would call her Catharine!&quot; burst out Mary Connynge. &quot;Oh! I heard
+you in your very sleep. You believe every lying word Sir Arthur tells
+you. You believe&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>John Law looked at her with the simple and direct gaze which the tamer
+of the wild beast employs when he goes among them, the look of a man not
+afraid of any living thing.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Madam,&quot; said he, at length, calmly and evenly, as before, &quot;what I have
+said, sleeping or waking, will not matter. You have tried to kill me.
+You did not succeed. You will never try again. Now, Madam, I give you
+the privilege of kneeling here on the ground before me, and asking of
+me, not my pardon, but the pardon of the woman you have foully stabbed,
+even as you have me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The figure before him straightened up, the blazing yellow eyes sought
+his once, twice, thrice, behind them all the fury of a savage soul. It
+was of no avail. The cool blue eyes looked straight into her heart. The
+tall figure stood before her, unyielding. She sought to raise her eyes
+once more, failed, and so would have sunk down as he had said, actually
+on her knees before him.</p>
+
+<p>John Law extended a hand and stopped her. &quot;There,&quot; said he. &quot;It will
+suffice. I can not demean you. There is the child.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You called her Catharine!&quot; broke out the woman once more in her
+ungovernable rage. &quot;You would name my child&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Madam, get up!&quot; said John Law, sharply and sternly. &quot;Get up on your
+feet and look me in the face. The child shall be called for her who
+should have been its mother. Let those forgive who can. That you have
+ruined my life for me is but perhaps a fair exchange; yet you shall say
+no word against that woman whose life we have both of us despoiled.&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='BOOK_II_CHAPTER_X'></a><h3>CHAPTER X</h3>
+
+<h4>BY THE HILT OF THE SWORD</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>Law passed on out at the gate of the stockade and down to the bivouac,
+where Pembroke and his men had spent the night.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Now, Sir Arthur,&quot; said he to the latter, when he had found him, &quot;come.
+I am ready to talk with you. Let us go apart.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Pembroke joined him, and the two walked slowly away toward the
+encircling wood which swept back of the stockade. Law turned upon him at
+length squarely.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir Arthur,&quot; said he, &quot;I think you would tell me something concerned
+with the Lady Catharine Knollys. Do you bring any message from her?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The face of Pembroke flamed scarlet with sudden wrath. &quot;Message!&quot; said
+he. &quot;Message from Lady Catharine Knollys to you? By God! sir, her only
+message could be her hope that she might never hear your name again.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You have still your temper, Sir Arthur, and you speak harsh enough.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Harsh or not,&quot; rejoined Pembroke, &quot;I scarce can endure her name upon
+your lips. You, who scouted her, who left her, who took up with the
+lewdest woman in all Great Britain, as it now appears&mdash;you who would
+consort with this creature&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;In this matter,&quot; said John Law, simply, &quot;you are not my prisoner, and I
+beg you to speak frankly. It shall be man and man between us.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;How you could have stooped to such baseness is what mortal man can
+never understand,&quot; resumed Sir Arthur, bitterly. &quot;Good God! to abandon a
+woman like that so heartlessly&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir Arthur,&quot; said John Law, his voice trembling, &quot;I do myself the very
+great pleasure of telling you that you lie!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>For a moment the two stood silent, facing each other, the face of each
+stony, gone gray with the emotions back of it.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There is light,&quot; said Pembroke, &quot;and abundant space.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>They turned and paced back farther toward the open forest glade. Yet now
+and again their steps faltered and half paused, and neither man cared to
+go forward or to return. Pembroke's face, stern as it had been, again
+took on the imprint of a growing hesitation.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Mr. Law,&quot; said he, &quot;there is something in your attitude which I admit
+puzzles me. I ask you in all honor, I ask you on the hilt of that sword
+which I know you will never disgrace, why did you thus flout the Lady
+Catharine Knollys? Why did you scorn her and take up with this woman
+yonder in her stead?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir Arthur,&quot; said John Law, with trembling lips, &quot;I must be very low
+indeed in reputation, since you can ask me question such as this.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But you must answer!&quot; cried Sir Arthur, &quot;and you must swear!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;If you would have my answer and my oath, then I give you both. I did
+not do what you suggest, nor can I conceive how any man should think me
+guilty of it. I loved Lady Catharine Knollys with all my heart. 'Twas my
+chief bitterness, keener than even the thought of the gallows itself,
+that she forsook me in my trouble. Then, bitter as any man would be, I
+persuaded myself that I cared naught. Then came this other woman. Then
+I&mdash;well, I was a man and a fool&mdash;a fool, Sir Arthur, a most miserable
+fool! Every moment of my life since first I saw her, I have loved the
+Lady Catharine; and, God help me, I do now!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Sir Arthur struck his hand upon the hilt of his sword. &quot;You were more
+lucky than myself, as I know,&quot; said he, and from his lips broke half a
+groan.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Good God!&quot; broke out Law. &quot;Let us not talk of it. I give you my word of
+honor, there has been no happiness to this. But come! We waste time. Let
+us cross swords!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Wait. Let me explain, since we are in the way of it. You must know that
+'twas within the plans of Montague that Lady Catharine Knollys should be
+the agent of your freedom. I was pledged to the Lady Catharine to assist
+her, though, as you may perhaps see, sir,&quot; and Pembroke gulped in his
+throat as he spoke, &quot;'twas difficult enough, this part that was assigned
+to me. It was I, Mr. Law, who drove the coach to the gate, the coach
+which brought the Lady Catharine. 'Twas she who opened the door of
+Newgate jail for you. My God! sir, how could you walk past that woman,
+coming there as she did, with such a purpose!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>At hearing these words, the tall figure of the man opposed to him
+drooped and sank, as though under some fearful blow. He staggered to a
+near-by support and sank weakly to a seat, his head falling between his
+hands, his whole face convulsed.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah!&quot; said he, &quot;you did right to cross seas in search of me! God hath
+indeed found me out and given me my punishment. Yet I ask God to bear
+me witness that I knew not the truth. Come, Sir Arthur! Come, I beseech
+you! Let us fall to!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I shall be no man's executioner for his sentence on himself. I could
+not fight you now.&quot; His eye fell by chance upon the blotch in Law's
+bloodstained tunic. &quot;And here,&quot; he said; &quot;see! You are already wounded.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Twas but one woman's way of showing her regard,&quot; said Law. &quot;'Twas Mary
+Connynge stabbed me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But why?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Nay, I am glad of it; since it proves the truth of all you say, even as
+it proves me to be the most unworthy man in all the world. Oh, what had
+it meant to me to know a real love! God! How could I have been so
+blind?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis the ancient puzzle.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes!&quot; cried Law. &quot;And let us make an end of puzzles! Your quarrel, sir,
+I admit is just. Let us go on.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And again I tell you, Mr. Law,&quot; replied Sir Arthur, &quot;that I will not
+fight you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then, sir,&quot; said Law, dropping his own sword upon the grass and
+extending his hand with a broken smile, &quot;'tis I who am your prisoner!&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='BOOK_II_CHAPTER_XI'></a><h3>CHAPTER XI</h3>
+
+<h4>THE IROQUOIS</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>Even as Sir Arthur and John Law clasped hands, there came a sudden
+interruption. A half-score yards deeper in the wood there arose a
+sudden, half-choked cry, followed by a shrill whoop. There was a
+crashing as of one running, and immediately there pressed into the open
+space the figure of an Indian, an old man from the village of the
+Illini. Even as his staggering footsteps brought him within gaze, the
+two startled observers saw the shaft which had sunk deep within his
+breast. He had been shot through by an Indian arrow, and upon the
+instant it was all too plain whose hand had sped the shaft. Following
+close upon his heels there came a stalwart savage, whose face, hideously
+painted, appeared fairly demoniacal as he came bounding on with uplifted
+hatchet, seeking to strike down the victim already impaled by the silent
+arrow.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Quick!&quot; cried Law, in a flash catching the meaning of this sudden
+spectacle. &quot;Into the fort, Sir Arthur, and call the men together!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Not stopping to relieve the struggles of the victim, who had now fallen
+forward gasping, Law sprang on with drawn blade to meet the advancing
+savage. The latter paused for an uncertain moment, and then with a
+shrill yell of defiance, hurled the keen steel hatchet full at Law's
+head. It shore away a piece of his hat brim, and sank with edge deep
+buried in the trunk of a tree beyond. The savage turned, but turned too
+late. The blade of the swordsman passed through from rib to rib under
+his arm, and he fell choking, even as he sought again to give vent to
+his war-cry.</p>
+
+<p>And now there arose in the woods beyond, and in the fields below the
+hill, and from the villages of the neighboring Indians, a series of
+sharp, ululating yells. Shots came from within the fortress, where the
+loop-holes were already manned. There were borne from the nearest
+wigwams of the Illini the screams of wounded men, the shrieks of
+terrified women. In an instant the peaceful spot had become the scene of
+a horrible confusion. Once more the wolves of the woods, the Iroquois,
+had fallen on their prey!</p>
+
+<p>Swift as had been Law's movements, Pembroke was but a pace behind him as
+he wrenched free his blade. The two turned back together and started at
+speed for the palisade. At the gate they met others hurrying in,
+Pembroke's men joining in the rush of the frightened villagers. Among
+these the Iroquois pressed with shrill yells, plying knife and bow and
+hatchet as they ran, and the horrified eyes of those within the palisade
+saw many a tragedy enacted.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Watch the gate!&quot; cried Pierre Noir, from his station in the corner
+tower. As he spoke there came a rush of screaming Iroquois, who sought
+to gain the entrance.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Now!&quot; cried Pierre Noir, discharging his piece into the crowded ranks
+below him; and shot after shot followed his own. The packed brown mass
+gave back and resolved itself into scattered units, who broke and ran
+for the nearest cover.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;They will not come on again until dark,&quot; said Pierre Noir, calmly
+leaning his piece against the wall. &quot;Therefore I may attend to certain
+little matters.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He passed out into the entry-way, where lay the bodies of three
+Iroquois, abandoned, under the close and deadly fire, by their
+companions where they had fallen. When Pierre Noir returned and calmly
+propped up again the door of slabs which he had removed, he carried in
+his hand three tufts of long black hair, from which dripped heavy gouts
+of blood.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Good God, man!&quot; said Pembroke. &quot;You must not be savage as these
+Indians!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Speak for yourself, Monsieur Anglais,&quot; replied Pierre, stoutly. &quot;You
+need not save these head pieces if you do not care for them. For myself,
+'tis part of the trade.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Assuredly,&quot; broke in Jean Breboeuf. &quot;We keep these trinkets, we
+<i>voyageurs</i> of the French. Make no doubt that Jean Breboeuf will take
+back with him full tale of the Indians he has killed. Presently I go
+out. Zip! goes my knife, and off comes the topknot of Monsieur Indian,
+him I killed but now as he ran. Then I shall dry the scalp here by the
+fire, and mount it on a bit of willow, and take it back for a present to
+my sweetheart, Susanne Duch&eacute;ne, on the seignieury at home.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Bravo, Jean!&quot; cried out the old Indian fighter, Pierre Noir, the old
+baresark rage of the fighting man now rising hot in his blood. &quot;And
+look! Here come more chances for our little ornaments.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Pierre Noir for once had been mistaken and underestimated the courage of
+the warriors of the Onondagos. Lashing themselves to fury at the thought
+of their losses, they came on again, now banding and charging in the
+open close up to the walls of the palisade. Again the little party of
+whites maintained a steady fire, and again the Iroquois, baffled and
+enraged, fell back into the wood, whence they poured volley after volley
+rattling against the walls of the sturdy fortress.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I am sorry, sir,&quot; said Sergeant Gray to Pembroke, &quot;but 'tis all up with
+me.&quot; The poor fellow staggered against the wall, and in a few moments
+all was indeed over with him. A chance shot had pierced his chest.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;<i>Peste!</i> If this keeps up,&quot; said Pierre Noir, &quot;there will not be many
+of us left by morning. I never saw them fight so well. 'Tis a good watch
+we'll need this night.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>In fact, all through the night the Iroquois tried every stratagem of
+their savage warfare. With ear-splitting yells they came close up to the
+stockade, and in one such charge two or three of their young men even
+managed to climb to the tops of the pointed stakes, though but to meet
+their death at the muzzles of the muskets within. Then there arose
+curving lines of fire from without the walls, half circles which
+terminated at last in little jarring thuds, where blazing arrows fell
+and stood in log, or earth, or unprotected roof. These projectiles,
+wrapped with lighted birch bark, served as fire brands, and danger
+enough they carried. Yet, after some fashion, the little garrison kept
+down these incipient blazes, held together the terrified Illini,
+repulsed each repeated charge of the Iroquois, and so at last wore
+through the long and fearful night.</p>
+
+<p>The sun was just rising across the tops of the distant groves when the
+Iroquois made their next advance. It came not in the form of a concerted
+attack, but of an appeal for peace. A party of the savages left their
+cover and approached the fortress, waving their hands above their heads.
+One of them presently advanced alone.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What is it, Pierre?&quot; asked Law. &quot;What does the fellow want?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I care not what he wants,&quot; said Pierre Noir, carefully adjusting the
+lock of his piece and steadily regarding the savage as he approached;
+&quot;but I'll wager you a year's pay he never gets alive past yonder stump.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Stay!&quot; cried Pembroke, catching at the barrel of the leveled gun. &quot;I
+believe he would talk with us.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What does he say, Pierre?&quot; asked Law. &quot;Speak to him, if you can.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;He wants to know,&quot; said Pierre, as the messenger at length stopped and
+began a harangue, &quot;whether we are English or French. He says something
+about there being a big peace between Corlaer and Onontio; by which he
+means, gentlemen, the governor at New York and the governor at Quebec.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Tell him,&quot; cried Pembroke, with a sudden thought, &quot;that I am an
+officer of Corlaer, and that Corlaer bids the Iroquois to bring in all
+the prisoners they have taken. Tell him that the French are going to
+give up all their prisoners to us, and that the Iroquois must leave the
+war path, or my Lord Bellomont will take the war trail and wipe their
+villages off the earth.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Something in this speech as conveyed to the savage seemed to give him a
+certain concern. He retired, and presently his place was taken by a tall
+and stately figure, dressed in the full habiliments of an Iroquois
+chieftain. He came on calmly and proudly, his head erect, and in his
+extended hand the long-stemmed pipe of peace. Pierre Noir heaved a deep
+sigh of relief.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Unless my eyes deceive me,&quot; said he, &quot;'tis old Teganisoris himself, one
+of the head men of the Onondagos. If so, there is some hope, for
+Teganisoris is wise enough to know when peace is best.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>It was, indeed, that noted chieftain of the Iroquois who now advanced
+close up to the wall. Law and Pembroke stepped out to meet him beyond
+the palisade, the old <i>voyageur</i> still serving as interpreter from the
+platform at their back.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;He says&mdash;listen, Messieurs!&mdash;he says he knows there is going to be a
+big peace; that the Iroquois are tired of fighting and that their
+hearts are sore. He says&mdash;a most manifest lie, I beg you to observe,
+Messieurs&mdash;that he loves the English, and that, although he ought to
+kill the Frenchmen of our garrison, he will, since some of us are
+English, and hence his friends, spare us all if we will cease to fight.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Pembroke turned to Law with question in his eye.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There must be something done,&quot; said the latter in a low tone. &quot;We were
+short enough of ammunition here even before Du Mesne left for the
+settlements, and your own men have none too much left.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Reflect! Bethink yourselves, Englishmen!' he says to us,&quot; continued
+Pierre Noir. &quot;'We came to make war upon the Illini. Our work here is
+done. 'Tis time now that we went back to our villages. If there is to be
+a big peace, the Iroquois must be there; for unless the Iroquois demand
+it, there can be no peace at all.' And, gentlemen, I beg you to remember
+it is an Iroquois who is talking, and that the truth is not in the
+tongue of an Iroquois.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis a desperate chance, Mr. Law,&quot; said Pembroke. &quot;Yet if we keep up
+the fight here, there can be but one end.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis true,&quot; said Law; &quot;and there are others to be considered.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>It was hurriedly thus concluded. Law finally advanced toward the tall
+figure of the Iroquois headman, and looked him straight in the face.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Tell him,&quot; said he to Pierre Noir, &quot;that we are all English, and that
+we are not afraid; and that if we are harmed, the armies of Corlaer will
+destroy the Iroquois, even as the Iroquois have the Illini. Tell him
+that we will go back with him to the settlements because we are willing
+to go that way upon a journey which we had already planned. We could
+fight forever if we chose, and he can see for himself by the bodies of
+his young men how well we are able to make war.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It is well,&quot; replied Teganisoris. &quot;You have the word of an Iroquois
+that this shall be done, as I have said.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The word of an Iroquois!&quot; cried Pierre Noir, slamming down the butt of
+his musket. &quot;The word of a snake, say rather! Jean Breboeuf, harken you
+to what our leaders have agreed! We are to go as prisoners of the
+Iroquois! Mary, Mother of God, what folly! And there is madame, and <i>la
+pauvre petite</i>, that infant so young. By God! Were it left to me, Pierre
+Berthier would stand here, and fight to the end. I know these Iroquois!&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='BOOK_II_CHAPTER_XII'></a><h3>CHAPTER XII</h3>
+
+<h4>PRISONERS OF THE IROQUOIS</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>The faith of the Iroquois was worse than Punic, nor was there lacking
+swift proof of its real nature. Law and Pembroke, the moment they had
+led their little garrison beyond the gate, found themselves surrounded
+by a ring of tomahawks and drawn bows. Their weapons were snatched away
+from them, and on the instant they found themselves beyond all
+possibility of that resistance whose giving over they now bitterly
+repented. Teganisoris regarded them with a sardonic smile.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I see you are all English,&quot; said he, &quot;though some of you wear blue
+coats. These we may perhaps adopt into our tribe, for our boys grow up
+but slowly, and some of the blue coats are good fighters. These dogs of
+Illini we shall of course burn. As for your war house, you will no
+longer need it, since you are now friends of the Iroquois, and are going
+to their villages. You may say to Corlaer that you well know the
+Iroquois have no prisoners.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The horrid significance of this threat was all too soon made plain. In
+an hour the little stockade was but a mass of embers and ashes. In
+another hour the little valley had become a Gehenna of anguish and
+lamentations, with whose riot of grief and woe there mingled the savage
+exultations of a foe whose treachery was but surpassed by his cruelty.
+Again the planting-ground of the Illini was utterly laid waste, to mark
+it naught remaining but trampled grain, and heaps of ashes, and remnants
+of blackened and incinerated bones. By nightfall the party of prisoners
+had begun a wild journey through the wilderness, whose horrors surpassed
+any they had supposed to be humanly endurable.</p>
+
+<p>Day after day, week after week, for more than a month, and much of the
+time in winter weather, they toiled on, part of the way by boat, the
+remainder of the journey on foot, crossing snow-clogged forest, and
+tangled thicket and frozen morass, yet daring not to drop out for rest,
+since to lag might mean to die. It was as though after some frightful
+nightmare of suffering and despair that at length they reached the
+villages of the Five Nations, located far to the east, at the foot of
+the great waterway which Law and his family had ascended more than a
+year before.</p>
+
+<p>Yet if that which had gone before seemed like some bitter dream, surely
+the day of awakening promised but little better hope. From village to
+village, footsore and ill, they were hurried without rest, at each new
+stopping place the central figures of a barbarous triumph; and nowhere
+did they meet the representatives of either the French or the English
+government, whose expected presence had constituted their one ground of
+hope.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Where is your big peace?&quot; asked Teganisoris of Pembroke. &quot;Where are the
+head men of Corlaer? Who brings presents to the Iroquois, and who is to
+tell us that Onontio has carried the pipe of peace to Corlaer? Here are
+our villages as when we left them, and here again are we, save for the
+absent ones who have been killed by your young men. It is no wonder that
+my people are displeased.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Indeed those of the Iroquois who had remained at home clamored
+continually that some of the prisoners should be given over to them.
+Thus, in doubt, uncertainty and terror the party passed through the
+villages, moving always eastward, until at length they arrived at the
+fortified town where Teganisoris made his home, a spot toward the foot
+of Lake Ontario, and not widely removed from that stupendous cataract
+which, from the beginning of earth, had uplifted its thunderous
+diapason here in the savage wilderness&mdash;Ontoneagrea, object of
+superstitious awe among all the tribes.</p>
+
+<p>Time hung heavy on the hands of the savages. It was winter, and the
+parties had all returned from the war trails. The mutterings arose yet
+more loudly among families who had lost most heavily in these Western
+expeditions. The shrewd mind of Teganisoris knew that some new thing
+must be planned. He announced his decision at his own village, after the
+triumphal progress among the tribes had at length been concluded.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Since they have sent us no presents,&quot; said he, with that daring
+diplomacy which made him a leader in red statesmanship, &quot;let those who
+stayed at home be given some prisoner in pay for those of their people
+who have been killed. Moreover, let us offer to the Great Spirit some
+sacrifice in propitiation; since surely the Great Spirit is offended.&quot;
+Such was the conclusion of this head man of the Onondagos, and fateful
+enough it was to the prisoners.</p>
+
+<p>The great gorge through which poured the vast waters of the Northern
+seas was a spot not always visited by those passing up the Great Lakes
+for the Western stations, nor down the Lakes to the settlements of the
+St. Lawrence. Yet there was a trail which led around the great cataract,
+and the occasional <i>coureurs de bois</i>, or the passing friars, or the
+adventurous merchants of the lower settlements now and again left that
+trail, and came to look upon the tremendous scene of the great falling
+of the waters. Here where the tumult ascended up to heaven, and where
+the white-blown wreaths of mist might indeed, even in an imagination
+better than that of a savage, have been construed into actual forms of
+spirits, the Indians had, from time immemorial, made their offerings to
+the genius of the cataract&mdash;strips of rude cloth, the skin of the beaver
+and the otter, baskets woven of sweet grasses, and, after the advent of
+the white man, pieces of metal or strings of precious beads. Such valued
+things as these were in rude adoration placed upon rocks or uplifted
+scaffolds near to the brink of the abyss. This was the spot most
+commonly chosen by the medicine man in the pursuit of his incantations.
+It was the church, the wild and savage cathedral of the red men.</p>
+
+<p>Following now the command of their chieftain, the Iroquois left their
+stationary lodges and moved in a body, pitching a temporary camp at a
+spot not far from the Falls. Here, in a great council lodge, the older
+men sat in deliberation for a full day and night. The dull drum sounded
+continually, the council pipe went round, and the warriors besought the
+spirits to give them knowledge. The savage hysteria, little by little,
+yet steadily, arose higher and higher, until at length it reached that
+point of frenzy where naught could suffice save some terrible, some
+tremendous thing.</p>
+
+<p>Enforced spectators of these curious and ominous ceremonies, the
+prisoners looked on, wondering, imagining, hesitating and fearing.
+&quot;Monsieur,&quot; said Pierre Noir, turning at last to Law, &quot;it grieves me to
+speak, yet 'tis best for you to know the truth. It is to be you or
+Monsieur Pembroke. They will not have me. They say that it must be one
+of you two great chiefs, for that you were brave, your hearts were
+strong, and that hence you would find favor as the adopted child of the
+Great Spirit who has been offended.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Law looked at Pembroke, and they both regarded Mary Connynge and the
+babe. &quot;At least,&quot; said Law, &quot;they spare the woman and the child. So far
+very well. Sir Arthur, we are at the last hazard.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I have asked them to take me,&quot; said Pierre Noir, &quot;for I am an old man
+and have no family. But they will not listen to me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Pembroke passed his hand wearily across his face. &quot;I have behind me so
+long a memory of suffering,&quot; said he, &quot;and before me so small an amount
+of promise, that for myself I am content to let it end. It comes to all
+sooner or later, according to our fate.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You speak,&quot; said Law, &quot;as though it were determined. Yet Pierre says it
+will not be both of us, but one.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Pembroke smiled sadly. &quot;Why, sir,&quot; said he, &quot;do you think me so sorry a
+fellow as that? Look!&quot; and he pointed to Mary Connynge and the child.
+&quot;There is your duty.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Law followed his gaze, and his look was returned dumbly by the woman who
+had played so strange a part in the late passages of his life. Never a
+word with her had Law spoken regarding his plans or concerning what he
+had learned from Pembroke. As to this, Mary Connynge had been afraid to
+ask, nor dare ask even now.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Besides,&quot; went on Pembroke later, as he called Law aside, &quot;there is
+something to be done&mdash;not here, but over there, in England, or in
+France. Your duty is involved not only with this woman. You must find
+sometime the other woman. You must see the Lady Catharine Knollys.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Law sunk his head between his hands and groaned bitterly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Go you rather,&quot; said he, &quot;and spend your life for her. I choose that it
+should end at once, and here.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I have not been wont to call Mr. Law a coward,&quot; said Pembroke, simply.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I should be a coward if I should stand aside and allow you to sacrifice
+yourself; nor shall I do so,&quot; replied the other.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;They say,&quot; broke in Pierre Noir, who had been listening to the excited
+harangues of first one warrior and then another, &quot;that both warriors are
+great chiefs, and that both should go together. Teganisoris insists that
+only one shall be offered. This last has been almost agreed; but which
+one of you 'tis to be has not yet been determined.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Dawn came through the narrow door and open roof holes of the lodge. The
+rising of the sun seemed to bring conviction to the Iroquois. All at
+once the savage council broke up and scattered into groups, which
+hurried to different parts of the village. Presently these reappeared at
+the central lodge. There sounded a concerted savage chant. A ragged
+column appeared, whose head was faced toward the cataract. There were
+those who bore strings of beads and strips of fur, even the prized
+treasures of the tufted scalp locks, whose tresses, combed smooth, were
+adorned with colored cloth and feathers.</p>
+
+<p>Pierre Noir was silent; yet, as the captives looked, they needed no
+advice that the sacrificial procession was now forming.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;They said,&quot; began Pierre Noir, at length, with trembling voice, turning
+his eyes aside as he spoke, &quot;that it could not be myself, that it must
+be one of you, and but one. They are going to cast lots for it. It is
+Teganisoris who has proposed that the lots shall be thrown by&mdash;&quot; Pierre
+Noir faltered, unwilling to go on.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And by whom?&quot; asked Law, quietly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;By&mdash;by the woman&mdash;by madame!&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='BOOK_II_CHAPTER_XIII'></a><h3>CHAPTER XIII</h3>
+
+<h4>THE SACRIFICE</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>There was sometimes practised among the Iroquois a game which bore a
+certain resemblance to the casting of dice, as the latter is known among
+civilized peoples. The method of the play was simple. Two oblong
+polished bones, of the bigness of a man's finger, were used as the dice.
+The ends of these were ground thin and were rudely polished. One of the
+dice was stained red, the other left white. The players in the game
+marked out a line on the hard ground, and then each in turn cast up the
+two dice into the air, throwing them from some receptacle. The game was
+determined by the falling of the red bone, he who cast this colored bone
+closer to the line upon the ground being declared the winner. The game
+was simple, and depended much upon chance. If the red die fell flat upon
+its face at a point near to the line, it was apt to lie close to the
+spot where it dropped. On the other hand, did it alight upon either end,
+it might bound back and fall at some little distance upon one side of
+the line.</p>
+
+<p>It was this game which, in horrible fashion, Teganisoris now proposed to
+play. He offered to the clamoring medicine man and his ferocious
+disciples one of these captives, whose death should appease not only the
+offended Great Spirit, but also the unsated vengeance of the tribe. He
+offered, at the same time, the spectacle of a play in which a human life
+should be the stake. He used as practical executioner the woman who was
+possessed by one of them, and who, in the crude notions of the savages,
+was no doubt coveted by both. It must be the hand of this woman that
+should cast the dice, a white one and a red one for each man, and he
+whose red die fell closer to the line was winner in the grim game of
+life and death.</p>
+
+<p>Jean Breboeuf and Pierre Noir stood apart, and tears poured from the
+eyes of both. They were hardened men, well acquainted with Indian
+warfare; they had seen the writhings of tortured victims, and more than
+once had faced such possibilities themselves; yet never had they seen
+sight like this.</p>
+
+<p>Near the two men stood Mary Connynge, the bright blood burning in her
+cheeks, her eyes dry and wide open, looking from one to the other. God,
+who gives to this earth the few Mary Connynges, alone knows the nature
+of those elements which made her, and the character of the conflict
+which now went on within her soul. Tell such a woman as Mary Connynge
+that she has a rival, and she will either love the more madly the man
+whom she demands as her own, or with equal madness and with greater
+intensity will hate her lover with a hatred untying and unappeasable.</p>
+
+<p>Mary Connynge stood, her eyes glancing from one to the other of the men
+before her. She had seen them both proved brave men, strong of arm,
+undaunted of heart, both gallant gentlemen. God, who makes the Mary
+Connynges of this earth, only can tell whether or not there arose in the
+heart of this savage woman, this woman at bay, scorned, rebuked,
+mastered, this one question: Which? If Mary Connynge hated John Law, or
+if she loved him&mdash;ah! how must have pulsed her heart in agony, or in
+bitterness, as she took into her hand those lots which were the arbiters
+of life and death!</p>
+
+<p>Teganisoris looked about him and spoke a few rapid words. He caught Mary
+Connynge roughly by the shoulder and pulled her forward. The two men
+stood with faces set and gray in the pitiless light of morn. Their arms
+were fast bound behind their backs. Eagerly the crowding savages
+pressed up to them, gesticulating wildly, and peering again and again
+into their faces to discover any sign of weakness. They failed. The
+pride of birth, the strength of character, the sheer animal vigor of
+each man stood him in stead at this ultimate trial. Each had made up his
+mind to die. Each proposed, not doubting that he would be the one to
+draw the fatal lot, to die as a man and a gentleman.</p>
+
+<p>Teganisoris would play this game with all possible mystery and
+importance. It should be told generations hence about the council fires,
+how he, Teganisoris, devised this game, how he played it, how he drew it
+out link by link to the last atom of its agony. There was no receptacle
+at hand in which the dice could be placed. Teganisoris stooped, and
+without ceremony wrenched from Mary Connynge's foot the moccasin which
+covered it&mdash;the little shoe&mdash;beaded, beautiful, and now again fateful.
+Sir Arthur smiled as though in actual joy.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;My friend,&quot; said he, &quot;I have won! This might be the very slipper for
+which we played at the Green Lion long ago.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Law turned upon him a face pale and solemn. &quot;Sir,&quot; said he, &quot;I pray God
+that the issue may not be as when we last played. I pray God that the
+dice may elect me and not yourself.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You were ever lucky in the games of chance,&quot; replied Pembroke.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Too lucky,&quot; said Law. &quot;But the winner here is the loser, if it be
+myself.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Teganisoris roughly took from Mary Connynge's hand the little bits of
+bone. He cast them into the hollow of the moccasin and shook them
+dramatically together, holding them high above his head. Then he lowered
+them and took out from the receptacle two of the dice. He placed his
+hand on Law's shoulder, signifying that his was to be the first cast.
+Then he handed back the moccasin to the woman.</p>
+
+<p>Mary Connynge took the shoe in her hand and stepped forward to the line
+which had been drawn upon the ground. The red spots still burned upon
+her cheeks; her eyes, amber, feline, still flamed hard and dry. She
+still glanced rapidly from one to the other, her eye as lightly quick
+and as brilliant as that of the crouched cat about to spring.</p>
+
+<p>Which? Which would it be? Could she control this game? Could she elect
+which man should live and which should die&mdash;this woman, scorned, abased,
+mastered? Neither of these sought to read the riddle of her set face and
+blazing eyes. Each as he might offered his soul to his Creator.</p>
+
+<p>The hand of Mary Connynge was raised above her head. Her face was
+turned once more to John Law, her master, her commander, her repudiator.
+Slowly she turned the moccasin over in her hand. The white bone fell
+first, the red for a moment hanging in the soft folds of the buckskin.
+She shook it out. It fell with its face nearly parallel to the ground
+and alighted not more than a foot from the line, rebounding scarce more
+than an inch or so. Low exclamations arose from all around the thickened
+circle.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;As I said, my friend,&quot; cried Sir Arthur, &quot;I have won! The throw is
+passing close for you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Teganisoris again caught Mary Connynge by the shoulder, and dragged her
+a step or so farther along the line, the two dice being left on the
+ground as they had fallen. Once more, her hand arose, once more it
+turned, once more the dice were cast.</p>
+
+<p>The goddess of fortune still stood faithful to this bold young man who
+had so often confidently assumed her friendship. His life, later to be
+so intimately concerned with this same new savage country, was to be
+preserved for an ultimate opportunity.</p>
+
+<p>The white and the red bone fell together from the moccasin. Had it been
+the white that counted, Sir Arthur had been saved, for the white bone
+lay actually upon the line. The red fell almost as close, but alighted
+on its end. As though impelled by some spirit of evil, it dropped upon
+some little pebble or hard bit of earth, bounded into the air, fell, and
+rolled quite away from the mark!</p>
+
+<p>Even on that crowd of cruel savages there came a silence. Of the whites,
+one scarce dared look at the other. Slowly the faces of Pembroke and Law
+turned one toward the other.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Would God I could shake you by the hand,&quot; said Pembroke. &quot;Good by.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;As for you, dogs and worse than dogs,&quot; he cried, turning toward the red
+faces about him, &quot;mark you! where I stand the feet of the white man
+shall stand forever, and crush your faces into the dirt!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Whether or not the Iroquois understood his defiance could not be
+determined. With a wild shout they pressed upon him. Borne struggling
+and stumbling by the impulse of a dozen hands, Pembroke half walked and
+half was carried over the distance between the village and the brink of
+the chasm of Niagara.</p>
+
+<p>Until then it had not been apparent what was to be the nature of his
+fate, but when he looked upon the sliding floor of waters below him, and
+heard beyond the thunderous voices of the cataract, Pembroke knew what
+was to be his final portion.</p>
+
+<p>There was, at some distance above the great falls, a spot where descent
+was possible to the edge of the water. Pembroke's feet were loosened and
+he was compelled to descend the narrow path. A canoe was tethered at the
+shore, and the face of the young Englishman went pale as he realized
+what was to be the use assigned it. Bound again hand and foot, helpless,
+he was cast into this canoe. A strong arm sent the tiny craft out toward
+midstream.</p>
+
+<p>The hands of the great waters grasped the frail cockleshell, twisted it
+about, tossed it, played with it, and claimed it irrevocably for their
+own. For a few moments it was visible as it passed on down, with the
+resistless current of the mighty stream. Almost at the verge of the
+plunge, the eyes watching from the shore saw at a distance the struggle
+made by the victim. He half raised himself in the boat and threw himself
+against its side. It was overset. For one instant the cold sun shone
+glistening on the wet bark of the upturned craft. It was but a moment,
+and then there was no dot upon the solemn flood.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='BOOK_II_CHAPTER_XIV'></a><h3>CHAPTER XIV</h3>
+
+<h4>THE EMBASSY</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>&quot;Monsieur! Madame! Pierre Noir! Listen to me! I have saved you! I, Jean
+Breboeuf, I have rescued you!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>So spoke Jean Breboeuf, thrusting his head within the door of the lodge
+in which were the remaining prisoners of the Iroquois.</p>
+
+<p>It was indeed Jean Breboeuf who, strolling beyond the outer edge of the
+village, had been among the first to espy an approaching party of
+visitors. Of any travelers possible, none could have been more important
+to the prisoners. Too late, yet welcome even now, the embassy from New
+France among the Iroquois had arrived. In an instant the village was in
+an uproar.</p>
+
+<p>The leader of this embassy from Quebec was one Captain Joncaire, at that
+time of the French settlements, but in former years a prisoner among the
+Onondagos, where he was adopted into the tribe and much respected.
+Joncaire was accompanied by a priest of the Jesuit brotherhood, by a
+young officer late of the regiment Carignan, and by two or three petty
+Canadian officials, as well as a struggling retinue of savages picked up
+on the way between Lake George and the Indian villages. He advanced now
+at the head of his little party, bearing in his hand a wampum belt. He
+pushed aside the young men, and demanded that he be brought to the chief
+of the village. Teganisoris himself presently advanced to meet him, and
+of him Joncaire demanded that there should at once be called a full
+council of the tribe; with which request the chief of the Onondagos
+hastened to comply.</p>
+
+<p>Fully accustomed to such ceremonies, Joncaire sat in the council calmly
+listening to the speeches of its orators, and at length arose for his
+own reply. &quot;Brothers,&quot; said he, &quot;I have here&quot;&mdash;and he drew from his
+tunic a copy of the decree of Louis XIV declaring peace between the
+French and the English colonies&mdash;&quot;a talking paper. This is the will of
+Onontio, whom you love and fear, and it is the will of the great father
+across the water, whom Onontio loves and fears. This talking paper says
+that our young men of the French colonies are no longer to go to war
+against Corlaer. The hatchet has been buried by the two great fathers.
+Brothers, I have come to tell you that it is time for the Iroquois also
+to bury the hatchet, and to place upon it heavy stones, so that it
+never again can be dug up.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Brothers, as you know, the great canoes from across the sea are
+bringing more and more white men. Look about you, and tell me where are
+your fathers and your brothers and your sons? Half your fighting men are
+gone; and if you turn to the West to seek out strong young men from the
+other tribes, which of them will come to sit by your fires and be your
+brothers? The war trails of the Nations have gone to the West as far as
+the Great River. All the country has been at war. The friends of Onontio
+beyond Michilimackinac have been so busy fighting that they have
+forgotten to take the beaver, or if they have taken it, they have been
+afraid to bring it down the water trail to us, lest the Iroquois or the
+English should rob them.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Brothers, a great peace is now declared. Onontio, the father of all the
+red men, has taken the promises of his children, the Hurons, the
+Algonquins, the Miamis, the Illini, the Outagamies, the Ojibways, all
+those peoples who live to the west, that they will follow the war trail
+no more. Next summer there will be a great council. Onontio and Corlaer
+have agreed to call the tribes to meet at the Mountain in the St.
+Lawrence. Onontio says to you that he will give you back your prisoners,
+and now he demands that you in return give back those whom you may have
+with you. This is his will; and if you fail him, you know how heavy is
+his hand.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Brothers, I see that you have prisoners here, white prisoners. These
+must be given up to us. I will take them with me when I return. For your
+Indian captives, it is the will of Onontio that you bring them all to
+the Great Peace in the summer, and that you then, all of you, help to
+dig the great hill under which the hatchet is going to be buried. Then
+once more our rivers will not be red, and will look more like water. The
+sun will not shine red, but will look as the sun should look. The sky
+will again be blue. Our women and our children will no longer be afraid,
+and you Iroquois can go to sleep in your houses and not dread the arms
+of the French. Brothers, I have spoken. Peace is good.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Teganisoris replied in the same strain as that chosen by Joncaire,
+assuring him that he was his brother; that his heart went out to him;
+that the Iroquois loved the French; and that if they had gone to war
+with them, it was but because the young men of Corlaer had closed their
+eyes so that they could not see the truth. &quot;As to these prisoners,&quot; said
+he, &quot;take them with you. We do not want them with us, for we fear they
+may bring us harm. Our medicine man counseled us to offer up one of
+these prisoners as a sacrifice to the Great Spirit. We did so. Now our
+medicine man has a bad dream. He says that the white men are going to
+come and tear down our houses and trample our fields. When the time
+comes for the peace, the Iroquois will be at the Mountain. Brother, we
+will bury the hatchet, and bury it so deep that henceforth none may ever
+again dig it up.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It is well,&quot; said Joncaire, abruptly. &quot;My brothers are wise. Now let
+the council end, for my path is long and I must travel back to Onontio
+at once.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Joncaire knew well enough the fickle nature of these savages, who might
+upon the morrow demand another council and perhaps arrive at different
+conclusions. Hearing there were no white prisoners in the villages
+farther to the west, he resolved to set forth at once upon the return
+with those now at hand. Hurrying, therefore, as soon as might be, to
+their leader, he urged him to make ready forthwith for the journey back
+to the St. Lawrence.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Unless I much mistake, Monsieur,&quot; said he to Law, &quot;you are that same
+gentleman who so set all Quebec by the ears last winter. My faith! The
+regiment Carignan had cause to rejoice when you left for up river, even
+though you took with you half the ready coin of the settlement. Yet come
+you once more to meet the gentlemen of France, and I doubt not they
+will be glad as ever to stake you high, as may be in this
+poverty-stricken region. You have been far to the westward, I doubt not.
+You were, perhaps, made prisoner somewhere below the Straits.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Far below; among the tribe of the Illini, in the valley of the
+Messasebe.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You tell me so! I had thought no white man left in that valley for this
+season. And madame&mdash;this child&mdash;surely 'twas the first white infant born
+in the great valley.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And the most unfortunate.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Nay, how can you say that, since you have come more than half a
+thousand miles and are all safe and sound to-day? Glad enough we shall
+be to have you and madame with us for the winter, if, indeed, it be not
+for longer dwelling. I can not take you now to the English settlements,
+since I must back to the governor with the news. Yet dull enough you
+would find these Dutch of the Hudson, and worse yet the blue-nosed
+psalmodists of New England. Much better for you and your good lady are
+the gayer capitals of New France, or <i>la belle France</i> itself, that
+older France. Monsieur, how infinitely more fit for a gentleman of
+spirit is France than your dull England and its Dutch king! Either New
+France or Old France, let me advise you; and as to that new West, let
+me counsel that you wait until after the Big Peace. And, in speaking,
+your friend, Du Mesne, your lieutenant, the <i>coureur</i>&mdash;his fate, I
+suppose, one need not ask. He was killed&mdash;where?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Law recounted the division of his party just previous to the Iroquois
+attack, and added his concern lest Du Mesne should return to the former
+station during the spring and find but its ruins, with no news of the
+fate of his friends.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, as to that&mdash;'twould be but the old story of the <i>voyageurs</i>,&quot; said
+Joncaire. &quot;They are used enough to journeying a thousand miles or so, to
+find the trail end in a heap of ashes, and to the tune of a scalp dance.
+Fear not for your lieutenant, for, believe me, he has fended for himself
+if there has been need. Yet I would warrant you, now that this word for
+the peace has gone out, we shall see your friend Du Mesne as big as life
+at the Mountain next summer, knowing as much of your history as you
+yourself do, and quite counting upon meeting you with us on the St.
+Lawrence, and madame as well. As to that, methinks madame will be better
+with us on the St. Lawrence than on the savage Messasebe. We have none
+too many dames among us, and I need not state, what monsieur's eyes have
+told him every morning&mdash;that a fairer never set foot from ship from
+over seas. Witness my lieutenant yonder, Raoul de Ligny! He is thus soon
+all devotion! Mother of God! but we are well met here, in this
+wilderness, among the savages. <i>Voil&agrave;</i>, Monsieur! We take you again
+captive, and 'tis madame enslaves us all!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>There had indeed ensued conversation between the young French officer
+above named and Mary Connynge; yet prompt as might have been the former
+with gallant attentions to so fair a captive, it could not have been
+said that he was allowed the first advances. Mary Connynge, even after a
+month of starving foot travel and another month of anxiety at the
+Iroquois villages, had lost neither her rounded body, her brilliance of
+eye and color, nor her subtle magnetism of personality. It had taken
+stronger head than that of Raoul de Ligny to withstand even her slight
+request. How, then, as to Mary Connynge supplicating, entreating,
+craving of him protection?</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah, you brave Frenchmen,&quot; said she to De Ligny, advancing to him as he
+stood apart, twisting his mustaches and not unmindful of this very
+possibility of a conversation with the captive. &quot;You brave Frenchmen,
+how can we thank you for our salvation? It was all so horrible!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It is our duty to save all, Madame,&quot; rejoined De Ligny; &quot;our happiness
+unspeakable to save such as Madame. I swear by my sword, I had as soon
+expected to find an angel with the Iroquois as to meet there Madame!
+Quebec&mdash;all Quebec has told me who Madame was and is. And I am your
+slave.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, sir, could you but mean that!&quot; and there was turned upon him the
+full power of a gaze which few men had ever been able to withstand. The
+blood of De Ligny tingled as he bowed and replied.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;If Madame could but demand one proof.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Mary Connynge stepped closer to him. &quot;Hush!&quot; she said. &quot;Speak low! Do
+not let it seem that we are interested. Keep your own counsel. Can you
+do this?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The eyes of the young officer gleamed. He was bold enough to respond.
+This his temptress noted.</p>
+
+<p>He nodded.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You see that man&mdash;the tall one, John Law? Listen! It is from him I ask
+you to save me. Oh, sir, there is my captivity!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What! Your husband?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;He is not my husband.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;<i>Mais</i>&mdash;a thousand pardons. The child&mdash;your pardon.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Pish! 'Tis the child of an Indian woman.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh!&quot; The blood again came to the young gallant's forehead.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Listen, I tell you! I have been scarce better than a prisoner in this
+man's hands. He has abused me, threatened me, would have beaten me&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Madame&mdash;Mademoiselle!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis true. We have been far in the West, and I could not escape. Good
+Providence has now brought my rescue&mdash;and you, Monsieur! Oh! tell me
+that it has brought me safety, and also a friend&mdash;that it has brought me
+you!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>With every pulse a-tingle, every vein afire, what could the young
+gallant do? What but yield, but promise, but swear, but rage?</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Hush!&quot; said Mary Connynge, her own eyes gleaming. &quot;Wait! The time will
+come. So soon as we reach the settlements, I leave him, and forever!
+Then&mdash;&quot; Their hands met swiftly. &quot;He has abandoned me,&quot; murmured Mary
+Connynge. &quot;He has not spoken to me for weeks, other than words of 'Yes,'
+or 'No,' 'Do this,' or 'Do that!' Wait! Wait! How soon shall we be at
+Montr&eacute;al?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Less than a month. 'Twill seem an age, I swear!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Madam,&quot; interrupted Law, &quot;pardon, but Monsieur Joncaire bids us be
+ready. Come, help me arrange the packs for our journey. Perhaps
+Lieutenant de Ligny&mdash;for so I think they name you, sir&mdash;will pardon us,
+and will consent to resume his conversation later.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Assuredly,&quot; said De Ligny. &quot;I shall wait, Monsieur.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;So, Madam,&quot; said Law to Mary Connynge, as they at last found themselves
+alone in the lodge, arranging their few belongings for transport, &quot;we
+are at last to regain the settlements, and for a time, at least, must
+forego our home in the farther West. In time&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, in time! What mean you?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, we may return.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Never! I have had my fill of savaging. That we are left alive is mighty
+merciful. To go thither again&mdash;never!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And if I go?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;As you like.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Meaning, Madam&mdash;?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What you like.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Law seated himself on the corded pack, bringing the tips of his fingers
+together.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then my late sweetheart has somewhat changed her fancy?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I have no fancy left. What I was once to you I shall not recall more
+than I can avoid in my own mind. As to what you heard from that lying
+man, Sir Arthur&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Listen! Stop! Neither must you insult the dead nor the absent. I have
+never told you what I learned from Sir Arthur, though it was enough to
+set me well distraught.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I doubt not that he told you 'twas I who befooled Lady Catharine; that
+'twas I who took the letter which you sent&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Stay! No. He told me not so much as that. But he and you together have
+told me enough to show me that I was the basest wretch on earth, the
+most gullible, the most unspeakably false and cruel. How could I have
+doubted the faith of Lady Catharine&mdash;how, but for you? Oh, Mary
+Connynge, Mary Connynge! Would God a man were so fashioned he might
+better withstand the argument of soft flesh and shining eyes! I admit, I
+believed the disloyal one, and doubted her who was loyalty itself.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And you would go back into the wilderness with one who was as false as
+you say.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Never!&quot; replied John Law, swiftly. &quot;'Tis as you yourself say. 'Tis all
+over. Hell itself hath followed me. Now let it all go, one with the
+other, little with big. I did not forget, nor should I though I tried
+again. Back to Europe, back to the gaming tables, to the wheels and
+cards I go again, and plunge into it madder than ever did man before.
+Let us see if chance can bring John Law anything worse than what he has
+already known. But, Madam, doubt not. So long as you claim my
+protection, here or anywhere on earth&mdash;in the West, in France, in
+England&mdash;it is yours; for I pay for my folly like a man, be assured of
+that. The child is ours, and it must be considered. But once let me find
+you in unfaithfulness&mdash;once let me know that you resign me&mdash;then John
+Law is free! I shall sometime see Catharine Knollys again. I shall give
+her my heart's anguish, and I shall have her heart's scorn in return.
+And then, Mary Connynge, the cards, dice, perhaps drink&mdash;perhaps gold,
+and the end. Madam, remember! And now come!&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='BOOK_II_CHAPTER_XV'></a><h3>CHAPTER XV</h3>
+
+<h4>THE GREAT PEACE</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>Of the long and bitter journey from the Iroquois towns to Lake St.
+George, down the Richelieu and thence through the deep snows of the
+Canadian winter, it boots little to make mention; neither to tell of
+that devotion of Raoul de Ligny to the newly-rescued lady, already
+reputed in camp rumor to be of noble English family.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That <i>sous-lieutenant</i>; he is <i>t&ecirc;te mont&eacute;e</i> regarding madame,&quot; said
+Pierre Noir one evening to Jean Breboeuf. &quot;As to that&mdash;well, you know
+Monsieur L'as. Pouf! So much for yon monkey, <i>par comparaison</i>.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;He is a great <i>capitaine</i>, Monsieur L'as,&quot; said Jean Breboeuf. &quot;Never a
+better went beyond the Straits.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But very sad of late.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, <i>oui</i>, since the death of his friend, Monsieur <i>le Capitaine</i>
+Pembroke&mdash;may Mary aid his spirit!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Monsieur L'as goes not on the trail again,&quot; said Pierre Noir. &quot;At
+least not while this look is in his eye.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The more the loss, Pierre Noir; but some day the woods will call to him
+again. I know not how long it may be, yet some day Mother Messasebe will
+raise her finger and beckon to Monsieur L'as, and say: 'Come, my son!'
+'Tis thus, as you know, Pierre Noir.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Yet at length the straggling settlements at Montr&eacute;al were reached, and
+here, after the fashion of the frontier, some sort of <i>m&eacute;nage</i> was
+inaugurated for Law and his party. Here they lived through the rest of
+the winter and through the long, slow spring.</p>
+
+<p>And then set on again the heats of summer, and there came apace the time
+agreed upon, in the month of August, for the widely heralded assembling
+of the tribes for the Great Peace; one of the most picturesque, as it
+was one of the most remarkable and significant meetings of widely
+diverse human beings, that ever took place within the ken of history.</p>
+
+<p>They came, these savages, now first owning the strength of the invading
+white men, from all the far and unknown corners of the Western
+wilderness. They came afoot, and with little trains of dogs, in single
+canoes, in little groups and growing flotillas and vast fleets of
+canoes, pushing on and on, down stream, following the tide of the furs
+down this pathway of more than a thousand miles. The Iroquois, for once
+mindful of a promise, came in a compact fleet, a hundred canoes strong,
+and they stalked about the island for days, naked, stark, gigantic,
+contemptuous of white and red men, of friend and foe alike. The
+scattered Algonquins, whose villages had been razed by these same savage
+warriors, came down by scores out of the Northern woods, along little,
+unknown streams, and over paths with which none but themselves were
+acquainted. From the North, group joined group, and village added itself
+to village, until a vast body of people had assembled, whose numbers
+would have been hard to estimate, and who proved difficult enough to
+accommodate. Yet from the farther West, adding their numbers to those
+already gathered, came the fleets of the driven Hurons, and the
+Ojibways, and the Miamis, and the Outagamies, and the Ottawas, the
+Menominies and the Mascoutins&mdash;even the Illini, late objects of the
+wrath of the Five Nations. The whole Western wilderness poured forth its
+savage population, till all the shores of the St. Lawrence seemed one
+vast aboriginal encampment. These massed at the rendezvous about the
+puny settlement of Montr&eacute;al in such numbers that, in comparison, the
+white population seemed insignificant. Then, had there been a Pontiac or
+a Tecumseh, had there been one leader of the tribes able to teach the
+strength of unity, the white settlements of upper America had indeed
+been utterly destroyed. Naught but ancient tribal jealousies held the
+savages apart.</p>
+
+<p>With these tribesmen were many prisoners, captives taken in raids all
+along the thin and straggling frontier; farmers and artisans, peasants
+and soldiers, women raped from the farms of the Richelieu <i>censitaires</i>,
+and wood-rangers now grown savage as their captors and loth to leave the
+wild life into which they had so naturally grown. It was the first
+reflex of the wave, and even now the bits of flotsam and jetsam of wild
+life were fain to cling to the Western shore whither they had been
+carried by the advancing flood. This was the meeting of the ebb with the
+sea that sent it forward, the meeting of civilized and savage; and
+strange enough was the nature of those confluent tides. Whether the red
+men were yielding to civilization, or the whites all turning
+savage&mdash;this question might well have arisen to an observer of this
+tremendous spectacle. The wigwams of the different tribes and clans and
+families were grouped apart, scattered along all the narrow shore back
+of the great hill, and over the Convent gardens; and among these
+stalked the native French, clad in coarse cloth of blue, with gaudy belt
+and buckskins, and cap of fur and moccasins of hide, mingling
+fraternally with their tufted and bepainted visitors, as well as with
+those rangers, both envied and hated, the savage <i>coureurs de bois</i> of
+the far Northern fur trade; men bearded, silent, stern, clad in
+breech-clout and leggings like any savage, as silent, as stoical, as
+hardy on the trail as on the narrow thwart of the canoe.</p>
+
+<p>Savage feastings, riotings and drunkenness, and long debaucheries came
+with the Great Peace, when once the word had gone out that the fur trade
+was to be resumed. Henceforth there was to be peace. The French were no
+longer to raid the little cabins along the Kennebec and the Penobscot.
+The river Richelieu was to be no longer a red war trail. The English
+were no longer to offer arms and blankets for the beaver, belonging by
+right of prior discovery to those who offered French brandy and French
+beads. The Iroquois were no longer to pursue a timid foe across the
+great prairies of the valley of the Messasebe. The Ojibways were not to
+ambush the scattered parties of the Iroquois. The unambitious colonists
+of New England and New York were to be left to till their stony farms in
+quiet. Meantime, the fur trade, wasteful, licentious, unprofitable, was
+to extend onward and outward in all the marches of the West. From one
+end of the Great River of the West to the other the insignia of France
+and of France's king were to be erected, and France's posts were to hold
+all the ancient trails. Even at the mouth of the Great River,
+forestalling these sullen English and these sluggish English colonists,
+far to the south in the somber forests and miasmatic marshes, there was
+to be established one more ruling point for the arms of Louis the Grand.
+It was a great game this, for which the continent of America was in
+preparation. It was a mighty thing, this gathering of the Great Peace,
+this time when colonists and their king were seeing the first breaking
+of the wave on the shore of an empire alluring, wonderful, unparalleled.</p>
+
+<p>Into this wild rabble of savages and citizens, of priest and soldier and
+<i>coureur</i>, Law's friends, Pierre Noir and Jean Breboeuf, swiftly
+disappeared, naturally, fitly and unavoidably. &quot;The West is calling to
+us, Monsieur,&quot; said Pierre Noir one morning, as he stood looking out
+across the river. &quot;I hear once more the spirits of the Messasebe.
+Monsieur, will you come?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Law shook his head. Yet two days later, as he stood at that very point,
+there came to him the silent feet of two <i>coureurs</i> instead of one. Once
+more he heard in his ear the question: &quot;Monsieur L'as, will you come?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>At this voice he started. In an instant his arms were about the neck of
+Du Mesne, and tears were falling from the eyes of both in the welcome of
+that brotherhood which is admitted only by those who have known together
+arms and danger and hardship, the touch of the hard ground and the sight
+of the wide blue sky.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Du Mesne, my friend!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Monsieur L'as!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It is as though you came from the depths of the sea, Du Mesne!&quot; said
+Law.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And as though you yourself arose from the grave, Monsieur!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;How did you know&mdash;?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, easily. You do not yet understand the ways of the wilderness,
+where news travels as fast as in the cities. You were hardly below the
+foot of Michiganon before runners from the Illini had spread the news
+along the Chicaqua, where I was then in camp. For the rest, the runners
+brought also news of the Big Peace. I reasoned that the Iroquois would
+not dare to destroy their captives, that in time the agents of the
+Government would receive the captives of the Iroquois&mdash;that these
+captives would naturally come to the settlements on the St. Lawrence,
+since it was the French against whom the Iroquois had been at war; that
+having come to Montr&eacute;al, you would naturally remain here for a time. The
+rest was easy. I fared on to the Straits this spring, and then on down
+the Lakes. I have sold our furs, and am now ready to account to you with
+a sum quite as much as we should have expected.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Now, Monsieur,&quot; and Du Mesne stretched out his arm again, pointing to
+the down-coming flood of the St. Lawrence, &quot;Monsieur, will you come? I
+see not the St. Lawrence, but the Messasebe. I can hear the voices
+calling!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Law dashed his hand across his eyes and turned his head away. &quot;Not yet,
+Du Mesne,&quot; said he. &quot;I do not know. Not yet. I must first go across the
+waters. Perhaps sometime&mdash;I can not tell. But this, my comrades, my
+brothers, I do know; that never, until the last sod lies on my grave,
+will I forget the Messasebe, or forget you. Go back, if you will, my
+brothers; but at night, when you sit by your fireside, think of me, as I
+shall think of you, there in the great valley. My friends, it is the
+heart of the world!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But, Monsieur&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There, Du Mesne&mdash;I would not talk to-day. At another time. Brothers,
+adieu!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Adieu, my brother,&quot; said the <i>coureur</i>, his own emotion showing in his
+eyes; and their hands met again.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Monsieur is cast down,&quot; said Du Mesne to Pierre Noir later, as they
+reached the beach. &quot;Now, what think you?</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Usually, as you know, Pierre, it is a question of some woman. It
+reminds me, Wabana was remiss enough when I left her among the Illini
+with you. Now, God bless my heart, I find her&mdash;how think you? With her
+crucifix lost, cooking for a dirty Ojibway!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Mary Mother!&quot; said Pierre Noir, &quot;if it be a matter of a woman&mdash;well,
+God help us all! At least 'tis something that will take Monsieur L'as
+over seas again.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis mostly a woman,&quot; mused Du Mesne; &quot;but this passeth my wit.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;True, they pass the wit of all. Now, did I ever tell thee about the
+mission girl at Michilimackinac&mdash;but stay! That for another time. They
+tell me that our comrade, Greysolon du L'hut, is expected in to-morrow
+with a party from the far end of Superior. Come, let us have the news.&quot;</p>
+
+<span style='margin-left: 2em;'>&quot;<i>Tous les printemps</i>,</span><br />
+<span style='margin-left: 2.25em;'><i>Tant des nouvelles</i>,&quot;</span><br />
+
+<p>hummed Du Mesne, as he flung his arm above the shoulder of the other;
+and the two so disappeared adown the beach.</p>
+
+<p>Dully, apathetically, Law lived on his life here at Montr&eacute;al for yet a
+time, at the edge of that wilderness which had proved all else but Eden.
+Near to him, though in these guarded times guest by necessity of the
+good sisters of the Convent, dwelt Mary Connynge. And as for these two,
+it might be said that each but bided the time. To her Law might as well
+have been one of the corded Sulpician priests; and she to him, for all
+he liked, one of the nuns of the Convent garden. What did it all mean;
+where was it all to end? he asked himself a thousand times; and a
+thousand times his mind failed him of any answer. He waited, watching
+the great encampment disappear, first slowly, then swiftly and suddenly,
+so that in a night the last of the lodges had gone and the last canoe
+had left the shore. There remained only the hurrying flood of the St.
+Lawrence, coming from the West.</p>
+
+<p>The autumn came on. Early in November the ships would leave for France.
+Yet before the beginning of November there came swiftly and sharply the
+settlement of the questions which racked Law's mind. One morning Mary
+Connynge was missing from the Convent, nor could any of the sisters, nor
+the mother superior, explain how or when she had departed!</p>
+
+<p>Yet, had there been close observers, there might have been seen a boat
+dropping down the river on the early morning of that day. And at Quebec
+there was later reported in the books of the intendant the shipping,
+upon the good bark Dauphine, of Lieutenant Raoul de Ligny, sometime
+officer of the regiment Carignan, formerly stationed in New France; with
+him a lady recently from Montr&eacute;al, known very well to Lieutenant de
+Ligny and his family; and to be in his care <i>en voyage</i> to France; the
+name of said lady illegible upon the records, the spelling apparently
+not having suited the clerk who wrote it, and then forgot it in the
+press of other things.</p>
+
+<p>Certain of the governor's household, as well as two or three <i>habitants</i>
+from the lower town, witnessed the arrival of this lady, who came down
+from Montr&eacute;al. They saw her take boat for the bark Dauphine, one of the
+last ships to go down the river that fall. Yes, it was easily to be
+established. Dark, with singular, brown eyes, <i>petite</i>, yet not over
+small, of good figure&mdash;assuredly so much could be said; for obviously
+the king, kindly as he might feel toward the colony of New France, could
+not send out, among the young women supplied to the colonists as wives,
+very many such demoiselles as this; otherwise assuredly all France
+would have followed the king's ships to the St. Lawrence.</p>
+
+<p>John Law, a grave and saddened man, yet one now no longer lacking in
+decision, stood alone one day at the parapet of the great rock of
+Quebec, gazing down the broad expanse of the stream below. He was alone
+except for a little child, a child too young to know her mother, had
+death or disaster at that time removed the mother. Law took the little
+one up in his arms and gazed hard upon the upturned face.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Catharine!&quot; he said to himself. &quot;Catharine! Catharine!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Pardon, Monsieur,&quot; said a voice at his elbow. &quot;Surely I have seen you
+before this?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Law turned. Joncaire, the ambassador of peace, stood by, smiling and
+extending his hand.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Naturally, I could never forget you,&quot; said Law.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Monsieur looks at the shipping,&quot; said Joncaire, smiling. &quot;Surely he
+would not be leaving New France, after so luckily escaping the worst of
+her dangers?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Life might be the same for me over there as here,&quot; replied Law. &quot;As for
+my luck, I must declare myself the most unfortunate man on earth.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Your wife, perhaps, is ill?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Pardon, I have none.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Pardon, in turn, Monsieur&mdash;but, you see&mdash;the child?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It is the child of a savage woman,&quot; said Law.</p>
+
+<p>Joncaire pulled aside the infant's hood. He gave no sign, and a nice
+indifference sat in his query: &quot;<i>Une belle sauvage?</i>&quot;</p>
+
+<p><i>&quot;Belle sauvage!&quot;</i> </p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='BOOK_III'></a><h2>BOOK III</h2>
+
+<h3>FRANCE </h3>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='BOOK_III_CHAPTER_I'></a><h3>CHAPTER I</h3>
+
+<h4>THE GRAND MONARQUE</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>On a great bed of state, satin draped, flanked with ancient tapestries,
+piled sickeningly soft with heaps of pillows, there lay a thin, withered
+little man&mdash;old, old and very feeble. His face was shrunken and drawn
+with pain; his eyes, once bright, were dulled; his brow, formerly
+imperious, had lost its arrogance. Under the coverings which, in the
+unrest of illness, he now pulled high about his face, now tossed
+restlessly aside, his figure lay, an elongated, shapeless blot, scarce
+showing beneath the silks. One limb, twitched and drawn up convulsively,
+told of a definite seat of pain. The hands, thin and wasted, lay out
+upon the coverlets; and the thumbs were creeping, creeping ever more
+insistently, under the cover of the fingers, telling that the battle for
+life was lost, that the surrender had been made.</p>
+
+<p>It was a death-bed, this great bed of state; a death-bed situated in the
+heart of the greatest temple of desire ever built in all the world. He
+who had been master there, who had set in order those miles of stately
+columns, those seas of glittering gilt and crystal, he who had been
+magician, builder, creator, perverter, debaser&mdash;he, Louis of France, the
+Grand Monarque, now lay suffering like any ordinary human being, like
+any common man.</p>
+
+<p>Last night the four and twenty violins, under the king's command, had
+shrilled their chorus, as had been their wont for years while the master
+dined. This morning the cordon of drums and hautboys had pealed their
+high and martial music. Useless. The one or the other music fell upon
+ears too dull to hear. The formal tribute to the central soul for a time
+continued of its own inertia; for a time royalty had still its worship;
+yet the custom was but a lagging one. The musicians grimaced and made
+what discord they liked, openly, insolently, scorning this weak and
+withered figure on the silken bed. The cordon of the white and blue
+guards of the Household still swept about the vast pleasure grounds of
+this fairy temple; yet the officers left their posts and conversed one
+with the other. Musicians and guards, spectators and populace, all were
+waiting, waiting until the end should come. Farther out and beyond,
+where the peaked roofs of Paris rose, back of that line which this
+imperious mind had decreed should not be passed by the dwellings of
+Paris, which must not come too near this temple of luxury, nor disturb
+the king while he enjoyed himself&mdash;back of the perfunctorily loyal
+guards of the Household, there reached the ragged, shapeless masses of
+the people of Paris and of France, waiting, smiling, as some animal
+licking its chops in expectation of some satisfying thing. They were
+waiting for news of the death of this shrunken man, this creature once
+so full of arrogant lust, then so full of somber repentance, now so full
+of the very taste of death.</p>
+
+<p>On the great tapestry that hung above the head of the curtained bed
+shone the double sun of Louis the Grand, which had meant death and
+devastation to so much of Europe. It blazed, mimicking the glory that
+was gone; but toward it there was raised no sword nor scepter more in
+vow or exaltation. The race was run, the sun was sinking to its setting.
+Nothing but a man&mdash;a weary, worn-out, dying man&mdash;was Louis, the Grand
+Monarque, king for seventy-two years of France, almost king of Europe.
+This death-bed lay in the center of a land oppressed, ground down,
+impoverished. The hearts and lives of thousands were in these
+colonnades. The people had paid for their king. They had fed him fat and
+kept him full of loves. In return, he had trampled the people into the
+very dust. He had robbed even their ancient nobles of honors and
+consideration. Blackened, ruined, a vast graveyard, a monumental
+starving-ground, France lay about his death-bed, and its people were but
+waiting with grim impatience for their king to die. What France might do
+in the future was unknown; yet it was unthinkable that aught could be
+worse than this glorious reign of Louis, the Grand Monarque, this
+crumbling clod, this resolving excrescence, this phosphorescent,
+disintegrating fungus of a diseased life and time.</p>
+
+<p>Seventy-two years a king; thirty years a libertine; twenty years a
+repentant. Son, grandson, great-grandson, all gone, as though to leave
+not one of that once haughty breed. For France no hope at all; and for
+the house of Bourbon, all the hope there might be in the life of a
+little boy, sullen, tiny, timid. Far over in Paris, busy about his games
+and his loves, a jesting, long-curled gallant, the Duke of Orl&eacute;ans,
+nephew of this king, was holding a court of his own. And from this court
+which might be, back to the court which was, but which might not be
+long, swung back and forth the fawning creatures of the former court.
+This was the central picture of France, and Paris, and of the New World
+on this day of the year 1715.</p>
+
+<p>In the room about the bed of state, uncertain groups of watchers
+whispered noisily. The five physicians, who had tried first one remedy
+and then another; the rustic physician whose nostrum had kept life
+within the king for some unexpected days; the ladies who had waited upon
+the relatives of the king; some of the relatives themselves; Villeroy,
+guardian of the young king soon to be; the bastard, and the wife of that
+bastard, who hoped for the king's shoes; the mistress of his earlier
+years, for many years his wife&mdash;Maintenon, that peerless hypocrite of
+all the years&mdash;all these passed, and hesitated, and looked, waiting, as
+did the hungry crowds in Paris toward the Seine, until the double sun
+should set, and the crawling thumbs at last should find their shelter.
+The Grand Monarque was losing the only time in all his life when he
+might have learned human wisdom.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Madame!&quot; whispered the dry lips, faintly.</p>
+
+<p>She who was addressed as madame, this woman Maintenon, pious murderer,
+unrivaled hypocrite, unspeakably self-contained dissembler, the woman
+who lost for France an empire greater than all France, stepped now to
+the bed-side of the dying monarch, inclining her head to hear what he
+might have to say. Was Maintenon, the outcast, the widow, the wife of
+the king, at last to be made ruler of the Church in France? Was she to
+govern in the household of the king even after the king had departed?
+The woman bent over the dying man, the covetousness of her soul showing
+in her eyes, struggle as she might to retain her habitual and
+unparalleled self-control.</p>
+
+<p>The dying man muttered uneasily. His mind was clouded, his eyes saw
+other things. He turned back to earlier days, when life was bright, when
+he, Louis, as a young man, had lived and loved as any other.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Louise,&quot; he murmured. &quot;Louise! Forgive! Meet me&mdash;Louise&mdash;dear one. Meet
+me yonder&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>An icy pallor swept across the face of the arch hypocrite who bent over
+him. Into her soul there sank like a knife this consciousness of the
+undying power of a real love. La Valli&egrave;re, the love of the youth of
+Louis, La Valli&egrave;re, the beautiful, and sweet, and womanly, dead and gone
+these long years since, but still loved and now triumphant&mdash;she it was
+whom Louis now remembered.</p>
+
+<p>Maintenon turned from the bed-side. She stood, an aged and unhappy
+woman, old, gray and haggard, not success but failure written upon every
+lineament. For one instant she stood, her hands clenched, slow anger
+breaking through the mask which, for a quarter of a century, she had so
+successfully worn.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Bah!&quot; she cried. &quot;Bah! 'Tis a pretty rendezvous this king would set
+for me!&quot; And then she swept from the room, raged for a time apart, and
+so took leave of life and of ambition.</p>
+
+<p>At length even the last energies of the once stubborn will gave way. The
+last gasp of the failing breath was drawn. The herald at the window
+announced to the waiting multitude that Louis the Fourteenth was no
+more.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Long live the king!&quot; exclaimed the multitude. They hailed the new
+monarch with mockery; but laughter, and sincere joy and feasting were
+the testimonials of their emotions at the death of the king but now
+departed.</p>
+
+<p>On the next day a cheap, tawdry and unimposing procession wended its way
+through the back streets of Paris, its leader seeking to escape even the
+edges of the mob, lest the people should fall upon the somber little
+pageant and rend it into fragments. This was the funeral cort&egrave;ge of
+Louis, the Grand Monarque, Louis the lustful, Louis the bigot, Louis the
+ignorant, Louis the unhappy. They hurried him to his resting-place,
+these last servitors, and then hastened back to the palaces to join
+their hearts and voices to the rising wave of joy which swept across all
+France at the death of this beloved ruler.</p>
+
+<p>Now it happened that, as the funeral procession of the king was
+hurrying through the side streets near the confines of the old city of
+Paris, there encountered it, entering from the great highway which led
+from the east up to the city gates, the carriage of a gentleman who
+might, apparently with justice, have laid some claim to consequence. It
+had its guards and coachmen, and was attended by two riders in livery,
+who kept it company along the narrow streets. This equipage met the head
+of the hurrying funeral cort&egrave;ge, and found occasion for a moment to
+pause. Thus there passed, the one going to his grave, the other to his
+goal, the two men with whom the France of that day was most intimately
+concerned.</p>
+
+<p>There came from the window of the coach the voice of one inquiring the
+reason of the halt, and there might have been seen through the upper
+portion of the vehicle's door the face of the owner of the carriage. He
+seemed a man of imposing presence, with face open and handsome, and an
+eye bright, bold and full of intelligence. His garb was rich and
+elegant, his air well contained and dignified.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Guillaume,&quot; he called out, &quot;what is it that detains us?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It is nothing, Monsieur L'as,&quot; was the reply, &quot;They tell me it is but
+the funeral of the king.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;<i>Eh bien!</i>&quot; replied Law, turning to one who sat beside him in the
+coach. &quot;Nothing! 'Tis nothing but the funeral of the king!&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='BOOK_III_CHAPTER_II'></a><h3>CHAPTER II</h3>
+
+<h4>EVER SAID SHE NAY</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>The coach proceeded steadily on its way, passing in toward that quarter
+where the high-piled, peaked roofs and jagged spires betokened ancient
+Paris. On every hand arose confused sounds from the streets, now filled
+with a populace merry as though some pleasant carnival were just
+beginning. Shopkeeper called across to his neighbor, tradesman gossiped
+with gallant. Even the stolid faces of the plodding peasants, fresh past
+the gate-tax and bound for the markets to seek what little there
+remained after giving to the king, bore an unwonted look, as though hope
+might yet succeed to their surprise.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh&eacute;! Marie,&quot; called one stout dame to another, who stood smiling in her
+doorway near by. &quot;See the fine coach coming. That is the sort you and I
+shall have one of these days, now that the king is dead. God bless the
+new king, and may he die young! A plague to all kings, Marie. And now
+come and sit with my man and me, for we've a bottle left, and while it
+lasts we drink freedom from all kings!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You speak words of gold, Suzanne,&quot; was the reply. &quot;Surely I will drink
+with you, and wish a pleasant and speedy death to kings.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But now, Marie,&quot; said the other, argumentatively, &quot;as to my good duke
+regent, that is otherwise. It goes about that he will change all things.
+One is to amuse one's self now and then, and not to work forever for the
+taxes and the conscription. Long live the regent, then, say I!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, and let us hope that regents never turn to kings. There are to be
+new days here in France. We people, aye, my faith! We people, so they
+say, are to be considered. True, we shall have carriages one day, Marie,
+like that of my Lord who passes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>John Law and his companions heard broken bits of such speech as this as
+they passed on.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah, they talk,&quot; replied he at last, turning toward his companions, &quot;and
+this is talk which means something. Within the year we shall see Paris
+upside down. These people are ready for any new thing. But&quot;&mdash;and his
+face lost some of its gravity&mdash;&quot;the streets are none too safe to-day, my
+Lady. Therefore you must forgive me if I do not set you down, but keep
+you prisoner until you reach your own gates. 'Tis not your fault that
+your carriage broke down on the road from Marly; and as for my brother
+Will and myself, we can not forego a good fortune which enables us at
+last to destroy a certain long-standing debt of a carriage ride given
+us, once upon a time, by the Lady Catharine Knollys.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;At least, then, we shall be well acquit on both sides,&quot; replied the
+soft voice of the woman. &quot;I may, perhaps, be an unwilling prisoner for
+so short a time.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Madam, I would God it might be forever!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>It was the same John Law of old who made this impetuous reply, and
+indeed he seemed scarce changed by the passing of these few years of
+time. It was the audacious youth of the English highway who now looked
+at her with grave face, yet with eyes that shone.</p>
+
+<p>Some years had indeed passed since Law, turning his back upon the appeal
+of the wide New World, had again set foot upon the shores of England,
+from which his departure had been so singular. Driven by the goads of
+remorse, it had been his first thought to seek out the Lady Catharine
+Knollys; and so intent had he been on this quest, that he learned almost
+without emotion of the king's pardon which had been entered, discharging
+him of further penalty of the law of England. Meeting Lady Catharine, he
+learned, as have others since and before him, that a human soul may
+have laws inflexible; that the iron bars of a woman's resolve may bar
+one out, even as prison doors may bar him in. He found the Lady
+Catharine unshakeable in her resolve not to see him or speak with him.
+Whereat he raged, expostulated by post, waited, waylaid, and so at
+length gained an interview, which taught him many things.</p>
+
+<p>He found the Lady Catharine Knollys changed from a light-hearted girl to
+a maiden tall, grave, reserved and sad, offering no reproaches,
+listening to no protestations. Told of Sir Arthur Pembroke's horrible
+death, she wept with tears which his survivor envied. Told at length of
+the little child, she sat wide-eyed and silent. Approached with words of
+remorse, with expostulations, promises, she shrank back in absolute
+horror, trembling, so that in very pity the wretched young man left her
+and found his way out into a world suddenly grown old and gray.</p>
+
+<p>After this dismissal, Law for many months saw nothing, heard nothing of
+this woman whom he had wronged, even as he received no sign from the
+woman who had forsaken him over seas. He remained away as long as might
+be, until his violent nature, geyser-like, gathered inner storm and fury
+by repression, and broke away in wild eruption.</p>
+
+<p>Once more he sought the presence of the woman whose face haunted his
+soul, and once more he met ice and adamant stronger than his own fires.
+Beaten, he fled from London and from England, seeking still, after the
+ancient and ineffective fashion of man, to forget, though he himself had
+confessed the lesson that man can not escape himself, but takes his own
+hell with him wherever he goes.</p>
+
+<p>Rejected, as he was now, by the new ministry of England, none the less
+every capital of Europe came presently to know John Law, gambler,
+student and financier. Before every ruler on the continent he laid his
+system of financial revolution, and one by one they smiled, or shrugged,
+or scoffed at him. Baffled once more in his dearest purpose, he took
+again to play, play in such colossal and audacious form as never yet had
+been seen even in the gayest courts of a time when gaming was a vice to
+be called national. No hazard was too great for him, no success and no
+reverse sufficiently keen to cause him any apparent concern. There was
+no risk sharp enough to deaden the gnawing in his soul, no excitement
+strong enough to wipe away from his mind the black panorama of his past.</p>
+
+<p>He won princely fortunes and cast them away again. With the figure and
+the air of a prince, he gained greater reputation than any prince of
+Europe. Upon him were spent the blandishments of the fairest women of
+his time. Yet not this, not all this, served to steady his energies, now
+unbalanced, speeding without guidance. The gold, heaped high on the
+tables, was not enough to stupefy his mind, not enough though he doubled
+and trebled it, though he cast great golden markers to spare him trouble
+in the counting of his winnings. Still student, still mathematician, he
+sought at Amsterdam, at Paris, at Vienna, all new theories which offered
+in the science of banking and finance, even as at the same time he
+delved still further into the mysteries of recurrences and chance.</p>
+
+<p>In this latter such was his success that losers made complaint, unjust
+but effectual, to the king, so that Law was obliged to leave Paris for a
+time. He had dwelt long enough in Paris, this double-natured man, this
+student and creator, this gambler and gallant, to win the friendship of
+Philippe of Orl&eacute;ans, later to be regent of France; and gay enough had
+been the life they two had led&mdash;so gay, so intimate, that Philippe gave
+promise that, should he ever hold in his own hands the Government of
+France, he would end Law's banishment and give to him the opportunity he
+sought, of proving those theories of finance which constituted the
+absorbing ambition of his life.</p>
+
+<p>Meantime Law, ever restless, had passed from one capital of Europe to
+another, dragging with him from hotel to hotel the young child whose
+life had been cast in such feverish and unnatural surroundings. He
+continued to challenge every hazard, fearless, reckless, contemptuous,
+and withal wretched, as one must be who, after years of effort, found
+that he could not banish from his mind the pictures of a dark-floored
+prison, and of a knife-stab in the dark, and of raging, awful waters,
+and of a girl beautiful, though with sealed lips and heart of ice. From
+time to time, as was well known, Law returned to England. He heard of
+the Lady Catharine Knollys, as might easily be done in London; heard of
+her as a young woman kind of heart, soft of speech, with tenderness for
+every little suffering thing; a beautiful young woman, whose admirers
+listed scores; but who never yet, even according to the eagerest gossip
+of the capital, had found a suitor to whom she gave word or thought of
+love.</p>
+
+<p>So now at last the arrogant selfishness of his heart began to yield. His
+heart was broken before it might soften, but soften at last it did. And
+so he built up in his soul the image of a grave, sweet saint, kindly and
+gentle-voiced, unapproachable, not to be profaned. To this image&mdash;ah,
+which of us has not had such a shrine!&mdash;he brought in secret the homage
+of his life, his confessions, his despairs, his hopes, his resolutions;
+guiding thereby all his life, as well as poor mortal man may do, failing
+ever of his own standards, as all men do, yet harking ever back to that
+secret sibyl, reckoning all things from her, for her, by her.</p>
+
+<p>There came at length one chastened hour when they met in calmness, when
+there was no longer talk of love between them, when he stood before her
+as though indeed at the altar of some marble deity. Always her answer
+had been that the past had been a mistake; that she had professed to
+love a man, not knowing what that man was; that she had suffered, but
+that it was better so, since it had brought understanding. Now, in this
+calmer time, she begged of him knowledge of this child, regretting the
+wandering life which had been its portion, saying that for Mary Connynge
+she no longer felt horror and hatred. Thus it was that in a hasty moment
+Law had impulsively begged her to assume some sort of tutelage over that
+unfortunate child. It was to his own amazement that he heard Lady
+Catharine Knollys consent, stipulating that the child should be placed
+in a Paris convent for two years, and that for two years John Law should
+see neither his daughter nor herself. Obedient as a child himself he had
+promised.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Now, go away,&quot; she then had said to him. &quot;Go your own way. Drink,
+dice, game, and waste the talents God hath given you. You have made ruin
+enough for all of us. I would only that it may not run so far as to
+another generation.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>So both had kept their promises; and now the two years were done, years
+spent by Law more manfully than any of his life. His fortune he had
+gathered together, amounting to more than a million livres. He had sent
+once more for his brother Will, and thus the two had lived for some time
+in company in lower Europe, the elder brother still curious as ever in
+his abstruse theories of banking and finance&mdash;theories then new, now
+outlived in great part, though fit to be called a portion of the great
+foundation of the commercial system of the world. It was a wiser and
+soberer and riper John Law, this man who had but recently received a
+summons from Philippe of Orl&eacute;ans to be present in Paris, for that the
+king was dying, and that all France, France the bankrupt and distracted,
+was on the brink of sudden and perhaps fateful change.</p>
+
+<p>With a quick revival of all his Highland superstition, Law hailed now as
+happy harbinger the fact that, upon his entry into Paris, the city once
+more of his hopes, he had met in such fashion this lady of his dreams,
+even at such time as the seal of silence was lifted from his lips. It
+was no wonder that his eye gleamed, that his voice took on the old
+vibrant tone, that every gesture, in thought or in spite of thought,
+assumed the tender deference of the lover.</p>
+
+<p>It was a fair woman, this chance guest of the highway whom he now
+accosted&mdash;bronze-haired, blue-eyed, soft of voice, queenly of mien,
+gentle, calm and truly lovable. Oh, what waste that those arms should
+hold nothing, that lips such as those should know no kisses, that eyes
+like those should never swim in love! What robbery! What crime! And this
+man, thief of this woman's life, felt his heart pinch again in the old,
+sharp anguish of remorse, bitterest because unavailing.</p>
+
+<p>For the Lady Catharine herself there had been also many changes. The
+death of her brother, the Earl of Banbury, had wrought many shifts in
+the circumstances of a house apparently pursued by unkind fate. Left
+practically alone and caring little for the life of London, even after
+there had worn away the chill of suspicion which followed upon the
+popular knowledge of her connection with the escape of Law from London,
+Lady Catharine Knollys turned to a life and world suddenly grown vague
+and empty. Travel upon the continent with friends, occasional visits to
+the old family house in England, long sojourns in this or the other
+city&mdash;such had been her life, quiet, sweet, reproachless and
+unreproaching. For the present she had taken an h&ocirc;tel in the older part
+of Paris, in connection with her friend, the Countess of Warrington,
+sometime connected with the embassy of that Lord Stair who was later to
+act as spy for England in Paris, now so soon to know tumultuous scenes.
+With these scenes, as time was soon to prove, there was to be most
+intimately connected this very man who, now bending forward attentively,
+now listening respectfully, and ever gazing directly and ardently, heard
+naught of plots or plans, cared naught for the Paris which lay about,
+saw naught but the beautiful face before him, felt naught but some deep,
+compelling thrill in every heart-string which now reaching sweet accord
+in spite of fate, in spite of the past, in spite of all, went singing on
+in a deep melody of joy. This was she, the idol, the deity. Let the
+world wag. It was a moment yet ere paradise must end!</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Madam, I would God it might be forever!&quot; said Law again. The old
+stubborn nature was showing once more, but under it something deeper,
+softer, tenderer.</p>
+
+<p>A sudden panic fear called at the heart of her to whom he spoke. Two
+rosy spots shone in her cheeks, and as she gazed, her eyes showed the
+veiled softening of woman's gentleness. There fell a silence.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Madam, I could feel that this were Sadler's Wells over again,&quot; said Law
+a moment later.</p>
+
+<p>But now the carriage had arrived at the destination named by Lady
+Catharine. Law sprang out, hat in hand, and assisted Lady Catharine to
+the curb. A passing flower girl, gaily offering her wares, paused as the
+carriage drew up. Law turned quickly and caught from her as many roses
+as his hand could grasp, handing her in return half as much coin as her
+smaller palm could hold. He turned to the Lady Catharine, and bowed with
+that grace which was the talk of a world of gallants. In his hand he
+extended a flower.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Madam, as before!&quot; he said.</p>
+
+<p>There was a sob in his voice. Their eyes met fairly, unmasked as they
+had not been for years. Tears came into the man's eyes, the first that
+had ever sat there; tears for the past, tears for that sweetness which
+once might have been.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis for the king! They weep for the king!&quot; sang out the hard voice of
+the flower girl, ironically, as she skipped away. &quot;Oh&eacute;, for the king,
+for the king!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Nay, for the queen!&quot; said John Law, as he gazed into the eyes of
+Catharine Knollys.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='BOOK_III_CHAPTER_III'></a><h3>CHAPTER III</h3>
+
+<h4>SEARCH THOU MY HEART</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>&quot;Only believe me, Lady Catharine, and I shall do everything I promised
+years ago&mdash;I shall lay all France at your feet. But if you deny me thus
+always, I shall make all France a mockery.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Monsieur is fresh from the South of France,&quot; replied the Lady Catharine
+Knollys. &quot;Has Gascon wine perhaps put Gascon speech into his mouth?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, laugh if you like,&quot; exclaimed Law, rising and pacing across the
+great room in which these two had met. &quot;Laugh and mock, but we shall
+see!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Granted that Mr. Law is well within his customary modesty,&quot; replied
+Lady Catharine, &quot;and granted even that Mr. Law has all France in the
+hollow of his hand to-day, to do with as he likes, I must confess I see
+not why France should suffer because I myself have found it difficult to
+endorse Mr. Law's personal code of morals.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>It was the third day after Law's entry into Paris, and the first time
+for more than two long years that he found himself alone with the Lady
+Catharine Knollys. His eagerness might have excused his impetuous and
+boastful speech.</p>
+
+<p>As for the Lady Catharine, that one swift, electric moment at the street
+curb had well-nigh undone more than two years of resolve. She had heard
+herself, as it were in a dream, promising that this man might come. She
+had found herself later in her own apartments, panting, wide-eyed,
+afraid. Some great hand, unseen, uninvited, mysterious, had swept
+ruthlessly across each chord of womanly reserve and resolution which so
+long she had held well-ordered and absolutely under control. It was
+self-distrust, fear, which now compelled her to take refuge in this
+woman's fence of speech with him. &quot;Surely,&quot; argued she with herself, &quot;if
+love once dies, then it is dead forever, and can never be revived.
+Surely,&quot; she insisted to herself, &quot;my love is dead. Then&mdash;ah, but then
+was it dead? Can my heart grow again?&quot; asked the Lady Catharine of
+herself, tremblingly. This was that which gave her pause. It was this
+also which gave to her cheek its brighter color, to her eye a softer
+gleam; and to her speech this covering shield of badinage.</p>
+
+<p>Yet all her defenses were in a way to be fairly beaten down by the
+intentness of the other. All things he put aside or overrode, and would
+speak but of himself and herself, of his plans, his opportunities, and
+of how these were concerned with himself and with her.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There are those who judge not so harshly as yourself, Madam,&quot; resumed
+Law. &quot;His Grace the regent is good enough to believe that my studies
+have gone deeper than the green cloth of the gaming table. Now, I tell
+you, my time has come&mdash;my day at last is here. I tell you that I shall
+prove to you everything which I said to you long ago, back there in old
+England. I shall prove to you that I have not been altogether an idler
+and a trifler. I shall bring to you, as I promised you long ago, all the
+wealth, all the distinction&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But such speech is needless, Mr. Law,&quot; came the reply. &quot;I have all the
+wealth I need, nor do I crave distinction, save of my own selection.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But you do not dream! This is a day unparalleled. There will be such
+changes here as never yet were known. Within a week you shall hear of my
+name in Paris. Within a month you shall hear of it beyond the gates of
+Paris. Within a year you shall hear nothing else in Europe!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;As I hear nothing else here now, Monsieur?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Like a horse restless under the snaffle, the man shook his head, but
+went on. &quot;If you should be offered wealth more than any woman of Paris,
+if you had precedence over the proudest peers of France&mdash;would these
+things have no weight with you?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You know they would not.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Law cast himself restlessly upon a seat across the room from her. &quot;I
+think I do,&quot; said he, dejectedly. &quot;At times you drive me to my wit's
+end. What then, Madam, would avail?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, nothing, so far as the past is to be reviewed for you and me. Yet,
+I should say that, if there were two here speaking as you and I, and if
+they two had no such past as we&mdash;then I could fancy that woman saying to
+her friend, 'Have you indeed done all that lay within you to do?'&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Is it not enough&mdash;?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There is nothing, sir, that is enough for a woman, but all!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I have given you all.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;All that you have left&mdash;after yourself.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sharp, sharp indeed are your words, my Lady. And they are most sharp
+because they come with justice.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh,&quot; broke out the woman, &quot;one may use sharp words who has been scorned
+for her own false friend! You would give me all, Mr. Law, but you must
+remember that it is only what remains after that&mdash;that&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But would you, could you, have cared had there been no 'that'? Had I
+done all that lay in me to do, could you then have given me your
+confidence, and could you have thought me worthy of it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, 'if!'&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, 'if!' 'If,' and 'as though,' and 'in that case'&mdash;these are all we
+have to console us in this life. But, sweet one&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir, such words I have forbidden,&quot; said Lady Catharine, the blood for
+one cause or another mounting again into her cheek.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You torture me!&quot; broke out Law.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;As much as you have me? Is it so much as that, Mr. Law?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He rose and stood apart, his head falling in despair. &quot;As I have done
+this thing, so may God punish me!&quot; said he. &quot;I was not fit, and am not.
+Yet I was bold enough to hope that there could be some atonement, some
+thing&mdash;if my suffering&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There are things, Mr. Law, for which no suffering atones. But why cause
+suffering longer for us both? You come again and again. Could you not
+leave me for a time untroubled?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;How can I?&quot; blazed the man, his forehead furrowed up into a frown, the
+moist beads on his brow proving his own intentness. &quot;I can not! I can
+not! That is all I know. Ask me not why. I can not; that is all.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir,&quot; said Lady Catharine, &quot;this seems to me no less than terrible.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It is indeed no less than terrible. Yet I must come and come again,
+bound some day to be heard, not for what I am, but for what I might be.
+'Tis not justice I would have, dear heart, but mercy, a woman's mercy!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And you would bully me to agree with you, as I said, in regard to your
+own excellent code of morals, Mr. Law?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You evade, like any woman, but if you will, even have it so. At least
+there is to be this battle between us all our lives. I will be loved,
+Lady Catharine! I must be loved by you! Look in my heart. Search beneath
+this man that you and others see. Find me my own fellow, that other self
+better than I, who cries out always thus. Look! 'Tis not for me as I am.
+No man deserves aught for himself. But find in my heart, Lady Catharine,
+that other self, the man I might have been! Dear heart, I beseech you,
+look!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Impulsively, he even tore apart the front of his coat, as though indeed
+to invite such scrutiny. He stood before her, trembling, choking. The
+passion of his speech caused the color again to rush to the Lady
+Catharine's face. For a moment her bosom rose and fell tumultuously,
+deep answering as of old unto deep, in the ancient, wondrous way.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Is it the part of manhood to persecute a woman, Mr. Law?&quot; she asked,
+her own uncertitude now showing in her tone.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I do not know,&quot; he answered.</p>
+
+<p>Lady Catharine looked at him curiously.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Do you love me, Mr. Law?&quot; she asked, directly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I have no answer.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Did you love that other woman?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>It took all his courage to reply. &quot;I am not fit to answer,&quot; said he.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And you would love me, too, for a time and in a way?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I will not answer. I will not trifle.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And I am to think Mr. Law better than himself, better than other men;
+since you say no man dare ask actual justice?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Worse than other men, and yet a man. A man&mdash;my God! Lady Catharine&mdash;a
+man unworthy, yet a man seized fatally of that love which neither life
+nor death can alter!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>As one fascinated, Lady Catharine sat looking at him. &quot;Then,&quot; said she,
+&quot;any man may say to any woman&mdash;Mr. Law says to me&mdash;'I have cared for
+such, and so many other women to the extent, let us say, of so many
+pounds sterling. But I love you to the extent of twice as many pounds,
+shillings and pence?' Is that the dole we women may expect, Mr. Law?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Have back your own words!&quot; he cried. &quot;Nothing is enough but all! And as
+God witnesseth in this hour, I have loved you with all my heart-beats,
+with all my prayers. I call upon you now, in the name of that love I
+know you once bore me&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Upon the face of the Lady Catharine there blazed the red mark of the
+shame of Knollys. Covering her face with her hands, she suddenly bent
+forward, and from her lips there broke a sob of pain.</p>
+
+<p>In a flash Law was at her side, kneeling, seeking to draw away her
+fingers with hands that trembled as much as her own.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Do not! Do not!&quot; he cried. &quot;I am not worth it! It shall be as you like.
+Let me go away forever. This I can not endure!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah, John Law, John Law!&quot; murmured Catharine Knollys, &quot;why did you break
+my heart!&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='BOOK_III_CHAPTER_IV'></a><h3>CHAPTER IV</h3>
+
+<h4>THE REGENT'S PROMISE</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>&quot;Tell me, then, Monsieur L'as, of this new America. I would fain have
+some information at first hand. There was rumor, I know not how exact,
+that you once traveled in those regions.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Thus spake his Grace Philippe, Duke of Orl&eacute;ans, regent of France, now,
+in effect, ruler of France. It was the audience which had been arranged
+for John Law, that opportunity for which he had waited all his life.
+Before him now, as he stood in the great council chamber, facing this
+man whose ambitions ended where his own began&mdash;at the convivial board
+and at the gaming table&mdash;he saw the path which led to the success that
+he had craved so long. He, Law of Lauriston, sometime adventurer and
+gambler, was now playing his last and greatest game.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Your Grace,&quot; said he, &quot;there be many who might better than I tell you
+of that America.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There are many who should be able, and many who do,&quot; replied the
+regent. &quot;By the body of the Lord! we get nothing but information
+regarding these provinces of New France, and each advice is worse than
+the one preceding it. The gist of it all is that my Lord Governor and my
+very good intendant can never agree, save upon one point or so. They
+want more money, and they want more soldiers&mdash;ah, yes, to be sure, they
+also want more women, though we sent them out a ship load of choice
+beauties not more than a six-month ago. But tell me, Monsieur L'as, is
+it indeed true that you have traveled in America?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;For a short time.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I have heard nothing regarding you from the intendant at Quebec.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Your Grace was not at that time caring for intendants. 'Twas many years
+ago, and I was not well known at Quebec by my own name.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;<i>Eh bien?</i> Some adventure, then, perhaps? A woman at the bottom of it,
+I warrant.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Your Grace is right.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Twas like you, for a fellow of good zest. May God bless all fair
+dames. And as to what you found in thus following&mdash;or was it in
+fleeing&mdash;your divinity?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I found many things. For one, that this America is the greatest country
+of the world. Neither England nor France is to be compared with it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The regent fell back in his chair and laughed heartily.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Monsieur, you are indeed, as I have ever found you, of most excellent
+wit. You please me enormously.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But, your Grace, I am entirely serious.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, come, spoil not so good a jest by qualifying, I beseech you!
+England or France, indeed&mdash;ah, Monsieur L'as, Monsieur L'as!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Your own city of New Orl&eacute;ans, Sire, will lie at the gate of a realm
+greater than all France. Your Grace will hand to the young king, when he
+shall come of age, a realm excellently worth the ownership of any king.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You say rich. In what way?&quot; asked the regent. &quot;We have not had so much
+of returns after all. Look at Crozat? Look at&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh fie, Crozat! Your Grace, he solved not the first problem of real
+commerce. He never dreamed the real richness of America.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Philippe sat thoughtful, his finger tips together. &quot;Why have we not
+heard of these things?&quot; said he.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Because of men like Crozat, of men like your governors and intendants
+at Quebec. Because, your Grace, as you know very well, of the same
+reason which sent me once from Paris, and kept me so long from laying
+before you these very plans of which I now would speak.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And that cause?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Maintenon.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, ah! Indeed&mdash;that is to say&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Louis would hear naught of me, of course. Maintenon took care that he
+should find I was but heretic.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;As for myself,&quot; said Philippe the regent, &quot;heretic or not heretic makes
+but small figure. 'Twill take France a century to overcome her late
+surfeit of religion. For us, 'tis most a question of how to keep the
+king in the saddle and France underneath.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Precisely, your Grace.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Frankly, Monsieur L'as, I take it fittest now not so much to ponder
+over new worlds as over how to keep in touch with this Old World yet
+awhile. France has danced, though for years she danced to the tune of
+Louis clad in black. Now France must pay for the music. My faith, I like
+not the look of things. This joyful France to-day is a hideous thing.
+These people laugh! I had sooner see a lion grin. Now to govern those
+given us by Providence to govern,&quot; and the regent smiled grimly at the
+ancient fiction, &quot;it is most meet that the governed should produce
+somewhat of funds in order that they may be governed.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, and the error has been in going too far,&quot; said Law. &quot;These people
+have been taxed beyond the taxation point. Now they laugh.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes; and by God, Monsieur L'as, when France laughs, beware!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Your Grace admits that France has no further resources.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Assuredly.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then tax New France!&quot; cried Law, his hand coming down hard upon the
+table, his eyes shining. &quot;Mortgage where the security doubles every
+year, where the soil itself is security for wealth greater than all
+Europe ever owned.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, very well, Monsieur; though later I must ask you to explain.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You admit that no more money can be forced from the people of France.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ask the farmers of the taxes. Ask Chamillard of the Treasury. My faith,
+look out of the window! Listen! Do I not tell you that France is
+laughing?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Very well. Let us also laugh. Let us all laugh together. There is money
+in France, more money in Europe. I assure you these people can be
+brought to give you cheerfully all they have.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It sounds well, Monsieur L'as, but let me ask you how?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;France is bankrupt&mdash;this is brutal, but none the less true. France must
+repudiate her obligations unless something be swiftly done. It is not
+noble to repudiate, your Grace. Yet, if we cancel and not repudiate, if
+we can obtain the gold of France, of Europe&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Body of God! but you speak large, my friend.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Not so large. All subjects shrink as we come close to them by study.
+'Tis easy to see that France has not money enough for her own business.
+If we had more money in France, we should have more production, and if
+we had more production, we might have taxes. Thereby we might have
+somewhat in our treasury wherewith to keep the king in the saddle, and
+not under foot.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then, if I follow you,&quot; said Philippe, leaning slightly forward and
+again placing his finger tips judicially together, &quot;you would coin
+greater amounts of money. Then, I would ask you, where would you get
+your gold for the coinage?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It is not gold I would coin,&quot; said Law, &quot;but credit.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The kingdom hath been run on credit for these many years.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No, 'tis not that kind of credit that I mean. I mean the credit which
+comes of confidence. It is fate, necessity, which demands a new system.
+The world has grown too much for every man to put his sixpence into the
+other man's hand, and carry away in a basket what he buys. We are no
+longer savages, to barter beads for hides. Yet we were as savages, did
+we not come to realize that this insufficient coin must be replaced, in
+the evolution of affairs, just as barter has long ago been, replaced.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And by what?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;As I said, by credit.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Do not annoy me by things too deep, but rather suggest some definite
+plan, if that may be.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;First of all, then, as I said to you years ago, we need a bank, a bank
+in which all the people of France shall have absolute confidence.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You would, then, wish a charter of some sort?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Only provided your Grace shall please. I have of my own funds a half
+million livres or more. This I would put into a bank of general nature,
+if your Grace shall please. That should be some small guarantee of my
+good faith in these plans.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Monsieur L'as would seem to have followed play to his good fortune.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Never to so good fortune as when first I met your Grace,&quot; replied Law.
+&quot;I have given to games of chance the severest thought and study. Just
+as much more have I given thought and study to this enterprise which I
+propose now to lay before you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And you ask the patent of the Crown for your bank?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It were better if the institution received that open endorsement.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>A slow frown settled upon the face of the other. &quot;That is, at the
+beginning, impossible, Monsieur L'as,&quot; said the regent. &quot;It is you who
+must prove these things which you propose.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Let it be so, then,&quot; said Law, with conviction. &quot;I make no doubt I
+shall obtain subscriptions for the shares. Remember my words. Within a
+few months you shall see trebled the energies of France. Money is the
+only thing which we have not in France. Why, your Grace, suppose the
+collectors of taxes in the South of France succeed in raising the king's
+levies. That specie must come by wheeled vehicle all the way to Paris.
+Consider what loss of time is there, and consider what hindrance to the
+trade of the provinces from which so much specie is taken bodily, and to
+which it can return later only a little at a time. Is it any wonder that
+usury is eating up France? There is not money enough&mdash;it is the one
+priceless thing; by which I mean only that there is not belief, not
+confidence, not credit enough in France. Now, given a bank which holds
+the confidence of the people, and I promise the king his taxes, even as
+I promise to abolish usury. You shall see money at work, money begetting
+money, and that begetting trade, and that producing comfort, and comfort
+making easier the collection of the king's taxes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;By heaven! you begin to make it somewhat more plain to me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;One thing I beg you to observe most carefully, your Grace,&quot; said Law,
+&quot;nor must it ever be forgotten in our understanding. The shares of this
+bank must have a fixed value in regard to the coin of the realm. There
+must be no altering of the value of our coin. Grant that the coin does
+not fluctuate, and I promise you that my bank <i>actions</i>, notes of the
+chief bank of Paris, shall soon be found better than gold or silver in
+the eyes of France. Moreover, given a greater safety to foreign gold,
+and I promise you that too shall pour into Paris in such fashion as has
+never yet been seen. Moreover, the people will follow their coin. Paris
+will be the greatest capital of Europe. This I promise you I can do.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;In effect,&quot; said the regent, smiling, &quot;you promise me that you can
+build a new Paris, a new world! Yet much of this I can in part believe
+and understand. Let that be as it may. The immediate truth is that
+something must be done, and done at once.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Obviously.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Our public debt is twenty-six hundred millions of livres. Its annual
+interest is eighty millions of livres. We can not pay this interest
+alone, not to speak of the principal. Obviously, as you say, the matter
+admits of no delay. Your bank&mdash;why, by heaven, let us have your bank!
+What can we do without your bank? Lastly, how quickly can we have it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sire, you make me the happiest man in all the world!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The advantage is quite otherwise, sir. But my head already swims with
+figures. Now let us set the rest aside until to-morrow. Meantime, I must
+confess to you, my dear friend, there is somewhat else that sits upon my
+mind.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>A change came upon the demeanor of his Grace the regent. Laying aside
+the dignity of the ruler with the questions of state, he became again
+more nearly that Philippe of Orl&eacute;ans, known by his friends as gay, care
+free and full of <i>camaraderie</i>.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Your Grace, could I be of the least personal service, I should be too
+happy,&quot; said Law.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, then, I must admit to you that this is a question of a diamond.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, a diamond?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The greatest diamond in the world. Indeed, there is none other like it,
+and never will be. This Jew hounds me to death, holding up the thing
+before mine eyes. Even Saint Simon, that priggish little duke of ours,
+tells me that France should have this stone, that it is a dignity which
+should not be allowed to pass away from her. But how can France,
+bankrupt as she is, afford a little trifle which costs three million
+francs? Three million francs, when we can not pay eighty millions annual
+interest on our debts!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis as you say, somewhat expensive,&quot; said Law.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Naturally, for I say to you that this stone had never parallel in the
+history of the world. It seems that this overseer in the Golconda mines
+got possession of it in some fashion, and escaped to Europe, hiding the
+stone about his person. It has been shown in different parts of Europe,
+but no one yet has been able to meet the price of this extortioner who
+owns it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And yet, as Saint Simon says, there is no dignity too great for the
+throne of France.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yet, meantime, the king will have no use for it for several years to
+come. There is the Sancy stone&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And, as your Grace remembers, this new stone would look excellent well
+upon a woman?&quot; said Law. He gazed, calm and unsmiling, directly into the
+eyes of Philippe of Orl&eacute;ans.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Monsieur L'as, you have the second sight!&quot; cried the latter,
+unblushingly. &quot;You have genius. May God strike me blind if ever I have
+seen a keener mind than thine!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;All warm blood is akin,&quot; replied John Law. &quot;This stone is perhaps for
+your Grace's best beloved?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Eh&mdash;ah&mdash;which? As you know&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah! Perhaps for La Parab&egrave;re. Richly enough she deserves it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah, Monsieur L'as, even your mind is at fault now,&quot; cried the regent,
+shaking his finger exultingly. &quot;I covet this new stone, not for Parab&egrave;re
+nor for any one of those dear friends whom you might name, and whom you
+may upon occasion have met at some of my little suppers. It is for
+another, whose name or nature you can not guess.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Not that mysterious beauty of whom rumor goes about this week, the
+woman rated surpassing fair, who has lately come into the acquaintance
+of your Grace, and whom your Grace has concealed as jealously as though
+he feared to lose her by some highway robbery?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It is the same, I must admit!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Law remained thoughtful for a time. &quot;I make no doubt that the Hebrew
+would take two million francs for this stone,&quot; said he.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Perhaps, but two millions is the same as three millions,&quot; said
+Philippe. &quot;The question is, where to get two millions.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;As your Grace has said, I have been somewhat fortunate at play,&quot;
+replied Law, &quot;but I must say that this sum is beyond me, and that both
+the diamond and the bank I can not compass. Yet, your Grace has at
+disposal the crown jewels of France. Now, beauty is the sovereign of all
+sovereigns, as Philippe of Orl&eacute;ans must own. To beauty belongs the use
+of these crown jewels. Place them as security, and borrow the two
+millions. For myself, I shall take pride in advancing the interest on
+the sum for a certain time, until such occasion as the treasury may
+afford the price of this trinket. In a short time it will be able to do
+so, I promise your Grace; indeed able to buy a dozen such stones, and
+take no thought of the matter.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Monsieur L'as, do you actually believe these things?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I know them.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And you can secure for me this gem?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Assuredly. We shall have it. Let it be called the 'Regent's Diamond,'
+after your Grace of Orl&eacute;ans. And when the king shall one day wear it,
+let us hope that he will place it as fitly as I am sure your Grace will
+do, on the brow of beauty&mdash;even though it be beauty unknown, and kept
+concealed under princely prerogative!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah! You are too keen, Monsieur L'as, too keen to see my new discovery.
+Not for a little time shall I take the risk of introducing this fair
+friend to one so dangerous as yourself; but one of these times, my very
+good friend, if you can secure for me this diamond, you shall come to a
+very little supper, and see where for a time I shall place this gem, as
+you say, on the brow of beauty. For the sake of Monsieur L'as, head
+magician of France my mysterious alien shall then unmask.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And then I am to have my bank?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Good God, yes, a thousand banks!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It is agreed?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It is agreed.&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='BOOK_III_CHAPTER_V'></a><h3>CHAPTER V</h3>
+
+<h4>A DAY OF MIRACLES</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>The regent of France kept his promise to Law, and the latter in turn
+fulfilled his prophecy to the regent. Moreover, he swiftly went far
+toward verifying his boast to the Lady Catharine Knollys; for in less
+than a month his name was indeed on every tongue in Paris. The Banque
+G&eacute;n&eacute;rale de L'as et Compagnie was seized upon by the public, debtor and
+creditor alike, as the one new thing, and hence as the only salvation.
+As ever, it pleased Paris to be mystified. In some way the rumor spread
+about that Monsieur L'as was <i>philosophique</i>; that the Banque G&eacute;n&eacute;rale
+was founded upon &quot;philosophy.&quot; It was catch-word sufficient for the
+time.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;<i>Vive</i> Jean L'as, <i>le philosophe</i>&mdash;Monsieur L'as, he who has saved
+France!&quot; So rang the cry of the shallow-witted people of an age splendid
+even in its contradictions. And meantime the new bank, crudely
+experimental as it was, flourished as though its master spirit had
+indeed in his possession the philosopher's stone, turning all things to
+gold.</p>
+
+<p>One day, shortly after the beginning of that brilliantly spectacular
+series of events destined so soon to make Paris the Mecca of the world,
+there sat at table, in a little, obscure <i>cabaret</i> of the gay city, a
+group of persons who seemed to have chosen that spot for purposes of
+privacy. Yet privacy was difficult where all the curious passers-by
+stared in amaze at the great coach near the door, half filling the
+narrow and unclean street&mdash;a vehicle bearing the arms of no less a
+person than that august and unscrupulous representative of the French
+nobility, the Prince de Conti. No less a person than the prince himself,
+thin-faced, aquiline and haughty, sat at this table, looking about him
+like any common criminal to note whether his speech might be overheard.
+Next to him sat a hook-nosed Jew from Austria, Fraslin by name, one of
+many of his kind gathered so quickly within the last few weeks in Paris,
+even as the scent of carrion fetches ravens to the feast. Another of the
+party was a man of middle age, of handsome, calm, patrician features and
+an unruffled mien&mdash;that De la Chaise, nephew of the confessor of Louis
+the Grand, who Was later to represent the young king in the provinces of
+Louisiana.</p>
+
+<p>Near by the latter, and indeed the central figure of this gathering, was
+one less distinguished than either of the above, evidently neither of
+churchly ancestry nor civic distinction&mdash;Henri Varenne, sometime clerk
+for the noted Paris Fr&egrave;res, farmers of the national revenues. Varenne,
+now serving but as clerk in the new bank of L'as et Compagnie, could
+have been called a man of no great standing; yet it was he whose
+presence had called hither these others to this unusual meeting. In
+point of fact, Varenne was a spy, a spy chosen by the jealous Paris
+Fr&egrave;res, to learn what he might of the internal mechanism of this new and
+startling institution which had sprung into such sudden prominence.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;As to the bank of these brothers L'as,&quot; said the Prince de Conti,
+rapping out emphasis with his sword hilt on the table, &quot;it surely has
+much to commend it. Here is one of its notes, and witness what it says.
+'The bank promises to pay to the bearer at sight the sum of fifty livres
+in coin of the weight and standard of this day.' That is to say, of this
+date which it bears. Following these, are the words 'value received.'
+Now, my notary tells me that these words make this absolutely safe, so
+that I know what it means in coin to me at this day, or a year from now.
+Is it not so, Monsieur Fraslin?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The Jew reached out his hand, took the note, and peered over it in close
+scrutiny.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis no wonder, Monsieur le Prince,&quot; said he, presently, &quot;that orders
+have been given by the Government to receive this note without discount
+for the payment of the general taxes. Upon my reputation, I must say to
+you that these notes will pass current better than your uncertain coin.
+The specie of the king has been changed twice in value by the king's
+orders. Yet this bases itself upon a specie value which is not subject
+to any change. Therein lies its own value.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It is indeed true,&quot; broke in Varenne. &quot;Not a day goes by at this new
+bank but persons come to us and demand our notes rather than coin of the
+realm of France.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, yes,&quot; broke in the prince, &quot;we are agreed as to all this, but
+there is much talk about further plans of this Monsieur L'as. He has the
+ear of his Grace the regent, surely. Now, sir, tell us what you know of
+these future affairs.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The rumor is, as I understand it,&quot; answered Varenne, &quot;that he is to
+take over control of the Company of the West&mdash;to succeed, in short, to
+the shoes of Anthony Crozat. There come curious stories of this province
+of Louisiana.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Of course,&quot; resumed the prince, with easy wisdom, &quot;we all of us know of
+the voyage of L'Huillier, who, with his four ships, went up this great
+river Messasebe, and who, as is well known, found that river of Blue
+Earth, described by early writers as abounding in gold and gems.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Aye, and there comes the strange part of it, and this is what I would
+lay before your Lordships, as bearing upon the value of the shares of
+this new bank, since it is taking over the charter of the Company of the
+West. It is news not yet known upon the street. The story goes that the
+half has not been told of the wealth of these provinces.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Now, as you say, L'Huillier had with him four ships, and it is well
+known that his gentlemen had with them certain ladies of distinction,
+among these a mysterious dame reported to have earlier traveled in
+portions of New France. The name of this mysterious female is not known,
+save that she is reported to have been a good friend of a
+<i>sous-lieutenant</i> of the regiment Carignan, sometime dweller at Quebec
+and Montr&eacute;al, and who later became a lieutenant under L'Huillier. It is
+said that this same mysterious fair, having returned from America and
+having cast aside her lieutenant, has come under protection of no less a
+person than his Grace Philippe of Orl&eacute;ans, the regent. Now, as you know,
+the bank is the best friend of the regent, and this mysterious dame, as
+we are advised by servants of his Grace's household, hath told his Grace
+such stories of the wealth of the Messasebe that he has secretly and
+quickly made over the control of the trade of those provinces to this
+new bank. There is story also that his Grace himself will not lack
+profit in this movement!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The hand of Conti smote hard upon the table. &quot;By heaven! it were strange
+thing,&quot; said he, &quot;if this foreign traveler should prove the same
+mysterious beauty Philippe is reported to have kept in hiding. My faith,
+is it indeed true that we are come upon a time of miracles?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Listen!&quot; broke in again Varenne, his ardor overcoming his
+obsequiousness. &quot;These are some of the tales brought back&mdash;and reported
+privately, I can assure you, gentlemen, now for the first time and to
+yourselves. The people of this country are said to be clad in beauteous
+raiment, made of skins, of grasses, and of the barks of trees. Their
+ornaments are made of pure, yellow gold, and of precious gems which they
+pick up from the banks of the streams, as common as pebbles here in
+France. The climate is such that all things grow in the most unrivaled
+fruitfulness. There is neither too much sun nor too much rain. The lakes
+and rivers are vast and beautiful, and the forests are filled with
+myriads of strange and sweet-voiced birds. 'Tis said that the dream of
+Ponce de Leon hath been realized, and that not only one, but scores of
+fountains of youth have been discovered in this great valley. The people
+are said never to grow old. Their personal beauty is of surpassing
+nature, and their disposition easy and complaisant to the last degree&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;My faith, say on!&quot; broke in De la Chaise. &quot;'Tis surely a story of
+paradise which you recount.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But, listen, gentlemen! The story goes yet farther. As to mines of gold
+and silver, 'twas matter of report that such mines are common in all the
+valley of the Messasebe. Indeed the whole surface of the earth, in some
+parts, is covered with lumps of gold, so that the natives care nothing
+for it. The bottoms of the streams, the beaches of the lakes, carry as
+many particles of gold as they have pebbles and little stones. As for
+silver, none take note of it. 'Tis used as building stone.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;In the name of Jehovah, is there support for these wonders you have
+spoken?&quot; broke in Fraslin the Jew, his eyes shining with suppressed
+excitement.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Assuredly. Yet I am telling not half of the news which came to my
+knowledge this very morning&mdash;the story is said to have emanated from the
+Palais Royal itself, and therefore, no doubt, is to be traced to this
+game unknown queen of the Messasebe. She reports, so it is said, that
+beyond the country where L'Huillier secured his cargo of blue earth,
+there is a land where grows a most peculiar plant. The meadows and
+fields are covered with it, and it is said that the dews of night, which
+gather within the petals of these flowers, become, in the course of a
+single day, nothing less than a solid diamond stone! From this in time
+the leaves drop down, leaving the diamond exposed there, shining and
+radiant.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah, bah!&quot; broke in Fraslin the Jew. &quot;Why believe such babblings? We all
+know that the diamond is a product not of the vegetable but of the
+mineral world!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;So have we known many things,&quot; stoutly replied Varenne, &quot;only to find
+ourselves frequently mistaken. Now for my part, a diamond is a diamond,
+be it born in a flower or broken from a rock. And as for the excellence
+of these stones, 'tis rumored that the lady hath abundant proof. 'Tis no
+wonder that the natives of the valley of the Messasebe robe themselves
+in silks, and that they deck themselves carelessly with precious stones,
+as would a peasant of ours with a chain of daisy blossoms. Now, if there
+be such wealth as this, is it not easy to see the profit of a bank which
+controls the trade with such a province? True, there have been some
+discoveries in this valley, but nothing thorough. 'Tis but recent the
+thing hath been done thorough.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The Prince de Conti sat back in his chair and drew a long breath. &quot;If
+these things be true,&quot; said he, &quot;then this Monsieur L'as is not so bad a
+leader to follow.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But listen!&quot; exclaimed Varenne once more. &quot;I have not even yet told you
+the most important thing, and this is rumor which perhaps your Grace has
+caught. 'Tis whispered that the bank of the brothers L'as is within a
+fortnight to be changed.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What is that?&quot; queried Fraslin quickly. &quot;'Tis not to be abandoned?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;By no means. Abandoned would be quite the improper word. 'Tis to be
+improved, expanded, increased, magnified! My Lords, there is the
+opportunity of a life-time for every one of us here!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Say on, man, say on!&quot; commanded the prince, the covetousness of his
+soul shining in his eyes as he leaned forward.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I mean to say this,&quot; and the spy lowered his voice as he looked
+anxiously about. &quot;The regent hath taken a fancy to be chief owner
+himself of an enterprise so profitable. In fine, the Banque G&eacute;n&eacute;rale is
+to become the Banque Royale. His Majesty of France, represented by his
+Grace the regent, is to become the head banker of France and Europe!
+Monsieur L'as is to be retained as director-general of this Banque
+Royale. There are to be branches fixed in different cities of the realm,
+at Lyons, at Tours, at Amiens, at Rochelle, at Orl&eacute;ans&mdash;in fact, all
+France is to go upon a different footing.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The glances of the Prince de Conti and the Austrian met each other. The
+Jew drew a long breath as he sat back in his chair, his hands grasping
+at the edge of the table. Try as he might, he scarce could keep his chin
+from trembling. He licked out his tongue to moisten his lips.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There is so much,&quot; resumed Varenne, &quot;that 'tis hard to tell it all. But
+you must know that this Banque Royale will be still more powerful than
+the old one. There will be incorporated with it, not only the Company of
+the West, but also the General Company of the Indies, as you know, the
+most considerable mercantile enterprise of France. Now listen! Within
+the first year the Banque Royale will issue one thousand million livres
+in notes. This embodiment of the Compagnie G&eacute;n&eacute;rale of the Indies will
+warrant, as I know by the secret plans of the bank, the issue of notes
+amounting to two billion livres. Therefore, as Monsieur de la Chaise
+signifies, he who is lucky enough to-day to own a few <i>actions</i> of the
+Banque Royale, or even the old <i>actions</i> of Monsieur L'as' bank, which
+will be redeemed by its successor, is in a way to gain greater sums than
+were ever seen on the face of any investment from the beginning of the
+world until to-day! Now, as I was about to ask of you, Monsieur
+Fraslin&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The speaker turned in his chair to where Fraslin had been but a moment
+before. The chair was empty.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Our friend stepped to the door but on the instant,&quot; said De la Chaise.
+&quot;He is perhaps&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That he has,&quot; cried Varenne. &quot;He is the first of us to profit! Monsieur
+le Prince, in virtue of what I have said to you, if you could favor me
+with an advance of a few hundred louis, I could assure my family of
+independence. Monsieur le Prince! Monsieur le Prince&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Monsieur le Prince, however, was not so far behind the Austrian! Varenne
+followed him, tugging at his coat, but Conti shook him off, sprang into
+his carriage and was away.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;To the Place Vend&ocirc;me!&quot; he cried to his coachman, &quot;and hasten!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>De la Chaise, aristocratic, handsome and thick-witted, remained alone at
+the table, wondering what was the cause of this sudden commotion.
+Varenne re-appeared at the door wringing his hands.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What is it, my friend?&quot; asked De la Chaise. &quot;Why all this haste? Why
+this confusion?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Nothing!&quot; exclaimed Varenne, bitterly, &quot;except that every minute of
+this day is worth a million francs. Man, do you know?&quot;&mdash;and in his
+frenzy he caught De la Chaise by the collar and half shook him out of
+his usual calm&mdash;&quot;man, can you not see that Jean L'as has brought
+revolution into Paris? Oh! This L'as, this devil of a L'as! A thousand
+louis, my friend, a hundred, ten&mdash;give me but ten louis, and I will make
+you rich! A day of miracles is here!&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='BOOK_III_CHAPTER_VI'></a><h3>CHAPTER VI</h3>
+
+<h4>THE GREATEST NEED</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>There sprang now with incredible swiftness upward and outward an Aladdin
+edifice of illusion. It was as though indeed this genius who had waved
+his wand and bidden this fairy palace of chimera to arise, had used for
+his material the intangible, iridescent film of bubbles, light as air.
+Wider and wider spread the balloon of phantasm. Higher and higher it
+floated, on it fixed the eyes of France. And France laughed, and asked
+that yet other bubbles should be blown.</p>
+
+<p>All France was mad, and to its madness there was joined that of all
+Europe. The population of Paris doubled. The prices of labor and
+commodities trebled in a day. There was now none willing to be called
+artisan. Every man was broker in stocks. Bubbles, bubbles, dreams,
+fantasies&mdash;these were the things all carried in their hands and in their
+hearts. These made the object of their desire, of their pursuit
+unimaginably passionate and frenzied.</p>
+
+<p>With a leap from the somberness of the reign of Louis, all France went
+to the extreme of levity. Costumes changed. Manners, but late devout,
+grew debonair. Morals, once lax, now grew yet more lax. The blaze and
+tinsel, the music and the rouge, the wine, the flowing, uncounted
+gold&mdash;all Paris might have been called a golden brothel of delirious
+delight, tenanted by a people utterly gone mad.</p>
+
+<p>It was a house made of bubbles. Its domes were of bubbles. Its roof was
+of bubbles, and its walls. Its windows were of that nacreous film. Even
+its foundations had naught in them more substantial than an evanescent
+dream of gauze-like web, frail as the spider's house upon the dew-hung
+grasses.</p>
+
+<p>Yet as to this latter, there should be somewhat of qualification. The
+wizard who created this fairy structure saw it swiftly grow beyond its
+original plan, saw unforeseen results spring from those causes which
+were first well within his comprehension.</p>
+
+<p>Berated by later generations as an adventurer, a schemer, a charlatan,
+Law originally deserved anything but such a verdict of his public.
+Dishonest he was not, insincere he never was; and as a student of
+fundamentals, he was in advance of his age, which is ever to be
+accursed. His method was but the forerunner of the modern commercial
+system, which is of itself to-day but a tougher faith bubble, as may be
+seen in all the changing cycles of finance and trade. His bank was but
+a portion of a nobler dream. His system was but one vast belief, one
+glorious hope.</p>
+
+<p>The Company of the West&mdash;this it was that made John Law's heart throb.
+America&mdash;its trade&mdash;its future! John Law, dead now and gone&mdash;he was the
+colossal pioneer! He saw in his dreams what we see to-day in reality;
+and no bubble of all the frenzied Paris streets equaled this splendid
+dream of a renewed and revived humanity that is a fact to-day.</p>
+
+<p>But there came to this dreamer and doer, at the very door of his
+success, that which arrested him even upon his entering in. There came
+the preliminary blow which in a flash his far-seeing mind knew was to
+mean ultimate ruin. In a word, the loose principles of a dissolute man
+were to ruin France, and with it one who had once saved France from
+ruin.</p>
+
+<p>Philippe of Orl&eacute;ans found it ever difficult to say no to a friend, and
+more so if that friend were a woman; and of the latter sort, none had
+more than he. Men and women alike, these could all see only this
+abundance of money made of paper. What, then, was to prevent the regent,
+all powerful, from printing more and yet more of it, and giving it to
+his friends? The regent did so. Never were mistresses better paid than
+those of Philippe of Orl&eacute;ans, receiving in effect faithlessness in
+return for insincerity.</p>
+
+<p>Philippe of Orl&eacute;ans could not see why, since credit based on specie made
+possible a great volume of accepted notes, a credit based on all France
+might not warrant an indefinite issue of such notes. He offered his
+director-general all the concessions which the crown could give, all the
+revenue-producing elements of France&mdash;in effect, all France itself, as
+security. In return he asked but the small privilege of printing for
+himself as much money as he chose and whenever he saw fit!</p>
+
+<p>The notes of the private bank of Law were an absolute promise to pay a
+certain and definite sum, not a changeable or indefinite sum; and Law
+made it a part of his published creed that any banker was worthy of
+death who issued notes without having the specie wherewith to pay them.
+He insisted that the payment should mean specie in the value of the day
+on which the note was issued. This item the regent liked little, as
+being too irksome for his temper. Was it not of record how Louis, the
+Grand Monarque, had twice made certain millions for himself by the
+simple process of changing the value of the coin? Dicing, drinking,
+amorous Philippe, easy-going, shallow-thinking, truly wert thou better
+fitted for a throne than for a banker's chair!</p>
+
+<p>The royal bank, which the regent himself hastened to foster when he saw
+the profits of the first private bank of circulation and discount France
+had ever known, issued notes against which Law entered immediately his
+firm protest. He saw that their tenor spelled ruin for the whole system
+of finance which, at such labor, he had erected. These notes promised to
+pay, for instance, fifty livres &quot;in silver coin,&quot; not &quot;in coin of the
+weight and standard of this day,&quot; as had the honester notes of Law's
+bank. That is to say, the notes meant nothing sure and nothing definite.
+They might be money for a time, but not forever; and this the
+director-general was too shrewd a man not to know.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But under this issue you shall have all France,&quot; said the regent to him
+one day, as they renewed their discussion yet again upon this scheme.
+&quot;You shall have the farming of the taxes. I will give you all the
+foreign trade as monopoly, if you like&mdash;will give you the mint&mdash;will
+give you, in effect, as I have said, all France. But, Monsieur my
+director-general, I must have money. It is for that purpose that I
+appoint you director-general&mdash;because I find you the most remarkable man
+in all the world.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Your Grace,&quot; said Law, &quot;print your notes thus, and print them to such
+extent as you wish, and France is again worse than bankrupt! Then,
+indeed, you have worse than repudiated the debts of France.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah bah! <i>mon dr&ocirc;le!</i> You are ill to-day. You have a <i>migraine</i>,
+perhaps? What folly for you to speak thus. France hath swiftly grown so
+strong that she can never again be ruined. What ails my magician, my
+Prince of Golconda, this morning? France bankrupt! Even were it so, does
+that relieve me of this begging of De Prie, of Parab&egrave;re, and all the
+others? My God, Monsieur L'as, they are like leeches! They think me made
+of money.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And your Grace thinks France made of money.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Nay; I only think my director-general is made of money, or can make it
+as he likes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>And this was ever the end of Law's reproaches and his expostulations.
+This, then, was to be the end of his glorious enterprises, thought he,
+as he sat one morning, staring out of the window when left alone. This
+sordid love for money for its own sake&mdash;this was to be the limit of an
+ambition which dealt in theories, in men, in nations, and not in livres
+and louis d'or! Law smiled bitterly. For an instant he was not the
+confident man of action and of affairs, not the man claiming with
+assurance the perpetual protection of good fortune. He sat there, alone,
+feeling nothing but the great human craving for sympathy and trust. A
+line of carriages swept back across the street at his window, and
+streams of nobles besought entrance at his door. And the man who had
+called out all these, the man for whose friendship all Europe
+clamored&mdash;that man sat with aching heart, longing, craving, begging now
+of fortune only the one thing&mdash;a friend!</p>
+
+<p>At last he arose, his face showing lean and haggard. He passed into
+another room.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Will,&quot; said he, &quot;I am at a place where I am dizzy and need a hand. You
+know what hand it means for me. Can you go&mdash;will you take her, as you
+did once before for me, a message? I can not go. I can not venture into
+her presence. Will you go? Tell her it is the last time! Tell her it is
+the last!&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='BOOK_III_CHAPTER_VII'></a><h3>CHAPTER VII</h3>
+
+<h4>THE MIRACLE UNWROUGHT</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>&quot;You do not know my brother, Lady Catharine.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Thus spoke Will Law, who had been admitted but a half hour since at the
+great door of the private hotel where dwelt the Lady Catharine Knollys.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Twould seem, then, 'tis by no fault of his,&quot; replied Lady Catharine,
+hotly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And is that not well? There are many in Paris who would fain change
+places with you, Lady Catharine.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Would heaven they might!&quot; exclaimed she. &quot;Would that my various
+friends, or the prefect of police, or heaven knows who that may have
+spread the news of my acquaintance with your brother, would take me out
+of that acquaintance!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;They might hold his friendship a high honor,&quot; said Will.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, an honor! Excellent well comes this distinguished honor. Sirrah,
+carriages block my street, filled with those who beseech my introduction
+to John Law. I am waylaid if I step abroad, by women&mdash;persons of
+quality, ladies of the realm, God knoweth what&mdash;and they beg of me the
+favor of an introduction to John Law! There seems spread, I know not
+how, a silly rumor of the child Kate. And though I did scarce more than
+name a convent for her attendance, there are now out all manner of
+reports of Monsieur John Law's child, and&mdash;what do I say&mdash;'tis
+monstrous! I protest that I have come closer than I care into the public
+thoughts with this prodigy, this John Law, whose favor is sought by
+every one. Honor!&mdash;'tis not less than outrage!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis but argument that my brother is a person not without note.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But granted. 'We have seen his carriage at your curb,' they say. I
+insist that it is a mistake. 'But we saw him come from your door at such
+and such an hour.' If he came, 'twas but for meeting such answer as I
+have always given him. Will they never believe&mdash;will your brother
+himself never believe that, though did he have, as he himself says, all
+France in the hollow of his hand, he could be nothing to me? Now I will
+make an end to this. I will leave Paris.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Madam, you might not be allowed to go.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What! I not allowed to go! And what would hinder a Knollys of Banbury
+from going when the hour shall arrive?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The regent.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And why the regent?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Because of my brother.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Your brother!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Assuredly. My brother is to-day king of Paris. If he liked he could
+keep you prisoner in Paris. My brother does as he chooses. He could
+abolish Parliament to-morrow if he chose. My brother can do all
+things&mdash;except to win from you, Lady Catharine, one word of kindness, of
+respect. Now, then, he has come to the end. He told me to come to you
+and bear his word. He told me to say to you that this is the last time
+he will importune, the last time that he will implore. Oh, Lady
+Catharine! Once before I carried to you a message from John Law&mdash;from
+John Law, not in distress then more than he is now, even in this hour of
+his success.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lady Catharine paled as she sank back into her seat. Her white hand
+caught at the lace at her throat. Her eyes grew dark in their emotion.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, Madam,&quot; went on Will Law, tears shining in his own eyes, &quot;'twas I,
+an unfaithful messenger, who, by an error, wrought ruin for my brother
+and for yourself, even as I did for myself. Madam, hear me! I would be a
+better messenger to-day.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lady Catharine sat still silent, her bosom heaving, her eyes gone wide
+and straining.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I have seen my brother weep,&quot; said Will, going on impulsively. &quot;I have
+seen him walk the floor at night, have heard him cry out to himself.
+They call him crazed. Indeed he is crazed. Yet 'tis but for one word
+from you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir,&quot; said Lady Catharine, struggling to gain self-control, and in
+spite of herself softened by this appeal, &quot;you speak well.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;If I do, 'tis but because I am the mouth-piece of a man who all his
+life has sought to speak the truth; who has sought&mdash;yes, I say to you
+even now, Lady Catharine&mdash;who has sought always to live the truth. This
+I say in spite of all that we both know.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>There came no reply from the woman, who sat still looking at him, not
+yet moved by the voice of the proxy as she might then have been by the
+voice of that proxy's principal. Vehemently the young man, ordinarily so
+timid and diffident, approached her.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Look you!&quot; exclaimed he. &quot;If my brother said he could lay France at
+your feet, by heaven! he can well-nigh do so now. See! Here are some of
+the properties he has lately purchased in the realm of France. The
+Marquisat d'Effiat&mdash;'tis worth eight hundred thousand livres; the estate
+of Riviere&mdash;worth nine hundred thousand livres; the estate of
+Roissy&mdash;worth six hundred and fifty thousand livres; the estates of
+Berville, of Fontaine, of Yville, of Gerponville, of Tancarville, of
+Guermande&mdash;the tale runs near a score! Lately my brother has purchased
+the H&ocirc;tel Mazarin, and the property at Rue Vivienne, paying for them one
+million two hundred thousand livres. He has other city properties,
+houses in Paris, estates here and there, running not into the hundreds
+of thousands, but into the millions of livres in actual value. Among
+these are some of the estates of the greatest nobles of France. Their
+value is more than any man can compute. Is this not something? Moreover,
+there goes with it all the dignity of the most stupendous personal
+success ever made by a single man since the world began. 'Tis all yours,
+Lady Catharine. And unless you share it, it has no value to my brother.
+I know myself that he will fling it all away, calling it worthless,
+since he can not have that greatest fortune which he craves!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sirrah, I have entertained much speech of both yourself and your
+brother, because I would not seem ungracious nor forgetful. Yet this
+paying of court by means of figures, by virtue of lists of estates&mdash;do
+you not know how ineffectual this must seem?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;If you could but understand!&quot; cried Will. &quot;If you could but believe
+that there is none on earth values these less than my brother. Under
+all this he has yet greater dreams. His ambition is to awaken an old
+world and to build a new one. By heaven! Lady Catharine, I am asked to
+speak for my brother, and so I shall! These are his ambitions. First of
+all, Lady Catharine, you. Second, America. Third, a people for
+America&mdash;a people who may hope! Oh, I admit all the folly of his life.
+He played deep, yet 'twas but to forget you. He drank, but 'twas to
+forget you. Foolish he was, as are all men. Now he succeeds, and finds
+he can not forget you. I have told you his ambitions, Madam, and though
+others may never know nor acknowledge them, you, at least, must do so.
+And I beg you to remember, Madam, that of all his ambitions, 'twas you,
+Lady Catharine, your favor, your kindness, your mercy, that made his
+first and chief desire.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;As for that,&quot; said the woman, somewhat scornfully, &quot;if you please, I
+had rather I received my protestations direct; and your brother knows I
+forbid him further protestations. He has, it is true, raised some
+considerable noise by way of enterprises. That I might know, even did I
+not see this horde of dukes and duchesses and princes of the blood,
+clamoring for the recognition of even his remotest friends. I know,
+too, that he is accepted as a hero by the people.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And well he may be. Coachmen and valets have liveries of their own
+these days. Servants now eat from plate, and clerks have their own
+coaches. Paris is packed with people, and, look you, they are people no
+longer clamoring for bread. Who has done this? Why, my brother, John Law
+of Lauriston, Lady Catharine, who loves you, and loves you dearly.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The old wrinkle of perplexity gathered between the brows of the woman
+before him. Her face was clouded, the changeful eyes now deep covered by
+their lids.</p>
+
+<p>Lacking the precise word for that crucial moment, Will Law broke further
+on into material details. &quot;To be explicit, as I have said,&quot; resumed he,
+&quot;everything seems to center about my brother, the director-general of
+finance. He took the old notes of the government, worth not half their
+face, and in a week made them treble their face value. The king owes him
+over one hundred million livres to-day. My brother has taken over the
+farming of the royal taxes. And now he forms a little Company of the
+Indies; and to this he adds the charter of the Senegal Company. Not
+content, he adds the entire trade of the Indies, of China and the South
+Seas. He has been given the privilege of the royal farming of tobacco,
+for which he pays the king the little trifle of two hundred million
+livres, and assures to the king certain interest moneys, which, I need
+not say, the king will actually obtain. In addition to these things, he
+has lately been given the mint of France. The whole coinage of the realm
+has been made over to this Company of the Indies. My brother pays the
+king fifty million livres for this privilege, and this he will do within
+fifteen months. All France is indeed in the hands of my brother. Now,
+call John Law an adventurer, a gambler, if you will, and if you can; but
+at least admit that he has given life and hope to the poor of France,
+that he has given back to the king a people which was despoiled and
+ruined by the former king. He has trebled the trade of France, he has
+saved her honor, and opened to her the avenues of a new world. Are these
+things nothing? They have all been done by my brother, this man whom you
+believe incapable of faith and constancy. Good God! It surely seems that
+he has at least been constant to himself!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, I hear talk of it all. I hear that a share in the new company
+promises dividends of two hundred livres. I hear talk of shares and
+'sub-shares,' called 'mothers,' and 'daughters,' and 'granddaughters,'
+and I know not what. It seems as though half the coin were divided into
+centimes, and as though each centime had been planted by your brother
+and had grown to be worth a thousand pounds. I admit somewhat of
+knowledge of these miracles.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;True, Lady Catharine. Can there not be one miracle more?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lady Catharine Knollys bent her face forward upon her hands, unhappiness
+in every gesture.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir,&quot; said she, &quot;it grieves my heart to say it; yet this answer you
+must take to your brother, John Law. That miracle hath not yet been
+wrought which can give us back the past again.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;This,&quot; said Will Law, sadly, &quot;is this all the message I may take?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It is all.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Though it is the last?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It is the last.&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='BOOK_III_CHAPTER_VIII'></a><h3>CHAPTER VIII</h3>
+
+<h4>THE LITTLE SUPPER OF THE REGENT</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>Paris, city of delights, Paris drunk with gold, mad with the delirium of
+excesses, Paris with no aim except joy, no method but extravagance, held
+within her gilded gates one citadel of sensuality which remained ever an
+object of mystery, a source of curiosity even in that dissipated and
+pleasure-sated city. In the Palais Royal, back of the regally beautiful
+gardens, back of the noble rows of trees, beyond the gates of iron and
+the guards in uniform, lived France's regent, in a city of libertines
+the prince of libertines. In a city where there were more mistresses
+than wives, he it was who led the list of the licentious. In a city of
+unregulated vice and yet of exquisitely ordered taste, he it was who
+accorded to himself daily pleasures which were admittedly beyond
+approach. How unspeakably unbridled, how delightfully wicked, how
+temptingly ingenious in their features the little suppers of the regent
+might be&mdash;these were matters of curious interest to all, of intimate
+knowledge to but few.</p>
+
+<p>It was to one of these famous yet mysterious gatherings that the regent
+of France had invited the master of that great and glittering bubble
+house, wherein dwelt so insecurely the affairs of France. John Law,
+director-general of the finances, controller of the Company of the
+Indies, was chosen by Philippe of Orl&eacute;ans for a position not granted to
+the crafty Dubois or to the shrewd D'Argenson, the last of that strange
+trinity who made his council. John Law, gallant, graceful, owner of a
+reputation as wit and beau scarce behind that of his sudden fame as
+financier, was admitted not only to the business affairs of the gay
+duke, but to his pleasures as well. To him and his brother Will, still
+associated in large measure in the stupendous operations of the
+director-general, there came the invitation of the regent, practically
+the command of the king, to join the regent after the opera for a little
+supper at the Palais Royal.</p>
+
+<p>Law would have excused himself from this unsought honor. &quot;Your Grace
+will observe,&quot; said he, &quot;that my time is occupied to the full. The
+people scarcely suffer me to rest at night. Perhaps your Grace might not
+care for company so dull as mine.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Fie! my friend, my very good friend,&quot; replied Philippe. &quot;Have you
+become <i>d&eacute;vot?</i> Whence this sudden change? Consider; 'tis no hardship to
+meet such ladies as Madame de Sabran, or Madame de Prie&mdash;designer
+though I fear De Prie is for the domestic felicity of the youthful
+king&mdash;nor indeed my good friend, La Parab&egrave;re, somewhat pale and pensive
+though she groweth. And what shall I say for Madame de Tencin, the
+<i>spirituelle</i>, who is to be with us; or Madame de Caylus, niece of
+Maintenon, but the very opposite of Maintenon in every possible way?
+Moreover, we are promised the attendance of Mademoiselle A&iuml;ss&eacute;. She hath
+become devout of late, and thinks it a sin even to powder her hair, but
+A&iuml;ss&eacute; devout is none the less A&iuml;ss&eacute; the beautiful.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Surely your Grace hath never lacked in excellent taste, and that is the
+talk of Paris,&quot; replied Law.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, well, long training bringeth perfection in due time,&quot; replied
+Philippe of Orl&eacute;ans, composedly, it having no ill effect with him to
+call attention to his numerous intrigues. &quot;It should hardly be called a
+poor privilege, after all, to witness the results of that highly
+cultivated taste, as it shall be displayed this evening, not to mention
+the privilege you will have of meeting one or two other gentlemen; and
+lastly, of course, myself, if you be not tired of such company.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Your Grace,&quot; replied Law, &quot;you both honor and flatter me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, sir, you speak as if this were a new experience for you. Now, in
+the days&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis true; but of late years I have grown grave in the cares of state,
+as your Grace may know.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And most efficiently,&quot; replied the regent. &quot;But stay! I have kept until
+the last my main attraction. You shall witness there, I give you my
+word, the making public of the secret of the fair unknown who is reputed
+to have been especially kind to Philippe of Orl&eacute;ans for these some
+months past. Join us at the little enterprise, my friend, and you shall
+see, I promise you, the most beautiful woman in Paris, crowned with the
+greatest gem of all the world. The regent's diamond, that great gem
+which you have made possible for France, shall, for the first time, and
+for one evening at least, adorn the forehead of the regent's queen of
+beauty!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>As the gay words of the regent fell upon his ears, there came into Law's
+heart a curious tension, a presentiment, a feeling as though some great
+and curious thing were about to happen. Yet ever the challenge of danger
+was one to draw him forward, not to hold him back. If for a moment he
+had hesitated, his mind was now suddenly resolved.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Your Grace,&quot; said he, &quot;your wish is for me command, and certainly in
+this instance is peculiarly agreeable.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;As I thought,&quot; replied the regent. &quot;Had you hesitated, I should have
+called your attention to the fact that the table of the Palais Royal is
+considered to possess somewhat of character. The Vicomte de B&eacute;chamel is
+at the very zenith of his genius, and he daily produces dishes such as
+all Paris has not ever dreamed. Moreover, we have been fortunate in some
+recent additions of most excellent <i>vin d'Ai</i>. I make no doubt, upon the
+whole, we shall find somewhat with which to occupy ourselves.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Thus it came about that, upon that evening, there gathered at the
+entrance of the Palais Royal, after an evening with Lecouvreur at the
+Th&eacute;&acirc;tre Fran&ccedil;ais, some scattered groups of persons evidently possessing
+consequence. The chairs of others, from more distant locations,
+threading their way through the narrow, dark and unlighted streets of
+the old, crude capital of France, brought their passengers in time to a
+scene far different from that of the gloomy streets.</p>
+
+<p>The little supper of the regent, arranged in the private <i>salle</i>, whose
+decorations had been devised for the special purpose, was more
+entrancing than even the glitter of the mimic world of the Th&eacute;&acirc;tre
+Fran&ccedil;ais. There extended down the center of the room, though filling but
+a small portion of its vast extent, the grand table provided for the
+banquet, a reach of snowy linen, broken at the upper end by the arm of
+an abbreviated cross. At each end of this cross-arm stood magnificent
+candelabra, repeated at intervals along the greater extension of the
+board. Noble epergnes, filled with the choicest plants, found their
+reflections in plates of glass cunningly inlaid here and there upon the
+surface of the table. Vast mirrors, framed in wreaths of roses and
+surmounted by little laughing cupids, gleamed in the walls of the room,
+and in the faces of these mirrors were reflected the beams of the
+many-colored tapers, carried in brackets of engraved gold and silver and
+many-colored glasses. The ceiling of the room was a soft mass of silken
+draperies, depending edgewise from above, thousands of yards of the most
+expensive fabrics of the world. From these, as they were gently swayed
+by the breath of invisible fans, there floated delicious, languorous
+perfumes, intoxicating to the senses. On any hand within the great room,
+removed at some distance from the table, were rich, luxurious couches
+and divans.</p>
+
+<p>As one trod within the door of this temple of the senses, surely it must
+have seemed to him that he had come into another world, which at first
+glance might have appeared to be one of an unrighteous ease, an
+unprincipled enjoyment and an unmanly abandonment to embowered vice.
+Yet here it was that Philippe of Orl&eacute;ans, ruler of France, spent those
+hours most dear to him. If he gave thought to affairs of state during
+the day it was but that these affairs of state might give to him the
+means to indulge fancies of his own. Alike shrewd and easy, alike
+haughty and sensuous, here it was that Philippe held his real court.</p>
+
+<p>These young gentlemen of Prance, these <i>rou&eacute;s</i> who have come to meet
+Philippe at his little supper&mdash;how different from the same beings under
+the rule of the Grand Monarque. Their coats are no longer dark in hue.
+Their silks and velvets have blossomed out, even as Paris has blossomed
+since the death of Louis the Grand. Jabots of lace are shown in full
+abundance, and so far from the abolishment of jewels from their garb,
+rubies, sapphires, diamonds sparkle everywhere, from the clasp of the
+high ruffles of the neck to the buckles of the red-heeled shoes. Powder
+sparkles on the head coverings of these new gallants of France. They
+step daintily, yet not ungracefully, into this brilliantly-lighted room,
+these creatures, gracious and resplendent, sparkling, painted,
+ephemeral, not unsuited to the place and hour.</p>
+
+<p>For the ladies, witness the attire, for instance, of that Madame de
+Tencin, the wonder of the wits of Paris. A full blue costume, with
+pannier more than five yards in circumference, under a skirt of silver
+gauze, trimmed with golden gauze and pink crape, and a train lying six
+yards upon the floor, showing silver embroideries with white roses. The
+sleeves are half-draped, as is the skirt, and each caught up with
+diamonds, showing folds lying above and below the silk underneath.
+Madame wears a necklace of rubies and of diamonds, and above the pannier
+a belt of diamonds and rubies. Her hair is dressed, following the mental
+habit of madame, in the Greek style, and abundantly trimmed with roses
+and gems and bits of silver gauze. There is a little crown upon the top
+of madame's coiffure. Her bodice, cut sufficiently low, is seen to be of
+light silken weave. From her hair depends a veil of light gauze covered
+with gold spangles, and it is secured upon the left side by a hand's
+grasp of pink and white feathers, surmounted by a magnificent heron
+plume of long and silken whiteness. The gloves of madame are white silk,
+and so also, as she is not reluctant to advise, are her stockings,
+picked out with pink and silver clocks. Her shoes, made by the
+celebrated <i>cordonnier</i>, Raveneau, show heels three inches in height. As
+madame enters she casts aside the camlet coat which has covered her
+costume. She sweeps back the veil, endangering its confining clasp of
+plumes. Madame makes a deliberate and open inspection of her face in her
+little looking-glass to discover whether her <i>mouches</i> are well placed.
+She carefully arranges the patch upon the middle of her cheek. She would
+be &quot;gallant&quot; to-night, would lay aside things <i>spirituelle</i>. She twirls
+carelessly her fan, a creation of ivory and mother of pearl, elaborately
+carved, tipped with gold and silver and set with precious stones.</p>
+
+<p>Close at the elbow of Madame de Tencin steps a figure of different type,
+a woman not accustomed to please by brilliance of mind or vivacity of
+speech, but by sheer femininity of face and form. Tall, slender, yet
+with figure divinely proportioned, this beautiful girl, Haide&eacute;, or
+Mademoiselle A&iuml;ss&eacute;, reputed to be of Turkish or Circassian birth, and
+possessed of a history as strange as her own personality is attractive,
+would seem certainly as pure as angel of the skies. Not so would say the
+gossips of Paris, who whisper that mademoiselle is not happy from her
+<i>chevalier</i>&mdash;who speak of a certain visit to England, and a little child
+born across seas and not acknowledged by its parent. A&iuml;ss&eacute;, the devout,
+the beautiful, is no better than others of her sex in this gay city.
+True, she has abandoned all artificial aids to the complexion and
+appears distinct among her flattering rivals, the clear olive of her
+skin showing in strange contrast to the heightened colors of her
+sisters. Yet A&iuml;ss&eacute;, the toast of Europe and the text of poets, proves
+herself not behind the others in the loose gaiety of this occasion.</p>
+
+<p>And there came others: Madame de Prie, later to hold such intimate
+relations with the fortunes of France in the selection of a future queen
+for the boy king; De Sabran, plain, gracious and good-natured; Parab&egrave;re,
+of delicately oval face, of tiny mouth, of thin high nose and large
+expressive eyes, her soft hair twined with a deep flushed rose, and over
+her corsage drooping a continuous garland of magnificent flowers. Also
+Caylus the wit, Caylus the friend of Peter the Great, by duty and by
+devotion a <i>religieuse</i>, but by thought and training a gay woman of the
+world&mdash;all these butterflies of the bubble house of Paris came swimming
+in as by right upon this exotic air.</p>
+
+<p>And all of these, as they advanced into the room, paused as they met,
+coming from the head of the apartment, the imposing figure of their
+host. Philippe of Orl&eacute;ans, his powdered wig drawn closely into a
+half-bag at the nape of the neck, his full eye shining with merriment
+and good nature, his soft, yet not unmanly figure appearing to good
+advantage in his well-chosen garments, advances with a certain dignity
+to meet his guests. He is garbed in a coat made of watered silk, its
+straight collar faced with dark-green material edged with gold. A green
+and gold shoulder knot sets off the garment, which is provided with
+large opal buttons set in brilliants, this same adornment appearing on
+the hilt of his sword, which he lays aside as he approaches. From the
+sides of his wig depend two carefully-arranged locks, dusted with a
+tan-colored powder. His small-clothes, of lighter hue than the coat,
+display fitly the proportions of his lower limbs. The high-heeled shoes
+blaze with the glare of reflected lights as the diamonds change their
+angles during the calm advance down the room.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Welcome, my very dear ladies,&quot; exclaimed Philippe, advancing to the
+head of the board and at once setting all at ease, if any there needed
+such encouragement, by the grace and good feeling of his air. &quot;You do me
+much honor, ladies. If I be not careful, the fair Adrienne will become
+jealous, since I fear you have deserted the pomp of the play full early
+for the table of Philippe. Ladies, as you know, I am your devoted slave.
+Myself and the Vicomte de B&eacute;chamel have labored, seriously labored, for
+your welfare this day. I promise you something of the results of those
+painstaking efforts, which we both hope will not disappoint you.
+Meantime, that the moments may not lag, let me recommend, if I am
+allowed, this new vintage of Ai, which B&eacute;chamel advises me we have
+never yet surpassed in all our efforts. Madame de Tencin, let me beg of
+you to be seated close to my arm. Not upon this side, Mademoiselle
+Haid&eacute;e, if you please, for I have been wheedled into promising that
+station this night to another. Who is it to be, my dear Caylus? Ah, that
+is my secret! Presently we shall see. Have I not promised you an
+occasion this evening? And did Philippe ever fail in his endeavors to
+please? At least, did he ever cease to strive to please his angels? Now,
+my children, accept the blessing of your father Philippe, your friend,
+who, though years may multiply upon him, retains in his heart, none the
+less, for each and all of you, those sentiments of passion and of
+admiration which constitute for him his dearest memories! Ladies, I pray
+you be seated. I pray you tarry not too long before proving the judgment
+of B&eacute;chamel in regard to this new vintage of Ai.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah, your Grace,&quot; exclaimed De Tencin, &quot;were it not Philippe of Orl&eacute;ans,
+we women might not be apt to sit in peace together. Yet, as we have
+earlier proved your hospitality, we may perhaps not scruple to
+continue.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Philippe smiled blandly. The remark was not ill-fitted to the actual
+case. Though the regent counted his sweethearts by scores, he dismissed
+the one with the same air of interest as he welcomed the other, and
+indeed ended by retaining all as his friends.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Madame de Tencin, in admiration there can be no degrees,&quot; said he. &quot;In
+love there can be no rank.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, then, do you place as your chief guest this other, this unknown?&quot;
+pouted Mademoiselle A&iuml;ss&eacute;, as she seated herself, turning upon her host
+the radiance of her large, dark eyes. &quot;Is this stranger, then, so
+passing fair?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Not so fair as you, my lovely Haid&eacute;e, that I may swear, and safely,
+since she is not yet present. Yet I announce to you that she is <i>tr&egrave;s
+int&eacute;ressante</i>, my unknown queen of beauty, my <i>belle sauvage</i> from
+America. But see! Here she comes. 'Tis time for her to appear, and not
+keep our guests in waiting.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>There sounded at the back of the great hall the tinkle of a little bell
+of some soft metal. It approached, and with it the sweeping stir of
+heavy silken garb. The door opened, admitting a still greater blaze of
+light, and there swept into the hall, as though swimming upon the flood
+of this added brilliance, a figure striking enough to arouse attention
+even at that time and place, even among the beauties of the court of
+France. There advanced, calm and stately, with the gliding ease of a
+perfect carriage, the figure of a woman, slender, with full bright eyes
+and somber hair&mdash;so much might be seen at a glance. Yet the newcomer
+left somewhat of query in the mind of womankind accustomed to view in
+detail any costume.</p>
+
+<p>The stranger was enveloped in a wide and undefining garment, a sweeping
+robe fit for any duchess of the realm, whose flowing folds showed a
+magnificent tissue of silver embroidery covered with golden flowers,
+below the plum-color and green. The high corsage of the white robe
+covered the bosom fully, and was caught at the throat with a bunch of
+blazing jewels. Under these soft draperies, tinkling in time with the
+movements of an otherwise noiseless tread, there sounded ever the faint
+note of the little bell. At the toe of shoes otherwise silent, there
+peeped in and out the flash of diamonds, and in the dark masses of her
+hair, shifting as she trod beneath each new sconce in turn, and catching
+more and more brilliance as she advanced, there smoldered the flame of a
+mass of scintillating gems. A queen's raiment was that of this unknown
+beauty, and she herself might have been a queen as she swept down the
+great hall, scornfully careless of the eyes of those other beauties.</p>
+
+<p>She stepped to the place at the regent's right hand, with head high and
+eyes undrooping. For a dramatic instant she paused, as though in the
+rehearsal of a part&mdash;a part of which it might be said that the regent
+was not alone the author. This triumph of woman over other women, this
+triumph of vice over other vice, of effrontery over effrontery
+akin&mdash;this could not have been so planned and executed by any but a
+woman. One another these beauties might tolerate, knowing one another's
+frailties as they did; yet the elegance, the disdain, the indifference
+of this newcomer&mdash;this they could not support. Hatred sat in the bosom
+of each woman there as she swept her courtesy to the new guest of the
+regent, who took her place as of right at the head of the board and near
+the regent's arm.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Our gentlemen are somewhat late this evening,&quot; exclaimed Philippe.
+&quot;'Tis too bad the Abb&eacute; Dubois could not be with us to-night to
+administer clerical consolation.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah! <i>le dr&ocirc;le</i> Dubois!&quot; exclaimed Madame de Tencin.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And that vagabond, the Due de Richelieu&mdash;but we may not wait. Again
+ladies, the glasses, or B&eacute;chamel will be aggrieved. And finally, though
+I perceive most of you have graciously unmasked, let me say that the
+moment has now arrived when we make plain all secrets.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He turned his gaze upon the woman at his right. As though at a signal,
+she half rose, unclasped the circlet of gems at her throat, and swept
+back across the arm of her chair the soft garment which enveloped her.</p>
+
+<p>A sigh, a long breath of amazement broke from those other dames of
+Paris. Not one of them but was sated with the blaze of diamonds, the
+rich, red light of rubies and the fathomless radiance of sapphires.
+Silks and satins and cloth of gold and silver had few novelties for
+them. The costumers of Paris, center of the world of art, even in those
+times of unrivaled extravagance and unbridled self-gratification, held
+no new surprise for these beauties, possessed so long of all that their
+imagination required or that princely liberality could supply. Yet here
+indeed was a surprise.</p>
+
+<p>As she stood at the regent's right, calmly and composedly looking down
+the long board as she arranged her drapery before reseating herself,
+this new favorite of the regent appeared in the full costume of the
+American native! A long soft tunic of exquisitely dressed white leather
+fell below her hips, intricately embroidered in the native bead work of
+America, and stained with great blotches of colors done in the quills of
+the porcupine&mdash;heavy reds, sprightly yellows, and deep blues. Down the
+seams of this loose-fitting tunic depended little waving fringes. The
+belt which caught it at the waist was wrought likewise in beads. Beneath
+the level of the table, as she stood, the inquiring eyes might not so
+clearly see; yet the white leggings, fringed and beaded, and covered by
+a sweeping blanket of snowy buckskin, might have been seen to finish at
+the ankle and blend in texture and ornamentation with tiny shoes, which
+covered the smallest foot yet seen in Paris&mdash;shoes at the side of which
+there dangled the little bells of metal whose tones had told her coming.</p>
+
+<p>Here and there upon the bead work of the native artist, who had made
+this attire at the expense of so much patient effort, there blazed the
+changing rays of real gems, diamonds, rubies, emeralds&mdash;every stone
+known as precious. As the full bosom of the scornful beauty rose and
+fell there were cast about in sprays of light the reflections of these
+gems. Bracelets of dull, beaten metal hung about her wrists. In her hair
+were ornaments of some dull blue stone. Barbaric, beautiful,
+fascinating, savage she surely seemed as she met unruffled the startled
+gaze of these beautiful women of the court, who never, at even the most
+fanciful <i>bal masque</i> in all Paris, had seen costume like to this.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ladies, <i>la voil&agrave;!</i>&quot; spoke the regent. &quot;<i>Ma belle sauvage!</i>&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The newcomer swept a careless courtesy as she took her seat. As yet she
+had spoken no word. The door at the lower end of the hall opened.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;His Grace le Duc de Richelieu,&quot; announced the attendant, who stood
+beneath the board.</p>
+
+<p>There advanced into the room, with slouchy, ill-bred carriage, a young
+man whose sole reputation was that of being the greatest rake in Paris,
+the Duc de Richelieu, half-gamin, half-nobleman, who counted more
+victims among titled ladies than he had fingers on his hands, whose sole
+concern of living was to plan some new impassioned avowal, some new and
+pitiless abandonment. This creature, meeting the salute of the regent,
+and catching at the same moment a view of the regent's guest, found eyes
+for nothing else, and stood boldly gazing at the face of her whom Paris
+knew for the first time and under no more definite title than that of
+&quot;<i>Belle Sauvage</i>.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Pray you, be seated, Monsieur le Duc,&quot; said the regent, calmly, and the
+latter was wise enough to comply.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Your Grace,&quot; said Madame de Sabran, &quot;was it not understood that we were
+to meet to-night none less than the wizard, Monsieur L'as?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Monsieur L'as will be with us, and his brother,&quot; replied Philippe.
+&quot;But now I ask you to bear witness to the shrewdness of your friend
+Philippe in entertainment. I bethought me that, as we were to have with
+us the master of the Messasebe, it were well to have with us also the
+typified genius of that same Messasebe. 'Twas but a little conceit of my
+own. And why&mdash;<i>mon enfant</i>, what is it to you? What do you know of our
+controller of finance?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The face of the woman at his right had suddenly gone white with a pallor
+visible even beneath its rouge and patches. She half turned, as though
+to push back her chair from the board, would have arisen, would have
+spoken perhaps; yet act and gesture were at the time unnoticed.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;His Excellency, Monsieur Jean L'as, <i>le contr&ocirc;-leur-g&eacute;n&eacute;ral</i>,&quot; came the
+soft tones of the attendant near the door. &quot;Monsieur Guillaume L'as,
+brother of the <i>contr&ocirc;leur-g&eacute;n&eacute;ral</i>.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The eyes of all were turned toward the door.. Every petted bolle of
+Paris there assembled shifted bodily in her seat, turning her gaze upon
+that man whose reputation was the talk of all the realm of France.</p>
+
+<p>There appeared now the tall, erect and vigorous form of a man owning a
+superb physical beauty. Powerful, yet not too heavy for ease, his figure
+retained that elasticity and grace which had won him favor in more than
+one court of Europe. He himself might have been king as he advanced
+steadily up the brilliantly-illuminated room. His costume, simply made,
+yet of the richest materials of the time; his wig, highly powdered
+though of modest proportions; his every item of apparel appeared alike
+of great simplicity and barren of pretentiousness. As much might be said
+for the garb of his brother, who stepped close behind him, a figure less
+self-contained than that of the man who now occupied the absorbed
+attention of the public mind, even as he now filled the eager eyes of
+those who turned to greet his entrance.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah, Monsieur L'as, Monsieur L'as!&quot; exclaimed Philippe of Orl&eacute;ans,
+stepping forward to welcome him and taking the hand of Law in both his
+own. &quot;You are welcome, you are very welcome indeed. The soup will be
+with us presently, and the wine of Ai is with us now. You and your
+brother are with us; so all at last is well. These ladies are, as I
+believe, all within your acquaintance. You have been present at the
+<i>salon</i> of Madame de Tencin. You know her Grace the Duchesse de Falari,
+recently Madame d'Artague? Mademoiselle de Caylus you know very well,
+and of course also Mademoiselle A&iuml;ss&eacute;, <i>la belle Circassienne</i>&mdash;But
+what? <i>Diable!</i> Have you too gone mad? Come, is the sight of my guest
+too much for you also, Monsieur L'as?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>There was irritation in the tone with which the regent uttered this
+protest, yet he continued.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Monsieur L'as, 'tis but a little surprise I had planned for you.
+Mademoiselle, my princess of the Messasebe, let me present Monsieur Jean
+L'as, king of the Messasebe, and hence your sovereign! This is my fair
+unknown, whose face I have promised you should see to-night&mdash;this,
+Monsieur L'as, is my princess, the one whom I have seen fit to honor
+this evening by the wearing of the chief gem of France.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The regent fumbled for an instant at his fob. He stepped to the side of
+the faltering figure which stood arrayed in all its savage finery. One
+movement, and upon the dark locks which fell about her brow there blazed
+the unspeakable fires of a stone whose magnificence brought forth
+exclamations of awe from every person present.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;See!&quot; cried Philippe of Orl&eacute;ans. &quot;'Twas on the advice and by the aid of
+Monsieur L'as that I secured the gem, whose like is not known in all the
+world. 'Tis chief of the crown jewels of the realm of France, this
+stone, now to be known as the regent's diamond. And now, as regent of
+France and master for a day of her jewels, I place this gem upon the
+brow of her who for this night is to be your queen of beauty!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The wine of Ai had already done part of its work. There were brightened
+eyes, easy gestures and ready compliance as the guests arose to quaff
+the toast to this new queen.</p>
+
+<p>As for the queen herself, she stood faltering, her eyes averted, her
+limbs trembling. John Law, tall, calm, self-possessed, did not take his
+seat, but stood with set, fixed face, gazing at the woman who held the
+place of honor at the table of the regent.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Come! Come!&quot; cried the latter, testily, his wine working in his brain.
+&quot;Why stand you there, Monsieur L'as, gazing as though spellbound?
+Salute, sir, as I do, the chief gem of France, and her who is most fit
+to wear it!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>John Law stood, as though he had not heard him speak. There swept
+through the softly brilliant air, over the flash and glitter of the
+great banquet board, across the little group which stood about it, a
+sudden sense of a strange, tense, unfamiliar situation. There came to
+all a presentiment of some unusual thing about to happen. Instinctively
+the hands paused, even as they raised the bright and brimming glasses.
+The eyes of all turned from one to the other, from the stern-faced man
+to the woman decked in barbaric finery, who now stood trembling,
+drooping, at the head of the table.</p>
+
+<p>Law for a moment removed his gaze from the face of the regent's guest.
+He flicked lightly at the deep cuff of lace which hung about his hands.
+&quot;Your Grace is not far wrong,&quot; said he. &quot;I regret that you do not have
+your way in planning for me a surprise. Yet I must say to you, that I
+have already met this lady.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What?&quot; cried the regent. &quot;You have met her? Impossible! Incredible!
+How, Monsieur L'as? We will admit you wizard enough, and owner of the
+philosopher's stone&mdash;owner of anything you like, except this secret of
+mine own. According to mademoiselle's own words, it would have been
+impossible.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;None the less, what I have said is true,&quot; said John Law, calmly, his
+voice even and well-modulated, vibrating a little, yet showing no trace
+of anger nor of emotional uncontrol.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But I tell you it could not be!&quot; again exclaimed the regent.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No, it is impossible,&quot; broke in the young Duc de Richelieu. &quot;I would
+swear that had such beauty ever set foot in Paris before now, the news
+would so have spread that all France had been at her feet.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Law looked at the impudent youth with a gaze that seemed to pass
+through him, seeing him not. Then suddenly this scene and its
+significance, its ultimate meaning seemed to take instant hold upon him.
+He could feel rising within his soul a flood of irresistible emotions.
+All at once his anger, heritage of an impetuous youth, blazed up hot and
+furious. He trod a step farther forward, after his fashion advancing
+close to that which threatened him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;This lady, your Grace,&quot; said he, &quot;has been known to me for years. Mary
+Connynge, what do you masquerading here?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>A sudden silence fell, a silence broken at length by the voice of the
+regent himself.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Surely, Monsieur L'as,&quot; said Philippe, &quot;surely we must accept your
+statements. But Monsieur must remember that this is the table of the
+regent, that these are the friends of the regent. We bring no
+recollections here which shall cut short the joy of any person. Sir, I
+would not reprimand you, but I must beg that you be seated and be calm!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Yet the imperious nature of the other brooked not even so pointed a
+rebuke. As though he had not heard, Law stepped yet a pace nearer to the
+woman, upon whom he now bent the blaze of his angered eyes. He looked
+neither to right nor left, but visually commanded the woman until in
+turn her eyes sought his own.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;This woman, your Grace,&quot; said Law, at length, &quot;was for some time in
+effect my wife. This I do not offer as matter of interest. What I would
+say to your Grace is this&mdash;she was also my slave!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sirrah!&quot; cried the regent.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah, Dame!&quot; exclaimed the Duc de Richelieu. And even from the women
+about there came little murmurs of expostulation. Indeed there might
+have been pity, even in this assemblage, for the agony now visible upon
+the brow of Mary Connynge.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Monsieur, the wine has turned your head,&quot; said the regent scornfully.
+&quot;You boast!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I boast of nothing,&quot; cried Law, savagely, his voice now ringing with a
+tone none present had ever known it to assume. &quot;I say to you again, this
+woman was my slave, and that she will again do as I shall choose. Your
+Grace, she would come and wipe the dust from my shoes if I should
+command it! She would kneel at my feet, and beg of me, if I should
+command it! Shall I prove this, your Grace?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, assuredly!&quot; replied the regent, with a sarcasm which now seemed his
+only relief. &quot;Assuredly, if Monsieur L'as should please. We here in
+Paris are quite his humble servants.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Law said nothing. He stood with his biting blue eyes still fixed upon
+Mary Connynge, whose own eyes faltered, trying their utmost to escape
+from his; whose fingers, resting just lightly on the snowy Hollands of
+the table cloth, moved tremulously; whose limbs appeared ready to sink
+beneath her.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Come, then, Mary Connynge!&quot; cried Law at last, his teeth setting
+savagely together. &quot;Come, then, traitress and slave, and kneel before
+me, as you did once before!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Then there ensued a strange and horrible spectacle. A hush as of death
+fell upon the group. Mary Connynge, trembling, halting, yet always
+advancing, did indeed as her master had bidden! She passed from the head
+of the table, back of the chair of the regent, who stood gazing with
+horror in his eyes; she passed the chair of A&iuml;ss&eacute;, near which Law now
+stood; she paused in front of him, and stood as though in a dream. Her
+knees would have indeed sunk beneath her. She drew from her bosom a
+silken kerchief, as though she would indeed have performed the ignoble
+service which had been threatened for her. There came neither voice nor
+motion to those who saw this thing. The sheer force of one strong
+nature, terrible in the intensity of one supreme moment&mdash;this might have
+been the spell which commanded at the table of the regent. Yet this did
+occur.</p>
+
+<p>There came a sound which broke the silence, which caused all to start as
+with swift relief. A sob, short, dry, hard, as from one whose heart is
+broken, came from beyond the place where Law stood facing the trembling
+woman. The eyes of all turned upon Will Law, from whom had burst this
+irrepressible exclamation of agony. Will Law, as one grown swiftly old,
+haggard, broken-down, stood gazing in wide-eyed horror at this woman, so
+humiliated in the presence of all in this brilliantly-lighted hall;
+before the blazing mirrors which should have reflected back naught but
+beauty and joy; under the twining roses, which should have been the
+signs manual of undying love; under the smiling cherubs, which should
+have typified the deities of happy love. Will Law, too, had loved.
+Perhaps still he loved.</p>
+
+<p>This sharp sound served to break also the spell under which Law himself
+seemed held. He cast aloft his arms, as in remorse or in despair. Then
+he extended a hand to the woman who would have sunk before him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;God forgive me! Madam,&quot; he cried. &quot;I had forgot. Savage indeed you are
+and have been, but 'tis not for me to treat you brutally.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Your Grace,&quot; said he, turning toward the regent, &quot;I crave your
+pardon. Our explanations shall reach you on the morrow.&quot;</p>
+
+<center>
+<img src="images/img4.jpg" height="384" width="300"
+alt="Illustration">
+</center>
+
+<p>He turned, and taking his brother by the arm, advanced toward the door
+at which he had recently entered, pausing not to look behind him. Had
+his eye been more curious as he and his half-fainting brother bowed
+before passing through the door, it might have seen that which he must
+long have borne in memory.</p>
+
+<p>Mary Connynge, trembling, pallid, utterly broken, never found her way
+back to the right hand of the regent. She half stumbled into a chair
+near the foot of the table. Her bosom fluttered at the base of the
+throat. Half blindly she reached out her hand toward a glass of wine
+which stood near by, foaming and sparkling, its gem-like drops of keen
+pungency swimming continuously up to the surface. Her hand caught at the
+slender stem of the glass. Leaning upon her left arm, she half rose as
+though to put it to her lips. Her head moved, as though she would follow
+the retreating figure of the man who had thus scornfully used her. All
+at once, slowly, and then with a sudden crash, she sank down upon her
+seat and fell forward across the table. The fragile glass snapped in her
+fingers. The amber wine rushed in swift flood across the linen. In the
+broadening stain there fell and lay blazing the great gem of France.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='BOOK_III_CHAPTER_IX'></a><h3>CHAPTER IX</h3>
+
+<h4>THE NEWS</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>&quot;Lady Kitty! Lady Kitty! Have you heard the news?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Thus, breathless, the Countess of Warrington, Lady Catharine's English
+neighbor in exile, who burst into the drawing-room early in the morning,
+not waiting for announcement of her presence.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Nay, not yet, my dear,&quot; said Lady Catharine, advancing and embracing
+her. &quot;What is it, pray? Has the poodle swallowed a bone, or the baby
+perhaps cut another tooth? And, forsooth, how is the little one?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lady Emily Warrington, slender, elegant, well clad, and for the most
+part languorously calm, was in a state of excitement quite without her
+customary <i>aplomb</i>. She sank into a seat, fanning herself with a vigor
+which threatened ruin to the precious slats of a fan which bore the
+handiwork of Watteau.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The streets are full of it,&quot; said she. &quot;Have you not heard, really?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I must say, not yet. But what is it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, the quarrel between the regent and his director-general, Mr.
+Law.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No, I have not heard of it.&quot; Lady Catharine sought refuge behind her
+own fan. &quot;But tell me&quot; she continued.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But that is not all. 'Twas the reason for the quarrel. Paris is all
+agog. 'Twas about a woman!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You mean&mdash;there was&mdash;a woman?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, it all happened last night, at the Palais Royal. The woman is
+dead&mdash;died last night. 'Tis said she fell in a fit at the very
+table&mdash;'twas at a little supper given by the regent&mdash;and that when they
+came to her she was quite dead.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But Mr. Law&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Twas he that killed her!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Good God! What mean you?&quot; cried Lady Catharine, her own face blanching
+behind her protecting fan. The blood swept back upon her heart, leaving
+her cold as a statue.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why,&quot; continued the caller, in her own excitement to tell the news
+scarce noting what went on before her, &quot;it seems that this mysterious
+beauty of the regent's, of whom there has been so much talk, proved to
+be none other than a former mistress of this same Mr. Law, who is
+reputed to have been somewhat given to that sort of thing, though of
+late monstrous virtuous, for some cause or other. Mr. Law came suddenly
+upon her at the table of the regent, arrayed in some kind of savage
+finery&mdash;for 'twas in fashion a mask that evening, as you must know. And
+what doth my director-general do, so high and mighty? Why, in spite of
+the regent and in spite of all those present, he upbraids her, taunts
+her, reviles her, demanding that she fall on her knees before him, as it
+seems indeed she would have done&mdash;as, forsooth, half the dames of Paris
+would do to-day! Then, all of a sudden, my Lord Director changes, and he
+craves pardon of the woman and of the regent, and so stalks off and
+leaves the room! And now then the poor creature walks to the table,
+would lift a glass of wine, and so&mdash;'tis over! 'Twas like a play! Indeed
+all Paris is like a play nowadays. Of course you know the rest.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>A gesture of negative came from the hand that lay in Lady Catharine's
+lap. The busy gossip went on.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The regent, be sure, was angry enough at this cheapening of his own
+wares before all, and perhaps 'tis true he had a fancy for the woman. At
+any rate, 'tis said that this very morning he quarreled hotly with Mr.
+Law. The latter gave back words hot as he received, and so they had it
+violent enough. 'Tis stated on the Quinquempoix that another must take
+Mr. Law's place. But if Mr. Law goes, what will become of the System?
+And what would the System be without Mr. Law? And what would Paris be
+without the System? Why, listen, Lady Catharine! I gained fifty thousand
+livres yesterday, and my coachman, the rascal, in some manner seems to
+have done quite as well for himself. I doubt not he will yet build a
+mansion of his own, and perhaps my husband may drive for him! These be
+strange days indeed. I only hope they may continue, in spite of what my
+husband says.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And what says he?&quot; asked Lady Catharine, her own voice sounding to her
+unfamiliar and far away.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, that the city is mad, and that this soon must end&mdash;this
+Mississippi bubble, as my Lord Stair calls it at the embassy.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yet I have heard all France is prosperous.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, yes indeed. 'Tis said that but yesterday the kingdom paid four
+millions of its debt to Bavaria, three millions of its debt to
+Sweden&mdash;yet these are not the most pressing debts of France.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Meaning&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, the debts of the regent to his friends&mdash;those are the important
+things. But the other day he gave eighty thousand livres to Madame
+Ch&acirc;teauthiers, as a little present. He gave two hundred thousand livres
+to the Abb&eacute; Something-or-other, who asked for it, and another thousand
+livres to that rat Dubois. The thief D'Argenson ever counsels him to
+give in abundance now that he hath abundance, and the regent is ready
+with a vengeance with his compliance. Saint Simon, that priggish duke,
+has had a million given him to repay a debt his father took on for the
+king a generation ago. To the captain of the guard the regent gives six
+hundred thousand livres, for carrying the fan of the regent's forgotten
+wife; to the Prince Courtenay, two hundred thousand, most like because
+the prince said he had need of it; a pension of two hundred thousand
+annually to the Marquise de Bellefonte, the second such sum, because
+perhaps she once made eyes at him; a pension of sixty thousand livres to
+a three-year-old relative to the Prince de Conti, because Conti cried
+for it; one hundred thousand livres to Mademoiselle Haid&eacute;e, because she
+has a consumption; and as much more to the Duchesse de Falari, because
+she has not a consumption. Bah! The credit of France might indeed, as my
+husband says, be called leaking through the slats of fans.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But, look you!&quot; she went on, &quot;how Mr. Law feathers his own nest. He
+bought lately, for a half million livres, the house of the Comte de
+Tesse; and on the same day, as you know, the H&ocirc;tel Mazarin. There is no
+limit to his buying of estates. This, so says my husband, is the great
+proof of his honesty. He puts his money here in France, and does not
+send it over seas. He seems to have no doubt, and indeed no fear, of
+anything.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lady Warrington paused, half for want of breath. Silence fell in the
+great room. A big and busy fly, deep down in the crystal <i>cylindre</i>
+which sheltered a taper on a near-by table, buzzed out a droning
+protest. The face of Lady Catharine was averted.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You did not tell me, Lady Emily,&quot; said she, with woman's feigned
+indifference, &quot;what was the name of this poor woman of the other
+evening.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, so I had forgot&mdash;and 'tis said that Mr. Law, after all, comported
+himself something of the gentleman. No one knows how far back the affair
+runs, nor how serious it was. And indeed I have seen no one who ever
+heard of the woman before.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And the name?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Twas said Mr. Law called her Mary Connynge.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The big fly, deep down in the crystal cage, buzzed on audibly; and to
+one who heard it, the drone of the lazy wings seemed like the roars of a
+thousand tempests.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='BOOK_III_CHAPTER_X'></a><h3>CHAPTER X</h3>
+
+<h4>MASTER AND MAN</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>John Law, idle, preoccupied, sat gazing out at the busy scenes of the
+street before him. The room in which he found himself was one of a suite
+in that magnificent H&ocirc;tel de Soisson, bought but recently of the Prince
+de Carignan for the sum of one million four hundred thousand livres,
+which had of late been chosen as the temple of Fortuna. The great
+gardens of this distinguished site were now filled with hundreds of
+tents and kiosks, which offered quarters for the wild mob of speculators
+which surged and swirled and fought throughout the narrow avenues,
+contending for the privilege of buying the latest issue of the priceless
+shares of the Company of the Indies.</p>
+
+<p>The System was at its height. The bubble was blown to its last limit.
+The popular delirium had grown to its last possible degree.</p>
+
+<p>From the window these mad mobs of infuriated human beings might have
+seemed so many little ants, running about as though their home had been
+destroyed above their heads. They hastened as though fleeing from the
+breath of some devouring flame. Surely the point of flame was there, at
+that focus of Paris, this focus of all Europe; and thrice refined was
+the quality of this heat, burning out the hearts of those distracted
+ones.</p>
+
+<p>Yet it was a scene not altogether without its fascinations. Hither came
+titled beauties of Paris, peers of the realm, statesmen, high officials,
+princes of the blood; all these animated but by one purpose&mdash;to bid and
+outbid for these bits of paper, which for the moment meant wealth,
+luxury, ease, every imaginable desire. It seemed indeed that the world
+was mad. Tradesmen, artisans, laborers, peasants, jostled the princes
+and nobility, nor met reproof. Rank was forgotten. Democracy, for the
+first time on earth, had arrived. All were equal who held equal numbers
+of these shares. The mind of each was blank to all but one absorbing
+theme.</p>
+
+<p>Law looked over this familiar scene, indifferent, calm, almost moody,
+his cheek against his hand, his elbow on his chair. &quot;What was the call,
+Henri,&quot; asked he, at length, of the old Swiss who had, during these
+stormy times, been so long his faithful attendant. &quot;What was the last
+quotation that you heard?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Your Honor, there are no quotations,&quot; replied the attendant. &quot;'Tis
+only as one is able to buy. The <i>actions</i> of the last issue, three
+hundred thousand in all, were swept away at a breath at fifteen thousand
+livres the share.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ninety times what their face demands,&quot; said Law, impassively.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;True, some ninety times,&quot; said the Swiss. &quot;'Tis said that of this issue
+the regent has taken over one-third, or one hundred thousand, himself.
+'Tis this that makes the price of the other two-thirds run the higher,
+since 'tis all that the public has to buy.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lucky regent,&quot; said Law, sententiously. &quot;Plenty would seem to have been
+his fortune!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He grimly turned again to his study of the crowds which swarmed among
+the pavilions before his window. Outside his door he heard knockings and
+cries, and impatient footfalls, but neither he nor the impassive Swiss
+paid to these the least attention. It was to them an old experience.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Your Honor, the Prince de Conti is in the antechamber and would see
+you,&quot; at length ventured the attendant, after listening for some time
+with his ear at an aperture in the door.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Let the Prince de Conti wait,&quot; said Law, &quot;and a plague take him for a
+grasping miser! He has gained enough. Time was when I waited at his
+door.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The Abb&eacute; Dubois&mdash;here is his message pushed beneath the door.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;My dearest enemy,&quot; replied Law, calmly. &quot;The old rat may seek another
+burrow.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The Duchesse de la Rochefoucauld.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah, then, she hath overcome her husband's righteousness of resolution,
+and would beg a share or so? Let her wait. I find these duchesses the
+most tiresome animals in the world.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The Madame de Tencin.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I can not see the Madame de Tencin.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;A score of dukes and foreign princes. My faith! master, we have never
+had so large a line of guests as come this morning.&quot; The stolid
+impassiveness of the Swiss seemed on the point of giving way.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Let them wait,&quot; replied Law, evenly as before. &quot;Not one of them would
+listen to me five years ago. Now I shall listen to them&mdash;shall listen to
+them knocking at my door, as I have knocked at theirs. To-day I am
+aweary, and not of mind to see any one. Let them wait.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But what shall I say? What shall I tell them, my master?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Tell them nothing. Let them wait.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Thus the crowd of notables packed into the anterooms waited at the
+door, fuming and execrating, yet not departing. They all awaited the
+magician, each with the same plea&mdash;some hope of favor, of advancement,
+or of gain.</p>
+
+<p>At last there arose yet a greater tumult in the hall which led to the
+door. A squad of guardsmen pushed through the packed ranks with the cry:
+&quot;For the king!&quot; The regent of France stood at the closed door of the man
+who was still the real ruler of France.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Open, open, in the name of the king!&quot; cried one, as he beat loudly on
+the panels.</p>
+
+<p>Law turned languidly toward the attendant. &quot;Henri,&quot; said he, &quot;tell them
+to be more quiet.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;My master, 'tis the regent!&quot; expostulated the other, with somewhat of
+anxiety in his tones.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Let him wait,&quot; replied Law, coolly. &quot;I have waited for him.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But, my master, they protest, they clamor&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Very well. Let them do so&mdash;but stay. If it is indeed the regent, I may
+as well meet him now and say that which is in my mind. Open the door.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The door swung open and there entered the form of Philippe of Orl&eacute;ans,
+preceded by his halberdiers and followed close by a rush of humanity
+which the guards and the Swiss together had much pains to force back
+into the anteroom.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;How now, Monsieur L'as, how now?&quot; fumed the regent, his heavy face
+glowing a dull red, his prominent eyes still more protruding, his
+forehead bent into a heavy frown. &quot;You deny entrance to our person, who
+are next to the body of his Majesty?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Did you have delay?&quot; asked Law, sweetly. &quot;'Twas unfortunate.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Twas execrable!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;True. I myself find these crowds execrable.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Nay, execrable to suffer this annoyance of delay!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Your Grace's pardon,&quot; said Law, coolly. &quot;You should have made an
+appointment a few days in advance.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What! The regent of France need to arrange a day when he would see a
+servant!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Your Grace is unfortunate in his choice of words,&quot; replied Law,
+blandly. &quot;I am not your servant. I am your master.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The regent sank back into a chair, gasping, his hand clutching at the
+hilt of his sword.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Seize him! Seize him! To the Bastille with him! The presumer! The
+impostor!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Yet even the guards hesitated before the commanding presence of that man
+whom all had been so long accustomed to obey. With hand upraised, Law
+gazed at them for one instant, and then gave them no further attention.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yet these words I must hasten to qualify,&quot; resumed he. &quot;True, I am at
+this moment your master, your Grace, but two minutes hence, and for all
+time thereafter, I shall no longer be your master. Your Grace was once
+so good as to make me head of certain financial matters, and to give me
+control of them. The fabric of this Messasebe, which you see without,
+was all my own. It was this which made me master of Paris, and of every
+man within the gates of Paris. So far, very well. My plans were honest,
+and the growth of France&mdash;nay, let us say the resurrection of
+France&mdash;the new life of France&mdash;shows how my own plans were made and how
+well I knew that which was to happen. I made you rich, your Grace. I
+gave you funds to pay off millions of your private debts, millions to
+gratify your fancies. I gave you more millions to pay the debts of
+France. France and her regent have again taken a position of honor in
+the eyes of the world. You may well call me master of your fate, who
+have been able to accomplish these things. So long as you knew your
+master, you did well. Now your Grace has seen fit to change masters. He
+would be his own master again. There can not be two in control of a
+concern like this. Sir, the two minutes hare elapsed. I am your very
+humble servant!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The regent still sat staring from his chair, and speech was yet denied
+him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There are your people. There is your France,&quot; said Law, beckoning as he
+turned toward the window and pointing to the crowd without. &quot;There is
+your France. Now handle it, my master! Here are the reins! Now drive;
+but see that you be careful how you drive. Come, your Grace,&quot; said he,
+mockingly, over his shoulder. &quot;Come, and see your France!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The audacity of John Law was a thing without parallel, as had been
+proved a hundred times in his strange life and in a hundred places. His
+sheer contemptuous daring brought Philippe of Orl&eacute;ans to his senses. He
+relaxed now in his purpose, changeable as was his wont, and advanced
+towards Law with hand outstretched.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There, there, Monsieur L'as, I did you wrong, perhaps,&quot; said he. &quot;But
+as to these hasty words, pray reconsider them at once. 'Twill have a bad
+effect should a breath of this get afloat. Indeed, 'twas because of some
+such thing that I came to see you this morning. A most unspeakable, a
+most incredible thing hath occurred. It comes to me with certain
+confirmation that there have been shares sold upon the street at twelve
+thousand livres to the <i>action</i>, whereas, as you very well know,
+fifteen thousand should be the lowest price to-day.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And what of that, your Grace?&quot; said Law, calmly. &quot;Is it not what you
+planned? Is it not what you have been expecting?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;How, sirrah! What do you mean?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, I mean this, your Grace,&quot; said Law, calmly, &quot;that since you have
+taken the reins, it is you who must drive the chariot. I shall suggest
+no plans, shall offer no remedy. But, if you still lack ability to see
+how and why this thing has attained this situation, I will take so much
+trouble as to make it plain.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Go on, then, sir,&quot; said the regent. &quot;Is not all well? Is there any
+danger?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;As to danger,&quot; said Law, &quot;we can not call it a time of danger after the
+worst has happened.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What do you mean?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, that the worst has happened. But, as I was about to say, I shall
+tell you how it happened.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The gaze of the regent fell. His hand trembled as he fumbled at his
+sword hilt.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Your Grace,&quot; said Law, calmly, &quot;will do me the kindness to remember
+that when I first asked of you the charter of the Banque G&eacute;n&eacute;rale, to be
+taken privately in the name of myself and my brother, I told you that
+any banker merited the punishment of death if he issued notes or bills
+of exchange without having their effective value safe in his own strong
+boxes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, what of that?&quot; queried the regent, weakly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Nothing, your Grace, except that your Grace deserves the punishment of
+death.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;How, sir! Good God!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;If the truth of this matter should ever become known, those people out
+there, that France yonder, would tear your Grace limb from limb, and
+trample you in the dust!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The livid face of the regent went paler as the other spoke. There was
+conviction in those tones which could not fail to reach even his heavy
+wits.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Let me explain,&quot; went on Law. &quot;I beg your Grace to remember again, that
+when your Grace was good enough to take out of the hands of my brother
+and myself our little bank&mdash;which we had run honorably and
+successfully&mdash;you changed at one sweep the whole principle of honest
+banking. You promised to pay something which was unstipulated. You
+issued a note back of which there was no value, no fixed limit of
+measurement. Twice you have changed the coinage of the realm, and twice
+assigned a new value to your specie. No one can tell what one of your
+shares in the stock of the Indies means in actual coin. It means
+nothing, stands for nothing, is good for nothing. Now, think you, when
+these people, when this France shall discover these facts, that they
+will be lenient with those who have thus deceived them?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yet your theory always was that we had too great a scarcity of money
+here in France,&quot; expostulated the regent.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;True, so I did. We had not enough of good money. We can not have too
+little of false money, of money such as your Grace&mdash;as you thought
+without my knowledge&mdash;has been so eager to issue from the presses of our
+Company. It had been an easy thing for the regent of France to pay off
+all the debts of the world from now until the verge of eternity, had not
+his presses given out. Money of that sort, your Grace, is such as any
+man could print for himself, did he but have the linen and the ink.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The regent again dropped to his chair, his head falling forward upon his
+breast.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But what does it all mean? What shall be done? What will be the
+result?&quot; he asked, his voice showing well enough the anxiety which had
+swiftly fallen upon his soul.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;As to that,&quot; replied Law, laconically, &quot;I am no longer master here. I
+am not controller of finance. Appoint Dubois, appoint D'Argenson. Send
+for the Brothers Paris. Take them to this window, your Grace, and show
+them your people, show them your France, and then ask them to tell you
+what shall be done. Cry out to all the world, as I know you will, that
+this was the fault of an unknown adventurer, of a Scotch gambler, of one
+John Law, who brought forth some pretentious schemes to the detriment of
+the realm. Saddle upon me the blame for all this ruin which is coming.
+Malign me, misrepresent me, imprison me, exile me, behead me if you
+like, and blame John Law for the discomfiture of France! But when you
+come to seek your remedies, why, ask no more of John Law. Ask of Dubois,
+ask of D'Argenson, ask of the Paris Fr&egrave;res; or, since your Grace has
+seen fit to override me and to take these matters in his own hands, let
+your Grace ask of himself! Tell me, as regent of France, as master of
+Paris, as guardian of the rights of this young king, as controller of
+the finances of France, as savior or destroyer of the welfare of these
+people of France and of that America which is greater than this
+France&mdash;tell me, what will you do, your Grace? What do you suggest as
+remedy?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You devil! you arch fiend!&quot; exclaimed the regent, starting up and
+laying his hand on his sword. &quot;There is no punishment you do not
+deserve! You will leave me in this plight&mdash;you&mdash;you, who have supplanted
+me at every turn; you who made that horrible scene but last night at my
+own table, within the very gates of the Palais Royal; you, the murderer
+of the woman I adored! And now, you mocker and flouter of what may be my
+bitterest misfortune&mdash;why, sir, no punishment is sharp enough for you!
+Why do you stand there, sir? Do you dare to mock me&mdash;to mock us, the
+person of the king?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I mock not in the least, your Grace,&quot; said John Law, &quot;nor do aught else
+that ill beseems a gentleman. I should have been proud to be known as
+the friend of Philippe of Orl&eacute;ans, yet I stand before that Philippe of
+Orl&eacute;ans and tell him that that man doth not live, nor that set of
+terrors exist, which can frighten John Law, nor cause him to depart from
+that stand which he once has taken. Sir, if you seek to frighten me, you
+fail.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But, look you&mdash;consider,&quot; said the regent. &quot;Something must be done.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;As I said,&quot; replied Law.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But what is going to happen? What will the people do?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;First,&quot; said Law, judicially, flicking at the deep lace of his cuff as
+though he were taking into consideration the price of a wig or cane,
+&quot;first, the price of a share having gone to twelve thousand livres this
+morning, by two o'clock will be so low as ten thousand. By three
+o'clock this afternoon it will be six thousand. Then, your Grace, there
+will be panic. Then the spell will be broken. France will rub her eyes
+and begin to awaken. Then, since the king can do no wrong, and since the
+regent is the king, your Grace can do one of two things. He can send a
+body-guard to watch my door, or he can see John Law torn into fragments,
+as these people would tear the real author of their undoing, did they
+but recognize him.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But can nothing be done to stop this? Can it not be accommodated?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ask yourself. But I must go on to say what these people will do. All at
+once they will demand specie for their notes. The Prince de Conti will
+drive his coaches to the door of your bank, and demand that they be
+loaded with gold. Jacques and Raoul and Pierre, and every peasant and
+pavior in Paris will come with boxes and panniers, and each of them will
+also demand his gold. Make edicts, your Grace. Publish broadcast and
+force out into publicity, on every highway of France, your decree that
+gold and silver are not so good as your bank notes; that no one must
+have gold or silver; that no one must send his gold and silver out of
+France, but that all must bring it to the king and take for it in
+exchange these notes of yours. Try that. It ought to succeed, ought it
+not, your Grace?&quot; His bantering tone sank into one of half plausibility.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, surely. That would be the solution.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, think you so? Your Grace is wondrous keen as a financier! Now take
+the counsel of Dubois, of D'Argenson, my very good friends. This is what
+they will counsel you to do. And I will counsel you at the same time to
+avail yourself of their advice. Tell all France to bring in its gold, to
+enable you to put something essential under the value of all this paper
+money which you have been sending out so lavishly, so unthinkingly, so
+without stint or measure.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes. And then?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, then, your Grace,&quot; said Law, &quot;then we shall see what we shall
+see!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The regent again choked with anger. Law continued. &quot;Go on. Smooth down
+the back of this animal. Continue to reduce these taxes. The specie of
+the realm of France, as I am banker enough to know, is not more than
+thirteen hundred millions of livres, allowing sixty-five livres to the
+marc. Yet long before this your Grace has crowded the issue of our
+<i>actions</i> until there are out not less than twenty-six hundred millions
+of livres in the stock of our Company. Your Brothers Paris, your
+D'Argenson, your Dubois will tell you how you can make the people of
+France continue to believe that twice two is not four, that twice
+thirteen is not twenty-six!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But this they are doing,&quot; broke in the regent, with a ray of hope in
+his face. &quot;This they are doing. We have provided for that. In the
+council not an hour ago the Abb&eacute; Dubois and Monsieur d'Argenson decided
+that the time had come to make some fixed proportion between the specie
+and these notes. We have to-day framed an edict, which the Parliament
+will register, stating that the interests of the subjects of the king
+require that the price of these bank notes should be lessened, so that
+there may be some sort of accommodation between them and the coin of the
+realm. We have ordered that the shares shall, within thirty days, drop
+to seventy-five hundred livres, in another thirty days to seven thousand
+livres, and so on, at five hundred livres a month, until at last they
+shall have a value of one-half what they were to-day. Then, tell me, my
+wise Monsieur L'as, would not the issue of our notes and the total of
+our specie be equal, one with the other? The only wrong thing is this
+insulting presumption of these people, who have sold <i>actions</i> at a
+price lower than we have decreed.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Law smiled as he replied. &quot;You say excellently well, my master. These
+plans surely show that you and your able counselors have studied deeply
+the questions of finance! I have told you what would happen to-day
+without any decree of the king. Now go you on, and make your decrees.
+You will find that the people are much more eager for values which are
+going up than values which are going down. Start your shares down hill,
+and you will see all France scramble for such coin, such plate, such
+jewels as may be within the ability of France to lay her hands upon.
+Tell me, your Grace, did Monsieur d'Argenson advise you this morning as
+to the total issue of the <i>actions</i> of this Company?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Surely he did, and here I have it in memorandum, for I was to have
+taken it up with yourself,&quot; replied the regent.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;So,&quot; exclaimed Law, a look of surprise passing over his countenance,
+until now rigidly controlled, as he gazed at the little slip of paper.
+&quot;Your Grace advises me that there are issued at this time in the shares
+of the Company no less than two billion, two hundred and thirty-five
+million, eighty-five thousand, five hundred and ninety livres in notes!
+Against this, as your Grace is good enough to agree with me, we have
+thirteen hundred millions of specie. Your Grace, yourself and I have
+seen some pretty games in our day. Look you, the merriest game of all
+your life is now but just before you!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And you would go and leave me at this time?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Never in my life have I forsaken a friend at the time of distress,&quot;
+replied Law. &quot;But your Grace absolved me when you forsook me, when you
+doubted and hesitated regarding me, and believed the protestations of
+those not so able as myself to judge of what was best. And now it is too
+late. Will your Grace allow me to suggest that a place behind stout
+gates and barred doors, deep within the interior of the Palais Royal,
+will be the best residence for him to-night&mdash;perhaps for several nights
+to come?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And yourself?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;As for myself, it does not matter,&quot; replied Law, slowly and
+deliberately. &quot;I have lived, and I thought I had succeeded. Indeed,
+success was mine for some short months, though now I must meet failure.
+I have this to console me&mdash;that 'twas failure not of my own fault. As
+for France, I loved her. As for America, I believe in her to-day, this
+very hour. As for your Grace in person, I was your friend, nor was I
+ever disloyal to you. But it sometimes doth seem that, no matter how
+sincere be one in one's endeavors, no matter how cherished, no matter
+how successful for a time may be his ambitions, there is ever some
+little blight to eat the face of the full fruit of his happiness.
+To-morrow I shall perhaps not be alive. It is very well. There is
+nothing I could desire, and it is as well to-morrow as at any time.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But surely, Monsieur L'as,&quot; interrupted the regent, with a trace of his
+old generosity, &quot;if there should be outbreak, as you fear, I shall, of
+course, give you a guard. I shall indeed see you safe out of the city,
+if you so prefer, though I had much liefer you would remain and try to
+help us undo this coil, wherein I much misdoubt myself.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Your Grace, I am a disappointed man, a man with nothing in the world to
+comfort him. I have said that I would not help you, since 'twas yourself
+brought ruin on my plans, and cast down that work which I had labored
+all my life to finish. Yet I will advise this, as being your most
+immediate plan. Smooth down this France as best you may. Remit more
+taxes, as I said. Depreciate the value of these shares gently, but
+rapidly as you can. Institute great numbers of perpetual annuities.
+Juggle, temporize, postpone, get for yourself all the time you can.
+Trade for the people's shares all you have that they will take. You can
+never strike a balance, and can never atone for the egregious error of
+this over-issue of stock which has no intrinsic value. Eventually you
+may have to declare void many of these shares and withdraw from the
+currency these <i>actions</i> for which so recently the people have been
+clamoring.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That means repudiation!&quot; broke in the regent.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Certainly, your Grace, and in so far your Grace has my extremest
+sympathy. I know it was your resolve not to repudiate the debts of
+France, as those debts stood when I first met you some years ago. That
+was honorable. Yet now the debts of France are immeasurably greater,
+rich as France thinks herself to be. Not all France, were the people and
+the produce of the commerce counted in the coin, could pay the debt of
+France as it now exists. Hence, honorable or not, there is nothing
+else&mdash;it is repudiation which now confronts you. France is worse than
+bankrupt. And now it would seem wise if your Grace took immediate steps,
+not only for the safety of his person, but for the safety of the
+Government.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir, do you mean that the people would dare, that they would presume&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The people are not what they were. There hath come into Europe the
+leaven of the New World. I had looked there to see a nobler and a better
+France. It is too late for that, and surely it is too late for the old
+ways of this France which we see about us. You can not presume now upon
+the temper of these folk as you might have done fifty years ago. The
+Messasebe, that noble stream, it hath swept its purifying flood
+throughout the world! Look you, at this moment there is tumbling this
+house which we have built of bubbles, one bubble upon another, blowing
+each bubble bigger and thinner than the last. Mine is not the only
+fault, nor yet the greatest fault. I was sincere, where others cared
+naught for sincerity. Another day, another people, may yet say the world
+was better for my effort, and that therefore at the last I have not
+failed.&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='BOOK_III_CHAPTER_XI'></a><h3>CHAPTER XI</h3>
+
+<h4>THE BREAKING OF THE BUBBLE</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>It was the evening of the day following that on which John Law and the
+regent of France had met in their stormy interview. During the morning
+but little had transpired regarding the significant events of the
+previous day. In these vast and excited crowds, divided into groups and
+cliques and factions, aided by no bulletins, counseled by no printed
+page, there was but little cohesion of purpose, since there was little
+unity of understanding. The price of shares at one kiosk might be
+certain thousands of livres, whereas a square away, the price might vary
+by half as many livres; so impetuous was the advance of these
+continually rising prices, and so frenzied and careless the temper of
+those who bargained for them.</p>
+
+<p>Yet before noon of the day following the decree of the regent, which
+fixed the value of <i>actions</i> upon a descending scale, the news, after a
+fashion of its own, spread rapidly abroad, and all too swiftly the truth
+was generally known. The story started in a rumor that shares had been
+offered and declined at a price which had been current but a few moments
+before. This was something which had not been known in all these
+feverish months of the Messasebe. Then came the story that shares could
+not be counted upon to realize over eight thousand livres. At that the
+price of all the <i>actions</i> dropped in a flash, as Law had prophesied. A
+sudden wave of sanity, a panic chill of sober understanding swept over
+this vast multitude of still unreasoning souls who had traded so long
+upon this impossible supposition of an ever-advancing market. Reason
+still lacked among them, yet fear and sudden suspicion were not wanting.
+Man after man hastened swiftly away to sell privately his shares before
+greater drop in the price might come. He met others upon the same
+errand.</p>
+
+<p>Precisely the reverse of the old situation now obtained. As all Paris
+had fought to buy, so now all Paris fought to sell. The streets were
+filled with clamoring mobs. If earlier there had been confusion, now
+there was pandemonium. Never was such a scene witnessed. Never was there
+chronicled so swift and utter reversion of emotion in the minds of a
+great concourse of people. Bitter indeed was the wave of agony that
+swept over Paris. It began at the Messasebe, in the gardens of the H&ocirc;tel
+de Soisson, at that focus hard by the temple of Fortuna. It spread and
+spread, edging out into all the remoter portions of the walled city. It
+reached ultimately the extreme confines of Paris. Into the crowded
+square which had been decreed as the trading-place of the Messasebe
+System, there crowded from the outer purlieus yet other thousands of
+excited human beings. The end had come. The bubble had burst. There was
+no longer any System of the Messasebe!</p>
+
+<p>It was late in the day, in fact well on toward might, when the knowledge
+of the crash came into the neighborhood where dwelt the Lady Catharine
+Knolls. To her the news was brought by a servant, who excitedly burst
+unannounced into her mistress's presence.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Madame! Madame!&quot; she cried. &quot;Prepare! 'Tis horrible! 'Tis impossible!
+All is at an end!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What mean you, girl!&quot; cried Lady Catharine, displeased at the
+disrespect. &quot;What is happening? Is there fire? And even if there were,
+could you not remember your duty more seemly than this?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Worse, worse than fire, Madame! Worse than anything! The bank has
+failed! The shares of the System are going down! 'Tis said that we can
+get but three thousand livres the share, perhaps less&mdash;perhaps they will
+go down to nothing. I am ruined, ruined! We are all ruined! And within
+the month I was to have been married to the footman of the Marquis
+d'Allouez, who has bought himself a title this very week!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And if it has fallen so ill,&quot; said Lady Catharine, &quot;since I have not
+speculated in these things like most folk, I shall be none the worse for
+it, and shall still have money to pay your wages. So perhaps you can
+marry your marquis after all.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But we shall not be rich, Madame! We are ruined, ruined! <i>Mon Dieu!</i> we
+poor folk! We had the hope to be persons of quality. 'Tis all the work
+of this villain Jean L'as. May the Bastille get him, or the people, and
+make him pay for this!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Stop! Enough of this, Marie!&quot; said the Lady Catharine, sternly. &quot;After
+this have better wisdom, and do not meddle in things which you do not
+understand.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Yet scarce had the girl departed before there appeared again the sound
+of running steps, and presently there broke, equally unannounced, into
+the presence of his mistress, the coachman, fresh from his stables and
+none too careful of his garb. Tears ran down his cheeks. He flung out
+his hands with gestures as of one demented.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The news!&quot; cried he. &quot;The news, my Lady! The horrible news! The System
+has vanished, the shares are going down!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Fellow, what do you here?&quot; said Lady Catharine. &quot;Why do you come with
+this same story which Marie has just brought to me? Can you not learn
+your place?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But, my Lady, you do not understand!&quot; reiterated the man, blankly.
+&quot;'Tis all over. There is no Messasebe; there is no longer any System, no
+longer any Company of the Indies. There is no longer wealth for the
+stretching out of the hand. 'Tis all over. I must go back to horses&mdash;I,
+Madame, who should presently have associated with the nobility!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, and if so,&quot; replied his mistress, &quot;I can say to you, as I have to
+Marie, that there will still be money for your wages.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Wages! My faith, what trifles, my Lady! This Monsieur L'as, the
+director-general, he it is who has ruined us! Well enough it is that the
+square in front of his hotel is filled with people! Presently they will
+break down his doors. And then, pray God they punish him for this that
+he has done!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The cheek of Lady Catharine paled and a sudden flood of contending
+emotions crossed her mind. &quot;You do not tell me that Monsieur L'as is in
+danger, Pierre?&quot; said she.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Assuredly. Perhaps within the very hour they will tear down his doors
+and rend him limb from limb. There is no punishment which can serve him
+right&mdash;him who has ruined our pretty, pretty System. <i>Mon Dieu!</i> It was
+so beautiful!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Is this news certain?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Assuredly, most certain. Why should it not be? The entire square in
+front of the H&ocirc;tel de Soisson is packed. Unless my Lady needs me, I
+myself must hasten thither to aid in the punishment of this Jean L'as!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You will stay here,&quot; said Lady Catharine. &quot;Wait! There may be need! For
+the present, go!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Left alone, Lady Catharine stood for a moment pale and motionless, in
+the center of the room. She strode then to the window and stood looking
+fixedly out. Her whole figure was tense, rigid. Yonder, over there,
+across the gabled roofs of Paris, they were clamoring at the door of him
+who had given back Paris to the king, and France again to its people.
+They were assailing him&mdash;this man so long unfaltering, so insistent on
+his ambitions, so&mdash;so steadfast! Could she call him steadfast? And they
+would seize him in spite of the courage which she knew would never fail.
+They would kill, they would rend, they would trample him! They would
+crush that glorious body, abase the lips that had spoke so well of love!</p>
+
+<p>The clenched fingers of Lady Catharine broke apart, her arms were flung
+wide in a gesture of resolution. She turned from the window, looking
+here and there about the room. Unconsciously she stopped before the
+great cheval-glass that hung against the wall. She stood there, looking
+at her own image, keenly, deeply.</p>
+
+<p>She saw indeed a woman fit for sweet usages of love, comely and rounded,
+deep-bosomed, her oval face framed in the piled masses of glorious
+red-brown hair. But her wide, blue eyes, scarce seeing this outward
+form, stared into the soul of that other whom she witnessed.</p>
+
+<p>It was as though the Lady Catharine Knollys at last saw another self and
+recognized it! A quick, hard sob broke from her throat. In haste she
+flew, now to one part of the room, now to another, picking up first this
+article and then that which seemed of need. And so at last she hurried
+to the bell-cord.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Quick,&quot; cried she, as the servant at length appeared. &quot;Quick! Do not
+delay an instant! My carriage at once!&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='BOOK_III_CHAPTER_XII'></a><h3>CHAPTER XII</h3>
+
+<h4>THAT WHICH REMAINED</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>As for John Law, all through that fatal day which meant for him the ruin
+of his ambitions, he continued in the icy calm which, for days past, had
+distinguished him. He discontinued his ordinary employments, and spent
+some hours in sorting and destroying numbers of papers and documents.
+His faithful servant, the Swiss, Henri, he commanded to make ready his
+apparel for a journey.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;At six this evening,&quot; said he, &quot;Henri, we shall be ready to depart. Let
+us be quite ready well before that time.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Monsieur is leaving Paris?&quot; asked the Swiss, respectfully.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Quite so.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Perhaps for a stay of some duration?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Quite so, indeed, Henri.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then, sir,&quot; expostulated the Swiss, &quot;it would require a day or so for
+me to properly arrange your luggage.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Not at all,&quot; replied Law. &quot;Two valises will suffice, not more, and I
+shall perhaps not need even these.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Not all the apparel, the many coats, the jewels&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Do not trouble over them.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But what disposition shall I make&mdash;?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;None at all. Leave all these things as they are. But stay&mdash;this package
+which I shall prepare for you&mdash;take it to the regent, and have it marked
+in his care and for the Parliament of France.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Law raised in his hands a bundle of parchments, which one by one he tore
+across, throwing the fragments into a basket as he did so.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The seat of Tancarville,&quot; he said. &quot;The estate of Berville; the H&ocirc;tel
+Mazarin; the lands of Bourget; the Marquisat of Charleville; the lands
+of Orcher; the estate of Roissy&mdash;Gad! what a number of them I find.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But, Monsieur,&quot; expostulated the Swiss, &quot;what is that you do? Are these
+not your possessions?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Not so, <i>mon ami</i>&quot; replied Law. &quot;They once were mine. They are estates
+in France. Take back these deeds. Dead Sully may have his own again, and
+each of these late owners of the lands. I wished them for a purpose.
+That purpose is no longer possible, and now I wish them no more. Take
+back your deeds, my friends, and bear in your minds that John Law tore
+them in two, and thus canceled the obligation.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But the moneys you have paid&mdash;they are enormous. Surely you will exact
+restitution?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sirrah, could I not afford these moneys?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Admirably at the time,&quot; replied the Swiss, with the freedom of long
+service. &quot;But for the future, what do we know? Besides, it is a matter
+of right and justice.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah, <i>mon ami</i>&quot; said Law, &quot;right and justice are no more. But since you
+speak of money, let us take precautions as to that. We shall need some
+money for our journey. See, Henri! Take this note and get the money
+which it calls for. But no! The crowd may be too great. Look in the
+drawer of my desk yonder, and take out what you find.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The Swiss did as he was bidden, but at length returned with troubled
+face.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Monsieur,&quot; said he, &quot;I can find but a hundred louis.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Put half of it back,&quot; said Law. &quot;We shall not need so much.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But, Monsieur, I do not understand.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;We shall not need more than fifty louis. That is enough. Leave the
+rest,&quot; said Law. &quot;Leave it where you found it&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But for whom? Does Monsieur soon return?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No. Leave it for him who may be first to find it. These dear people
+without, these same people whom I have enriched, and who now will claim
+that I have impoverished them&mdash;these people will demand of me everything
+that I have. As a man of honor I can not deny them. They shall have
+every Jot and stiver of the property of John Law, even the million or so
+of good coin which he brought here to Paris with him. The coat on my
+back, the wheels beneath me, gold enough to pay for the charges of the
+inns through France&mdash;that is all that John Law will take away with him.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The arms of the old servant fell helpless at his side. &quot;Sir, this is
+madness,&quot; he expostulated.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Not so, Henri,&quot; replied Law, leniently. &quot;Madness enough there has been
+in Paris, it is true, but madness not mine nor of my making. For
+madness, look you yonder.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He pointed a finger through the window where the stately edifice of the
+Palais Royal rose.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;My good friend the regent&mdash;it is he who hath been mad,&quot; continued Law.
+&quot;He, holding France in trust, has ruined France forever.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Monsieur, I grieve for you,&quot; said the Swiss. &quot;I have seen your success
+in these years and, as you may imagine, have understood something of
+your affairs as time went on.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And have you not profited by your knowledge in these times?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I have had the salary your Honor has agreed to pay me,&quot; replied the
+Swiss.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And no more?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No more.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, there are serving folk in France by the hundreds who have grown
+millionaires by the knowledge of their employers' affairs these last two
+years in Paris. Never was such a time in all the world for making money.
+Have you been more blind than they? Why did you not tell me? Why did you
+not ask?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I was content with your employment. Monsieur L'as. I would ask no
+better master.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It is not so with certain others. They think me a hard master enough,
+and having displaced me, will do all they can to punish me. But now,
+Henri, you will perhaps need to look elsewhere for a master. I am going
+far away&mdash;perhaps across the seas. It may he&mdash;but I know not where and
+care not where my foot may wander hereafter, nor will I seek now to plan
+for it. As for you, Henri, since you admit you have been thus blind to
+your own interests, let us look to that. Go to the desk again. Take out
+the drawer&mdash;that one on the left hand. So&mdash;bring it to me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The servant obeyed. Law took from his hand the receptacle, and with a
+sweep of his hand poured out on the table its contents. A mass of
+glittering gems, diamonds, sapphires, pearls, emeralds, fell and spread
+over the table top. The light cast out by their thousand facets lit up
+the surroundings with shimmering, many-colored gleams. The wealth of a
+kingdom might have been here in the careless possession of this man,
+whose resources had been absolutely without measure.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Help yourself, Henri,&quot; said Law, calmly, and turned about to his
+employment among the papers. A moment later he turned again to see his
+servant still standing motionless.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well?&quot; said Law.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I do not understand,&quot; said the Swiss.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Take what you like,&quot; said Law. &quot;I have said it, and I mean it. It is
+for your pay, because you have been honest, because I understand you as
+a faithful man.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But, Monsieur, these things have very great value,&quot; said the Swiss.
+&quot;Let me ask how is it that you yourself take so little gold along? Does
+Monsieur purpose to take with him his fortune in gems and jewels
+instead?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;By no means. I purpose taking but fifty louis, as I have said.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Monsieur would have me replace the drawer?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;How do you mean?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, I want none of them.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Because Monsieur wants none of them.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Fie! Your case is quite different from mine.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Perhaps, but I want none of them.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Are you afraid?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Monsieur!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Do you not think them genuine stones?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Assuredly,&quot; said the Swiss, &quot;else why should we have cared for them
+among our gems?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, then, I command you as your master, to take forth some of these
+jewels and keep them for your own.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But no,&quot; replied the Swiss. &quot;It is only after Monsieur.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What? Myself?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Assuredly.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then, for the sake of precedent,&quot; said Law, &quot;let me see. Well, then, I
+will take one gem, only one. Here, Henri, is the diamond which I brought
+with me when I came to Paris years ago. It was the sole jewel owned then
+by my brother and myself, though we had somewhat of gold between us,
+thanks to this same diamond. It was once my sole capital, in years gone
+by. Perhaps we may need a carriage through France, and this may serve to
+pay the hire of a vehicle from one of my late dukes or marquises. Or
+perhaps at best I may send this same stone across the channel to my
+brother Will, who has wisely gone to Scotland, or should have departed
+before this. So, very well, Henri, to oblige you I will take this single
+stone. Now, do you help yourself.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Since Monsieur limits himself to so little,&quot; said the Swiss, sturdily,
+&quot;I shall not want more. This little pin will serve me, and I shall wear
+it long in memory of your many kindnesses.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Law rose to his feet and caught the good fellow by the hand.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;By heaven, I find you of good blood!&quot; said he. &quot;My friend, I thank you.
+And now put up the box. I shall not counsel you to take more than this.
+We shall leave the rest for those who will presently come to claim it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>For some time silence reigned in the great room, as Law, deeply engaged
+in the affairs before him, buried himself in the mass of scattered books
+and papers. Hour after hour wore on, and at last he turned from his
+employment. His face showed calm, pale, and furrowed with a sadness
+which till now had been foreign to it. He arose at last, and with a
+sweep of his arm pushed back the papers which lay before him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There,&quot; said he. &quot;This should conclude it all. It should all be plain
+enough now to those who follow.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Monsieur is weary,&quot; mentioned the faithful attendant. &quot;He would have
+some refreshment.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Presently, but I think not here, Henri. My household is not all so
+faithful as yourself, and I question if we could find cook or servants
+for the table below. No, we are to leave Paris to-night, Henri, and it
+is well the journey should begin. Get you down to the stables, and, if
+you can, have my best coach brought to the front door.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It may not be quite safe, if Monsieur will permit me to suggest.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Perhaps not. These fools are so deep in their folly that they do not
+know their friends. But safe or not, that is the way I shall go. We
+might slip out through the back door, but 'tis not thus John Law will go
+from Paris.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The servant departed, and Law, left alone, sat silent and motionless,
+buried in thought. Now and again his head sank forward, like that of one
+who has received a deep hurt. But again he drew himself up sternly, and
+so remained, not leaving his seat nor turning toward the window, beyond
+which could now be heard the sound of shouting, and cries whose confused
+and threatening tones might have given ground for the gravest
+apprehension. At length the Swiss again reported, much agitated and
+shaken from his ordinary self-control.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Monsieur,&quot; said he, &quot;come. I have at last the coach at the door.
+Hasten, Monsieur; a crowd is gathering. Indeed, we may meet violence.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Law seemed not to hear him, but sat for a time, his head still bowed,
+his eyes gazing straight before him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But, Monsieur,&quot; again broke in the Swiss, anxiously, &quot;if I may
+interrupt, there is need to hasten. There will be a mob. Our guard is
+gone.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;So,&quot; said Law. &quot;They were afraid?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Surely. They fled forthwith when they heard the people below crying out
+at the house. They are indeed threatening death to yourself. They cry
+that they will burn the house&mdash;that should you appear, they will have
+your blood at once.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And are you not afraid?&quot; asked Law.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I am here. Does not Monsieur fear for himself?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Law shrugged his shoulders. &quot;There are many of them, and we are but
+two,&quot; said he. &quot;For yourself, go you down the back way and care for your
+own safety. I will go out the front and meet these good people. Are we
+quite ready for the journey?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Quite ready, as you have directed.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Have you the two valises, with the one change of clothing?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;They are here.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And have you the fifty louis, as I stated?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Here in the purse.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And I think you have also the single diamond.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It is here.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then,&quot; said Law, &quot;let us go.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He rose, and scarce looking behind him, even to see that his orders to
+the servant had been obeyed, he strode down the vast stairway of the
+great h&ocirc;tel, past many precious works of art, between walls hung with
+richest tapestries and noble paintings. The click of his heel on a
+chance bit of exposed marble here and there echoed hollow, as though
+indeed the master of the palace had been abandoned by all his people.
+The great building was silent, empty.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What! Are you, then, here?&quot; he said, seeing the servant had disobeyed
+his instructions and was following close behind him. He alone out of
+those scores of servants, those hundreds of fawning nobles, those
+thousands of sycophant souls who had but lately cringed before him, now
+accompanied the late master of France as he turned to leave the house
+in which he no longer held authority.</p>
+
+<p>Without, but the door's thickness from where he stood, there arose a
+tumult of sound, shouts, cries, imprecations, entreaties, as though the
+walls of some asylum for the unfortunate had broken away and allowed its
+inmates to escape unrestrained, irreclaimable, impossible to control.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Down with Jean L'as! Down with Jean L'as!&quot; rose a cadenced, rhythmic
+shout, the accord of a mob of Paris beating into its tones. And this
+steady burden was broken by the cries of &quot;Enter! Enter! Break down the
+door! Kill the monster! Assassin! Thief! Traitor!&quot; No word of the
+vocabulary of scorn and loathing was wanting in their cries.</p>
+
+<p>Hearing these cries, the face of this fighting man now grew hot with
+anger, and now it paled with grief and sorrow. Yet he faltered not, but
+stepped on, confidently. The Swiss opened the door and stood at the head
+of the flight of stairs. Tall, calm, pale, fearless, John Law stood
+facing the angry mob, his eyes shining brightly. He laid his hand for an
+instant upon his sword, yet it was but to unbuckle the belt. The weapon
+he left leaning against the wall, and so stepped on down toward the
+crowd.</p>
+
+<p>He was met by a rush of excited men and women, screaming, cursing,
+giving vent to inarticulate and indistinguishable speech. A man laid his
+hand upon his shoulder. Law caught the hand, and with a swift wrench of
+the wrist, threw the owner of it to the ground. At this the others gave
+back, and for half a moment silence ensued. The mob lacked just the
+touch of rage to hurl themselves upon him. He raised his hand and
+motioned them aside.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Are you not Jean L'as?&quot; cried one dame, excitedly, waving in his face a
+handful of the paper shares of the latest issue in the Company of the
+Indies. &quot;Are you not Jean L'as? Tell me, then, where is my money for
+these things? What shall I get for this rotten paper?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You are Jean L'as, the director-general!&quot; cried a man, pushing up to
+his side. &quot;'Twas you that ruined the Company. See! Here is all that I
+have!&quot; He wept as he shook his bunch of paper in John Law's face. &quot;Last
+week I was worth half a million!&quot; He wept, and tore across, with
+impotent rage, the bundle of worthless paper.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Down with Jean L'as! Down with Jean L'as!&quot; came the recurrent cry. A
+rush followed. The carriage, towering above the ring of the surrounding
+crowd, showed its coat of arms, and thus was recognized. A paving-stone
+crashed through its heavy window. A knife ripped up the velvets of the
+cushions.</p>
+
+<p>The coachman was pulled from his box. The horses, plunging with terror,
+were cut loose from the pole and led away. With shouts and cries of rage
+and busy zeal, one madman vied with another in tearing, cutting and
+destroying the vehicle, until it stood there ruined, without means of
+locomotion, defaced and useless. And still the ring of desperate
+humanity closed around him who had late been master of all France.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What do you want, my friends?&quot; asked he, calmly, as for an instant
+there came a lull in the tumult. He stood looking at them curiously now,
+his dulling eyes regarding them as though they presented some new and
+interesting study. &quot;What is it that you desire?&quot; he repeated.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;We want our money,&quot; cried a score of voices. &quot;We want back that which
+you have stolen.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You are not exact,&quot; replied Law, calmly. &quot;I have not your money, nor
+yet have I stolen it. If you have suffered by this foolish panic, you do
+not mend matters by thus treating me. By heaven, you go the wrong way to
+get anything from me! Out of the way, you <i>canaille!</i> Do you think to
+frighten me? I made your city. I made you all Now, do you think to
+frighten me, John Law?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh! You would go away, you want to escape!&quot; cried the voices of those
+near at hand. &quot;We will see as to that!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Again they fell upon the carriage, and still they hemmed him in the
+closer.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;True, I am going away,&quot; said Law. &quot;But you can not say that I tried to
+steal away without your knowing it. There, up the stairs, are my papers.
+You will see in time that I have concealed nothing. Now I am going to
+leave Paris, it is true; but not because I am afraid to stay here. 'Tis
+for other reason, and reason of mine own.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Twas you who ruined Paris&mdash;this city which you now seek to leave!&quot;
+shrieked the dame who had spoken before, still shaking her useless
+bank-notes in her hand.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, very well, my friend. For the argument, let us agree upon that,&quot;
+said Law.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You ruined our Company, our beautiful Company!&quot; cried another.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Certainly. Since I was the originator of it, that follows as matter of
+reason,&quot; replied Law.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah, he admits it! He admits it!&quot; cried yet another. &quot;Don't let him
+escape. Kill him! Down with Jean L'as!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;We are going to kill you precisely here!&quot; cried a huge fellow,
+brandishing a paving-stone before his eyes. &quot;You are not fit to live.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;As to that,&quot; said Law, &quot;I agree with you perfectly. My hand upon it; I
+am not fit to live. I have found that I made mistakes. I have found that
+there is nothing left to desire. I have found out that all this money is
+not worth the having. I have found out so many things, my very dear
+friends, that I quite agree with you. For if one must want to live
+before he is fit to live, then indeed I am not fit. But what then?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Kill him! Kill him! Strike him down!&quot; cried out a voice back of the
+giant with the menacing paving-stone.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, very well, my friends,&quot; resumed the object of their fury, flicking
+again with his old, careless gesture at the deep cuff of his wrist. &quot;As
+you like in regard to that. More than one man has offered me that
+happiness in the past, yet it was many a long year since, any man could
+trouble me by announcing that he was about to kill me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Something in the attitude of the man stayed the hands of the most
+dangerous members of the mob. Yet ever there came the cry from back of
+them. &quot;Down with Jean L'as! He has ruined everything!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Friends,&quot; responded Law to this cry, bitterly, &quot;you little know how
+true you speak. It was indeed John Law who brought ruin to everything.
+It was indeed he who threw away what was worth more than all the gold in
+France. It is indeed he who has failed, and failed most utterly. You can
+not frighten John Law, but you may do as you like with him, for surely
+he has failed!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The bitterness of despair was in his tones. Then, perhaps, the sullen,
+savage crowd had wrought their last act of anger and revenge on him, had
+it not been for a sudden change in that tide of ill fortune that now
+seemed to carry him forward to his doom. There came a sound of far-off
+cries, a distant clacking of hoofs, the clatter of steel, many shouts,
+entreaties and commands. The close-packed crowd which filled the open
+space in front of the h&ocirc;tel writhed, twisted, turned and would have
+sought to resolve itself into groups and individuals. Some cried out
+that the troops were coming. A detachment of the king's household, sent
+out to disperse these dangerous gatherings, came full front down the
+street, as had so often come the arm of the military in this turbulent
+old city of Paris. Remorselessly they rode over and through the mob,
+driving them, dispersing them. A moment later, and Law stood almost
+alone at the steps of his own house. The squadron wheeled, headed by an
+officer, who rode upon him with sword uplifted as though to cut him
+down. Law raised his hand at this new menace.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Stop!&quot; he cried. &quot;I am the cause of this rioting. I am John Law.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What! Monsieur L'as?&quot; cried the lieutenant. &quot;So the people have found
+you, have they?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It would so seem. They have destroyed my carriage, and they would have
+killed me,&quot; replied Law. &quot;But I perceive it is Captain Mirabec. 'Twas I
+who got you your commission, as you may remember.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Is it so?&quot; replied the other, with a grin. &quot;I have no recollection.
+Since you are Jean L'as, the late director-general, the pity is I did
+not let the people kill you. You are the cause of the ruin of us all,
+the cause of my own ruin. Three days more, and I had been a
+major-general. I had nearly the sum in <i>actions</i> ready to pay over at
+the right place. By our Lady of Grace, I am minded to run you through
+myself, for a greater villain never set foot in France!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Monsieur, I am about to leave France,&quot; said Law.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, you would leave us? You would run away?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;As you like. But most of all, I am now very weary. I would not remain
+here longer talking. Henri, where are you?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The faithful Swiss, who had remained close to his employer all the time,
+and who had been not far from his side during the scenes just concluded,
+was in a moment at his side. He hardly reached his master too soon, for
+as he passed his arm about him, the head of Law sank wearily forward. He
+might, perhaps, have sunk to the ground had he lacked a supporting arm.</p>
+
+<p>At this moment there came again the sound of hoofs upon the pavement.
+There was the rush of a mounted outrider, and hard after him sped the
+horses of a carriage, whose driver pulled up close at the curb and
+scarce clear of the little group gathered there. The door of the coach
+was opened, and at it appeared the figure of a woman, who quickly
+descended from the step.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What is it?&quot; she cried. &quot;Is not this the residence of Monsieur Law?&quot;
+The officer saluted, and the few loiterers gave back and made room, as
+she stepped fully into the street and advanced with decision towards
+those whom she saw.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Madam,&quot; replied the Swiss, &quot;this is the residence of Monsieur L'as, and
+this is Monsieur L'as himself. I fear he is taken suddenly ill.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The lady stepped quickly to his side. As she did so, Law, as one not
+fully hearing, half raised his head. He looked full into her face, and
+releasing himself from the arms of his servant, stood thus, staring
+directly at the visitor, his face haggard, his fixed eyes bearing no
+sign of actual recognition.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Catharine! Catharine!&quot; he exclaimed. &quot;Oh God, how cruel of you too to
+mock me! Catharine!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The unspeakable yearning of the cry went to the heart of her who heard
+it. She put out a hand and laid it on his forehead. The Swiss motioned
+toward the house. And even as the officer wheeled his troop to depart,
+these two again ascended the steps, half carrying between them a
+stumbling man, who but repeated mumblingly to himself the same words:</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Mockery! Mockery!&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+<a name='BOOK_III_CHAPTER_XIII'></a><h3>CHAPTER XIII</h3>
+
+<h4>THE QUALITY OF MERCY</h4>
+<br />
+
+<p>Within the great house there was silence, for the vistas of the wide
+interior led far back from the street and its tumult; nor did there
+arise within the walls any sound of voice or footfall. Of the entire
+household there was but one left to do the master service.</p>
+
+<p>They entered the great hall, passed the foot of the wide stairway, and
+turned at the first <i>entresol</i>, where were seats and couches. The
+servant paused for a moment and looked inquiringly at the lady with whom
+he now found himself in company.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The times are serious,&quot; he began. &quot;I would not intrude, Madame, yet
+perhaps you are aware&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I am a friend of monsieur,&quot; replied Lady Catharine. &quot;He is ill. See, he
+is not himself. Tell me, what is this illness?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Madame,&quot; said the Swiss, gravely, &quot;his illness is that of grief.
+Monsieur's failure sits heavily upon him.&quot;</p>
+
+<center>
+<img src="images/img5.jpg" height="358" width="300"
+alt="Illustration">
+</center>
+
+<p>&quot;How long is it since he slept?&quot; asked the lady, for she noted the
+drooping head of the man now reclining upon the couch.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Not for many days and nights,&quot; replied the Swiss. &quot;He has for the last
+few days been under much strain. But shall I not assist you, Madame? You
+are, perhaps&mdash;pardon me, since I do not know your relationship with
+monsieur&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;A friend of years ago. I knew Mr. Law when he lived in England.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I perceive. Perhaps Madame would be alone for a time? If you please, I
+will seek aid.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>They approached the side of the couch. Law's head lay back upon the
+cushions. His breath came deeply and slowly, not stertorously nor
+labored.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;How strange,&quot; whispered the Swiss, &quot;he sleeps!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Such was indeed the truth. The iron nature, so long overwrought, now
+utterly unstrung, had yielded for the first time to the stress of nature
+and of events. The relief from what he had taken to be death had come
+swiftly, and the reaction brought a lethal calm of its own. If he had
+indeed recognized the face of the woman who had touched him with her
+hand, it was as though he had witnessed her in a vision, a dream bitter
+and troubled, since it was a dream impossible to be true.</p>
+
+<p>The Swiss looked still hesitatingly at the lady who had thus strangely
+come upon the scene, noticing her sweet and tender mouth, her cheeks
+just faintly tinged with pink, her eyes shining with a soft, mysterious
+radiance. She approached the couch and laid both her hands upon the face
+of the unconscious man. Tears sprang within her eyes and fell from her
+dark lashes. The old servant looked up at her, simply.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Madame would be alone with monsieur?&quot; asked he. &quot;It will be better.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lady Catharine Knollys, left alone, gazed upon the sleeper. John Law,
+the failure, lay there, supine, abased, cast-down, undone, shorn utterly
+of his old arrogance of mind and mien. Fortune, wealth, even the boon of
+physical well-being&mdash;all had fled from him. The pride of a superb
+manhood had departed from the lines of this limp figure. The cheeks were
+lined and sunken, the eye, even had the lid not covered it, lacked the
+late convincing fire. No longer commanding, no longer strong, no longer
+gay and debonair, he lay, a man whose fate was failure, as he himself
+had said.</p>
+
+<p>The woman who stood with clasped hands, gazing at him, tears welling in
+her eyes&mdash;she, so closely linked to his every thought for these many
+years&mdash;well enough she knew the story of his boundless ambitions, now so
+swiftly ended. Well enough, too, she knew the shortcomings of this
+mortal man before her. Even as she had in her mirror looked into her own
+soul, so now she saw deep into his heart as he lay there, helpless,
+making no further plea for himself, urging no claim, making no
+explanations nor denials, no asseverations, no promises. Did she indeed
+see and recognize again, as sometimes gloriously happens in this poor
+life of ours, that other and inner man, the only one fit to touch a
+woman's hand&mdash;the man who might have been? Did she see this, and greet
+again the friend of long ago? God, who hath given mercy, remedy alone
+sufficing for the ill that men may do, He alone may know these things.</p>
+
+<p>Could John Law failing be John Law succeeding, and in his most sublime
+success? Upon the wreck and ruin of the old nature could there grow
+another and a better man? Mayhap the answer to this was what the eye of
+woman saw. How else could there have come into this great room, so late
+the scene of turbulent activities, this vast and soothing calm? How else
+could this man's breath come now so deep and regular and content? The
+angels of God may know, they who drop down the gentle dew of heaven.</p>
+
+<p>An hour passed by. A soft tread came to the door, but Henri heard no
+sound, and saw only the prone figure of the sleeper, and beside it the
+form of the woman, who still held his hand in her own. Still the hours
+wore on, and still the watch continued, there under the mysteries of
+Life and of Love, of Mercy and of Forgiveness. And so at last the gray
+dawn broke again. The panes of the high mullioned windows were tinged
+with splashes of color. The pale light crept into the room, slowly
+revealing and lighting up its splendors.</p>
+
+<p>With the dawn there came into the heart of Catharine Knollys a flood of
+light and joy. Why, she knew not; how, she cared not; yet she knew that
+the shadows were gone. The same tide of peace and calm might have swept
+into the bosom of the man before her. He stirred, moved. His eyes opened
+wide, in their gaze wonder and disbelief, yet hope and longing.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Catharine,&quot; he murmured, &quot;Catharine! Is it you? Catharine! Dear Kate!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>She bent over and softly kissed his face. &quot;Dear heart,&quot; she whispered,
+&quot;I have loved you always. Awake. The day has come. There is another
+world before us. See, I have come to you, dear heart, for Faith, and for
+Love, and for Hope!&quot;</p>
+<br />
+
+<br />
+<hr class="full" noshade>
+<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE***</p>
+<p>******* This file should be named 14001-h.txt or 14001-h.zip *******</p>
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+</pre>
+</body>
+</html>
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+The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Mississippi Bubble, by Emerson Hough,
+Illustrated by Henry Hutt
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net
+
+
+
+
+
+Title: The Mississippi Bubble
+
+Author: Emerson Hough
+
+Release Date: November 10, 2004  [eBook #14001]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE***
+
+
+E-text prepared by Rick Niles, John Hagerson, Jon King, and the Project
+Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team
+
+
+
+Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
+      file which includes the original illustrations.
+      See 14001-h.htm or 14001-h.zip:
+      (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/1/4/0/0/14001/14001-h/14001-h.htm)
+      or
+      (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/1/4/0/0/14001/14001-h.zip)
+
+
+
+
+
+THE MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE
+
+How the Star of Good Fortune Rose and Set and Rose Again, by a Woman's
+Grace, for One John Law of Lauriston
+
+A Novel by
+
+EMERSON HOUGH
+
+The Illustrations by Henry Hutt
+
+1902
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: (Frontispiece)]
+
+
+
+
+TO
+L.C.H.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+BOOK I
+
+CHAPTER
+
+   I THE RETURNED TRAVELER
+  II AT SADLER'S WELLS
+ III JOHN LAW OF LAURISTON
+  IV THE POINT OF HONOR
+   V DIVERS EMPLOYMENTS OF JOHN LAW
+  VI THE RESOLUTION OF MR. LAW
+ VII TWO MAIDS A-BROIDERING
+VIII CATHARINE KNOLLYS
+  IX IN SEARCH OF THE QUARREL
+   X THE RUMOR OF THE QUARREL
+  XI AS CHANCE DECREED
+ XII FOR FELONY
+XIII THE MESSAGE
+ XIV PRISONERS
+  XV IF THERE WERE NEED
+ XVI THE ESCAPE
+XVII WHITHER
+
+
+BOOK II
+
+ I THE DOOR OF THE WEST
+  II THE STORM
+ III AU LARGE
+  IV THE PATHWAY OF THE WATERS
+   V MESSASEBE
+  VI MAIZE
+ VII THE BRINK OF CHANGE
+VIII TOUS SAUVAGES
+  IX THE DREAM
+   X BY THE HILT OF THE SWORD
+  XI THE IROQUOIS
+ XII PRISONERS OF THE IROQUOIS
+XIII THE SACRIFICE
+ XIV THE EMBASSY
+  XV THE GREAT PEACE
+
+
+BOOK III
+
+   I THE GRAND MONARQUE
+  II EVER SAID SHE NAY
+ III SEARCH THOU MY HEART
+  IV THE REGENT'S PROMISE
+   V A DAY OF MIRACLES
+  VI THE GREATEST NEED
+ VII THE MIRACLE UNWROUGHT
+VIII THE LITTLE SUPPER OF THE REGENT
+  IX THE NEWS
+   X MASTER AND MAN
+  XI THE BREAKING OF THE BUBBLE
+ XII THAT WHICH REMAINED
+XIII THE QUALITY OF MERCY
+
+
+
+
+BOOK I
+
+ENGLAND
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+THE RETURNED TRAVELER
+
+
+"Gentlemen, this is America!"
+
+The speaker cast upon the cloth-covered table a singular object, whose
+like none of those present had ever seen. They gathered about and bent
+over it curiously.
+
+"This is that America," the speaker repeated. "Here you have it,
+barbaric, wonderful, abounding!"
+
+With sudden gesture he swept his hand among the gold coin that lay on
+the gaming table. He thrust into the mouth of the object before him a
+handful of louis d'or and English sovereigns. "There is your America,"
+said he. "It runs over with gold. No man may tell its richness. Its
+beauty you can not imagine."
+
+"Faith," said Sir Arthur Pembroke, bending over the table with glass in
+eye, "if the ladies of that land have feet for this sort of shoon,
+methinks we might well emigrate. Take you the money of it. For me, I
+would see the dame could wear such shoe as this."
+
+One after another this company of young Englishmen, hard players, hard
+drinkers, gathered about the table and bent over to examine the little
+shoe. It was an Indian moccasin, cut after the fashion of the Abenakis,
+from the skin of the wild buck, fashioned large and full for the spread
+of the foot, covered deep with the stained quills of the porcupine, and
+dotted here and there with the precious beads which, to the maker, had
+more worth than any gold. A little flap came up for cover to the ankle,
+and a thong fell from its upper edge. It was the ancient foot-covering
+of the red race of America, made for the slight but effectual protection
+of the foot, while giving perfect freedom to the tread of the wearer.
+Light, dainty and graceful, its size was much less than that of the
+average woman's shoe of that time and place.
+
+"Bah! Pembroke," said Castleton, pushing up the shade above his eyes
+till it rested on his forehead, "'tis a child's shoe."
+
+"Not so," said the first speaker. "I give you my word 'tis the moccasin
+of my sweetheart, a princess in her own right, who waits my coming on
+the Ottawa. And so far from the shoe being too small, I say as a
+gentleman that she not only wore it so, but in addition used somewhat
+of grass therein in place of hose."
+
+The earnestness of this speech in no wise prevented the peal of laughter
+that followed.
+
+"There you have it, Pembroke," cried Castleton. "Would you move to a
+land where princesses use hay for hosiery?"
+
+"'Tis curious done," said Pembroke, musingly, "none the less."
+
+"And done by her own hand," said the owner of the shoe, with a certain
+proprietary pride.
+
+Again the laughter broke out. "Do your princesses engage in shoemaking?"
+asked a third gamester as he pushed into the ring. "Sure it must be a
+rare land. Prithee, what doth the king in handicraft? Doth he take to
+saddlery, or, perhaps, smithing?"
+
+"Have done thy jests, Wilson," cried Pembroke. "Mayhap there is somewhat
+to be learned here of this New World and of our dear cousins, the
+French. Go on, tell us, Monsieur du Mesne--as I think you call yourself,
+sir?--tell us more of your new country of ice and snow, of princesses
+and little shoes."
+
+The original speaker went a bit sullen, what with his wine and the jests
+of his companions. "I'll tell ye naught," said he. "Go see for
+yourselves, by leave of Louis."
+
+"Come now," said Pembroke, conciliatingly. "We'll all admit our
+ignorance. 'Tis little we know of our own province of Virginia, save
+that Virginia is a land of poverty and tobacco. Wealth--faith, if ye
+have wealth in your end of the continent, 'tis time we English fought ye
+for it."
+
+"Methinks you English are having enough to do here close at home,"
+sneered Du Mesne. "I have heard somewhat of Steinkirk, and how ye ran
+from the half-dressed gentlemen of France."
+
+Dark looks followed this bold speech, which cut but too closely to the
+quick of English pride. Pembroke quelled the incipient outcry with
+calmer speech.
+
+"Peace, friends," said he. "'Tis not arms we argue here, after all. We
+are but students at the feet of Monsieur du Mesne, who hath returned
+from foreign parts. Prithee, sir, tell us more."
+
+"Tell ye more--and if I did, would ye believe it? What if I tell ye of
+great rivers far to the west of the Ottawa; of races as strange to my
+princess's people as we are to them; of streams whose sands run in gold,
+where diamonds and sapphires are to be picked up as ye like? If I told
+ye, would ye believe?"
+
+The martial hearts and adventurous souls of the circle about him began
+to show in the heightened color and closer crowding of the young men to
+the table. Silence fell upon the group.
+
+"Ye know nothing, in this old rotten world, of what there is yet to be
+found in America," cried Du Mesne. "For myself, I have been no farther
+than the great falls of the Ontoneagrea--a mere trifle of a cataract,
+gentlemen, into which ye might pitch your tallest English cathedral and
+sink it beyond its pinnacle with ease. Yet I have spoke with the holy
+fathers who have journeyed far to the westward, even to the vast
+Messasebe, which is well known to run into the China sea upon some
+far-off coast not yet well charted. I have also read the story of
+Sagean, who was far to the west of that mighty river. Did not the latter
+see and pursue and kill in fair fight the giant unicorn, fabled of
+Scripture? Is not that animal known to be a creature of the East, and
+may we not, therefore, be advised that this new country takes hold upon
+the storied lands of the East? Why, this holy friar with whom I spoke,
+fresh back from his voyaging to the cold upper ways of the Northern
+tribes, who live beyond the far-off channel at Michilimackinac--did he
+not tell of a river of the name of the Blue Earth, and did he not
+himself see turquoises and diamonds and emeralds taken in handfuls from
+this same blue earth? Ah, bah! gentlemen, Europe for you if ye like, but
+for me, back I go, so soon as I may get proper passage and a connection
+which will warrant me the voyage. Back I go to Canada, to America, to
+the woods and streams. I would see again my ancient Du L'hut, and my
+comrade Pierre Noir, and Tete Gris, the trapper from the Mistasing--free
+traders all. Life is there for the living, my comrades. This Old World,
+small and outworn, no more of it for me."
+
+"And why came you back to this little Old World of ours, an you loved
+the New World so much?" asked the cynical voice of him who had been
+called Wilson.
+
+"By the body of God!" cried Du Mesne, "think ye I came of my own free
+will? Look here, and find your reason." He stripped back the opening of
+his doublet and under waistcoat, and showed upon his broad shoulder the
+scar of a red tri-point, deep and livid upon his flesh. "Look! There is
+the fleur-de-lis of France. That is why I came. I have rowed in the
+galleys, me--me a free man, a man of the woods of New France!"
+
+Murmurs of concern passed among the little group. Castleton rose from
+his chair and leaned with his hands upon the table, gazing now at the
+face and now at the bared shoulder of this stranger, who had by chance
+become a member of their nightly party.
+
+"I have not been in London a fortnight since my escape," said the man
+with the brand. "I was none the less once a good servant of Louis in New
+France, for that I found many a new tribe and many a bale of furs that
+else had never come to the Mountain for the robbery of the lying
+officers who claim the robe of Louis. I was a soldier for the king as
+well as a traveler of the forest. Was I not with the Le Moynes and the
+band that crossed the icy North and destroyed your robbing English fur
+posts on the Bay of Hudson? I fought there and helped blow down your
+barriers. I packed my own robe on my back, and walked for the king, till
+the _raquette_ thongs cut my ankles to the bone. For what? When I came
+back to the settlements at Quebec I was seized for a _coureur de bois_,
+a free trader. I was herded like a criminal into a French ship, sent
+over seas to a French prison, branded with a French iron, and set like a
+brute to pull without reason at a bar of wood in the king's galleys--the
+king's hell!"
+
+"And yet you are a Frenchman," sneered Wilson.
+
+"Yet am I not a Frenchman," cried the other. "Nor am I an Englishman. I
+am no man of a world of galleys and brands. I am a man of America!"
+
+"'Tis true what he says," spoke Pembroke. "'Tis said the minister of
+Louis was feared to keep these men in the galleys, lest their fellows in
+New France should become too bitter, and should join the savages in
+their inroads on the starving settlements of Quebec and Montreal."
+
+"True," exclaimed Du Mesne. "The _coureurs_ care naught for the law and
+little for the king. As for a ruler, we have discovered that a man makes
+a most excellent sovereign for himself."
+
+"And excellent said," cried Castleton.
+
+"None of ye know the West," went on the _coureur_. "Your Virginia, we
+know well of it--a collection of beggars, prostitutes and thieves. Your
+New England--a lot of cod-fishing, starving snivelers, who are most
+concerned how to keep life in their bodies from year to year. New France
+herself, sitting ever on the edge of an icy death, with naught but
+bickerings at Quebec and naught but reluctant compliance from
+Paris--what hath she to hope? I tell ye, gentlemen, 'tis beyond, in the
+land of the Messasebe, where I shall for my part seek out my home; and
+no man shall set iron on my soul again."
+
+He spoke bitterly. The group about him, half amused, half cynical and
+all ignorant, as were their kind at this time of the reign of William,
+were none the less impressed and thoughtful. Yet once more the sneering
+voice of Wilson broke in.
+
+"A strange land, my friend," said he, "monstrous strange. Your unicorns
+are great, and your women are little. Methinks to give thy tale
+proportion thou shouldst have shown shoon somewhat larger."
+
+"Peace! Beau," said Castleton, quickly. "As for the size of the human
+foot--gad! I'll lay a roll of louis d'or that there's one dame here in
+London town can wear this slipper of New France."
+
+"Done!" cried Wilson. "Name the one."
+
+"None other than the pretty Lawrence whom thou hast had under thine
+ancient wing for the past two seasons."
+
+The face of Wilson gathered into a sudden frown at this speech. "What
+doth it matter"--he began.
+
+"Have done, fellows!" cried Pembroke with some asperity. "Lay wagers
+more fit at best, and let us have no more of this thumb-biting. Gad! the
+first we know, we'll be up for fighting among ourselves, and we all know
+how the new court doth look on that."
+
+"Come away," laughed Castleton, gaily. "I'm for a pint of ale and an
+apple; and then beware! 'Tis always my fortune, when I come to this
+country drink, to win like a very countryman. I need revenge upon Lady
+Betty and her lap-dog. I've lost since ever I saw them last."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+AT SADLER'S WELLS
+
+
+Sadler's Wells, on this mild and cheery spring morning, was a scene of
+fashion and of folly. Hither came the elite of London, after the custom
+of the day, to seek remedy in the reputed qualities of the springs for
+the weariness and lassitude resultant upon the long season of polite
+dissipations which society demanded of her votaries. Bewigged dandies,
+their long coats of colors well displayed as they strutted about in the
+open, paid court there, as they did within the city gates, to the
+powdered and painted beauties who sat in their couches waiting for their
+servants to bring out to them the draft of which they craved healing for
+crow's-feet and hollow eyes. Here and there traveling merchants called
+their wares, jugglers spread their carpets, bear dancers gave their
+little spectacles, and jockeys conferred as to the merits of horse or
+hound. Hawk-nosed Jews passed among the vehicles, cursed or kicked by
+the young gallants who stood about, hat in hand, at the steps of their
+idols' carriages.
+
+"Buy my silks, pretty lady, buy my silks! Fresh from the Turkey walk on
+the Exchange, and cheaper than you can buy their like in all the
+city--buy my silks, lady!" Thus the peddler with his little pack of
+finery.
+
+"My philter, lady," cried the gipsy woman, who had left her donkey cart
+outside the line. "My philter! 'Twill keep-a your eyes bright and your
+cheeks red for ay. Secret of the Pharaohs, lady; and but a shilling!"
+
+"Have ye a parrot, ma'am? Have ye never a parrot to keep ye free and
+give ye laughter every hour? Buy my parrot, lady. Just from the Gold
+Coast. He'll talk ye Spanish, Flemish or good city tongue. Buy my parrot
+at ten crowns, and so cheap, lady!" So spoke the ear-ringed sailor, who
+might never have seen a salter water than the Thames.
+
+"Powder-puffs for the face, lady," whispered a lean and weazen-faced
+hawker, slipping among the crowd with secrecy. "See my puff, made from
+the foot of English hares. Rubs out all wrinkles, lady, and keeps ye
+young as when ye were a lass. But a shilling, a shilling. See!" And with
+the pretense of secrecy the seller would sidle up to a carriage of some
+dame, slip to her the hare's foot and take the shilling with an air as
+though no one could see what none could fail to notice.
+
+Above these mingled cries of the hangers-on of this crowd of nobility
+and gentles rose the blare of crude music, and cries far off and
+confused. Above it all shone the May sun, brighter here than lower
+toward the Thames. In the edge of London town it was, all this little
+pageant, and from the residence squares below and far to the westward
+came the carriages and the riders, gathering at the spot which for the
+hour was the designated rendezvous of capricious fashion. No matter if
+the tower at the drinking curb was crowded, so that inmates of the
+coaches could not find way among the others. There was at least magic in
+the morning, even if one might not drink at the chalybeate spring.
+Cheeks did indeed grow rosy, and eyes brightened under the challenge not
+only of the dawn but of the ardent eyes that gazed impertinently bold or
+reproachfully imploring.
+
+Far-reaching was the line of the gentility, to whose flanks clung the
+rabble of trade. Back upon the white road came yet other carriages,
+saluted by those departing. Low hedges of English green reached out into
+the distance, blending ultimately at the edge of the pleasant sky. Merry
+enough it was, and gladsome, this spring day; for be sure the really ill
+did not brave the long morning ride to test the virtue of the waters of
+Sadler's Wells. It was for the most part the young, the lively, the
+full-blooded, perhaps the wearied, but none the less the vital and
+stirring natures which met in the decreed assemblage.
+
+Back of Sadler's little court the country came creeping close up to the
+town. There were fields not so far away on these long highways.
+Wandering and rambling roads ran off to the westward and to the north,
+leading toward the straight old Roman road which once upon a time ran
+down to London town. Ill-kept enough were some of the lanes, with their
+hedges and shrubs overhanging the highways, if such the paths could be
+called which came braiding down toward the south. One needed not to go
+far outward beyond Sadler's Wells of a night-time to find adventure, or
+to lose a purse.
+
+It was on one of these less crowded highways that there was this morning
+enacted a curious little drama. The sun was still young and not too
+strong for comfort, and as it rose back of the square of Sadler's it
+cast a shadow from a hedge which ran angling toward the southeast. Its
+rays, therefore, did not disturb the slumbers of two young men who were
+lying beneath the shelter of the hedge. Strange enough must have been
+the conclusions of the sun could it have looked over the barrier and
+peered into the faces of these youths. Evidently they were of good
+breeding and some station, albeit their garb was not of the latest
+fashion. The gray hose and the clumsy shoes plainly bespoke some
+northern residence. The wig of each lacked the latest turn, perhaps the
+collar of the coat was not all it should have been. There was but one
+coat visible, for the other, rolled up as a pillow, served to support
+the heads of both. The elder of the two was the one who had sacrificed
+his covering. The other was more restless in his attitude, and though
+thus the warmer for a coat, was more in need of comfort. A white bandage
+covered his wrist, and the linen was stained red. Yet the two slept on,
+well into the morn, well into the rout of Sadler's Wells. Evidently they
+were weary.
+
+The elder man was the taller of the two; as he lay on the bank beneath
+the hedge, he might even in that posture have been seen to own a figure
+of great strength and beauty. His face, bold of outline, with well
+curved, wide jaw and strong cheek bones, was shaded by the tangled mat
+of his wig, tousled in his sleep. His hands, long and graceful, lay idly
+at his side, though one rested lightly on the hilt of the sword which
+lay near him. The ruffles of his shirt were torn, and, indeed, had
+almost disappeared. By study one might have recognized them in the
+bandage about the hand of the other. Somewhat disheveled was this
+youth, yet his young, strong body, slender and shapely, seemed even in
+its rest strangely full of power and confidence.
+
+The younger man was in some fashion an epitome of the other, and it had
+needed little argument to show the two were brothers. But why should two
+brothers, well-clad and apparently well-to-do, probably brothers from a
+country far to the north, be thus lying like common vagabonds beneath an
+English hedge?
+
+Far down the roadway there rose a cloud of dust, which came steadily
+nearer, following the only vehicle in sight, probably the only one which
+had passed that morning. As this little dust-cloud came slowly nearer it
+might have been seen to rise from the wheels of a richly-built and
+well-appointed coach. Four dark horses obeyed the reins handled by a
+solemn-visaged lackey on the box, and there was a goodly footman at the
+back. Within the coach were two passengers such as might have set
+Sadler's Wells by the ears. They sat on the same seat, as equals, and
+their heads lay close together, as confidantes. The tongues of both ran
+fast and free. Long gloves covered the arms of these beauties, and their
+costumes showed them to be of station. The crinoline of the two filled
+all the body of the ample coach from seat to seat, and the folds of
+their figured muslins, flowing out over this ample outline, gave to the
+face of each a daintiness of contour and feature which was not ill
+relieved by the high head-dress of ribbons and bepowdered hair. Of the
+two ladies, one, even in despite of her crinoline, might have been seen
+to be of noble and queenly figure; the towering head-dress did not fully
+disguise the wealth of red-bronze hair. Tall and well-rounded, vigorous
+and young, not yet twenty, adored by many suitors, the Lady Catharine
+Knollys had rarely looked better than she did this morning as she drove
+out to Sadler's, for Providence alone knew what fault of a superb vital
+energy. Her eyes sparkled as she spoke, and every gesture betokened
+rather the grand young creature that she was than the valetudinarian
+going forth for healing. Her cheek, turned now and again, showed a
+clear-cut and untouched soundness that meant naught but health. It
+showed also the one blemish upon a beauty which was toasted in the court
+as faultless. Upon the left cheek there was a _mouche_, excessive in its
+size. Strangers might have commented on it. Really it covered a
+deep-stained birth-mark, the one blur upon a peerless beauty. Yet even
+this might be forgotten, as it was now.
+
+The companion of the Lady Catharine in her coach was a young woman,
+scarce so tall and more slender. The heavy hoop concealed much of the
+grace of figure which was her portion, but the poise of the upper body,
+free from the seat-back and erect with youthful strength as yet
+unspared, showed easily that here, too, was but an indifferent subject
+for Sadler's. Dark, where her companion was fair, and with the glossy
+texture of her own somber locks showing in the individual roll which ran
+back into the absurd _fontange_ of false hair and falser powder, Mary
+Connynge made good foil for her bosom friend; though honesty must admit
+that neither had yet much concern for foils, since both had their full
+meed of gallants. Much seen together, they were commonly known, as the
+Morning and Eve, sometimes as Aurora and Eve. Never did daughter of the
+original Eve have deeper feminine guile than Mary Connynge. Soft of
+speech--as her friend, the Lady Catharine, was impulsive,--slow, suave,
+amber-eyed and innocent of visage, this young English woman, with no
+dower save that of beauty and of wit, had not failed of a sensation at
+the capital whither she had come as guest of the Lady Catharine. Three
+captains and a squire, to say nothing of a gouty colonel, had already
+fallen victims, and had heard their fate in her low, soft tones, which
+could whisper a fashionable oath in the accent of a hymn, and say "no"
+so sweetly that one could only beg to hear the word again. It was
+perhaps of some such incident that these two young maids of old London
+conversed as they trundled slowly out toward the suburb of the city.
+
+"'Twould have killed you, Lady Kitty; sure 'twould have been your end to
+hear him speak! He walked the floor upon his knees, and clasped his
+hands, and followed me about like a dog in a spectacle. Lord! but I
+feared he would have thrown over the tabouret with his great feet. And
+help me, if I think not he had tears in his eyes!"
+
+"My friend," said Lady Kitty, solemnly, "you must have better care of
+your conduct. I'll not have my father's old friend abused in his own
+house." At which they both burst into laughter. Youth, the blithely
+cruel, had its own way in this old coach upon the ancient dusty road, as
+it has ever had.
+
+But now serious affairs gained the attention of these two fairs. "Tell
+me, sweetheart," said Lady Catharine, "what think you of the fancy of my
+new dresser? He insists ever that the mode in Paris favors a deep bow,
+placed high upon the left side of the 'tower.' Montespan, of the French
+court, is said to have given the fashion. She hurried at her toilet, and
+placed the bow there for fault of better care. Hence, so must we if we
+are to live in town. So says my new hair-dresser from Paris. 'Tis to
+Paris we must go for the modes."
+
+"I am not so sure," began Mary Connynge, "as to this arrangement. Now I
+am much disposed to believe--" but what she was disposed to believe at
+that time was not said, then or ever afterward, for at that moment there
+happened matters which ended their little talk; matters which divided
+their two lives, and which, in the end, drove them as far apart as two
+continents could carry them.
+
+"O Gemini!" called out Mary Connynge, as the coachman for a moment
+slackened his pace. "Look! We shall be robbed!"
+
+The driver irresolutely pulled up his horses. From under the shade of
+the hedge there arose two men, of whom the taller now stood erect and
+came toward the carriage.
+
+"'Tis no robber," said Lady Catharine Knollys, her eyes fastened on the
+tall figure which came forward.
+
+"Save us," said Mary Connynge, "what a pretty man!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+JOHN LAW OF LAURISTON
+
+
+Unconsciously the coachman obeyed the unvoiced command of this man, who
+stepped out from the shelter of the hedge. Travel-stained, just awakened
+from sleep, disheveled, with dress disordered, there was none the less
+abundant boldness in his mien as he came forward, yet withal the grace
+and deference of the courtier. It was a good figure he made as he
+stepped down from the bank and came forward, hat in hand, the sun, now
+rising to the top of the hedge, lighting up his face and showing his
+bold profile, his open and straight blue eye.
+
+"Ladies," he said, as he reached the road, "I crave your pardon humbly.
+This, I think, is the coach of my Lord, the Earl of Banbury. Mayhap this
+is the Lady Catharine Knollys to whom I speak?"
+
+The lady addressed still gazed at him, though she drew up with dignity.
+
+"You have quite the advantage of us," said she. She glanced uneasily at
+the coachman, but the order to go forward did not quite leave her lips.
+
+"I am not aware--I do not know--," she began, afraid of her adventure
+now it had come, after the way of all dreaming maids who prate of men
+and conquests.
+
+"I should be dull of eye did I not see the Knollys arms," said the
+stranger, smiling and bowing low. "And I should be ill advised of the
+families of England did I not know that the daughter of Knollys, the
+sister of the Earl of Banbury, is the Lady Catharine, and most charming
+also. This I might say, though 'tis true I never was in London or in
+England until now."
+
+The speech, given with all respectfulness, did not fail of flattery.
+Again the order to drive on remained unspoken. This speaker, whose foot
+was now close to the carriage step, and whose head, gravely bowed as he
+saluted the occupants of the vehicle, presented so striking a type of
+manly attractiveness, even that first moment cast some spell upon the
+woman whom he sought to interest. The eyes of the Lady Catharine Knollys
+did not turn from him. As though it were another person, she heard
+herself murmur, "And you, sir?"
+
+"I am John Law of Lauriston, Scotland, Madam, and entirely at your
+service. That is my brother Will, yonder by the bank." He smiled, and
+the younger man came forward, hesitatingly, and not with the address of
+his brother, though yet with the breeding of a gentleman.
+
+The eyes of Mary Connynge took in both men with the same look, but her
+eyes, as did those of the Lady Catharine, became most concerned with the
+first speaker.
+
+"My brother and I are on our first journey to London," continued he,
+with a gay laugh which did not consort fully with the plight in which he
+showed. "We started by coach, as gentlemen; and now we come on foot,
+like laborers or thieves. 'Twas my own fault. Yesterday I must needs
+quit the Edinboro' stage. Last night our chaise was stopped, and we were
+asked to hand our money to a pair of evil fellows who had made prey of
+us. In short--you see--we fared ill enough. Lost in the dark, we made
+what shift we could along this road, where we both are strangers. At
+last, not able to pay for better quarters even had we found them, we lay
+down to sleep. I have slept far worse. And 'tis a lovely morning. Madam,
+I thank you for this happy beginning of the day."
+
+Mary Connynge pointed to the bandage on the younger man's arm, speaking
+a low word to her companion.
+
+"True," said the Lady Catharine, "you are injured, sir; you did not come
+off whole."
+
+"Oh, we would hardly suffer the fellows to rob us without making some
+argument over it," said the first speaker. "Indeed, I think we are the
+better off hereabouts for a brace of footpads gone to their account. I
+made them my duties as we came away. Will, here, was pricked a trifle,
+but you see we have done very well."
+
+The face of Will Law hardly offered complete proof of this assertion. He
+had slept ill enough, and in the morning light his face showed gaunt and
+pale. Here, then, was a situation most inopportune; the coach of two
+ladies, unattended, stopped by two strangers, who certainly could not
+claim introduction by either friend or reputation.
+
+"I did but wish to ask some advice of the roads hereabout," said the
+elder brother, turning his eyes full upon those of the Lady Catharine.
+"As you see, we are in ill plight to get forward to the city. If you
+will be so good as to tell me which way to take, I shall remember it
+most gratefully. Once in the city, we should do better, for the rascals
+have not taken certain papers, letters which I bear to gentlemen in the
+city--Sir Arthur Pembroke I may name as one--a friend of my father's,
+who hath had some dealings with him in the handling of moneys. I have
+also word for others, and make sure that, once we have got into town, we
+shall soon mend our fortune."
+
+Lady Catharine looked at Mary Connynge and the latter in turn gazed at
+her. "There could be no harm," said each to the other with her eyes.
+"Surely it is our duty to take them in with us; at least the one who is
+wounded."
+
+Will Law had said nothing, though he had come forward to the road, and,
+bowing, stood uncovered. Now he leaned against the flank of one of the
+horses, in a tremor of vertigo which seized him as he stood. It was
+perhaps the paleness of his face that gave determination to the issue.
+
+"William," called the Lady Catharine Knollys, "open the door for Mr. Law
+of Lauriston!"
+
+The footman sprang to the ground and held open the door. Therefore, into
+the coach stepped John Law and his brother, late of Edinboro', sometime
+robbed and afoot, but now to come into London in circumstances which
+surely might have been far worse.
+
+John Law entered the coach with the dignity and grace of a gentleman
+born. He bowed gravely as he took his seat beside his brother, facing
+the ladies. Will Law sank back into the corner, not averse to rest. The
+eyes of the two young women did not linger more upon the wounded man
+than upon his brother. He, in turn, looked straight into their eyes,
+courteously, respectfully, gravely, yet fearlessly and calmly, as
+though he knew what power and possibilities were his. Enigma and
+autocrat alike, Beau Law of Edinboro', one of the handsomest and
+properest men ever bred on any soil, was surely a picture of vigorous
+young manhood, as he rode toward Sadler's Wells, with two of the
+beauties of the hour, and in a coach and four which might have been his
+own.
+
+Now all the sweet spring morning came on apace, and from the fields and
+little gardens came the breath of flowers. The sky was blue. The languor
+of springtime pulsed through the veins of those young creatures, those
+engines of life, of passion and desire. Neither of the two women saw the
+torn garb of the man before them. They saw but the curve of the strong
+chest beneath. They heard, and the one heard and felt as keenly as the
+other, the voice of the young man, musical and rich, touching some
+deep-seated and vibrating heart-string. So in the merry month of May,
+with the birds singing in the trees, and the scent of the flowers wafted
+coolly to their senses, they came on apace to the throng at Sadler's
+Wells. There it was that John Law, finding in a pocket a coin that had
+been overlooked, reached out to a vender and bought a rose. He offered
+his flower with a deep inclination of the body to the Lady Catharine.
+
+It was at this moment that Mary Connynge first began to hate her friend,
+the Lady Catharine Knollys.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+THE POINT OF HONOR
+
+
+"Tell me, friend Castleton," said Pembroke, banteringly, "art still
+adhering to thy country drink of lamb's-wool? Methinks burnt ale and
+toasted apple might better be replaced in thy case by a beaker of
+stronger waters. You lose, and still you lose."
+
+"May a plague take it!" cried Castleton. "I've had no luck these four
+days. 'Tis that cursed lap-dog of the duchess. Ugh! I saw it in my
+dreams last night."
+
+"Gad! your own fortune in love must be ill enough, Sir Arthur," said
+Beau Wilson, as he pushed back his chair during this little lull in the
+play of the evening.
+
+"And tell me why, Beau?"
+
+"Because of us all who have met here at the Green Lion these last
+months, not one hath ever had so steady a run of luck. Sure some fairy
+hath befriended thee. _Sept et le va, sept et le va_--I'll hear it in my
+ears to-night, even as Castleton sees the lap-dog. Man, you play as
+though you read the pack quite through."
+
+"Ah, then, you admit that there is some such thing as a talisman. I'll
+not deny that I have had one these last three evenings, but I feared to
+tell ye all, lest I might be waylaid and robbed of my good-luck charm."
+
+"Tell us, tell us, man, what it is!" cried Castleton. "_Sept et le va_
+has not been made in this room before for many a month, yet here thou
+comest with the run of _sept et le va_ thrice in as many hours."
+
+"Well, then," continued Pembroke, still smiling, "I'll make a small
+confession. Here is my charm. Salute it!"
+
+He cast on the table the Indian moccasin which had been shown the same
+party at the Green Lion a few evenings before. Eager hands reached for
+it.
+
+"Treachery!" cried Castleton. "I bid Du Mesne four pounds for the shoe
+myself."
+
+"Oh ho!" said Pembroke, "so you too were after it. Well, the long purse
+won, as it doth ever. I secretly gave our wandering wood ranger,
+ex-galley slave of France, the neat sum of twenty-five pounds for this
+little shoe. Poor fellow, he liked ill enough to part with it; but he
+said, very sensibly, that the twenty-five pounds would take him back to
+Canada, and once there, he could not only get many such shoes, but see
+the maid who made this one for him, or, rather, made it for herself. As
+for me, the price was cheap. You could not replace it in all the
+Exchange for any money. Moreover, to show my canniness, I've won back
+its cost a score of times this very night."
+
+He laughingly extended his hand for the moccasin, which Wilson was
+examining closely.
+
+"'Tis clever made," said the latter. "And what a tale the owner of it
+carried. If half he says be true, we do ill to bide here in old England.
+Let us take ship and follow Monsieur du Mesne."
+
+"'Twould be a long chase, mayhap," said Pembroke, reflectively. Yet each
+of the men at that little table in the gaming room of the Green Lion
+coffee-house ceased in his fingering the cards, and gazed upon this
+product of another world.
+
+Pembroke was first to break the silence, and as he heard a footfall at
+the door, he called out:
+
+"Ho, fellow! Go fetch me another bottle of Spanish, and do not forget
+this time the brandy and water which I told thee to bring half an hour
+ago."
+
+The step came nearer, and as it did not retreat, but entered the room,
+Pembroke called out again: "Make haste, man, and go on!"
+
+The footsteps paused, and Pembroke looked up, as one does when a strange
+presence comes into the room. He saw, standing near the door, a tall and
+comely young man, whose carriage betokened him not ill-born. The
+stranger advanced and bowed gravely. "Pardon me, sir," he said, "but I
+fear I am awkward in thus intruding. The man showed me up the stair and
+bade me enter. He said that I should find here Sir Arthur Pembroke, upon
+whom I bear letters from friends of his in the North."
+
+"Sir," said Pembroke, rising and advancing, "you are very welcome, and I
+ask pardon for my unwitting speech."
+
+"I come at this hour and at this place," said the newcomer, "for reasons
+which may seem good a little later. My name is John Law, of Edinboro',
+sir."
+
+All those present arose.
+
+"Sir," responded Pembroke, "I am delighted to have your name. I know of
+the acquaintance between your father and my own. These are friends of
+mine, and I am delighted to name ye to each other. Mr. Charles
+Castleton; Mr. Edward Wilson. We are all here to kill the ancient enemy,
+Time. 'Tis an hour of night when one gains an appetite for one thing or
+another, cards or cold joint. I know not why we should not have a bit of
+both?"
+
+"With your permission, I shall be glad to join ye at either," said John
+Law. "I have still the appetite of a traveler--in faith, rather a better
+appetite than most travelers may claim, for I swear I've had no more to
+eat the last day and night than could be purchased for a pair of
+shillings."
+
+Pembroke raised his eyebrows, scarce knowing whether to be amused at
+this speech or nettled by its cool assurance.
+
+"Some ill fortune?"--he began politely.
+
+"There is no such thing as ill fortune," quoth John Law. "We fail always
+of our own fault. Forsooth I must explore Roman roads by night. England
+hath builded better, and the footpads have the Roman ways. My brother
+Will--he waiteth below, if ye please, good friends, and is quite as
+hungry as myself, besides having a pricked finger to boot--and I lost
+what little we had about us, and we came through with scarce a good
+shirt between the two."
+
+A peal of laughter greeted him as he pulled apart the lapels of his coat
+and showed ruffles torn and disfigured. The speaker smiled gravely.
+
+"To-morrow," said he, "I must seek me out a goldsmith and a haberdasher,
+if you will be so good as to name such to me."
+
+"Sir," said Sir Arthur Pembroke, "in this plight you must allow me." He
+extended a purse which he drew from his pocket. "I beg you, help
+yourself."
+
+"Thank you, no," replied John Law. "I shall ask you only to show me the
+goldsmith in the morning, him upon whom I hold certain credits. I make
+no doubt that then I shall be quite fit again. I have never in my life
+borrowed a coin. Besides, I should feel that I had offended my good
+angel did I ask it to help me out of mine own folly. If we have but a
+bit of this cold joint, and a place for my brother Will to sit in
+comfort as we play, I shall beg to hope, my friends, that I shall be
+allowed to stake this trifle against a little of the money that I see
+here; which, I take it, is subject to the fortunes of war."
+
+He tossed on the board a ring, which carried in its setting a diamond of
+size and brilliance.
+
+"This fellow hath a cool assurance enough," muttered Beau Wilson to his
+neighbor as he leaned toward him at the table.
+
+Pembroke, always good-natured, laughed at the effrontery of the
+newcomer.
+
+"You say very well; it is there for the fortune of war," said he. "It is
+all yours, if you can win it; but I warn you, beware, for I shall have
+your jewel and your letters of credit too, if ye keep not sharp watch."
+
+"Yes," said Castleton, "Pembroke hath warrant for such speech. The man
+who can make _sept et le va_ thrice in one evening is hard company for
+his friends."
+
+John Law leaned back comfortably in his chair.
+
+"I make no doubt," said he, "that I shall make _trente et le va_, here
+at this table, this very evening."
+
+Smiles and good-natured sneerings met this calm speech.
+
+"_Trente et le va_--it hath not come out in the history of London play
+for the past four seasons!" cried Wilson. "I'll lay you any odds that
+you're not within eye-sight of _trente et le va_ these next five
+evenings, if you favor us with your company."
+
+"Be easy with me, good friends," said John. Law, calmly. "I am not yet
+in condition for individual wagers, as my jewel is my fortune, till
+to-morrow at least. But if ye choose to make the play at Lands-knecht, I
+will plunge at the bank to the best of my capital. Then, if I win, I
+shall be blithe to lay ye what ye like."
+
+The young Englishmen sat looking at their guest with some curiosity. His
+strange assurance daunted them.
+
+"Surely this is a week of wonders," said Beau Wilson, with scarce
+covered sarcasm in his tone. "First we have a wild man from Canada, with
+his fairy stories of gold and gems, and now we have another gentleman
+who apparently hath fathomed as well how to gain sudden wealth at will,
+and yet keep closer home."
+
+Law took snuff calmly. "I am not romancing, gentlemen," said he. "With
+me play is not a hazard, but a science. I ought really not to lay on
+even terms with you. As I have said, there is no such thing as chance.
+There are such things as recurrences, such things as laws that govern
+all happenings."
+
+Laughter arose again at this, though it did not disturb the newcomer,
+nor did the cries of derision which followed his announcement of his
+system.
+
+"Many a man hath come to London town with a system of play," cried
+Pembroke. "Tell us, Mr. Law, what and where shall we send thee when we
+have won thy last sixpence?"
+
+"Good sir," said Law, "let us first of all have the joint."
+
+"I humbly crave a pardon, sir," said Pembroke. "In this new sort of
+discourse I had forgot thine appetite. We shall mend that at once. Here,
+Simon! Go fetch up Mr. Law's brother, who waits below, and fetch two
+covers and a bit to eat. Some of thy new Java berry, too, and make
+haste! We have much yet to do."
+
+"That have ye, if ye are to see the bottom of my purse more than once,"
+said Law gaily. "See! 'tis quite empty now. I make ye all my solemn
+promise that 'twill not be empty again for twenty years. After
+that--well, the old Highland soothsayer, who dreamed for me, always told
+me to forswear play after I was forty, and never to go too near running
+water. Of the latter I was born with a horror. For play, I was born with
+a gift. Thus I foresee that this little feat which you mention is sure
+to be mine this very night. You all say that _trente_ has not come up
+for many months. Well, 'tis due, and due to-night. The cards never fail
+me when I need."
+
+"By my faith," cried Wilson, "ye have a pretty way about you up in
+Scotland!"
+
+John Law saw the veiled ill feeling, and replied at once:
+
+"True, we have a pretty way. We had it at Killiecrankie not so long ago;
+and when the clans fight among themselves, we need still prettier ways."
+
+"Now, gentlemen," said Pembroke, "none of this talk, by your leave. The
+odds are fairer here than they were at Killiecrankie's battle, and 'tis
+all of us against the Scotch again. We English stand together, but we
+stand to-night only against this threat of the ultimate fortune of the
+cards. Moreover, here comes the supper, and if I mistake not, also the
+brother of our friend."
+
+Will bowed to one and the other gentlemen, unconsciously drifting toward
+his brother's chair.
+
+"Now we must to business," cried Castleton, as the dishes were at last
+cleared away. "Show him thy talisman, Pem, and let him kiss his jewel
+good by."
+
+Pembroke threw upon the table once more the moccasin of the Indian girl.
+John Law picked it up and examined it long and curiously, asking again
+and again searching questions regarding its origin.
+
+"I have read of this new land of America," said he. "Some day it will be
+more prominent in all plans."
+
+He laid down the slipper and mused for a moment, apparently forgetful of
+the scene about him.
+
+"Perhaps," cried Castleton, the zeal of the gambler now showing in his
+eye. "But let us make play here to-night. Let Pembroke bank. His luck is
+best to win this vaunter's stake."
+
+Pembroke dealt the cards about for the first round. The queen fell. John
+Law won. "_Deux_," he said calmly, and turned away as though it were a
+matter of course. The cards went round again. "_Trois_," he said, as he
+glanced at his stakes, now doubled again.
+
+Wilson murmured. "Luck's with him for a start," said he, "but 'tis a
+long road." He himself had lost at the second turn. "_Quint_!" "_Seix_!"
+"_Sept et le va_!" in turn called Law, still coolly, still regarding with
+little interest the growing heap of coin upon the board opposite the
+glittering ring which he had left lying on the table.
+
+"_Vingt-un, et le va_!"
+
+"Good God!" cried Castleton, the sweat breaking out upon his forehead.
+"See the fellow's luck!--Pembroke, sure he hath stole thy slipper. Such
+a run of cards was never seen in this room since Rigby, of the Tenth,
+made his great game four years ago."
+
+"_Vingt-cinq; et le va_!" said John Law, calmly.
+
+Will touched his sleeve. The stake had now grown till the money on the
+hoard meant a matter of hundreds of pounds, which might he removed at
+any turn the winner chose. It was there but for the stretching out of
+the hand. Yet this strange genius sat there, scarce deigning to smile at
+the excited faces of those about him.
+
+"I'll lay thee fifty to one that the next turn sees thee lose!" cried
+Castleton.
+
+"Done," said John Law.
+
+The iciness in the air seemed now an actual thing. There was, in the
+nature of this play, something which no man at that board, hardened
+gamesters as they all were, had ever met before. It was indeed as though
+Fate were there, with her hand upon the shoulder of a favored son.
+
+"You lose, Mr. Castleton," said Law, calmly, as the cards came again his
+way. He swept his winnings from the coin pushed out to him.
+
+"Now we have thee, Mr. Law!" cried Pembroke. "One more turn, and I hope
+your very good nerve will leave the stake on the board, for so we'll see
+it all come back to the bank, even as the sheep come home at eventide.
+Here your lane turns. And 'tis at the last stage, for the next is the
+limit of the rules of the game. But you'll not win it."
+
+"Anything you like for a little personal wager," said the other, with no
+excitement in his voice.
+
+"Why, then, anything you like yourself, sir," said Pembroke.
+
+"Your little slipper against fifty pounds?" asked John Law.
+
+"Why--yes--," hesitated Pembroke, for the moment feeling a doubt of the
+luck that had favored him so long that evening. "I'd rather make it
+sovereigns, but since you name the slipper, I even make it so, for I
+know there is but one chance in hundreds that you win."
+
+The players leaned over the table as the deal went on. Once, twice,
+thrice, the cards went round. A sigh, a groan, a long breath broke from
+those who looked at the deal. Neither groan nor sigh came from John Law.
+He gazed indifferently at the heap of coin and paper that lay on the
+table, and which, by the law of play, was now his own.
+
+"_Trente et le va_," he said. "I knew that it would come. Sir Arthur, I
+half regret to rob thee thus, but I shall ask my slipper in hand paid.
+Pardon me, too, if I chide thee for risking it in play. Gentlemen, there
+is much in this little shoe, empty as it is."
+
+He dandled it upon his finger, hardly looking at the winnings that lay
+before him. "'Tis monstrous pretty, this little shoe," he said, rousing
+himself from his half reverie.
+
+"Confound thee, man!" cried Castleton, "that is the only thing we
+grudge. Of sovereigns there are plenty at the coinage--but of a shoe
+like this, there is not the equal this day in England!"
+
+"So?" laughed Law. "Well, consider, 'tis none too easy to make the run
+of _trente_. Risk hath its gains, you know, by all the original laws of
+earth and nature."
+
+"But heard you not the wager which was proposed over the little shoe?"
+broke in Castleton. "Wilson, here, was angered when I laid him odds that
+there was but one woman in London could wear this shoe. I offered him
+odds that his good friend, Kittie Lawrence--"
+
+"Nor had ye the right to offer such bet!" cried Wilson, ruffled by the
+doings of the evening.
+
+"I'll lay you myself there's no woman in England whom you know with foot
+small enough to wear it," cried Castleton.
+
+"Meaning to me?" asked Law, politely.
+
+"To any one," cried Castleton, quickly, "but most to thee, I fancy,
+since 'tis now thy shoe!"
+
+"I'll lay you forty crowns, then, that I know a smaller foot than that
+of Madam Lawrence," said Law, suavely. "I'll lay you another forty
+crowns that I'll try it on for the test, though I first saw the lady
+this very morning. I'll lay you another forty crowns that Madam Lawrence
+can not wear this shoe, though her I have never seen."
+
+These words rankled, though they were said offhand and with the license
+of coffee-house talk at so late an hour. Beau Wilson rose, in a somewhat
+unsteady attitude, and, turning towards Law, addressed him with a tone
+which left small option as to its meaning.
+
+"Sirrah!" cried he, "I know not who you are, but I would have a word or
+two of good advice for you!"
+
+"Sir, I thank you," said John Law, "but perhaps I do not need advice."
+He did not rise from his seat.
+
+"Have it then at any rate, and be civil!" cried the older man. "You seem
+a swaggering sort, with your talk of love and luck, and such are sure to
+get their combs cut early enough here among Englishmen. I'll not
+tolerate your allusion to a lady you have never met, and one I honor
+deeply, sir, deeply!"
+
+"I am but a young man started out to seek his fortune," said John Law,
+his eye kindling now for the first time, "and I should do very ill if I
+evaded that fortune, whatsoever it may be."
+
+"Then you'll take back that talk of Mrs. Lawrence!"
+
+"I have made no talk of Mrs. Lawrence, sir," said Law, "and even had I,
+I should take back nothing for a demand like yours. 'Tis not meet, sir,
+where no offense was meant, to crowd in an offensive remark."
+
+Pembroke said nothing. The situation was ominous enough at this point. A
+sudden gravity and dignity fell upon the young men who sat there,
+schooled in an etiquette whose first lesson was that of personal
+courage.
+
+"Sirrah!" cried Beau Wilson, "I perceive your purpose. If you prove good
+enough to name lodgings where you may he found by my friends, I shall
+ask leave to bid you a very good night."
+
+So speaking, Wilson flung out of the room. A silence fell upon those
+left within.
+
+"Sirs," said Law, a moment later, "I beg you to bear witness that this
+is no matter of my seeking or accepting. This gentleman is a stranger to
+me. I hardly got his name fair."
+
+"Wilson is his name, sir," said Pembroke, "a very good friend of us all.
+He is of good family, and doth keep his coach-and-four like any
+gentleman. For him we may vouch very well."
+
+"Wilson!" cried Law, springing now to his feet. "'Tis not him known as
+Beau Wilson? Why, my dear sirs, his father was friend to many of my kin
+long ago. Why, sir, this is one of those to whom my mother bade me look
+to get my first ways of London well laid out."
+
+"These are some of the ways of London," said Pembroke, grimly.
+
+"But is there no fashion in which this matter can be accommodated?"
+
+Pembroke and Castleton looked at each other, rose and passed him, each
+raising his hat and bowing courteously.
+
+"Your servant, sir," said the one; and, "Your servant, sir," said the
+other.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+DIVERS EMPLOYMENTS OF JOHN LAW
+
+
+"And when shall I send these garments to your Lordship?" asked the
+haberdasher, with whom Law was having speech on the morning following
+the first night in London.
+
+"Two weeks from to-day," said Law, "in the afternoon, and not later than
+four o'clock. I shall have need for them."
+
+"Impossible!" said the tradesman, hitherto obsequious, but now smitten
+with the conviction regarding the limits of human possibilities.
+
+"At that hour, or not at all," said John Law, calmly. "At that time I
+shall perhaps be at my lodgings, 59 Bradwell Street, West. As I have
+said to you, I am not clad as I could wish. It is not a matter of your
+convenience, but of mine own."
+
+"But, sir," expostulated the other, "you order of the best. Nothing, I
+am sure, save the utmost of good workmanship would please you. I should
+like a month of time upon these garments, in order to make them worthy
+of yourself. Moreover, there are orders of the nobility already in our
+hands will occupy us more than past the time you name. Make it three
+weeks, sir, and I promise--"
+
+His customer only shook his head and reiterated, "You heard me well."
+
+The tailor, sore puzzled, not wishing to lose a customer who came so
+well recommended, and yet hesitating at the exactions of that customer,
+sat with perplexity written upon his brow.
+
+"So!" exclaimed Law. "Sir Arthur Pembroke told me that you were a clever
+fellow and could execute exact any order I might give you. Now it
+appears to me you are like everybody else. You prate only of hardships
+and of impossibilities."
+
+The perspiration fairly stood out on the forehead of the man of trade.
+
+"Sir," said he, "I should be glad to please not only a friend of Sir
+Arthur Pembroke, but also a gentleman of such parts as yourself. I
+hesitate to promise--"
+
+"But you must promise," said John Law.
+
+"Well, then, I do promise! I will have this apparel at your place on the
+day which you name. 'Tis most extraordinary, but the order shall be
+executed."
+
+"As I thought," said John Law.
+
+"But I must thank you besides," resumed the tradesman. "In good truth I
+must say that of all the young gentlemen who come hither--and I may show
+the names of the best nobility of London and of some ports beyond
+seas--there hath never stepped within these doors a better figure than
+yourself--nay, not so good. And I am a judge of men."
+
+Law looked at him carelessly.
+
+"You shall make me none the easier, nor yourself the easier, by soft
+speech," said he, "if you have not these garments ready by the time
+appointed. Send them, and you shall have back the fifty sovereigns by
+the messenger, with perhaps a coin or so in addition if all be well."
+
+"The air of this nobility!" said the tailor, but smiling with pleasure
+none the less. "This is, perhaps, some affair with a lady?" he added.
+
+"'Tis an affair with a lady, and also with certain gentlemen."
+
+"Oh, so," said the tailor. "If it he, forsooth, an enterprise with a
+lady, methinks I know the outcome now." He gazed with professional pride
+upon the symmetrical figure before him. "You shall be all the better
+armed when well fitted in my garments. Not all London shall furnish a
+properer figure of a man, nor one better clad, when I shall have done
+with you, sir."
+
+Law but half heard him, for he was already turning toward the door,
+where he beckoned again for his waiting chair.
+
+"To the offices of the Bank of England," he directed. And forthwith he
+was again jogging through the crowded streets of London.
+
+The offices of the Bank of England, to which this young adventurer now
+so nonchalantly directed his course, were then not housed in any such
+stately edifice as that which now covers the heart of the financial
+world, nor did the location of the young and struggling institution, in
+a by-street of the great city, tend to give dignity to a concern which
+still lacked importance and assuredness. Thither, then, might have gone
+almost any young traveler who needed a letter of credit cashed, or a
+bill changed after the fashion of the passing goldsmiths.
+
+Yet it was not as mere transient customer of a money-changer that young
+Law now sought the Bank of England, nor was it as a commercial house
+that the bank then commanded attention. That bank, young as it was, had
+already become a pillar of the throne of England. William, distracted by
+wars abroad and factions at home, found his demands for funds ever in
+excess of the supply. More than that, the people of England discovered
+themselves in possession of a currency fluctuating, mutilated, and
+unstable, so that no man knew what was his actual fortune. The shrewd
+young financier, Montague, chancellor of the exchequer, who either by
+wisdom or good fortune had sanctioned the founding of the Bank of
+England, was at this very time addressing himself to the question of a
+recoinage of the specie of the realm of England. He needed help, he
+demanded ideas; nor was he too particular whence he obtained either the
+one or the other.
+
+John Law was in London on no such blind quest as he had himself
+declared. He was here by the invitation, secret yet none the less
+obligatory, of Montague, controller of the financial policy of England.
+And he was to meet, here upon this fair morning, none less than my Lord
+Somers, keeper of the seals; none less than Sir Isaac Newton, the
+greatest mathematician of his time; none less than John Locke, the most
+learned philosopher of the day. Strong company this, for a young and
+unknown man, yet in the belief of Montague, himself a young man and a
+gambler by instinct, not too strong for this young Scotchman who had
+startled the Parliament of his own land by some of the most remarkable
+theories of finance which had ever been proposed in any country or to
+any government. As Law had himself arrogantly announced, he was indeed a
+philosopher and a mathematician, young as he was; and these things
+Montague was himself keen enough to know.
+
+It promised, then, to be a strange and interesting council, this which
+was to meet to-day at the Bank of England, to adjust the value of
+England's coinage; two philosophers, one pompous trimmer, and two
+gamblers; the younger and more daring of whom was now calmly threading
+the streets of London on his way to a meeting which might mean much to
+him.
+
+To John Law, adventurer, mathematician, philosopher, gambler, it seemed
+a natural enough thing that he should be asked to sit at the council
+table with the ablest minds of the day and pass upon questions the most
+important. This was not what gave him trouble. This matter of the
+coinage, these questions of finance--they were easy. But how to win the
+interest of the tall and gracious English girl whom he had met by chance
+that other morn, who had left no way open for a further meeting; how to
+gain access to the presence of that fair one--these were the questions
+which to John Law seemed of greater importance, and of greater
+difficulty in the answering.
+
+The chair drew up at the somber quarters where the meeting had been set.
+Law knew the place by instinct, even without seeing the double row of
+heavy-visaged London constabulary which guarded the entrance. Here and
+there along the street were carriages and chairs, and multiplied
+conveyances of persons of consequence. Upon the narrow pavement, and
+within the little entrance-way that led to the inner room, there bustled
+about important-looking men, some with hooked noses, most with florid
+faces and well-fed bodies, but all with a certain dignity and sobriety
+of expression.
+
+Montague himself, young, smooth-faced, dark-eyed, of active frame, of
+mobile and pleasing features, sat at the head of a long table. The
+high-strung quality of his nervous system was evidenced in his restless
+hands, his attitude frequently changed.
+
+At the left of Montague sat Somers, lord keeper; older, of more steady
+demeanor, of fuller figure, of bold face and full light eye, a
+politician, not a ponderer. At the right of Montague, grave, silent,
+impassive, now and again turning a contemplative eye about him, sat that
+great man. Sir Isaac Newton, known then to every nobleman, and now to
+every schoolboy, of the world. A gem-like mind, keen, clear, hard and
+brilliant, exact in every facet, and forsooth held in the setting of an
+iron body. Gentle, unmoved, self-assured, Sir Issac Newton was calm as
+morn itself as he sat in readiness to give England the benefit of his
+wisdom.
+
+Beyond sat John Locke, abstruse philosopher, a man thinner and darker
+than his _confrere_, with large full orb, with the brow of the student
+and the man of thought. In dignity he shared with the learned gentleman
+sitting near him.
+
+All those at the board looked with some intentness at the figure of the
+young man from the North, who came as the guest of Montague. With small
+formality, the latter rose and advanced to meet Law with an eager grasp
+of the hand. He made him known to the others present promptly, but with
+a half apology.
+
+"Gentlemen," said he, "I have made bold to ask the presence with us of a
+young man who has much concerned himself with problems such as those
+which we have now in hand. Sir Isaac Newton, this is Mr. Law of
+Edinboro'. Mr. Law, the fame of John Locke I need not lay before you,
+and of my Lord Somers you need no advice. Mr. Law, I shall pray you to
+be seated.
+
+"I shall but serve as your mouthpiece to the Court, gentlemen," resumed
+Montague, seating himself and turning at once to the business of the
+day. "We are all agreed as to the urgency of the case. The king needs
+behind him in these times a contented people. You have already seen the
+imminence of a popular discontent which may shake the throne of England,
+none too safe in these days of change. That we must reorganize the
+coinage is understood and agreed. The question is, how best to do this
+without further unsettling the times. My Lord Keeper, I must beg you for
+your suggestions."
+
+"Sir," said Somers, shifting and coughing, "it is as you say. The
+question is of great moment. I should suggest a decree that the old coin
+shall pass by weight alone and not by its face value. Call in all the
+coin and have it weighed, the government to make future payment to the
+owner of the coin of the difference between its nominal and its real
+value. The coin itself should be restored forthwith to its owner. Hence
+the trade and the credit of the realm would not suffer. The money of the
+country would be withdrawn from the use of the country only that short
+time wherein it was in process of counting. This, it occurs to me, would
+surely be a practical method, and could work harm to none." My Lord
+Somers sat back, pulling out his chest complacently.
+
+"Sir Isaac," said Montague, "and Mr. Locke, we must beg you to find such
+fault as you may with this plan which my Lord Keeper hath suggested."
+
+Sir Isaac made no immediate reply. John Locke stirred gently in his
+chair. "There seemeth much to commend in this plan of my Lord Keeper,"
+said he, leaning slightly forward, "but in pondering my Lord Keeper's
+suggestion for the bringing in of this older coin, I must ask you if
+this plan can escape that selfish impulse of the human mind which
+seeketh for personal gain? For, look you, short as would be the time
+proposed, it taketh but still shorter time to mutilate a coin; and it
+doth seem to me that, under the plan of my Lord Keeper, we should see
+the old currency of England mutilated in a night. Sir, I should opine in
+the contrary of this plan, and would base my decision upon certain
+principles which I believe to be ever present in the human soul."
+
+Montague cast down his eye for a moment. "Sir Isaac," at length he
+began, "we are relying very much upon you. Is there no suggestion which
+you can offer on this ticklish theme?"
+
+The large, full face of the great man was turned calmly and slowly upon
+the speaker. His deep and serene eye apparently saw not so much the man
+before him as the problem which lay on that man's mind.
+
+"Sir," said Sir Isaac, "as John Locke hath said, this is after all much
+a matter of clear reasoning. There come into this problem two chief
+questions: First, who shall pay the expense of the recoinage? Shall the
+Government pay the expense, or shall the owner of the coin, who is to
+obtain good coin for evil?
+
+"Again, this matter applieth not to one man but to many men. Now if one
+half the tradesmen of England rush to us with their coin for reminting,
+surely the trade of the country will have left not sufficient medium
+with which to prosper. This I take to be the second part of this
+problem.
+
+"There be certain persons of the realm who claim that we may keep our
+present money as it is, but mark from its face a certain amount of
+value. Look you, now, this were a small thing; yet, in my mind, it
+clearly seemeth dishonesty. For, if I owe my neighbor a debt, let us say
+for an hundred sovereigns, shall I not be committing injustice upon my
+neighbor if I pay him an hundred sovereigns less that deduction which
+the realm may see fit thus to impose upon the face of my sovereign?
+This, in justice, sirs, I hold it to be not the part of science, nor the
+part of honesty, neither of statesmanship, to endorse."
+
+"Sir Isaac," cried Montague, striking his nervous hands upon the table,
+"recoin we must. But how, and, as you say, at whose expense? We are as
+far now from a plan as when we started. We but multiply difficulties.
+What we need now is not so much negative measures as positive ones. We
+must do this thing, and we must do it promptly. The question is still
+of how it may best be done. Mr. Law, by your leave and by the leave of
+these gentlemen here present, I shall take the liberty of asking you if
+there doth occur to your mind any plan by which we may be relieved of
+certain of these difficulties. I am aware, sir, that you are much a
+student in these matters."
+
+A grave silence fell upon all. John Law, young, confident and arrogant
+in many ways as he was, none the less possessed sobriety and depth of
+thought, just as he possessed the external dignity to give it fitting
+vehicle. He gazed now at the men before him, not with timorousness or
+trepidation. His face was grave, and he returned their glances calmly as
+he rose and made the speech which, unknown to himself, was presently to
+prove so important in his life.
+
+"My Lords," said he, "and gentlemen of this council, I am ill-fitted to
+be present here, and ill-fitted to add my advice to that which has been
+given. It is not for me to go beyond the purpose of this meeting, or to
+lay before you certain plans of my own regarding the credit of nations.
+I may start, as does our learned friend, simply from established
+principles of human nature.
+
+"It is true that the coinage is a creature of the government. Yet I
+believe it to be true that the government lives purely upon credit;
+which is to say, the confidence of the people in that government.
+
+"Now, we may reason in this matter perhaps from the lesser relations of
+our daily life. What manner of man do we most trust among those whom we
+meet? Surely, the honest man, the plain man, the one whose directness
+and integrity we do not doubt. Truly you may witness the nature of such
+a man in the manner of his speech, in his mien, in his conduct.
+Therefore, my Lords and gentlemen, it seems to me plain that we shall
+best gain confidence for ourselves if we act in the most simple fashion.
+
+"Let us take up this matter directly with Parliament, not seeking to
+evade the knowledge of Parliament in any fashion; for, as we know, the
+Parliament and the king are not the best bed-fellows these days, and the
+one is ready enough to suspect the other. Let us have a bill framed for
+Parliament--such bill made upon the decisions of these learned gentlemen
+present. Above all things, let us act with perfect openness.
+
+"As to the plan itself, it seems that a few things may be held safe and
+sure. Since we can not use the old coin, then surely we must have new
+coin, milled coin, which Charles, the earlier king of England, has
+decreed. Surely, too, as our learned friend has wisely stated, the loss
+in any recoinage ought, in full justice and honesty, to fall not upon
+the people of England, but upon the government of England. It seems
+equally plain to me there must be a day set after which the old coin may
+no longer be used. Set it some months ahead, not, as my Lord Keeper
+suggests, but a few days; so that full notice may be given to all. Make
+your campaign free and plain, and place it so that it may be known, not
+only of Parliament, but of all the world. Thus you establish yourselves
+in the confidence of Parliament and in the good graces of this people,
+from whom the taxes must ultimately come."
+
+Montague's hands smote again upon the table with a gesture of
+conviction. John Locke shifted again in his chair. Sir Isaac and the
+lord keeper gazed steadfastly at this young man who stood before them,
+calmly, assuredly, and yet with no assumption in his mien.
+
+"Moreover," went on John Law, calmly, "there is this further benefit to
+be gained, as I am sure my countryman, Mr. Paterson, has long ago made
+plain. It is not a question of the wealth of England, but a question of
+the confidence of the people in the throne. There is money in abundance
+in England. It is the province of my Lord Chancellor to wheedle it out
+of those coffers where it is concealed and place it before the uses of
+the king. Gentlemen, it is confidence that we need. There will be no
+trouble to secure loans of money in this rich land, but the taxes must
+be the pledge to your bankers. This new Bank of England will furnish you
+what moneys you may need. Secure them only by the pledge of such taxes
+as you feel the people may not resent; give the people, free of cost, a
+coinage which they can trust; and then, it seems to me, my Lords and
+gentlemen, the problem of the revenue may be thought solved simply and
+easily--solved, too, without irritating either the people or the
+Parliament, or endangering the relations of Parliament and the throne."
+
+The conviction which fell upon all found its best expression in the face
+of Montague. The youth and nervousness of the man passed away upon the
+instant. He sat there sober and thoughtful, quiet and resolved.
+
+"Gentlemen," said he at last, slowly, "my course is plain from this
+instant. I shall draw the bill and it shall go to Parliament. The
+expense of this recoinage I am sure we can find maintained by the
+stockholders of the Bank of England, and for their pay we shall propose
+a new tax upon the people of England. We shall tax the windows of the
+houses of England, and hence tax not only the poor but the rich of
+England, and that proportionately with their wealth. As for the coin of
+England, it shall be honest coin, made honest and kept honest, at no
+cost to the people of old England. Sirs, my heart is lighter than it has
+been for many days."
+
+The last trace of formality in the meeting having at length vanished,
+Montague made his way rapidly to the foot of the table. He caught Law by
+both his hands.
+
+"Sir," said he, "you helped us at the last stage of our ascent. A
+mistake here had been ruinous, not only to myself and friends, but to
+the safety of the whole Government. You spoke wisely and practically.
+Sir, if I can ever in all my life serve you, command me, and at whatever
+price you name. I am not yet done with you, sir," resumed Montague,
+casting his arm boyishly about the other's shoulder as they walked out.
+"We must meet again to discuss certain problems of the currency which, I
+bethink me, you have studied deeply. Keep you here in London, for I
+shall have need of you. Within the month, perhaps within the week, I
+shall require you. England needs men who can do more than dawdle. Pray
+you, keep me advised where you may be found."
+
+There was ill omen in the light reply. "Why, as to that, my Lord," said
+Law, "if you should think my poor service useful, your servants might
+get trace of me at the Green Lion--unless I should be in prison! No man
+knoweth what may come."
+
+Montague laughed lightly. "At the Green Lion, or in Newgate itself,"
+said he. "Be ready, for I have not yet done with you."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+THE RESOLUTION OF MR. LAW
+
+
+The problems of England's troubled finances, the questions of the
+coinage, the gossip of the king's embroilments with the
+Parliament--these things, it may again be said, occupied Law's mind far
+less than the question of gaining audience with his fair rescuer of the
+morn at Sadler's Wells. This was the puzzle which, revolve it as he
+might, not even his audacious wit was able to provide with plausible
+solution. He pondered the matter in a hundred different pleasing phases
+as he passed from the Bank of England through the crowded streets of
+London, and so at length found himself at the shabby little lodgings in
+Bradwell Street, where he and his brother had, for the time, taken up
+their quarters.
+
+"It starteth well, my boy," cried he, gaily, to his brother, when at
+length he had found his way up the narrow stair into the little room,
+and discovered Will patiently awaiting his return. "Already two of my
+errands are well acquit."
+
+"You have, then, sent the letters to our goldsmith here?" said Will.
+
+"Now, to say truth, I had not thought of that. But letters of
+credit--why need we trouble over such matters? These English are but
+babes. Give me a night or so in the week at the Green Lion, and we'll
+need no letters of credit, Will. Look at your purse, boy--since you are
+the thrifty cashier of our firm!"
+
+"I like not this sort of gold," said Will Law, setting his lips
+judicially.
+
+"Yet it seems to purchase well as any," said the other, indifferently.
+"At least, such is my hope, for I have made debt against our purse of
+some fifty sovereigns--some little apparel which I have ordered. For,
+look you, Will, I must be clothed proper. In these days, as I may tell
+you, I am to meet such men as Montague, chancellor of the exchequer--my
+Lord Keeper Somers--Sir Isaac Newton--Mr. John Locke--gentry of that
+sort. It is fitting I should have better garb than this which we have
+brought with us."
+
+"You are ever free with some mad jest or other, Jack; but what is this
+new madness of which you speak?"
+
+"No madness at all, my dear boy; for in fact I have but come from the
+council chamber, where I have met these very gentlemen whom I have
+named to you. But pray you note, my dear brother, there are those who
+hold John Law, and his studies, not so light as doth his own brother.
+For myself, the matter furnishes no surprise at all. As for you, you had
+never confidence in me, nor in yourself. Gad! Will, hadst but the
+courage of a flea, what days we two might have together here in this old
+town!"
+
+"I want none of such days, Jack," said Will Law, soberly. "I care most
+to see you settled in some decent way of living. What will your mother
+say, if we but go on gaming and roistering, with dangers of some sudden
+quarrel--as this which has already sprung up--with no given aim in life,
+with nothing certain for an ambition--"
+
+"Now, Will," began his brother, yet with no petulance in his tone, "pray
+go not too hard with me at the start. I thought I had done fairly well,
+to sit at the table of the council of coinage on my first day in London.
+'Tis not every young man gets so far as that. Come, now, Will!"
+
+"But after all, there must be serious purpose."
+
+"Know then," cried the elder man, suddenly, "that I have found such
+serious purpose!"
+
+The speaker stood looking out of the window, his eye fixed out across
+the roofs of London. There had now fallen from his face all trace of
+levity, and into his eye and mouth there came reflex of the decision of
+his speech. Will stirred in his chair, and at length the two faced each
+other.
+
+"And pray, what is this sudden resolution, Jack?" said Will Law.
+
+"If I must tell you, it is simply this: I am resolved to marry the girl
+we met at Sadler's Wells."
+
+"How--what--?"
+
+"Yes, how--what--?" repeated his brother, mockingly.
+
+"But I would ask, which?"
+
+"There was but one," said John Law. "The tall one, with the
+brassy-brown, copper-red hair, the bright blue eye, and the figure of a
+queen. Her like is not in all the world!"
+
+"Methought 'twas more like to be the other," replied Will. "Yet you--how
+dare you think thus of that lady? Why, Jack, 'twas the Lady Catharine
+Knollys, sister to the Earl of Banbury!"
+
+Law did not at once make any answer. He turned to the dressing-table and
+began making such shift as he could to better his appearance.
+
+"Will," said he, at length, "you are, as ever, a babe and a suckling. I
+quite despair of you. 'Twould serve no purpose to explain anything to so
+faint a heart as yours. But you may come with me."
+
+"And whither?"
+
+"Whither? Where else, than to the residence of this same lady! Look
+you, I have learned this. She is, as you say, the sister of the Earl of
+Banbury, and is for the time at the town house in Knightwell Terrace.
+Moreover, if that news be worth while to so white-feathered a swain as
+yourself, the other, damsel, the dark one--the one with the mighty
+pretty little foot--lives there for the time as the guest of Lady
+Catharine. They are rated thick as peas in a pod. True, we are
+strangers, yet I venture we have made a beginning, and if we venture
+more we may better that beginning. Should I falter, when luck gave me
+the run of _trente et le va_ but yesterday? Nay, ever follow fortune
+hard, and she waits for you."
+
+"Yes," said Will, scornfully. "You would get the name of gambler, and
+add to it the name of fortune-hunting, heiress-seeking adventurer."
+
+"Not so," replied John Law, taking snuff calmly and still keeping the
+evenness of his temper. "My own fortune, as I admit, I keep safe at the
+Green Lion. For the rest, I seek at the start only respectful footing
+with this maid herself. When first I saw her, I knew well enough how the
+end would be. We were made for each other. This whole world was made for
+us both. Will, boy, I could not live without the Lady Catharine
+Knollys!"
+
+"Oh, cease such talk, Jack! 'Tis ill-mannered, such presumption
+regarding a lady, even had you known her long. Besides, 'tis but another
+of your fancies, Jack," said Will. "Wilt never make an end of such
+follies?"
+
+"Yes, my boy," said his brother, gravely. "I have made an end. Indeed, I
+made it the other morning at Sadler's Wells."
+
+"Methinks," said Will, dryly, "that it might be well first to be sure
+that you can win past the front door of the house of Knollys."
+
+John Law still kept both his temper and his confidence.
+
+"Come with me," said he, blithely, "and I will show you how that thing
+may be done."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+TWO MAIDS A-BROIDERING
+
+
+"Now a plague take all created things, Lady Kitty!" cried Mary Connynge,
+petulantly flinging down a silken pattern over which she had pretended
+to be engaged. "There are devils in the skeins to-day. I'll try no more
+with't."
+
+"Fie! For shame, Mary Connynge," replied Lady Catharine Knollys,
+reprovingly. "So far from better temperance of speech, didst ever hear
+of the virtue of perseverance? Now, for my own part--"
+
+"And what, for your own part? Have I no eyes to see that thou'rt
+puttering over the same corner this last half hour? What is it thou art
+making to-day?"
+
+The Lady Catharine paused for a moment and held her embroidery frame
+away from her at arm's length, looking at it with brow puckering into a
+perplexed frown.
+
+"I was working a knight," said she. "A tall one--"
+
+"Yes, a tall one, with yellow hair, I warrant."
+
+"Why, so it was. I was but seeking floss of the right hue, and found it
+difficult."
+
+"And with blue eyes?"
+
+"True; or perhaps gray. I could not state which. I had naught in my box
+would serve to suit me for the eyes. But how know you this, Mary
+Connynge?" asked the Lady Catharine.
+
+"Because I was making some such knight for myself," replied the other.
+"See! He was to have been tall, of good figure, wearing a wide hat and
+plume withal. But lest I spoil him, my knight--now a plague take me
+indeed if I do not ruin him complete!" So saying, she drew with vengeful
+fingers at the intricately woven silks until she had indeed undone all
+that had gone before.
+
+"Nay, nay! Mary Connynge! Do not so!" replied Lady Catharine in
+expostulation. "The poor knight, how could he help himself? Why, as for
+mine, though I find him not all I could wish, I'll e'en be patient as I
+may, and seek if I may not mend him. These knights, you know, are most
+difficult. 'Tis hard to make them perfect."
+
+Mary Connynge sat with her hands in her lap, looking idly out of the
+window and scarce heeding the despoiled fabric which lay on her lap.
+"Come, confess, Lady Kitty," said she at length, turning toward her
+friend. "Wert not trying to copy a knight of a hedge-row after all? Did
+not a certain tall young knight, with eyes of blue, or gray, or the
+like, give pattern for your sampler while you were broidering to-day?"
+
+"Fie! For shame!" again replied Lady Catharine, flushing none the less.
+"Rather ask, does not such a thought come over thine own broidering? But
+as to the hedge-row, surely the gentleman explained it all proper
+enough; and I am sure--yes, I am very sure--that my brother Charles had
+quite approved of my giving the injured young man the lift in the
+coach--"
+
+"Provided that your Brother Charles had ever heard of such a thing!"
+
+"Well, of that, to be sure, why trouble my brother over such a trifle,
+when 'twas so obviously proper?" argued Lady Catharine, bravely. "And
+certainly, if we come to knights and the like, good chivalry has ever
+demanded succor for those in distress; and if, forsooth, it was two
+damsels in a comfortable coach, who rescued two knights from underneath
+a hedge-row, why, such is but the way of these modern days, when knights
+go seeking no more for adventures and ladies fair; as you very well
+know."
+
+"As I do not know, Lady Catharine," replied Mary Connynge. "To the
+contrary, 'twould not surprise me to learn that he would not shrink
+from any adventure which might offer."
+
+"You mean--that is--you mean the tall one, him who said he was Mr. Law
+of Lauriston?"
+
+"Well, perhaps. Though I must say," replied Mary Connynge, with
+indirection, "that I fancy the other far more, he being not so forward,
+nor so full of pure conceit. I like not a man so confident." This with
+an eye cast down, as much as though there were present in the room some
+man subject to her coquetry.
+
+"Why, I had not found him offering such an air," replied Lady Catharine,
+judicially. "I had but thought him frank enough, and truly most
+courteous."
+
+"Why, truly," replied Mary Connynge. "But saw you naught in his eye?"
+
+"Why, but that it was blue, or gray," replied Lady Catharine.
+
+"Oh, ho! then my lady did look a bit, after all! And so this is why the
+knight flourisheth so bravely in silks to-day--Fie! but a mere
+adventurer, Lady Kitty. He says he is Law of Lauriston; but what proof
+doth he offer? And did he find such proof, it is proof of what? For my
+part, I did never hear of Lauriston nor its owner."
+
+"Ah, but that I have, to the contrary," said Lady Catharine. "John
+Law's father was a goldsmith, and it was he who bought the properties of
+Lauriston and Randleston. And so far from John Law being ill-born, why,
+his mother was Jean Campbell, kinswoman of the Campbell, Duke of Argyll;
+and a mighty important man is the Duke of Argyll these days, I may tell
+you, as the king's army hath discovered before this. You see, I have not
+talked with my brother about these things for naught."
+
+"So you make excuse for this Mr. Law of Lauriston," said Mary Connynge.
+"Well, I like better a knight who comes on his own horse, or in his own
+chariot, and who rescues me when I am in trouble, rather than asks me to
+give him aid. But, as to that, what matter? We set those highway
+travelers down, and there was an end of it. We shall never see either of
+them again."
+
+"Of course not," said Lady Catharine.
+
+"It were impossible."
+
+"Oh, quite impossible!"
+
+Both the young women sighed, and both looked out of the window.
+
+"Because," said Mary Connynge, "they are but strangers. That talk of
+having letters may be but deceit. They themselves may be coiners. I have
+heard it said that coiners are monstrous bold."
+
+"To be sure, he mentioned Sir Arthur Pembroke," ventured Lady
+Catharine.
+
+"Oh! And be sure Sir Arthur Pembroke will take pains enough that no tall
+young man, who offers roses to ladies on first acquaintance, shall ever
+have opportunity to present himself to Lady Catharine Knollys. Nay, nay!
+There will be no introduction from that source, of that be sure. Sir
+Arthur is jealous as a wolf of thee already, Lady Kitty. See! He hath
+followed thee about like a dog for three years. And after all, why not
+reward him, Lady Kitty? Indeed, but the other day thou wert upon the
+very point of giving him his answer, for thou saidst to me that he sure
+had the prettiest eyes of any man in London. Pray, are Sir Arthur's eyes
+blue, or gray--or what? And can you match his eyes among the color of
+your flosses?"
+
+"It might be," said Lady Catharine, musingly, "that he would some day
+find means to send us word."
+
+"Who? Sir Arthur?"
+
+"No. The young man, Mr. Law of Lauriston."
+
+"Yes; or he might come himself," replied Mary Connynge.
+
+"Fie! He dare not!"
+
+"Oh, but be not too sure. Now suppose he did come--'twill do no harm for
+us to suppose so much as that. Suppose he stood there at your very
+door, Lady Kitty. Then what would you do?"
+
+"Do! Why, tell James that we were not in, and never should be, and
+request the young man to leave at once."
+
+"And never let him pass the door again."
+
+"Certainly not! 'Twould be presumption. But then"--this with a gentle
+sigh--"we need not trouble ourselves with this. I doubt not he hath
+forgot us long ago, just as indeed we have forgotten him--though I would
+say--. But I half believe he hit thee, girl, with his boldness and his
+bow, and his fearlessness withal."
+
+"Who, I? Why, heavens! Lady Kitty! The idea never came to my mind.
+Indeed no, not for an instant. Of course, as you say, 'twas but a
+passing occurrence, and 'twas all forgot. But, by the way, Lady Kitty,
+go we to Sadler's Wells to-morrow morn?"
+
+"I see no reason for not going," replied Lady Catharine. "And we may
+drive about, the same way we took the other morn. I will show you the
+same spot where he stood and bowed so handsomely, and made so little of
+the fight with the robbers the night before, as though 'twere trifling
+enough; and made so little of his poverty, as though he were owner of
+the king's coin."
+
+"But we shall never see him more," said Mary Connynge.
+
+"To be sure not. But just to show you--see! He stood thus, his hat off,
+his eye laughing, I pledge you, as though for some good jest he had. And
+'twas 'your pardon, ladies!' he said, as though he were indeed nobleman
+himself. See! 'Twas thus."
+
+What pantomime might have followed did not appear, for at that moment
+the butler appeared at the door with an admonitory cough. "If you
+please, your Ladyship," said he, "there are two persons waiting.
+They--that is to say, he--one of them, asks for admission to your
+Ladyship."
+
+"What name does he offer, James?"
+
+"Mr. John Law of Lauriston, your Ladyship, is the name he sends. He
+says, if your Ladyship please, that he has brought with him something
+which your Ladyship left behind, if your Ladyship please."
+
+Lady Catharine and Mary Connynge had both arisen and drawn together, and
+they now turned each a swift half glance upon the other.
+
+"Are these gentlemen waiting without the street door?" asked Lady
+Catharine.
+
+"No, your Ladyship. That is to say, before I thought, I allowed the tall
+one to come within."
+
+"Oh, well then, you see, Mary Connynge," replied Lady Catharine, with
+the pink flush rising in her cheek, "it were rude to turn them now from
+our door, since they have already been admitted."
+
+"Yes, we will send to the library for your brother," said Mary Connynge,
+dimpling at the corners of her mouth.
+
+"No, I think it not needful to do that," replied Lady Catharine, "but we
+should perhaps learn what this young man brings, and then we'll see to
+it that we chide him so that he'll no more presume upon our kindness. My
+brother need not know, and we ourselves will end this forwardness at
+once, Mary Connynge, you and I. James, you may bring the gentlemen in."
+
+Enter, therefore, John Law and his brother Will, the former seeming thus
+with ease to have made good his promise to win past the door of the Earl
+of Banbury.
+
+John Law, as on the morning of the roadside meeting, approached in
+advance of his more timid brother, though both bowed deeply as they
+entered. He bowed again respectfully, his eyes not wandering hither and
+yon upon the splendors of this great room in an ancestral home of
+England. His gaze was fixed rather upon the beauty of the tall girl
+before him, whose eyes, now round and startled, were not quite able to
+be cold nor yet to be quite cast down; whose white throat throbbed a bit
+under its golden chain; whose bosom rose and fell perceptibly beneath
+its falls of snowy laces.
+
+"Lady Catharine Knollys," said John Law, his voice deep and even, and
+showing no false note of embarrassment, "we come, as you may see, to
+make our respects to yourself and your friend, and to thank you for your
+kindness to two strangers."
+
+"To two strangers, Mr. Law," said Lady Catharine, pointedly.
+
+"Yes"--and the answering smile was hard to be denied--"to two strangers
+who are still strangers. I did but bethink me it was sweet to have such
+kindness. We were advised that London was cruel cold, and that all folk
+of this city hated their fellow-men. So, since 'twas welcome to be thus
+kindly entreated, I believed it but the act of courtesy to express our
+thanks more seeming than we might as that we were two beggars by the
+wayside. Therefore, I pay the first flower of my perpetual tribute." He
+bowed and extended, as he spoke, a deep red rose. His eye, though still
+direct, was as much imploring as it was bold.
+
+Instinctively Mary Connynge and Lady Catharine had drawn together,
+retreating somewhat from this intrusion. They were now standing, like
+any school girls, looking timidly over their shoulders, as he advanced.
+Lady Catharine hesitated, and yet she moved forward a half pace, as
+though bidden by some unheard voice. "'Twas nothing, what we did for you
+and your brother," said she. She extended her hand as she spoke. "As for
+the flower, I think--I think a rose is a sweet-pretty thing."
+
+She bent her cheek above the blossom, and whether the cheek or the petal
+were the redder, who should say? If there were any ill at ease in that
+room, it was not Law of Lauriston. He stood calm as though there by
+right. It was an escapade, an adventure, without doubt, as both these
+young women saw plainly enough. And now, what to do with this adventure
+since it had arrived?
+
+"Sir," said Lady Catharine at length, "I am sure you must be wearied
+with the heavy heats of the town. Your brother must still be weak from
+his hurt. Pray you, be seated." She placed the rose upon the tabouret as
+she passed, and presently pulled at the bell cord.
+
+"James," said she, standing very erect and full of dignity, "go to the
+library and see if Sir Charles be within."
+
+When the butler's solemn cough again gave warning, it was to bring
+information which may or may not have been news to Lady Catharine. "Your
+Ladyship," said he, "Sir Charles is said to have taken carriage an hour
+ago, and left no word."
+
+"Send me Cecile, James," said Lady Catharine, and again the butler
+vanished.
+
+"Cecile," said she, as the maid at length appeared, "you may serve us
+with tea."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+CATHARINE KNOLLYS
+
+
+"You mistake, sir! I am no light o' love, John Law!"
+
+Thus spoke Catharine Knollys. She stood near the door of the great
+drawing-room of the Knollys mansion, her figure beseeming well its
+framing of deep hangings and rich tapestries. Her eyes were wide and
+flashing, her cheeks deeply pink, the sweet bow of her lips half
+a-quiver in her vehemence. Her surpassing personal beauty, rich, ripe,
+enticing, gave more than sufficient challenge for the fiery blood of the
+young man before her.
+
+It was less than two weeks since these two had met. Surely the flood of
+time had run swiftly in those few days. Not a day had passed that Law
+had not met Catharine Knollys, nor had yet one meeting been such as the
+girl in her own conscience dared call better than clandestine, even
+though they met, as now, under her own roof. Yet, reason as she liked,
+struggle as she could, Catharine Knollys had not yet been quite able to
+end this swift voyaging on the flood of fate. It was so strange, so new,
+so sweet withal, this coming of her suitor, as from the darkness of some
+unknown star, so bold, so strong, so confident, and yet so humble! All
+the old song of the ages thrilled within her soul, and each day its
+compelling melody had accession. That this delirious softening of all
+her senses meant danger, the Lady Catharine could not deny. Yet could
+aught of earth be wrong when it spelled such happiness, such
+sweetness--when the sound of a footfall sent her blood going the faster,
+when the sight of a tall form, the ring of a vibrant tone, caused her
+limbs to weaken, her throat to choke?
+
+But ah! whence and why this spell, this sorcery--why this sweetness
+filling all her being, when, after all, duty and seemliness bade it all
+to end, as end it must, to-day? Thus had the Lady Catharine reflected
+but the hour before John Law came; her knight of dreams--tall,
+yellow-haired, blue-eyed, bold and tender, and surely speaking truth if
+truth dwelt beneath the stars. Now he would come--now he had come again.
+Here was his red, red rose once more. Here, burning in her ears, singing
+in her heart, were his avowing, pleading words. And this must end!
+
+John Law looked at her calmly, but said nothing. One hand, in a gesture
+customary with him, flicked lightly at the deep cuff of the other
+wrist, and this nervous movement was the sole betrayal of his
+uneasiness.
+
+"You come to this house time and again," resumed Catharine Knollys, "as
+though it were an ancient right on your part, as though you had always
+been a friend of this family. And yet--"
+
+"And so I have been," broke in her suitor. "My people were friends of
+yours before we two were born. Why, then, should you advise your
+servant, as you have, fairly to deny me admission at the door?"
+
+"I have done ill enough to admit you. Had I dreamed of this last
+presumption on your part I should never have seen your face again."
+
+"'Tis not presumption," said the young man, his voice low and even,
+though ringing with the feeling to which even he dared not give full
+expression. "I myself might call this presumption in another, but with
+myself 'tis otherwise."
+
+"Sir," said Lady Catharine Knollys, "you speak as one not of good mind."
+
+"Not of good mind!" broke out John Law. "Say rather of mind too good to
+doubt, or dally, or temporize. Why, 'tis plain as the plan of fate! It
+was in the stars that I should come to you. This face, this form, this
+heart, this soul--I shall see nothing else so long as I live! Oh, I
+feel myself unworthy; you have right to think me of no station. Yet some
+day I shall bring to you all that wealth can buy, all that station can
+mean. Catharine--dear Lady Kitty--dear Kate--"
+
+"I like not so fast a soothsaying in any suitor of mine," replied Lady
+Catharine, hotly, "and this shall go no further." Her hand restrained
+him.
+
+"Then you find me distasteful? You would banish me? I could not learn to
+endure it!"
+
+Lady Catharine looked at him curiously. "Actually, sir," said she, "you
+cause me to chill. I could half fear you. What is in your heart? Surely,
+this is a strange love-making."
+
+"And by that," cried John Law, "know, then the better of the truth.
+Listen! I know! And this is what I know--that I shall succeed, and that
+I shall love you always!"
+
+"'Tis what one hears often from men, in one form or another," said the
+girl, coolly, seating herself as she spoke.
+
+"Talk not to me of other men--I'll not brook it!" cried he, advancing
+toward her a few rapid paces. "Think you I have no heart?" His eye
+gleamed, and he came on yet a step in his strange wooing. "Your face is
+here, here," he cried, "deep in my heart! I must always look upon it, or
+I am a lost man!"
+
+"'Tis a face not so fair as that," said the Lady Catharine, demurely.
+
+"'Tis the fairest face in England, or in the world!" cried her lover;
+and now he was close at her side. Her hand, she knew not how, rested in
+his own. Something of the honesty and freedom from coquetry of the young
+woman's nature showed in her next speech, inconsequent, illogical,
+almost unmaidenly in its swift sincerity and candor.
+
+"'Tis a face but blemished," said she, slowly, the color rising to her
+cheek. "See! Here is the birth-mark of the house of Knollys. They tell
+me--my very good friends tell me, that this is the mark of shame, the
+bar sinister of the hand of justice. You know the story of our house."
+
+"Somewhat of it," said Law.
+
+"My brother is not served of the writ when Parliament is called. This
+you know. Tell me why?"
+
+"I know the so-called reason," replied John Law. "'Twas brought out in
+his late case at the King's Bench."
+
+"True. 'Twas said that my grandfather, past eighty, was not the father
+of those children of his second wife. There is talk that--"
+
+"'Twas three generations ago, this talk of the Knollys shortcoming. I am
+not eighty. I am twenty-four, and I love you, Catharine Knollys."
+
+"It was three generations ago," said the Lady Catharine, slowly and
+musingly, as though she had not heard the speech of her suitor. "Three
+generations ago. Yet never since then hath there been clean name for the
+Banbury estate. Never yet hath its peer sat in his rightful place in
+Parliament. And never yet hath eldest daughter of this house failed to
+show this mark of shame, this unpurged contempt for that which is
+ordained. Surely it would seem fate holds us in its hands."
+
+"You tell me these things," said John Law, "because you feel it is right
+to tell them. And I tell you of my future, as you tell me of your past.
+Why? Because, Lady Catharine Knollys, it has already come to matter of
+faith between us."
+
+The girl leaned back against the wall near which she had seated herself.
+The young man bent forward, taking both her hands quietly in his own
+now, and gazing steadily into her eyes. There was no triumph in his
+gaze. Perhaps John Law had prescience of the future.
+
+"Oh, sir, I had far liefer I had never seen you," cried Catharine
+Knollys, bending a head from whose eyes there dropped sudden tears.
+
+"Ah, dear heart, say anything but that!"
+
+"'Tis a hard way a woman must travel at best in this world," murmured
+the Lady Catharine, with wisdom all unsuited to her youth. "But I can
+not understand. I had thought that the coming of a lover was a joyous
+thing, a time of happiness alone."
+
+"Ah, now, in the hour of mist can you not foresee the time of sunshine?
+All life is before us, my sweet, all life. There is much for us to do,
+there are so many, many days of love and happiness."
+
+But now the Lady Catharine Knollys veered again, with some sudden change
+of the inner currents of the feminine soul.
+
+"I have gone far with you, Mr. Law," said she, suddenly disengaging her
+hand. "Yet I did but give you insight of things which any man coming as
+you have come should have well within his knowledge. Think not, sir,
+that I am easy to be won. I must know you equally honest with myself.
+And if you come to my regard, it must be step by step and stair by
+stair. This is to be remembered."
+
+"I shall remember."
+
+"Go, then, and leave me for this time," she besought him. But still he
+could not go, and still the Lady Catharine could not bid him more
+sternly to depart. Youth--youth, and love, and fate were in that room;
+and these would have their way.
+
+The beseeching gaze of an eye singular in its power rested on the girl,
+a gaze filled with all the strange, half mandatory pleading of youth and
+yearning. Once more there came a shift in the tidal currents of the
+woman's heart. The Lady Catharine slowly became conscious of a delicious
+helplessness, of a sinking and yielding which she could not resist. Her
+head lost power to be erect. It slipped forward on a shoulder waiting as
+by right. Her breath came in soft measure, and unconsciously a hand was
+raised to touch the cheek pressed down to hers. John Law kissed her once
+upon the lips. Suddenly, without plan--in spite of all plan--the seal of
+a strange fate was set forever on her life!
+
+For a long moment they stood thus, until at length she raised a face
+pale and sharp, and pushed back against his breast a hand that trembled.
+
+"'Tis wondrous strange," she whispered.
+
+"Ask nothing," said John Law, "fear nothing. Only believe, as I
+believe."
+
+Neither John Law nor the Lady Catharine Knollys saw what was passing
+just without the room. They did not see the set face which looked down
+from the stairway. Through the open door Mary Connynge could see the
+young man as he stepped out of the door, could see the conduct of the
+girl now left alone in the drawing-room. She saw the Lady Catharine sink
+down upon the seat, her head drooped in thought, her hand lying
+languidly out before her. Pale now and distraught, the Lady Catharine
+Knollys wist little of what went on before her. She had full concern
+with the tumult which waged riot in her soul.
+
+Mary Connynge turned, and started back up the stair unseen. She paused,
+her yellow eyes gone narrow, her little hand clutched tight upon the
+rail.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+IN SEARCH OF THE QUARREL
+
+
+As Law turned away from the door of the Knollys mansion, he walked with
+head bent forward, not looking upon the one hand or the other. He raised
+his eyes only when a passing horseman had called thrice to him.
+
+"What!" cried Sir Arthur Pembroke. "I little looked to see you here, Mr.
+Law. I thought it more likely you were engaged in other business--"
+
+"Meaning by that--?"
+
+"What should I mean, except that I supposed you preparing for your
+little affair with Wilson?"
+
+"My little affair?"
+
+"Certainly, with Wilson, as I said. I saw our friend Castleton but now,
+and he advised me of your promptness. He had searched for you for days,
+he being chosen by Wilson for his friend--and said he had at last found
+you in your lodgings. Egad! I have mistook your kidney completely. Never
+in London was a duel brought on so swift. 'Fight? This afternoon!' said
+you. Jove! but the young bloods laughed when they heard of it. 'Bloody
+Scotland' is what they have christened you at the Green Lion. 'He said
+to me,' said Charlie, 'that he was slow to find a quarrel, but since
+this quarrel was brought home to him, 'twere meet 'twere soon finished.
+He thought, forsooth, that four o'clock of the afternoon were late
+enough.' Gad! But you might have given Wilson time at least for one more
+dinner."
+
+"What do you mean?" exclaimed Law, mystified still.
+
+"Mean! Why, I mean that I've been scouring London to find you. My faith,
+man, but thou'rt a sudden actor! Where caught you this unseemly haste?"
+
+"Sir Arthur," said the other, slowly, "you do me too much justice. I
+have made no arrangement to meet Mr. Wilson, nor have I any wish to do
+so."
+
+"Pish, man! You must not jest with me in such a case as this. 'Tis no
+masquerading. Let me tell you, Wilson has a vicious sword, and a temper
+no less vicious. You have touched him on his very sorest spot. He has
+gone to meet you this vary hour. His coach will be at Bloomsbury Square
+this afternoon, and there he will await you. I promise you he is eager
+as yourself. 'Tis too late now to accommodate this matter, even had you
+not sent back so prompt and bold an answer."
+
+"I have sent him no answer at all!" cried Law. "I have not seen
+Castleton at all."
+
+"Oh, come!" expostulated Sir Arthur, his face showing a flush of
+annoyance.
+
+"Sir Arthur," continued Law, as he raised his head, "I am of the
+misfortune to be but young in London, and I am in need of your
+friendship. I find myself pressed for rapid transportation. Pray you,
+give me your mount, for I must have speed. I shall not need the service
+of your seconding. Indulge me now by asking no more, and wait until we
+meet again. Give me the horse, and quickly."
+
+"But you must be seconded!" cried the other. "This is too unusual.
+Consider!" Yet all the time he was giving a hand at the stirrup of Law,
+who sprang up and was off before he had time to formulate his own
+wonder.
+
+"Who and what is he?" muttered the young nobleman to himself as he gazed
+after the retreating form. "He rides well, at least, as he does
+everything else well. 'Till I return,' forsooth, 'till I return!' Gad! I
+half wish you had never come in the first place, my Bloody Scotland!"
+
+As for Law, he rode swiftly, asking at times his way, losing time here,
+gaining it again there, creating much hatred among foot folk by his
+tempestuous speed, but giving little heed to aught save his own purpose.
+In time he reached Bradwell Street and flung himself from his panting
+horse in front of the dingy door of the lodging house. He rushed up the
+stairs at speed and threw open the door of the little room. It was
+empty.
+
+There was no word to show what his brother had done, whither he had
+gone, when he would return. Around the lodgings in Bradwell Street lay a
+great and unknown London, with its own secrets, its own hatreds, its own
+crimes. A strange feeling of on-coming ill seized upon the heart of Law,
+as he stood in the center of the dull little room, now suddenly grown
+hateful to him. He dashed his hand upon the table, and stood so, scarce
+knowing which way to turn. A foot sounded in the hallway, and he went to
+the door. The ancient landlady confronted him. "Where has my brother
+gone?" he demanded, fiercely, as she came into view along the
+ill-lighted passage-way.
+
+"Gone, good sir?" said she, quaveringly. "Why, how should I know where
+he has gone? More quality has been here this morning than ever I saw in
+Bradwell Street in all my life. First comes a coach this morning, with
+four horses as fine as the king's, and a man atop would turn your
+blood, he was that solemn-like, sir. Then your brother was up here
+alone, sir, and very still. I will swear he was never out of this room.
+Then, but an hour ago, here comes another coach, as big as the first,
+and yellower. And out of it steps another fine lord, and he bows to your
+brother, and in they get, and off goes the coach. But, God help me, sir!
+How should I know which way they went, or what should be their errand?
+Methinks it must be some servant come from the royal palace. Sir, be you
+two of the nobility? And if you be, why come you here to Bradwell
+Street? Sir, I am but a poor woman. If you be not of the nobility, then
+you must be either coiners or smugglers. Sir, I am bethought that you
+are dangerous guests in my house. I am a poor woman, as you know."
+
+Law flung a coin at her as he sped through the hall and down the stair.
+"'Twas to Bloomsbury Square," he said, as he sprang into saddle and set
+heel to the flank of the good horse. "To Bloomsbury Square, then, and
+fast!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+THE RUMOR OF THE QUARREL
+
+
+Meantime, at the Knollys mansion, there were forthcoming other parts of
+the drama of the day. The butler announced to Lady Catharine, still
+sitting dreaming by the window, Sir Arthur Pembroke, now late arrived on
+foot. Lady Catharine hesitated. "Show the gentleman to this room," she
+said at length.
+
+Pembroke came forward eagerly as he entered. "Such a day of it, Lady
+Kitty!" he exclaimed, impulsively. "You will pardon me for coming thus,
+when I say I have just been robbed of my horse. 'Twas at your very door,
+and methinks you must know the highwayman. I have come to tell you of
+the news."
+
+"You don't mean--"
+
+"Yes, but I do! 'Twas no less than Mr. Law, of Scotland. He hath taken
+my horse and gone off like a whirlwind, leaving me afoot and friendless,
+save for your good self. I am begging a taste of tea and a little
+biscuit, for I vow I am half famished."
+
+The Lady Catharine Knollys, in sheer reaction from the strain, broke out
+into a peal of laughter.
+
+"Sure, he has strange ways about him, this same Mr. Law," said she.
+"That young man would have come here direct, and would have made himself
+quite at home, methinks, had he had but the first encouragement."
+
+"Gad! Lady Catharine, but he has a conceit of himself. Think you of what
+he has done in his short stay here in town! First, as you know, he sat
+at cards with two or three of us the other evening--Charlie Castleton,
+Beau Wilson, myself and one or two besides. And what doth he do but
+stake a bauble against good gold that he would make _sept et le va_."
+
+"And did it?"
+
+"And did it. Yes, faith, as though he saw it coming. Yet 'twas I who cut
+and dealt the cards. Nor was that the half of it," he went on. "He let
+the play run on till 'twas _seize et le va_, then _vingt-un et le va_,
+then twenty-five. And, strike me! Lady Catharine, if he sat not there
+cool as my Lord Speaker in the Parliament, and saw the cards run to
+_trente et le va_, as though 'twere no more to him than the eating of an
+orange!"
+
+"And showed no anxiety at all?"
+
+"None, as I tell you, and he proved to us plain that he had not
+two-pence to his name, for that he had been robbed the night before
+while on his way to town. He staked a diamond, a stone of worth. I must
+say, his like was never seen at cards."
+
+"He hath strange quality."
+
+"That you may say. Now read me some farther riddles of this same young
+man. He managed to win from me a little shoe of an American savage,
+which I had bought at a good price but the day before. It came to idle
+talk of ladies' shoes, and wagers--well, no matter; and so Mr. Law
+brought on a sudden quarrel with Beau Wilson. Then, though he seemed not
+wanting courage, he half declined to face Wilson on the field. Sudden
+to change as ever, this very morning he sent word to Wilson by Mr.
+Castleton that he was ready to meet him at four this afternoon. God save
+us! what a haste was there! And now, to cap it all, he hath taken my
+horse from me and ridden off to keep an appointment which he says he
+never made! Gad! These he odd ways enough, and almost too keen for me to
+credit. Why, 'twould not surprise me to hear that he had been here to
+make love to the Lady Catharine Knollys, and to offer her the proceeds
+of his luck at faro. And, strike me! if that same luck holds, he'll
+have all the money in London in another fortnight! I wish him joy of
+Wilson."
+
+"He may be hurt!" exclaimed the Lady Catharine, starting up.
+
+"Who? Beau Wilson?" exclaimed Sir Arthur. "Take no fear. He carries a
+good blade."
+
+"Sir Arthur," said the girl, "is there no way to stop this foolish
+matter? Is there not yet time?"
+
+"Why, as to that," said Sir Arthur, "it all depends upon the speed of my
+own horse. I should think myself e'en let off cheaply if he took the
+horse and rode on out of London, and never turned up again. Yet, I
+bethink me, he has a way of turning up. If so, then we are too late. Let
+him go. For me, I'd liefer sit me here with Lady Catharine, who, I
+perceive, is about now to save my death of hunger, since now I see the
+tea tray coming. Thank thee prettily."
+
+Lady Catharine poured for him with a hand none too steady. "Sir Arthur,"
+said she, "you know why I have this concern over such a quarrel. You
+know well enough what the duello has cost the house of Knollys. Of my
+uncles, four were killed upon this so-called field of honor. My
+grandfather met his death in that same way. Another relative, before my
+time, is reputed to have slain a friend in this same manner. As you
+know, but three years ago, my brother, the living representative of our
+family, had the misfortune to slay his kinsman in a duel which sprang
+out of some little jest. I say to you, Sir Arthur, that this quarrel
+must be stopped, and we must do thus much for our friends forthwith. It
+must not go on."
+
+"For our friends! Our friends!" cried Sir Arthur. "Ah, ha! so you mean
+that the old beau hath hit thee, too, with his ardent eye. Or--hang!
+What--you mean not that this stranger, this Scotchman, is a friend of
+yours?"
+
+"I speak but confusedly," said the Lady Catharine. "'Tis my prejudice
+against such fighting, as you know. Can we not make haste, and so
+prevent this meeting?"
+
+"Oh, I doubt if there be much need of haste," said Sir Arthur, balancing
+his cup in his hand judicially. "This matter will fall through at most
+for the day. They assuredly can not meet until to-morrow. This will be
+the talk of London, if it goes on in this pell-mell, hurly-burly
+fashion. As to the stopping of it--well now, the law under William and
+Mary saith that one who slays another in a duel of premeditation is
+nothing but a murderer, and may be hanged like any felon; hanged by the
+neck, till he be dead. Alas, what a fate for this pretty Scotchman!"
+
+Sir Arthur paused. A look of wonder swept across his face. "Open the
+window, Annie!" he cried suddenly to the servant. "Your mistress is
+ill."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+AS CHANCE DECREED
+
+
+Mischance delayed the carriage of Beau Wilson in its journeying to
+Bloomsbury Square. It had not appeared at that moment, far toward
+evening, when John Law, riding a trembling and dripping steed, came upon
+one side of this little open common and gazed anxiously across the
+space. He saw standing across from him a carriage, toward which he
+dashed. He flung open the carriage door, crying out, even before he saw
+the face within.
+
+"Will! Will Law, I say, come out!" called he. "What mad trick is this?
+What--"
+
+He saw indeed the face of Will Law inside the carriage, a face pale,
+melancholy, and yet firm.
+
+"Get you back into the city!" cried Will Law. "This is no place for you,
+Jack."
+
+"Boy! Are you mad, entirely mad?" cried Law, pushing his way directly
+into the carriage and reaching out with an arm of authority for the
+sword which he saw resting beside his brother against the seat. "No
+place for me! 'Tis no place for you, for either of us. Turn back. This
+foolishness must go no further!"
+
+"It must go on now to the end," said Will Law, wearily. "Mr. Wilson's
+carriage is long past due."
+
+"But you--what do you mean? You've had no hand in this. Even had
+you--why, boy, you would be spitted in an instant by this fellow."
+
+"And would not that teach you to cease your mad pranks, and use to
+better purpose the talents God hath given you? Yours is the better
+chance, Jack."
+
+"Peace!" cried John Law, tears starting to his eyes. "I'll not argue
+that. Driver, turn back for home!"
+
+The coachman at the box touched his hat with a puzzled air. "I beg
+pardon, sir," said he, "but I was under orders of the gentleman inside."
+
+"You were sent for Mr. John Law."
+
+"For Mr. Law--"
+
+"But I am John Law, sirrah!"
+
+"You are both Mr. Law? Well, sir, I scarce know which of you is the
+proper Mr. Law. But I must say that here comes a coach drove fast
+enough, and perhaps this is the gentleman I was to wait for, according
+to the first Mr. Law, sir."
+
+"He is coming, then," cried John Law, angrily. "I'll see into this
+pretty meeting. If this devil's own fool is to have a crossing of steel,
+I'll fair accommodate him, and we'll look into the reasons for it later.
+Sit ye down! Be quiet, Will, boy, I say!"
+
+Law was a powerful man, over six feet in height. The sports of the
+Highlands, combined with much fencing and continuous play in the tennis
+court, indeed his ardent love for every hardy exercise, had given his
+form alike solid strength and great activity. "Jessamy Law," they called
+him at home, in compliment of his slender though full and manly form.
+Cool and skilful in all the games of his youth, as John Law himself had
+often calmly stated, in fence he had a knowledge amounting to science, a
+knowledge based upon the study of first principles. The intricacies of
+the Italian school were to him an old story. With the single blade he
+had never yet met his master. Indeed, the thought of successful
+opposition seemed never to occur to him at all. Certainly at this
+moment, angered at the impatient insolence of his adversary, the thought
+of danger was farthest from his mind. Stronger than his brother, he
+pushed the latter back with one hand, grasping as he did so the
+small-sword with which the latter was provided. With one leap he sprang
+from the carriage, leaving Will half dazed and limp within.
+
+Even as he left the carriage step, he found himself confronted with an
+adversary eager as himself; for at that instant Beau Wilson was
+hastening from his coach. Vain, weak and pompous in a way, yet lacking
+not in a certain personal valor, Beau Wilson stopped not for his
+seconds, tarried not to catch the other's speech, but himself strode
+madly onward, his point raised slightly, as though he had lost all care
+and dignity and desired nothing so much as to stab his enemy as swiftly
+as might be.
+
+It would have mattered nothing now to this Highlander, this fighting
+Argyll, what had been the reason animating his opponent. It was enough
+that he saw a weapon bared. Too late, then, to reason with John Law,
+"Beau" Law of Edinboro', "Jessamy" Law, the best blade and the coolest
+head in all the schools of arms that taught him fence.
+
+For a moment Law paused and raised his point, whether in query or in
+salute the onlookers scarce could tell. Sure it was that Wilson was the
+first to fall into the assault. Scarce pausing in his stride, he came on
+blindly, and, raising his own point, lunged straight for his opponent's
+breast. Sad enough was the fate which impelled him to do this thing.
+
+It was over in an instant. It could not be said that there was an
+actual encounter. The side step of the young Highlander was soft as that
+of a panther, as quick, and yet as full of savagery. The whipping over
+of his wrist, the gliding, twining, clinging of his blade against that
+of his enemy was so swift that eye could scarce have followed it. The
+eye of Beau Wilson was too slow to catch it or to guard. He never
+stopped the _riposte_, and indeed was too late to attempt any guard.
+Pierced through the body, Wilson staggered back, clapping his hands
+against his chest. Over his face there swept a swift series of changes.
+Anger faded to chagrin, that to surprise, surprise to fright, and that
+to gentleness.
+
+"Sir," said he, "you've hit me fair, and very hard. I pray you, some
+friend, give me an arm."
+
+And so they led him to his carriage, and took him home a corpse. Once
+more the code of the time had found its victim.
+
+Law turned away from the coach of his smitten opponent, turned away with
+a face stern and full of trouble. Many things revolved themselves in his
+mind as he stepped slowly towards the carriage, in which his brother
+still sat wringing his hands in an agony of perturbation.
+
+"Jack, Jack!" cried Will Law, "Oh, heavens! You have killed him! You
+have killed a man! What shall we do?"
+
+Law Raised his head and looked his brother in the face, but seemed
+scarce to hear him. Half mechanically he was fumbling in the side pocket
+of his coat. He drew forth from it now a peculiar object, at which he
+gazed intently and half in curiosity, It was the little beaded shoe of
+the Indian woman, the very object over which this ill-fated quarrel had
+arisen, and which now seemed so curiously to intermingle itself with his
+affairs.
+
+"'Twas a slight shield enough," he said slowly to himself, "yet it
+served. But for this little piece of hide, methinks there might be two
+of us going home to-day to take somewhat of rest."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+FOR FELONY
+
+
+Late in the afternoon of the day following the encounter in Bloomsbury
+Square, a little group of excited loiterers filled the entrance and
+passage way at 59 Bradwell Street, the former lodgings of the two young
+gentlemen from Scotland. The motley assemblage seemed for the most part
+to make merry at the expense of a certain messenger boy, who bore a long
+wicker box, which presently he shifted from his shoulder to a more
+convenient resting place on the curb.
+
+"Do 'ee but look at un," said one ancient dame. "He! he! Hath a parcel
+of fine clothes for the tall gentleman was up in third floor! He! he!
+Clothes for Mr. Law, indeed!"
+
+"Fine clothes, eh?" cried another, a portly dame of certain years. "Much
+fine clothes he'll need where he'm gone."
+
+"Yes, indeed, that he will na. Bad luck 'twas to Mary Cullen as took un
+into her house. Now she's no lodging money for her rooms, and her
+lodgers be both in Newgate; least ways, one of un."
+
+"Ah now, 'tis a pity for Mary Cullen, she do need the money so much--"
+
+"Shut ye all your mouths, the lot o' you," cried Mary Cullen herself,
+appearing at the door. "'Tis not she is needing the little money, for
+she has it right here in the corner of her apron. Every stiver Mary
+Cullen's young men said they'd pay they paid, like the gentlemen they
+were. I'll warrant the raggle of ye would do well to make out fine as
+Mary Cullen hath."
+
+"Oh now, is that true, Mary Cullen?" said a voice. "'Twas said that
+these two were noble folk come here for the sport of it."
+
+"What else but true? Do you never know the look of gentry? My fakes,
+I'll warrant the young gentleman is back within a fortnight. His
+brother, the younger one, said to me hisself but this very morn, his
+brother was hinnocent as a child; that he was obliged to strike the
+other man for fear of his own life. Now, what can judge do but turn un
+loose? Four sovereigns he gave me this very morn. What else can judge do
+but turn un free? Tell me that, now!"
+
+"Let's see the fine clothes," said the first old lady to the apprentice
+boy, reaching out a hand and pulling at the corner of the box-lid. The
+youth was nothing loath to show, with professional pride, the quality of
+his burden, and so raised the lid.
+
+"Land save us! 'Tis gentry sure enough they are," cried the inquisitive
+one. "Do-a look in there! Such clothes and laces, such a brand new wig,
+such silken hose! Law o' land! Must have cost all of forty crowns. Mary
+Cullen, right ye are; 'twas quality ye had with ye, even if 'twas but
+for little while."
+
+"And them gone to prison, him on trial for his life! I saw un ride out
+this very yesterday, fast as though the devil was behind un, and a finer
+body of a man never did I look at in my life. What pity 'tis, what pity
+'tis!"
+
+"Well," said the apprentice, with a certain superiority in his air. "I
+dare wait no longer. My master said the gentleman was to have the
+clothes this very afternoon. So if to prison he be gone, to prison must
+I go too." Upon which he set off doggedly, and so removed one of the
+main causes for the assemblage at the curb.
+
+The apprentice was hungry and weary enough before he reached the somber
+portals, yet his insistence won past gate-keeper and turnkey, one after
+another, till at length he reached the jailer who adjudged himself fit
+to pass upon the stolid demand that the messenger be admitted with the
+parcel for John Law, Esquire, late of Bradwell Street, marked urgent,
+and collect fifty sovereigns. The humor of all this appealed to the
+Jailer mightily.
+
+"Send him along," he said. And the boy came in, much dismayed but still
+faithful to his trust.
+
+"Please, sir," said the youth, "I would know if ye have John Law,
+Esquire, in this place; and if so, I would see him. Master said I was
+not to bring back this parcel till that I had seen John Law, Esquire,
+and got from him fifty sovereigns. 'Tis for his wedding, sir, and the
+clothes are of the finest."
+
+The jailer smiled grimly. "Mr. Law gets presents passing soon," said he.
+"Set down your box. It might be weapons or the like."
+
+"Some clothes," said the apprentice. "Some very fine clothes. They are
+of our best."
+
+"Ha! ha!" roared the jailer. "Here indeed be a pretty jest. Much need
+he'll have of fine clothes here. He'll soon take his coat off the rack
+like the rest, and happen it fits him, very well. Take back your box,
+boy--or stay, let's have a look in't."
+
+The jailer was a man not devoid of wisdom. Fine clothes sometimes went
+with a long purse, and a long purge might do wonders to help the comfort
+of any prisoner in London, as well as the comfort of his keeper. Truly
+his eyes opened wide as he saw the contents of the box. He felt the
+lapel of the coat, passing it approvingly between his thumb and finger.
+"Well, e'en set ye down the box, lad," said he, "and wait till I see
+where Mr. Law has gone. Hum, hum! What saith the record? Charged that
+said prisoner did kill--hum, hum! Taken of said John Law six sovereigns,
+three shillings and sixpence. Item, one snuff-box, gilt. Hour of
+admission, five o'clock of the afternoon. We shall see, we shall see."
+
+"Sir," said the jailer, approaching the prisoner and his brother, who
+both remained in the detention room, "a lad hath arrived bearing a
+parcel for John Law, Esquire. 'Tis not within possibility that you have
+these goods, but we would know what disposition we shall make of them."
+
+"By my faith!" cried Law, "I had entirely forgot my haberdasher."
+
+The jailer stood on one foot and gave a cough, unnecessarily loud but
+sufficiently significant. It was enough for the quick wit of Law.
+
+"There was fifty sovereigns on the charge list," said the jailer.
+
+"Sixty sovereigns, I heard you say distinctly," replied Law. "Will, give
+me thy purse, man!"
+
+Will Law obeyed automatically.
+
+"There," said John Law to the jailer. "I am sure the garments will be
+very proper. Is it not all very proper?"
+
+The turnkey looked calmly into the face of his prisoner and as calmly
+replied: "It is, sir, as you say, very proper."
+
+"It would be much relief," said John Law, as the turnkey again appeared,
+bearing the box in his own hands, "if I might don my new garments. I
+would liefer make a good showing for thy house, friend, and can not, in
+this garb."
+
+"Sirrah," said the jailer, "there be rules of this place, as you very
+well know. Your little chamber was to have been in corridor number four,
+number twelve of the left aisle. But, sir, as perhaps you know, there be
+rules which are rules, and rules which are not so much--that is to
+say--rules, as you might put it, sir. The main thing is that I produce
+your body on the day of the hearing, which cometh soon. Meantime, since
+you seem a gentleman, and are in for no common felony, but charged, as I
+might say, with a light offense, why, sir, in such a case, I might say
+that a gentleman like yourself, if he cared to wear a bit of good
+clothes and wear it here in the parlor like, why, sir, I can see no harm
+in it. And that's competent to prove, as the judge says."
+
+"Very well, then," said Law, "I'll e'en deck out with the gear I should
+have had to-night had I been free; though I fear my employment this
+evening will scarce be pleasing as that which I had planned. Will, had I
+had but one more night at the Green Lion, we'd e'en have needed a
+special chair to carry home my winnings of their English gold."
+
+Enter then, a few moments later, "Beau" Law, "Jessamy" Law, late of
+Edinboro', gentleman, and a right gallant figure of a man. Tall he was
+indeed, and, so clad, making a picture of superb manhood. Ease and grace
+he showed in every movement. His long fingers closed lightly at top of a
+lacquered cane which he had found within the box. Deep ruffles of white
+hung down from his wrists, and a fall of wide lace drooped from the
+bosom of his ruffled shirt. His wig, deep curled and well whitened, gave
+a certain austerity to his mien. At his instep sparkled new buckles of
+brilliants, rising above which sprang a graceful ankle, a straight and
+well-rounded leg. The long lapels of his rich coat hung deep, and the
+rich waistcoat of plum-colored satin added slimness to a torso not too
+bulky in itself. Neat, dainty, fastidious, "Jessamy" Law, late of
+Edinboro', for some weeks of London, and now of a London prison, scarce
+seemed a man about to be put on trial for his life.
+
+He advanced from the door of the side room with ease and dignity.
+Reaching out a snuff-box which he had found in the silken pocket of his
+new garment, he extended it to the turnkey with an indifferent gesture.
+
+"Kindly have it filled with maccaboy," he said. "See, 'tis quite empty,
+and as such, 'tis useless."
+
+"Certainly, Captain Law," said the turnkey. "I am a man as knows what a
+gentleman likes, and many a one I've had here in my day, sir. As it
+chances, I've a bit of the best in my own quarters, and I'll see that
+you have what you like."
+
+"Will," said Law to his brother, who had scarce moved during all this,
+"come, cheer up! One would think 'twas thyself was to be inmate here,
+and not another."
+
+Will Law burst into tears.
+
+"God knows, 'twere better myself, and not thee, Jack," he said.
+
+"Pish! boy, no more of that! 'Twas as chance would have it. I'm never
+meant for staying here. Come, take this letter, as I said, and make
+haste to carry it. 'Twill serve nothing to have you moping here. Fare
+you well, and see that you sleep sound."
+
+Will Law turned, obedient as ever to the commands of the superior mind.
+He passed out through the heavily-guarded door as the turnkey swung it
+for him; passed out, turned and looked back. He saw his brother standing
+there, easy, calm, indifferent, a splendid figure of a man.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+THE MESSAGE
+
+
+To Will Law, as he turned away from the prison gate upon the errand
+assigned to him, the vast and shapeless shadows of the night-covered
+city took the form of appalling monsters, relentless, remorseless,
+savage of purpose. He passed, as one in some hideous dream, along
+streets that wound and wound until his brain lost distance and
+direction. It might have been an hour, two hours, and the clock might
+have registered after midnight, when at last he discovered himself in
+front of the dark gray mass of stone which the chairmen assured him was
+his destination. It was with trepidation that he stepped to the
+half-lighted door and fumbled for the knocker. The door slowly swung
+open, and he was confronted by the portly presence of a lackey who stood
+in silence waiting for his word.
+
+"A message for Lady Catharine Knollys," said Will, with what courage he
+could summon. "'Tis of importance, I make no doubt." For it was to the
+Lady Catharine that John Law had first turned. His heart craved one
+more sight of the face so beloved, one more word from the voice which so
+late had thrilled his soul. Away from these--ah! that was the prison for
+him, these were the bars which to him seemed imperatively needful to be
+broken. Aid he did not think of asking. Only, across London, in the
+night, he had sent the cry of his heart: "Come to me!"
+
+"The Lady Catharine is not in at this hour," said the butler, with, some
+asperity, closing the door again in part.
+
+"But 'tis important. I doubt if 'twill bear the delay of a night."
+Indeed, Will Law had hitherto hardly paused to reflect how unusual was
+this message, from such a person, to such address, and at such an hour.
+
+The butler hesitated, and so did the unbidden guest at the door. Neither
+heard at first the light rustle of garments at the head of the stair,
+nor saw the face bent over the balustrade in the shadows of the hall.
+
+"What is it, James?" asked a voice from above.
+
+"A message for the Lady Catharine," replied the servant. "Said to be
+important. What should I do?"
+
+"Lady Catharine Knollys is away," said the soft voice of Mary Connynge,
+speaking from the stair. Her voice came nearer as she now descended and
+appeared at the first landing.
+
+"We may crave your pardon, sir," said she, "that we receive you so ill,
+but the hour is very late. Lady Catharine is away, and Sir Charles is
+forth also, as usual, at this time. I am left proxy for my entertainers,
+and perhaps I may serve you in this case. Therefore pray step within."
+
+Reluctantly the butler swung open the door and admitted the visitor.
+Will Law stood face to face with Mary Connynge, just from her boudoir,
+and with time for but half care as to the details of her toilet; yet
+none the less Mary Connynge, Eve-like, bewitching, endowed with all the
+ancient wiles of womankind. Will Law gazed, since this was his fate.
+Unconsciously the sorcery of the sight enfolded the youth as he stood
+there uncertainly. He saw the round throat, the heavy masses of the dark
+hair, the full round form. He noted, though he could not define; felt,
+though he could not classify. He was young. Utterly helpless might have
+been even an older man in the hands of Mary Connynge at a time like
+this, Mary Connynge deliberately seeking to ensnare.
+
+"Pardon this robe, but half concealing," said her drooping eye and her
+half uplifted hands which caught the defining folds yet closer to her
+bosom. "'Tis in your chivalry I trust. I would not so with others." This
+to the beholder meant that he was the one man on earth to whom so much
+could be conceded.
+
+Therefore, following to his own undoing, as though led by some actual
+command, while but bidden gently by the softest voice in all the
+kingdom, the young man entered the great drawing-room and waited as the
+butler lessened the shadows by the aid of candles. He saw the smallest
+foot in London just peep in and out, suddenly withdrawn as Mary Connynge
+sat her down.
+
+She held the message now in her hand. In her soul sat burning
+impatience, in her heart contempt for the callow youth before her. Yet
+to that youth her attitude seemed to speak naught but deference for
+himself and doubt for this unusual situation.
+
+"Sir, I am in some hesitation," said Mary Connynge. "There is indeed
+none in the house except the servants. You say your message is of
+importance--"
+
+"It has indeed importance," responded Will. "It comes from my brother."
+
+"Your brother, Mr. Law?"
+
+"From my brother, John Law. He is in trouble. I make no doubt the
+message will set all plain."
+
+"'Tis most grievous that Lady Catharine return not till to-morrow."
+
+Mary Connynge shifted herself upon her seat, caught once more with swift
+modesty at the robe which fell from her throat. She raised her eyes and
+turned them full upon the visitor. Never had the spell of curve and
+color, never had the language of sex addressed this youth as it did now.
+Intoxicating enough was this vague, mysterious speech even at this
+inappropriate time. The girl knew that the mesh had fallen well. She but
+caught again at her robe, and cast down again her eyes, and voiced again
+her assumed anxiety. "I scarce know what to do," she murmured.
+
+"My brother did not explain--" said Will.
+
+"In that case," said Mary Connynge, her voice cool, though her soul was
+hot with impatience, "it might perhaps be well if I took the liberty of
+reading the message in Lady Catharine's absence. You say your brother is
+in trouble?"
+
+"Of the worst. Madam, to make plain with you, he is in prison, charged
+with the crime of murder."
+
+Mary Connynge sank back into her chair. The blood fled from her cheek.
+Her hands caught each other in a genuine gesture of distress.
+
+"In prison! John Law! Oh heaven! tell me how?" Her voice was trembling
+now.
+
+"My brother slew Mr. Wilson in a duel not of his own seeking. It
+happened yesterday, and so swift I scarce can tell you. He took up a
+quarrel which I had fixed to settle with Mr. Wilson myself. We all met
+at Bloomsbury Square, my brother coming in great haste. Of a sudden,
+after his fashion, he became enraged. He sprang from the carriage and
+met Mr. Wilson. And so--they passed a time or so, and 'twas done. Mr.
+Wilson died a few moments later. My brother was taken and lodged in
+jail. There is said to be bitter feeling at the court over this custom
+of dueling, and it has long been thought that an example would be made."
+
+"And this letter without doubt bears upon all this? Perhaps it might be
+well if I made both of us owners of its contents."
+
+"Assuredly, I should say," replied Will, too distracted to take full
+heed.
+
+The girl tore open the inclosure. She saw but three words, written
+boldly, firmly, addressed to no one, and signed by no one.
+
+"Come to me!" Thus spoke the message. This was the summons that had
+crossed black London town that night.
+
+Mary Connynge rose quickly to her feet, forgetting for the time the man
+who stood before her. The instant demanded all the resources of her
+soul. She fought to remain mistress of herself. A moment, and she
+passed Will Law with swift foot, and gained again the stairway in the
+hall, the letter still fast within her hand. Will Law had not time to
+ask its contents.
+
+"There is need of haste," said she. "James, have up the calash at once.
+Mr. Law, I crave your excuse for a time. In a moment I shall be ready to
+go with you."
+
+In two minutes she was sobbing alone, her face down upon the bed. In
+five, she was at the door, dressed, cloaked, smiling sweetly and ready
+for the journey. And thus it was that, of two women who loved John Law,
+that one fared on to see him for whom he had not sent.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+PRISONERS
+
+
+The turnkey at the inner door was slothful, sleepy and ill disposed to
+listen when he heard that certain callers would be admitted to the
+prisoner John Law.
+
+"Tis late," said he, "and besides, 'tis contrary to the rules. Must not
+a prison have rules? Tell me that!"
+
+"We have come to arrange for certain matters regarding Mr. Law's
+defense," said Mary Connynge, as she threw back her cloak and bent upon
+the turnkey the full glance of her dark eye. "Surely you would not deny
+us."
+
+The turnkey looked at Will Law with a hesitation in his attitude. "Why,
+this gentleman I know," he began.
+
+"Yes; let us in," cried Will Law, with sudden energy. "'Tis time that we
+took steps to set my brother free."
+
+"True, so say they all, young master," replied the turnkey, grinning.
+"'Tis easy to get ye in, but passing hard to get ye out again. Yet,
+since the young man ye wish to see is a very decent gentleman, and
+knoweth well the needs of a poor working body like myself, we will take
+the matter under advisement, as the court saith, forsooth."
+
+They passed through the heavy gates, down a narrow and heavy-aired
+passage, and finally into a naked room. It was here, in such somber
+surroundings, that Mary Connynge saw again the man whose image had been
+graven on her heart ever since that morn at Sadler's Wells. How her
+heart coveted him, how her blood leaped for him--these things the Mary
+Connynges of the world can tell, they who own the primeval heart of
+womankind.
+
+When John Law himself at length entered the room, he stepped forward at
+first confidently, eagerly, though with surprise upon his face. Then,
+with a sudden hesitation, he looked sharply at the figure which he saw
+awaiting him in the dingy room. His breath came sharp, and ended in a
+sigh. For a half moment his face flushed, his brow showed question and
+annoyance. Yet rapidly, after his fashion, he mastered himself.
+
+"Will," said he, calmly, to his brother, "kindly ask the coachman to
+wait for this lady."
+
+He stood for a moment gazing after the form of his brother as it
+disappeared in the outer shadows. For this half-moment he took swift
+counsel of himself. It was a face calm and noncommittal that he turned
+toward the girl who sat now in the darkest corner of the room, her head
+cast down, her foot beating a signal of perturbation upon the floor.
+From the corner of her eye Mary Connynge saw him, a tall and manly man,
+superbly clad, faultless in physique and raiment from top to toe. He
+stood as though ready to step into his carriage for some voyage to rout
+or ball. Youth, vigor, self-reliance, confidence, this was the whole
+message of the splendid figure. The blood of Mary Connynge, this
+survival, this half-savage woman, unregulated, unsubdued, leaped high
+within her bosom, fled to her face, gave color to her cheek and
+brightness to her eye. Her breath shortened after feline fashion. Deep
+was calling unto deep, ancient unto ancient, primitive unto primitive.
+Without the gate of London prison there was one abject prisoner. Within
+its gates there were two prisoners, and one of them was slave for life!
+
+"Madam," said John Law, in deep and vibrant tone, "you will pardon me if
+I say that it gives me surprise to see you here."
+
+"Yes; I have come," said the girl, not logically.
+
+"You bring, perhaps, some message?"
+
+"I--I brought a message."
+
+"It is from the Lady Catharine?"
+
+Mary Connynge was silent for a moment. It was necessary that, at least
+for a moment, the poison of some aeons should distil. There was need of
+savagery to say what she proposed to say. The voice of training, of
+civilization, of unselfishness, of friendship raised a protest. Wait
+then for a moment. Wait until the bitterness of an ambitious and
+unrounded life could formulate this evil impulse. Wait, till Mary
+Connynge could summon treachery enough to slay her friend. And yet, wait
+only until the primitive soul of Mary Connynge should become altogether
+imperative in its demands! For after all, was not this friend a woman,
+and is not the earth builded as it is? And hath not God made male and
+female its inhabitants; and as there is war of male and male, is there
+not war of female and female, until the end of time?
+
+"I came from the Lady Catharine," said Mary Connynge, slowly, "but I
+bring no message from her of the sort which perhaps you wished." It was
+a desperate, reckless lie, a lie almost certain of detection yet it was
+the only resource of the moment, and a moment later it was too late to
+recall. One lie must now follow another, and all must make a deadly
+coil.
+
+"Madam, I am sorry," said John Law, quietly, yet his face twitched
+sharply at the impact of these cutting words. "Did you know of my letter
+to her?"
+
+"Am I not here?" said Mary Connynge.
+
+"True, and I thank you deeply. But how, why-pray you, understand that I
+would be set right. I would not undergo more than is necessary. Will you
+not explain?"
+
+"There is but little to explain--little, though it may mean much. It
+must be private. Your brother--he must never know. Promise me not to
+speak to him of this."
+
+"This means much to me, I doubt not, my dear lady," said John Law. "I
+trust I may keep my counsel in a matter which comes so close to me."
+
+"Yes, truly," replied Mary Connynge, "if you had set your heart upon a
+kindly answer."
+
+"What! You mean, then, that she--"
+
+"Do you promise?"
+
+The brows of Law settled deeper and deeper into the frown which marked
+him when he was perturbed. The blood, settled back, now slowly mounted
+again into his face, the resentful, fighting blood of the Highlander.
+
+"I promise," he cried. "And now, tell me what answer had the Lady
+Catharine Knollys."
+
+"She declined to answer," said Mary Connynge, slowly and evenly.
+"Declined to come. She said that she was ill enough pleased to hear of
+your brawling. Said that she doubted not the law would punish you, nor
+doubted that the law was just."
+
+John Law half whirled upon his heel, smote his hands together and
+laughed loud and bitterly.
+
+"Madam," said he, "I had never thought to say it to a woman, but in very
+justice I must tell you that I see quite through this shallow
+falsehood."
+
+"Sir," said Mary Connynge, her hands clutching at the arms of her chair,
+"this is unusual speech to a lady!"
+
+"But your story, Madam, is most unusual."
+
+"Tell me, then, why should I be here?" burst out the girl. "What is it
+to me? Why should I care what the Lady Catharine says or does? Why
+should I risk my own name to come of this errand in the night? Now let
+me pass, for I shall leave you."
+
+Tho swift jealous rage of Mary Connynge was unpremeditated, yet nothing
+had better served her real purpose. The stubborn nature of Law was ever
+ready for a challenge. He caught her arm, and placed her not unkindly
+upon the chair.
+
+"By heaven, I half believe what you say is true!" said he, as though to
+himself.
+
+"Yet you just said 'twas false," said the girl, her eyes flashing.
+
+"I meant that what you add is true, and hence the first also must be
+believed. Then you saw my message?"
+
+"I did, since it so fell out."
+
+"But you did not read the real message. I asked no aid of any one for my
+escape. I but asked her to come. In sheer truth, I wished but to see
+her."
+
+"And by what right could you expect that?"
+
+"I asked her as my affianced wife," replied John Law.
+
+Mary Connynge stood an inch taller, as she sprang to her feet in sudden
+scorn and bitterness.
+
+"Your affianced wife!" cried she. "What! So soon! Oh, rare indeed must
+be my opinion of this Lady Catharine!"
+
+"It was never my way to waste time on a journey," said John Law, coolly.
+
+"Your wife, your affianced wife?"
+
+"As I said."
+
+"Yes," cried Mary Connynge, bitterly, and again, unconsciously and in
+sheer anger, falling upon that course which best served her purpose.
+"And what manner of affianced wife is it would forsake her lover at the
+first breath of trouble? My God! 'tis then, it seems to me, a woman
+would most swiftly fly to the man she loved."
+
+John Law turned slowly toward her, his eyes scanning her closely from
+top to toe, noting the heaving of her bosom, the sparkling of her
+gold-colored eye, now darkened and half ready to dissolve in tears. He
+stood as though he were a judge, weighing the evidence before him,
+calmly, dispassionately.
+
+"Would you do so much as that, Mary Connynge?" asked John Law.
+
+"I, sir?" she replied. "Then why am I here to-night myself? But, God pity
+me, what have I said? There is nothing but misfortune in all my life!"
+
+It was one rebellious, unsubdued nature speaking to another, and of the
+two each was now having its own sharp suffering. The instant of doubt is
+the time of danger. Then comes revulsion, bitterness, despair, folly.
+John Law trod a step nearer.
+
+"By God! Madam," cried he, "I would I might believe you. I would I might
+believe that you, that any woman, would come to me at such a time! But
+tell me--and I bethink me my message was not addressed, was even
+unsigned--whom then may I trust? If this woman scorns my call at such a
+time, tell me, whom shall I hold faithful? Who would come to me at any
+time, in any case, in my trouble? Suppose my message were to you?"
+
+Mary Connynge stirred softly under her deep cloak. Her head was lifted
+slightly, the curve of cheek and chin showing in the light that fell
+from the little lamp. The masses of her dark hair lay piled about her
+face, tumbled by the sweeping of her hood. Her eyes showed tremulously
+soft and deep now as he looked into them. Her little hands half twitched
+a trifle from her lap and reached forward and upward. Primitive she
+might have been, wicked she was, sinfully sweet; and yet she was woman.
+It was with the voice of tears that she spoke, if one might claim
+vocalization for her speech.
+
+"Have I not come?" whispered she.
+
+"By God! Mary Connynge, yes, you have come!" cried Law. And though there
+was heartbreak in his voice, it sounded sweet to the ear of her who
+heard it, and who now reached up her arms about his neck.
+
+"Ah, John Law," said Mary Connynge, "when a woman loves--when a woman
+loves, she stops at nothing!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+IF THERE WERE NEED
+
+
+Time wore on in the ancient capital of England. The tramp of troops
+echoed in the streets, and the fleets of Britain made ready to carry her
+sons over seas for wars and for adventures. The intrigues of party
+against party, of church against church, of Parliament against king; the
+loves, the hates, the ambitions, the desires of all the city's hurrying
+thousands went on as ever. Who, then, should remember a single prisoner,
+waiting within the walls of England's jail? The hours wore on slowly
+enough for that prisoner. He had faced a jury of his peers and was
+condemned to face the gallows. Meantime he had said farewell to love and
+hope and faithfulness, even as he bade farewell to life. "Since she has
+forsaken me whom I thought faithful," said he to himself, "why, let it
+end, for life is a mockery I would not live out." And thenceforth,
+haggard but laughing, pale but with unbroken courage, he trod on his way
+through his few remaining days, the wonder of those who saw him.
+
+As for Mary Connynge, surely she had matters enough which were best kept
+secret in her own soul. While Lady Catharine was hoping, and praying,
+and dreaming and believing, even as the roses left her cheek and the
+hollows fell beneath her eyes, she saw about her in the daily walks of
+life Mary Connynge, sleek and rounded as ever. They sat at table
+together, and neither did the one make sign to the other of her own
+anxiety, nor did that other give sign of her own treachery. Mary
+Connynge, false guest, false friend, false woman, deceived so perfectly
+that she left no indication of deceit. She herself knew, and blindly
+satisfied herself with the knowledge, that she alone now came close into
+the life of "Beau" Law, the convict; "Jessamy" Law, the student, the
+financier, the thinker; John Law, her lord and master. Herein she found
+the sole compensation possible in her savage nature. She had found the
+master whom she sought!
+
+Cynically mirthful or irreverently indifferent, yet never did her
+master's strength forsake him, never did his heart lose its
+undauntedness. And when he bade Mary Connynge do this or that she obeyed
+him; when he bade her arise she arose; at his word she came or departed.
+A dozen nights in the month she was absent from the house of Knollys. A
+dozen nights Will Law was cozened into frenzy, alternating between a
+heaven of delight and a hell of despair, and ignorant of her twofold
+duplicity. A dozen nights John Law knew well enough where Mary Connynge
+was, though no one else might know. There was feminine triumph now in
+full in the heart of this Mary Connynge, who had gone white with rage at
+the sight of a rose offered across her face to another woman. Had she
+not her master? Was he not hers, all hers, belonging in no wise to any
+other?
+
+For the future, Mary Connynge did not ponder it. An ephemera, once
+buried generations deep in the mire and slime of lower conditions, and
+now craving blindly but the sunlight of the day, she would have sought
+the deadly caress of life even though at that moment it had sealed her
+doom. Foolish or wise, she was as she was; since, under our frail
+society, life is as it is.
+
+Only at night, on those nights when she was sleepless on her own couch
+beneath the roof of Catharine Knollys, did Mary Connynge allow herself
+to think. Tell, then, ye who may, whether or not she was a mere survival
+of some forgotten day of the forest and the glade, as she lay with her
+hands clasped in brief moments of emotion. Surely she hoped, as all
+women hope who love, that this might endure for her forever. Yet the
+next moment there came the thought that inevitably it all must end, and
+soon. Then her hand clenched, her eyes grew dry and brilliant. She said
+to herself: "There is no hope. He can not be saved! For this short
+period of his life he shall be mine, all mine! He shall not be set free!
+He shall not go away, to belong, at any time, in any part, to any other
+woman! Though he die, yet shall he love me to the end; me, Mary
+Connynge, and no other woman!"
+
+Now, under this same roof of Knollys, separated by but a few yards of
+space, there lay another woman, thinking also of this convict behind the
+prison bars. But this was a woman of another and a nobler mold. Into the
+heart of Catharine Knollys there came no mere mad selfishness of desire,
+yearn though she did in every fiber of her being since that first time
+she felt the mastering kiss of love. There was born in her soul emotion
+of a higher sort. The Lady Catharine Knollys prayed, and her prayer was
+not that her lover should die, but that he might live; that he might be
+free.
+
+Nor was this hope left to wither unnourished in the mind of the
+high-bred and courageous English girl. Alone, without confidant to
+counsel her, with no woman friend to aid her, the Lady Catharine
+Knollys backed her own hopes and wishes with resource and energy. There
+came a time, perilously late, when a faint rose showed once more in her
+cheek, long so worn, a faintly brighter light glowed in her deep eye.
+
+When Sir Arthur Pembroke received a message from the Lady Catharine
+Knollys advising him that the latter would receive him at her home, it
+was left for the impulses, the hopes, the imaginings of that modest
+young nobleman to establish a reason for the message. Puzzling all along
+his rapid way in answer to the summons, Sir Arthur found the answer
+which best suited his hopes in the faint flush, the brightened eye of
+the young woman who received him.
+
+"Lady Catharine," he began, impetuously, "I have come, and let me hope
+that 'tis at last to have my answer. I have waited--each moment has been
+a year that I have spent away from you."
+
+"Now, that is very pretty said."
+
+"But I am serious."
+
+"And that is why I do not like you."
+
+"But, Lady Catharine!"
+
+"I should like it better did you but continue as in the past. We have
+met on the Row, at the routs and drums, in the country; and always I
+have felt free to ask any favor of Sir Arthur Pembroke. Why could it not
+be always thus?"
+
+"You might ask my very life, Lady Catharine."
+
+"Ah, there it is! When a man offers his life, 'tis time for a woman to
+ask nothing."
+
+She turned from the open window, her attitude showing an unwonted
+weakness and dejection. Sir Arthur still stood near by, his own face
+frowning and uncertain.
+
+"Lady Catharine," he broke out at length, "for years, as you know, I
+have sought your favor. I have dared think that sometime the day would
+come when--my faith! Lady Catharine, the day has come now when I feel it
+my right to demand the cause of anything which troubles you. And that
+you are troubled is plain enough. Ever since this man Law----"
+
+"There," cried Lady Catharine, raising her hand. "I beg you to say no
+more."
+
+"But I will say more! There must be a reason for this."
+
+The face of the young woman flushed in spite of herself, as Pembroke
+strode closer and gazed at her with sternness.
+
+"Lady Catharine," said he, slowly, "I am a friend of your family.
+Perhaps now I may be of aid to you. Prove me, and at the last, ask who
+was indeed your friend."
+
+"We have had misfortunes, we of the family of the Knollys," said Lady
+Catharine. "This is, perhaps, but the fate of the house of Knollys. It
+is my fate."
+
+"Your fate!" said Sir Arthur, slowly. "Your fate! Lady Catharine, I
+thank you. It is at least as well to know the truth."
+
+"Pick out the truth, then, Sir Arthur, as you like it. I am not on the
+witness stand before you, and you are not my judge. There has been
+forsworn testimony enough already in this town. Were it not for that,
+Mr. Law would at this moment be free as you or I."
+
+Sir Arthur struck his hands together in despair, and turning away,
+strode down the room.
+
+"Oh, I see it all well enough," cried he. "You are mad as any who have
+hitherto had dealings with this madman from the North."
+
+The girl rose to her full height and stood before him.
+
+"It may be I am mad," said she. "It may be the old Knollys madness. If
+so, why should I struggle against it? It may be that I am mad. But I
+venture to say to you that Mr. Law is not born to die in Newgate yards.
+My life! sir, if I love him, who should say me nay? Now, say to
+yourself, and to your friends--to all London, if you like, since you
+have touched me to this point--that Catharine Knollys is friend to Mr.
+Law, and believes in him, and declares that he shall be freed from his
+prison, and that within short space! Say that, Sir Arthur; tell them
+that! And if they argue somewhat from it, why, let them reason it as
+best they may."
+
+The young man stood, his lips close together, his head still turned
+away. The girl continued with growing energy.
+
+"I have sent for you to tell you that Mr. Law's life has a value in my
+eyes. And now, I say to you, Sir Arthur, that you must aid me in his
+escape."
+
+A beautiful picture she made, tearful, pleading, a lock of her soft
+red-brown hair falling unnoticed across her tear-wet cheek. It had been
+ill task, indeed, to make refusal of any sort to a woman so gloriously
+feminine, so noble, now so beseeching.
+
+"Lady Catharine," said the young man, turning toward her, "this illness,
+this anxiety--"
+
+"No, I know perfectly well whereof I speak! Listen, and I'll tell you
+somewhat of news. Montague, chancellor of the exchequer, is my warrant
+for what I say to you when I tell you that Mr. Law is to be free.
+Montague himself has said to me, in this very room, that Mr. Law was
+like to be half the salvation of England in these uncertain times. I
+could tell you more, but may not. Only look you, Sir Arthur, John Law
+does not rest in Newgate more than one week from this time!"
+
+Sir Arthur took snuff, his voice at length regaining that composure for
+which he had sought.
+
+"'Tis very excellent," he said. "For myself, two centuries have been
+spent in my family to teach me to love like a gentleman, and to deserve
+you like a man. What does this young man need? A few days of bluster, of
+assertion! A few weeks of gaming and of roistering, of self-asserted
+claims! Gad! Lady Catharine, this is passing bitter! And now you ask me
+to help him."
+
+"I wish you to help him," said Lady Catharine, slowly, "only in that I
+ask you to help me."
+
+"And if I did?"
+
+"And if you did, you should dwell in a part of my heart forever! Let it
+be as you like."
+
+"Then," cried the young man, flushing suddenly and hotly as he strode
+toward her, "do with me as you like! Let me be fool unspeakable!"
+
+"And do you promise?" said Lady Catharine, rising and advancing toward
+him. Her face was sad and appealing. Her eyes swam in tears, her lips
+were trembling.
+
+Sir Arthur held out his hand. The Lady Catharine extended both her own,
+and he bent and kissed them, tears springing in his eyes. For a time the
+room was silent. Then the girl turned, her own lashes wet. She stepped
+at length to a cabinet and took from an inner drawer a paper.
+
+"Sir Arthur, look at this," she Said.
+
+He took it from her and scrutinized it carefully.
+
+"Why, this seems to be a street bill, a placard for posting upon the
+walls," said he.
+
+"Read it."
+
+"Yes, well--so, so. 'Five hundred pounds reward for information
+regarding the escaped felon, Captain John Law, convicted of murder and
+under sentence of death of the King's Bench. The same Law escaped from
+Newgate prison on the night of'--hum--well--well--'May be known by this
+description: Is tall, of dark complexion, spare of build, raw-boned,
+face hath deep pock-marks. Eyes dark; hair dark and scanty. Speaketh
+broad and loud.' How--how, why my dear Lady Catharine, this is the last
+proof that thou'rt stark, staring mad! This no more tallies with the
+true John Law than it does with my hunting horse!"
+
+"And but few would know him by this description?"
+
+"None, absolutely none."
+
+"None could tell 'twas he, even did they meet him full face to face--no
+one would know it was Mr. Law?"
+
+"Why, assuredly not. 'Tis as unlike him as it could be."
+
+"Then it is well!" said Lady Catharine.
+
+"Well? Very badly done, I should say."
+
+"Oh, my poor Sir Arthur, where are your wits? 'Tis very well because
+'tis very ill, this same description."
+
+"Ah, ha!" said he, a sudden light dawning upon him. "Then you mean to
+tell me that this description was misconceived deliberately?"
+
+"What would you think?"
+
+"Did you do this work yourself?"
+
+"Guess for yourself. Montague, as you know, was once of a pretty
+imagination, ere he took to finance. If he and the poet Prior could
+write such conceits as they have created, could not perhaps Montague--or
+Prior--or some one else--have conceived this description of Mr. Law?"
+
+The young man threw himself into a seat, his head between his hands.
+"'Tis like a play," said he. "And surely the play of fortune ever runs
+well enough for Mr. Law."
+
+"Sir Arthur," said Lady Catharine, rising uneasily and standing before
+him, "I must confess to you that I bear a certain active part in private
+plans looking to the escape of Mr. Law. I have come to you for aid. Sir
+Arthur, I pray God that we may be successful."
+
+The young man also rose and began to pace the floor.
+
+"Even did Law escape," he began, "it would mean only his flight from
+England."
+
+"True," said the Lady Catharine, "that is all planned. The ship even now
+awaits him in the Pool. He is to take ship at once upon leaving prison,
+and he sails at once from England. He goes to France."
+
+"But, my dear Lady Catharine, this means that he must part from you."
+
+"Of course, it means our parting."
+
+"Oh, but you said--but I thought--"
+
+"But I said--but you thought--Sir Arthur, do not stand there prating
+like a little boy!"
+
+"You do not, then, keep your prisoner bound by other fetters after he
+escapes from Newgate?"
+
+"I do nothing unwomanly, and I do nothing, I trust, ignoble. I go to
+meet the Knollys fate, whatever it may be."
+
+"Lady Catharine," cried Pembroke, passionately, "I have said I loved
+you. Never in my life did I love you as I do now!"
+
+"I like to hear your words," said the girl, frankly. "There shall always
+be your corner in my heart--"
+
+"Yet you will do this thing?"
+
+"I will do this thing. I shall not whimper nor repine. I am sending him
+away forever, but 'tis needful for his sake. I shall be ready for
+whatever fate hath for me."
+
+"Tell me, then," said Pembroke, his face haggard and unhappy, "how am I
+to serve you in this matter."
+
+"In this way: To-morrow night call here with your coach. My household,
+if they note it, may take your coach for my own, and may perhaps
+understand that I go to the rout of my Lady Swearingsham. We shall go,
+instead, to Newgate. For the night, Sir Arthur Pembroke shall serve as
+coachman. You must drive the carriage to Newgate jail."
+
+"And 'tis there," said Pembroke, slowly, "that the Lady Catharine
+Knollys, the dearest woman of all England, would take the man who
+honorably loves her--to Newgate, to feloniously set free a felon? Is it
+there, then, Lady Catharine, you would go to meet your lover?"
+
+The tall figure of the girl straightened up to its full height. A shade
+of color came to her cheeks, but her voice was firm, though tears came
+to her eyes as she answered:
+
+"Aye, sir, I would go to Newgate if there were need!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+THE ESCAPE
+
+
+On a certain morning a messenger rode in hot haste up to the prison
+gate. He bore the livery of Montague. Turnkey after turnkey admitted
+him, until finally he stood before the cell of John Law and delivered
+into his hand, as he had been commanded, the message that he bore. That
+afternoon this same messenger paused at the gate of the house of
+Knollys. Here, too, he was admitted promptly. He delivered into the
+hands of the Lady Catharine Knollys a certain message. This was of a
+Wednesday. On the following Friday it was decreed that the gallows
+should do its work. Two more days and there would be an end of "Jessamy"
+Law.
+
+That Wednesday night a covered carriage came to the door of the house of
+Knollys. Its driver was muffled in such fashion that he could hardly
+have been known. There stepped from the house the cloaked figure of a
+woman, who entered the carriage and herself pulled shut the door. The
+vehicle was soon lost among the darkling streets.
+
+Catharine Knollys had heard the summons of her fate. She now sat
+trembling in the carriage.
+
+When finally the vehicle stopped at the curb of the walk which led to
+the prison gate, a second carriage, as mysterious as the first, came
+down the street and stopped at a little distance, but close to the curb
+on the side nearest to the gate. The driver of the first carriage,
+evidently not liking the close neighborhood at the time, edged a trifle
+farther down the way. The second carriage thereupon drew up into the
+spot just vacated, and the two, not easily distinguishable at the hour
+and in the dark and unlighted street, stood so, each apparently watchful
+of the other, each seemingly without an occupant.
+
+Lady Catharine had left her carriage before this interchange, and had
+passed the prison gate alone. Her steps faltered. It was hardly
+consciously that she finally found her way into the court, through the
+gate, down the evil-smelling corridors, past the sodden and leering
+constables, up to the last gate which separated her from him whom she
+had come to see.
+
+She had been admitted without demur as far as this point, and even now
+her coming seemed not altogether a matter of surprise. The burly turnkey
+at the last door stood ready to meet her. With loud commands, he drove
+out of the corridor the crowd of prison attendants. He approached Lady
+Catharine, hat in hand and bowing deeply.
+
+"I presume you are the man whom I would see," said she, faintly, almost
+unequal to the task imposed upon her.
+
+"Aye, Madam, I doubt not, with my best worship for you."
+
+"I was to come"--said Lady Catharine. "I was to speak to you--"
+
+"Aye," replied the turnkey. "You were to come, and you were to speak.
+And now, what were you to say to me? Was there no given word?"
+
+"There was such a word," she said. "You will understand. It is in the
+matter of Mr. Law."
+
+"True," said the turnkey. "But I must have the countersign. There are
+heads to lose in this, yours and mine, if there be mistake."
+
+Lady Catharine raised her head proudly. "It was for Faith," said she,
+"for Love, and for Hope! These were the words."
+
+Saying which, as though she had called to her aid the last atom of her
+strength, she staggered back and half fell against the wall near the
+inner gate. The rude jailer sprang forward to steady her.
+
+"Yes, yes," he whispered, eagerly. "'Tis all proper. Those be the
+words. Pray you, have courage, lady."
+
+There came into the corridor a murmur of voices, and there was audible
+also the sound of a man's footfalls approaching along the flags.
+Catharine Knollys looked through the bars of the gate which the turnkey
+was already beginning to throw open for her. She looked, and there
+appeared upon her vision, a sight which caused her heart to stop, which
+confounded all her reason. From a side door there advanced John Law,
+magnificently clad, walking now as though he trod the floor of some
+great hall or banquet room.
+
+The woman waiting without the gate reached out her arms. She would have
+cried aloud. Then she fell back against the wall, whereat had she not
+grasped she must have sunk down to the floor.
+
+Upon the arm of John Law, and looking up to him as she walked, there
+hung the clinging figure of a woman, half-hidden by the flickering
+shadows of the torches. A deep cloak fell back from her shoulders. It
+might have been the light fabric of the aborigine. Upon the foot of Mary
+Connynge, twinkling in and out as she walked, showed the crudely
+garnished little shoe of the Indian princess over seas, dainty, bizarre,
+singular, covering the smallest foot in all London town.
+
+"By all the saints!" Law was saying, "you might be the very maker of
+this little slipper yourself. I have won the forty crowns, I swear!
+Perforce, I'll leave them to you in my will."
+
+The shock of the light speech made even Mary Connynge wince. For the
+moment she averted her eyes from the handsome face above her. She
+looked, and saw what gave her greater shock. Law, too, stared, as her
+own startled gaze grew fixed. He advanced close to the gate, only to
+start back in a horror of surprise which racked even his steeled
+composure.
+
+"Madam!" he cried; and then, "Catharine!"
+
+Catharine Knollys made no answer to him, though she looked straight and
+calmly into his face, seeming not in the least to see the woman near
+him. Her eyes were wide and shining. "Sir," said she, "keep fast to
+Hope! This was for Faith, and for Love!"
+
+The jailer with one quick gesture swung wide the gate. "Haste, haste!"
+he cried. "Quick and begone! This night may mean my ruin! Get ye gone,
+all of ye, and give me time to think. Out with ye all, for I must lock
+the gate!"
+
+John Law passed as one stupefied, the slender form of Mary Connynge
+still upon his arm. Hands of men hurried them. "Quick! Into the
+carriage!" one cried.
+
+And now the sounds of feet and voices approaching along the corridor
+were heard. The jailer swiftly swung the heavy gate to and locked it.
+Catharine Knollys caught his last gesture, which bade her begone as fast
+as might be. Her feet were strangely heavy, in spite of her. She reached
+the curb in time to hear only the whir of wheels as a carriage sped away
+over the stones of the street. She stood alone, irresolute for half an
+instant as the crunch of wheels spun up to the curb again. A hand
+reached out and beckoned; involuntarily she obeyed the summons. Her
+wrist was seized, and she was half pulled through the door of the
+carriage.
+
+"What!" cried a voice. "You, Lady Catharine! Why, how is this?"
+
+It was the voice of Will Law, whom she knew, but who certainly was not
+the one who had brought her hither. The Lady Catharine accepted this
+last situation as one no longer able to reason. She sank down in the
+carriage seat, shivering.
+
+"Is all well?" asked Will Law, eagerly.
+
+"He is safe," said Lady Catharine Knollys. "It is done. It is finished."
+
+"What does this mean?" exclaimed Will.
+
+"His carriage--there it is. It goes to the ship--to the Pool. He and
+Mary Connynge are only just ahead of us. You may hear the wheels. Do you
+not hear them?" She spoke with leaden voice, and her head sank heavily.
+
+"What! My brother--Mary Connynge--in that carriage--what can you mean?
+My God! Lady Catharine, tell me, what do you mean?"
+
+"I do not know," said Catharine Knollys. All things now seemed very far
+away from her. Her head sank gently forward, and she heard not the words
+of the man who frantically sought to awaken her to speech.
+
+From the prison to London Pool was a journey of some distance across the
+streets of London. Will Law called out to the driver with savagery in
+his voice. He shouted, cursed, implored, promised, and betimes held one
+hand under the soft, heavy tresses of the head now sunk so humbly
+forward.
+
+The mad ride ended at the quay on Thames side, where the shadows of the
+tall buildings lay rank and thick upon the earth, where tarry smells and
+evil odors filled the heavy air, penetrated none the less by the savor
+of the keen salt air. More than one giant form was outlined in the broad
+stream, vessels tall and ghost-like in the gloom, shadowy, suggestive,
+bearing imprint and promise of far lands across the sea.
+
+Here was the initial point of England's greatness. Here on this heavy
+stream had her captains taken ship. Thence had sailed her admirals to
+encompass all the world. In these dark massed shadows, how much might
+there not be of fate and mystery! Whither might not these vessels carry
+one! To France, to the far-off Indies, to the new-owned islands, to
+America with its little half-grown ports. Whence and whither? What might
+not one do, here at this gateway of the world?
+
+"To the brigantine beyond!" cried Will Law to the wherryman who came up.
+"We want Captain McMasters, of the Polly Perkins. For God's sake, quick!
+There's that afoot must be caught up within the moment, do you hear!"
+
+The wherryman touched his cap and quickly made ready his boat. Will Law,
+understanding naught of this swift coil of events, and not daring to
+leave Lady Catharine behind him at the carriage, made down the stairway,
+half carrying the drooping figure which now leaned weakly upon his
+shoulder.
+
+"Pull now, man! Pull as you never did before!" cried he, and the
+wherryman bent hard to his oars.
+
+Yet great as was the haste of those who put forth into the foggy
+Thames, it was more than equalled by that of one who appeared upon the
+dock, even as the creak of the oars grew fainter in the gloom. There
+came the rattle of wheels upon the quay, and the sound of a driver
+lashing his horses. A carriage rolled up, and there sprang from the box
+a muffled figure which resolved itself into the very embodiment of
+haste.
+
+"Hold the horses, man!" he cried to the nearest by-stander, and sprang
+swiftly to the head of the stairs, where a loiterer or two stood idly
+gazing out into the mist which overhung the water.
+
+"Saw you aught of a man," he demanded hastily, "a man and a woman, a
+tall young woman--you could not mistake her? 'Twas the Polly Greenway
+they should have found. Tell me, for God's sake, has any boat put out
+from this stair?"
+
+"Why, sir," replied one of the wherrymen who stood near by, pipe in
+mouth and hand in pocket, "since you mention it, there was a boat
+started but this instant for midstream. They sought McMaster's
+brigantine, the Polly Perkins, that lies waiting for the tide. 'Twas, as
+you say, a young gentleman, and with him was a young woman. I misdoubt
+the lady was ill."
+
+"Get me a boat!" cried the new-comer. "A sovereign, five sovereigns, ten
+sovereigns, a hundred--but that ship must not weigh anchor until I
+board her, do you hear!"
+
+The ring of the imperative voice, and moreover the ring of good English
+coin, set all the dock astir. Straightway there came up another wherry
+with two lusty fellows, who laid her at the stair where stood the
+impatient stranger.
+
+"Hurry, men!" he cried. "'Tis life and death--'tis more than life and
+death!"
+
+And such fortune attended Sir Arthur Pembroke that forsooth he went over
+the side of the Polly Perkins, even as the gray dawn began to break over
+the narrow Thames, and even as the anchor-song of the crew struck up.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+WHITHER
+
+
+A few hours later a coppery sun slowly dispersed the morning mists above
+the Thames. The same sun warmed the court-yards of the London jail,
+which lately had confined John Law, convicted of the murder of Beau
+Wilson, gentleman. It was discovered that the said John Law had, in some
+superhuman fashion, climbed the spiked walls of the inner yard. The
+jailer pointed out the very spot where this act had been done. It was
+not so plain how he had passed the outer gates of the prison, yet those
+were not wanting who said that he had overpowered the turnkey at the
+gate, taken from him his keys, and so forced his way out into London
+city.
+
+Far and wide went forth the proclamation of reward for the apprehension
+of this escaped convict. The streets of London were placarded broadcast
+with bills bearing this description of the escaped prisoner:
+
+"Five hundred pounds reward for information regarding the escaped
+felon, John Law, convicted in the King's Bench of murder and under
+sentence of death. The same Law escaped from prison on the night of 20
+July. May be known by the following description: Is tall, of dark
+complexion, spare of build, raw-boned, face hath deep pock-marks. Eyes
+dark, hair dark and scanty. Speaks broad and loud. Carries his shoulders
+stooped, and is of mean appearance.
+
+                         "WESTON, High Sheriff.
+                         Done at Newgate prison, this 21 July."
+
+Yet though the authorities of the law made full search in London, and
+indeed in other of the principal cities of England, they got no word of
+the escaped prisoner.
+
+The clouded dawn which broke over the Thames below the Pool might have
+told its own story. There sat upon the deck of the good ship Polly
+Greenway, outbound from Thames' mouth, this same John Law. He regarded
+idly the busy scenes of the shipping about him. His gaze, dull and
+listless, looked without joy upon the dawn, without inquiry upon the far
+horizon. For the first time in all his life John Law dropped his head
+between his hands.
+
+Not so Mary Connynge. "Good sir," cried she, merrily, "'tis morning.
+Let's break our fast, and so set forth proper on our voyage."
+
+"So now we are free," said Law, dully. "I could swear there were
+shackles on me."
+
+"Yes, we are free," said Mary Connynge, "and all the world is before us.
+But saw you ever in all your life a man so dumfounded as was Sir Arthur
+when he discovered 'twas I, and not the Lady Catharine, had stepped into
+the carriage? That confusion of the carriages was like to have cost us
+everything. I know not how your brother made such mistake. He said he
+would fetch me home the night. Gemini! It sure seems a long way about!
+And where may be your brother now, or Sir Arthur, or the Lady
+Catharine--why, 'tis as much confused as though 'twere all in a play!"
+
+"But Sir Arthur cried that my ship was for France. Yet here they tell me
+that this brigantine is bound for the mouth of the St. Lawrence, in
+America! What then of this other, and what of my brother--what of
+us--what of--?"
+
+"Why, I think this," said Mary Connynge, calmly. "That you do very well
+to be rid of London jail; and for my own part, 'tis a rare appetite the
+salt air ever gives me!"
+
+Upon the same morning tide there was at this very moment just setting
+aloft her sails for the first high airs of dawn the ship of McMasters,
+the Polly Perkins, bound for the port of Brest.
+
+She came down scarce a half-dozen cable lengths behind the craft which
+bore the fugitives now beginning their journey toward another land. Upon
+the deck of this ship, even as upon the other, there were those who
+waited eagerly for the dawn. There were two men here, Will Law and Sir
+Arthur Pembroke, and whether their conversation had been more eager or
+more angry, were hard to tell. Will Law, broken and dejected, his heart
+torn by a thousand doubts and a thousand pains, sat listening, though
+but half comprehending.
+
+"Every plan gone wrong!" cried Sir Arthur. "Every plan gone wrong, and
+out of it all we can only say that he has escaped from prison for whom
+no prison could be enough of hell! Though he be your brother, I tell it
+to your face, the gallows had been too good for John Law! Look you
+below. See that girl, pure as an angel, as noble and generous a soul us
+ever breathed--what hath she done to deserve this fate? You have brought
+her from her home, and to that home she can not now return unsmirched.
+And all this for a man who is at this moment fleeing with the woman whom
+she deemed her friend! What is there left in life for her?"
+
+Will Law groaned and buried his own head deeper in his hands. "What is
+there left for any of us?" said he. "What is there left for me?"
+
+"For you?" said Sir Arthur, questioningly. "Why, the next ship back from
+Brest, or from any other port of France. 'Tis somewhat different with a
+woman."
+
+"You do not understand," said Will Law. "The separation means somewhat
+for me."
+
+"Surely you do not mean--you have no reference to Mary Connynge?" cried
+Sir Arthur.
+
+Will bowed his head abjectly and left the other to guess that which sat
+upon his mind. Sir Arthur drew a long breath and stopped his angry
+pacing up and down.
+
+"It ran on for weeks," said Will Law. "We were to have been married. I
+had no thought of this. 'Twas I who took her to and from the prison
+regularly, and 'twas thus that we met. She told me she was but the
+messenger of the Lady Catharine."
+
+Sir Arthur drew a long, slow breath. "Then I may say to you," said he,
+"that your brother, John Law, is a hundred times more traitor and felon
+than even now I thought him. Yonder he goes"--and he shook his fist into
+the enveloping mist which hung above the waters. "Yonder he goes,
+somewhere, I give you warning, where he deems no trail shall be left
+behind him. But I promise you, whatever be your own wish, I shall follow
+him into the last corner of the earth, but he shall see me and give
+account for this! There is none of us he has not deceived, utterly, and
+like a black-hearted villain. He shall account for it, though it be
+years from now."
+
+So now, inch by inch, fathom after fathom, cable length after cable
+length, soon knot after knot, there sped two English ships out into the
+open seaway. Before long they began to toss restlessly and to pull
+eagerly at the helm as the scent of the salt seas came in. Yet neither
+knew fully the destination of the other, and neither knew that upon the
+deck of that other there was full solution of those questions which now
+sat so heavily upon these human hearts. Thus, silently, slowly,
+steadily, the two drew outward and apart, and before that morn was done,
+both were tossing widely upon the swell of that sea beyond which there
+lay so much of fate and mystery.
+
+
+
+
+BOOK II
+
+AMERICA
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+THE DOOR OF THE WEST
+
+
+"Nearly a league farther, Du Mesne, and the sun but an hour high. Come,
+let us hasten!"
+
+"You are right, Monsieur L'as," replied the one addressed, as the first
+speaker seated himself on the thwart of the boat in whose bow he had
+been standing. "Bend to it, _mes amis_!"
+
+John Law turned about on the seat, gazing back over the length of the
+little ship which had brought him and his comrades thus far on the
+wildest journey he had ever undertaken. Six paddlers there were for this
+great _canot du Nord_, and steadily enough they sent the thin-shelled
+craft along over the curling blue waves of the great inland sea. And now
+their voices in one accord fell into the cadences of an ancient
+boat-song of New France:
+
+
+    "_En roulant ma loule, roulant,
+     Roulant, rouler, ma boule roulant_."
+
+
+The ictus of the measure marked time for the sweeping paddles, and
+under the added impetus the paper shell, reinforced as it was by
+close-laid splints of cedar, and braced by the fiber-fastened thwarts,
+fairly yielded to the rush of the waves as the stalwart paddlers sent it
+flying forward. A tiny blur of white showed about the bows, and now and
+again a splash of spray came inboard, as some little curling white cap
+was divided by the rush of the swiftly moving prow.
+
+"We shall not arrive too soon, my friend," rejoined the captain of the
+_voyageurs_, casting an eye back across the great lake, which lay black
+and ominous under a threatening sky, the sweep and swirl of its white
+caps ever racing hard after the frail craft, as though eager to break
+through its paper sides and tear away the human beings who thus fled on
+so lightly.
+
+This boat, mysteriously appearing as though it were some spirit craft
+railed from the ancient deeps, was far from the beginning of its wild
+journey. Wide as the eye might reach, there arose no fleck of snowy
+canvas, nor showed the dark line of any similar craft propelled by oar
+or paddle. They were alone, these travelers. Before them, at the
+entrance of the wide arm of the great lake Michiganon, lay the point
+even at that early day known as the Door of the West, the beginning of
+the winding water-way which led on into the interior of that West, then
+so alluring and unknown. The eyes of all were fixed on the low,
+white-fronted bluffs, crowned by dark forest growth, which guarded the
+bay at either hand. This spot, so wild, so remote, so significant--it
+was home for these _voyageurs_ as much as any; as much, too, for Law and
+the woman who lay back, pale-faced and wide-eyed, among the bales in the
+great canoe.
+
+In time the graceful craft approached the beach, on which the long waves
+rolled and curled, now gently, now with imposing force. With the water
+yet half-leg deep, Du Mesne and two of the paddlers sprang bodily
+overboard and held the boat back from the pebbles, so that its tender
+shell might not be damaged. Law himself was as soon as they in the
+water, and he waded back along the gunwale until he reached the stern,
+the water nearly up to his hips. Reaching out his arms, he picked up
+Mary Connynge from her seat and carried her dry-shod ashore, bending
+down to catch some whispered word. Not so gallant was Du Mesne, the
+leader of the _voyageurs_. He uttered a few short words of semi-command
+to the Indian woman, who had been seated on the floor of the canoe, and
+she, without protest, crawled forward over the thwarts and the heaped
+bundles until she reached the bow, and then went ankle deep into the
+creaming flood. The great canoe, left empty and anchored safe from the
+pebbles of the beach, tossed light as a cork on the incoming waves.
+
+A little open space was quickly found at the edge of the cove in which
+the disembarkation was made, and here Du Mesne and his followers soon
+kicked away the twigs and leveled out a smooth place upon the grass.
+Each man produced from his belt a broad-bladed knife, and for the moment
+disappeared in the deep fringe of evergreens which lined the shore.
+Fairly in the twinkling of an eye a rude frame of bent poles was made,
+above which were spread strips of unrolled birch bark from the cargo of
+the canoe. Over the spaces left uncovered by the supply of bark sheets
+there were laid down long mats made by Indian hands from dried reeds and
+bulrushes, affording no inconsiderable protection against the weather.
+Inside the lodge, bales of goods and packages of provisions were quickly
+arranged in comfortable fashion. Gaudy blankets were spread upon layers
+of soft skins of the buffalo. The Indian woman had meantime struck a
+fire, whose faint blue smoke curled lakeward in the soft evening air.
+Quickly, and with the system of experienced campaigners, the evening
+bivouac had been prepared; and wildly picturesque it must have seemed
+to a bystander, had there been indeed any possible spectator within many
+leagues.
+
+Far enough was this from the turmoil of London, which Law and his
+companion had left nearly a year before; far enough still from the wild
+capital of New France, where they had spent the winter, after landing,
+as much by chance as through any plan, at the port of the St. Lawrence.
+Ever a demon of unrest drove Law forward; ever there beckoned to him
+that irresistible West, of which he was one of the earliest to feel the
+charm. Farther and farther westward, swift and swifter than ever the
+boats of the fur traders had made the journey before, he and his party,
+led by Du Mesne, the ex-galley-slave and wanderer whom Law had by chance
+met again, and gladly, at Montreal, had made the long and dangerous run
+up the lakes, past Michilimackinac, down the lake of Michiganon, headed
+toward the interior of a new continent which was then, as for
+generations after then, the land of wondrous distances, of grand
+enterprises, of magnificent promises and immense fulfilments. The bales
+and bundles of this bivouac belonged to John Law, bought by gold from
+the gaming tables of Montreal and Quebec, and ventured in the one great
+hazard which appealed to him most irresistibly, the hazard of life and
+fortune in a far land, where he might live unneighbored, and where he
+might forget. Gambler in England, gambler again in New France, now
+trading fur-merchant and _voyageur_, he was, as always, an adventurer.
+Du Mesne and his hardy crew hailed him already as a new captain of the
+trails, a new _coureur_, won from the Old World by the savage witchery
+of the New. He was their brother; and had he indeed owned longer years
+of training, his keenness of eye, his strength of arm, his tirelessness
+of limb could hardly have been greater than they seemed in his first
+voyage to the West.
+
+
+    "_Tous les printemps,
+     Tant des nouvelles_"
+
+hummed Du Mesne, as he busied himself about the camp, casting the while
+a cautious eye to note the progress of the threatening storm.
+
+
+    "_Tous les amants
+     Changent des maitresses.
+     Jamais le bon vin n'endort--
+     L'amour me reveille_!"
+
+"The best is before us now, Monsieur L'as," said Du Mesne, joining Law,
+at length. "Assuredly the best is always that which is ahead and which
+is unknown; but in point of fact the hardest of our journey is over,
+for henceforth we may stretch our legs ashore, and hunt and fish, and
+make good camps for madame, who, as we both perceive, is much in need of
+ease and care. We shall make all safe and comfortable for this night,
+doubt not.
+
+"Meantime," continued he, "let us see that all is well with our men and
+arms, for henceforth we must put out guards. Attention, comrades!
+Present your pieces and answer the roll-call! Pierre Berthier!"
+
+"_Ici_! Monsieur," replied the one better known as Pierre Noir, a tall
+and dark-visaged Canadian, clad in the common costume, half-Indian and
+half-civilized, which marked his class. A shirt of soft dressed buckskin
+fell about his thighs; his legs were encased in moose-skin leggings,
+deeply fringed at the seams. About his middle was a broad sash, once
+red, and upon his head a scanty cap of similar color was pushed back. At
+his belt hung the great hunting knife of the _voyageur_, balanced by a
+keen steel tomahawk such as was in common use among the Indians. In his
+hand he supported a long-barreled musket, which he now examined
+carefully in the presence of the captain of the _voyageurs_.
+
+"Robert Challon!" next commanded Du Mesne, and in turn the one addressed
+looked over his piece, the captain also scrutinizing the flint and
+priming with careful eye.
+
+"Naturally, _mes enfants_," said he, "your weapons are perfect, as ever.
+Kataikini, and you, Kabayan, my brothers, let me see," said he to the
+two Indians, the former a Huron and the latter an Ojibway, both from the
+shores of Superior. The Indians arose silently, and without protest
+submitted to the scrutiny which ever seemed to them unnecessary.
+
+"Jean Breboeuf!" called Du Mesne; and in response there arose from the
+shadows a wiry little Frenchman, who might have been of any age from
+twenty to forty-five, so sun-burnt and wrinkled, yet so active and
+vigorous did he seem.
+
+"_Mon ami_," said Du Mesne to him, chidingly, "see now, here is your
+flint all but out of its engagement. Pray you, have better care of your
+piece. For this you shall stand the long watch of the night. And now let
+us all to bed."
+
+One by one the little party was lost to view within the dark interior of
+the hut which they had arranged for themselves. Du Mesne retired a
+distance from the fire and seated himself upon a fallen log, his pipe
+glowing like a coal in the enveloping darkness.
+
+Law himself did not so soon leave the outer air. He remained gazing out
+at the wild scene about him, at the rolling waves dashing on the shore,
+their crests whitening in the glare of the lightning, now approaching
+more closely. He harkened to the roll of the far-off thunder reenforced
+by the thunder of the waves upon the shore, and noted the sweep of the
+black forest about, of the black sky overhead, unlit save for one
+far-off, faint and feeble star.
+
+It was a new world, this that lay around him, a new and savage world. If
+there were a world behind him, a world which once held sunlight and
+flowers, and love and hope--why then, it was a world lost and gone
+forever, and it was very well that this new world should be so different
+and so stern.
+
+In the darkness John Law heard a voice, the voice of a woman in terror.
+Swiftly he stepped to the door of the rude lodge.
+
+"Don't let them sing it again--never any more--that song."
+
+"And what, Madam?"
+
+"That one--'_us les amants changent des maitresses_!'"
+
+A moment later she whispered, "I am afraid."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+THE STORM
+
+
+Marshaling to the imperious orders of the tempest, and crowding close
+upon the flaming standards of the lightning, the armies of the clouds
+came on. The sea-wide surface of the lake went dull, and above it bent a
+sky appalling in its blackness. The wind at first was light, then fitful
+and gusty, like the rising choler of a man affronted and nursing his own
+anger. It gained in volume and swept on across the tops of the forest
+trees, as though with a hand contemptuous in its strength, forbearing
+only by reason of its own whimsy. Now and again the cohorts of the
+clouds just hinted at parting, letting through a pale radiance from the
+western sky, where lingered the departing day. This light, as did the
+illuminating glare of the forked flames above, disclosed the while
+helmets of the trooping waters, rushing on with thunderous unison of
+tread; and the rattling thunder-shocks, intermittent, though coming
+steadily nearer, served but to emphasize these foot strokes of the
+waves. The heavens above and the waters under the earth--these
+conspired, these marched together, to assail, to overwhelm, to utterly
+destroy.
+
+To destroy what? Why this wild protest of the wilderness? Was it this
+wide-blown, scattered fire, whose sparks and ashes were sown broadcast,
+till but stubborn remnants clung under the sheltering back-log of the
+bivouac hearth? Was it this frail lodge, built upon pliant, yielding
+poles, covered cunningly with mats and bark, carpeted with robe of elk
+and buffalo? Yet why should the elements rage at a tiny fire, and why
+should they tear at a little house of nomad man, since these things were
+old upon the earth? Was it somewhat else that incited this elemental
+rage? This might have been; for surely, builder of this hearth-fire
+which would not quench, master of this house which would not yield,
+there was now come up to the door of the wilderness the white man, risen
+from the sea, heralding the day which the tribes had for generations
+blindly prophesied! The white man, stern, stubborn, fruitful, had come
+to despoil the West of its secrets!
+
+Let all the elements therefore join in riotous revolt! Let earth and sea
+and sky make common cause! Rage, waves, and blaze, ye fiery tongues,
+and threaten, forests, with all your ominous voices! Smite, destroy, or
+terrify into swift retreat this little band! Crush out their tenement!
+Loosen and brush off this feeble finger-grasp at the ancient threshold!
+With banners of flame, with armies of darkness, with shoutings of the
+captains of the storms, assail, denude, destroy, if even by the agony of
+their terrors, these feeble folk now come hither! And by this more
+especially, since they would set the seal of fruitfulness upon the land,
+and bring upon the earth a generation yet to follow. Hover about this
+bed in the frail and swaying lodge of bark and boughs, all ye most
+terrifying spirits! Let not this thing be!
+
+"Mother of God!" cried Jean Breboeuf, bending low and pulling his tunic
+tighter by the belt, as he came gasping into the faint circle of light
+which still remained at the fire log. "'Tis murderous, this storm! Ah,
+Monsieur du Mesne, we are dead men! But what matter? 'Tis as well now as
+later. Said I not so to you all the way down Michiganon from the
+Straits? A rabbit crossed my path at the last camp before
+Michilimackinac, and when we took boat to leave the mission at the
+Straits, three crows flew directly across our way. Did I not beseech you
+to turn back? Did I not tell you, most of all, that we had no right,
+honest _voyageurs_ that we are, to leave for the woods without
+confessing to the good father? 'Tis two years now since I have been
+proper shriven, and two years is too long for a _voyageur_ to remain
+unabsolved. Mother of God! When I see the lightnings and listen to that
+wind, I bethink me of my sins--my sins! I vow a bale of beaver--"
+
+"Pish! Jean," responded Du Mesne, who had come in from the cover of the
+wood and was casting about in the darkness as best he might to see that
+all was made secure. "Thou'lt feel better when the sun shines again.
+Call Pierre Noir, and hurry, or our canoe will pound to bits upon the
+beach. Come!"
+
+All three went now knee-deep in the surf, and Du Mesne, clinging to the
+gunwale as he passed out, was soon waist deep, and time and again lost
+his footing in the flood.
+
+"Pull!" he cried at last. "Now, _en avant_!" He had flung himself over
+the stern, and with his knife cut the hide rope of the anchor-stone.
+Overboard again in an instant, he joined the others in their rush up the
+beach, and the three bore their ship upon their shoulders above the
+reach of the waves.
+
+"Myself," said Pierre Noir, "shall sleep beneath the boat to-night, for
+since she sheds water from below, she may do as well from above."
+
+"Even so, Pierre Noir," said Du Mesne, "but get you the boat farther
+toward your own camp to-night. Do you not see that Monsieur L'as is not
+with us?"
+
+"_Eh bien_?"
+
+"And were he not surely with us at such time, unless--?"
+
+"Oh, _assurement_!" replied Pierre Noir. "Jean Breboeuf, aid me in
+taking the boat back to our camp in the woods."
+
+Now came the rain. Not in steady and even downpour, not with
+intermittent showers, but in a sidelong, terrifying torrent, drenching,
+biting, cutting in its violence. The swift weight of the rain gave to
+the trees more burden than they could bear. As before the storm, when
+all was still, there had come time and again the warning boom of a
+falling tree, stricken with mysterious mortal dread of that which was to
+come, so now, in the riot of that arrived danger, first one and then
+another wide-armed monarch of the wood crashed down, adding with its
+downfall to the testimony of the assailing tempest's strength and fury.
+The lightning now came not only in ragged blazes and long ripping lines
+of light, but in bursts and shocks, and in bomb-like balls, exploding
+with elemental detonations. Balls of this tense surcharged essence
+rolled out over the comb of the bluff, fell upon the shadows of the
+water, and seemed to bound from crest to white-capped crest, till at
+last they split and burst asunder like some ominous missiles from
+engines of wrath and destruction.
+
+And now, suddenly, all grew still again. The sky took on a lighter,
+livid tone, one of pure venom. There came a whisper, a murmur, a rush as
+of mighty waters, a sighing as of an army of the condemned, a shrieking
+as of legions of the lost, a roaring as of all the soul-felt tortures of
+a world. From the forest rose a continuous rending crash. The whiplash
+of the tempest cracked the tree trunks as a child beheads a row of
+daisies. Piled up, falling, riven asunder, torn out by the wind, the
+giant trees joined the toys which the cynic storm gathered in its hands
+and bore along until such time as it should please to crush and drop
+them.
+
+There passed out over the black sea of Michiganon a vast black wraith; a
+thing horrible, tremendous, titanic in organic power. It howled,
+execrated, menaced; missed its aim, and passed. The little swaying house
+still stood! Under the sheltered log some tiny sparks of fire still
+burned, omen of the unquenchable hearthstones which the land was yet to
+know!
+
+"Holy God! what was it? What was that which passed?" cried Jean
+Breboeuf, crawling out from beneath his shelter. "Saint Mary defend us
+all this night! 'Twas the great Canoe of the Damned, running _au large_
+across the sky! Mary, Mother of God, hear my vow! Prom this time Jean
+Breboeuf shall lead a better life!"
+
+The storm, baffled, passed on. The rain, unsatisfied, sullenly ceased in
+its attack. The waves, hopeless but still vindictive, began to call back
+their legions from the narrow shore. The lightnings, unsated in their
+wrath, flared and flickered on and out across the eastward sea. With
+wild laughter and shrieks and imprecations, the spirit of the tempest
+wailed on its furious way. The red West had raised its hand to smite,
+but it had not smitten sure.
+
+In the silence of the night, in the hush following the uproar of the
+storm, there came a little wailing cry; so faint, so feeble, yet so
+mighty, so conquering, this sign of the coming generation, the voice of
+the new-born babe. At this little human voice, born of sorrow and sin,
+born to suffering and to knowledge, born to life in all its wonders and
+to death in all its mystery--the elements perchance relented and averted
+their fury. Not yet was there to be punished sin, or wrong, or doubt, or
+weakness. Not at once would justice punish the parents of this babe and
+blot out at once the record of their fault. Storm and lightning,
+darkness and the night yielded to the voice of the infant and allowed
+the old story of humanity and sin, and hope and mercy to run on.
+
+The babe wailed faintly in the silence of the night. Under the
+hearth-log there still endured the fire. And then the red West, seeing
+itself conquered, smiled and flung wide its arms, and greeted them with
+the burgeoning dawn, and the voices of birds, with a sky blue and
+repentant, a sun smiling and not unkind.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+AU LARGE
+
+
+It was weeks after the night of the great storm, and the camp of the
+_voyageurs_ still held its place on the shore of the great Green Bay.
+The wild game and the abundant fishes of the lake gave ample provender
+for the party, and the little bivouac had been rendered more comfortable
+in many ways best known to those dwellers of the forest. The light jest,
+the burst of laughter, the careless ease of attitude showed the
+light-hearted _voyageurs_ content with this, their last abode, nor for
+the time did any word issue which threatened to end their tarrying.
+
+Law one morning strolled out from the lodge and seated himself on a bit
+of driftwood at the edge of the forest's fringe of cedars, where,
+seemingly half forgetting himself in the witchery of the scene, he gazed
+out idly over the wide prospect which lay before him. He was the same
+young man as ever. Surely, this increased gauntness was but the result
+of long hours at the paddle, the hollow cheeks but betokened hard fare
+and the defining winds of the outdoor air. If the eye were a trace more
+dim, that could be due but to the reflectiveness induced by the quiet
+scene and hour. Yet why should John Law, young and refreshed, drop chin
+in hand and sit there moodily looking ahead of him, comprehending not at
+all that which he beheld?
+
+Indeed there appeared now to the eye of this young man not the white
+shores and black crowned bluffs and distant islands, not the sweep of
+broad-winged birds circling near the waters, nor the shadow of the
+high-poised eagle drifting far above. He felt not the soft wind upon his
+cheek, nor noted the warmth of the on-coming sun. In truth, even here,
+on the very threshold of a new world and a new life, he was going back,
+pausing uncertainly at the door of that life and of that world which he
+had left behind. There appeared to him not the rolling undulations of
+the black-topped forest, not the tossing surface of the inland sea, nor
+the white-pebbled beach laved by its pulsing waters. He saw instead a
+white and dusty road, lined by green English hedge-rows. Back, over
+there, beyond these rolling blue waves, back of the long water trail
+over which he had come, there were chapel and bell and robed priest, and
+the word which made all fast forever. But back of the wilderness
+mission, back of the straggling settlements of Montreal and Quebec, back
+of the blue waters of the ocean, there, too, were church and minister;
+and there dwelt a woman whose figure stood now before his eyes, part of
+this mental picture of the white road lined with the hedges of green.
+
+A hand was laid on his shoulder, and he half started up in sudden
+surprise. Before him, the sun shining through her hair, her eyes dark in
+the shadow, stood Mary Connynge. A fair woman indeed, comely, round of
+form, soft-eyed, and light of touch, she might none the less have been a
+very savage as she stood there, clad no longer in the dress of
+civilization, but in the soft native garb of skins, ornamented with the
+stained quills of the porcupine and the bizarre adornments of the native
+bead work; in her hair dull metal bands, like any Indian woman, upon her
+feet little beaded moccasins--the very moccasin, it might have been,
+which Law had first seen in ancient London town and which had played so
+strange a part in his life since then.
+
+"You startled me," said Law, simply. "I was thinking."
+
+A sudden jealous wave of woman's divining intuition came upon the woman
+at his side. "I doubt not," said she, bitterly, "that I could name the
+subject of your thought! Why? Why sit here and dream of her, when here
+am I, who deserve everything that you can give?"
+
+She stood erect, her eyes flashing, her arms outstretched, her bosom
+panting under the fringed garments, her voice ringing as it might have
+been with the very essence of truth and passion. Law looked at her
+steadily. But the shadow did not lift from his brow, though he looked
+long and pondered.
+
+"Come," said he, at length, gently. "None the less we are as we are. In
+every game we take our chances, and in every game we pay our debts. Let
+us go back to the camp."
+
+As they turned back down the beach Law saw standing at a little distance
+his lieutenant, Du Mesne, who hesitated as though he would speak.
+
+"What is it, Du Mesne?" asked Law, excusing himself with a gesture and
+joining the _voyageur_ where he stood.
+
+"Why, Monsieur L'as," said Du Mesne, "I am making bold to mention it,
+but in good truth there was some question in my mind as to what might be
+our plans. The spring, as you know, is now well advanced. It was your
+first design to go far into the West, and there to set up your station
+for the trading in furs. Now there have come these little incidents
+which have occasioned us some delay. While I have not doubted your
+enterprise, Monsieur, I bethought me perhaps it might be within your
+plans now to go but little farther on--perhaps, indeed, to turn back--"
+
+"To go back?" said Law.
+
+"Well, yes; that is to say, Monsieur L'as, back again down the Great
+Lakes."
+
+"Have you then known me so ill as this, Du Mesne?" said Law. "It has not
+been my custom to set backward foot on any sort of trail."
+
+"Oh, well, to be sure, Monsieur, that I know quite well," replied Du
+Mesne, apologetically. "I would only say that, if you do go forward, you
+will do more than most men accomplish on their first voyage _au large_
+in the wilderness. There comes to many a certain shrinking of the heart
+which leads them to find excuse for not faring farther on. Yonder, as
+you know, Monsieur, lie Quebec and Montreal, somewhat better fitted for
+the abode of monsieur and madame than the tents of the wilderness. Back
+of that, too, as we both very well know, Monsieur, lie London and old
+England; and I had been dull of eye indeed did I not recognize the
+opportunities of a young gallant like yourself. Now, while I know
+yourself to be a man of spirit, Monsieur L'as, and while I should
+welcome you gladly as a brother of the trail, I had only thought that
+perhaps you would pardon me if I did but ask your purpose at this time."
+
+Law bent his head in silence for a moment. "What know you of this
+forward trail, Du Mesne?" said he. "Have you ever gone beyond this point
+in your own journeyings?"
+
+"Never beyond this," replied Du Mesne, "and indeed not so far by many
+hundred miles. For my own part I rely chiefly upon the story of my
+brother, Greysolon du L'hut, the boldest soul that ever put paddle in
+the St. Lawrence. My brother Greysolon, by the fire one night, told me
+that some years before he had been at the mouth of the Green
+Bay--perhaps near this very spot--and that here he and his brothers
+found a deserted Indian camp. Near it, lying half in the fire, where he
+had fallen in exhaustion, was an old, a very old Indian, who had been
+abandoned by his tribe to die--for that, you must know, Monsieur, is one
+of the pleasant customs of the wilderness.
+
+"Greysolon and his men revived this savage in some fashion, and meantime
+had much speech with him about this unknown land at whose edge we have
+now arrived. The old savage said that he had been many moons north and
+west of that place. He knew of the river called the Blue Earth, perhaps
+the same of which Father Hennepin has told. And also of the Divine
+River, far below and tributary to the Messasebe. He said that his father
+was once of a war party who went far to the north against the Ojibways,
+and that his people took from the Ojibways one of their prisoners, who
+said that he came from some strange country far to the westward, where
+there was a very wide plain, of no trees. Beyond that there were great
+mountains, taller than any to be found in all this region hereabout.
+Beyond these mountains the prisoner did not know what there might be,
+but these mountains his people took to be the edge of the world, beyond
+which could live only wicked spirits. This was what the prisoner of the
+Ojibways said. He, too, was an old man.
+
+"The captive of my brother Greysolon was an Outagamie, and he said that
+the Outagamies burned this prisoner of the Ojibways, for they knew that
+he was surely lying to them. Without doubt they did quite right to burn
+him, for the notion of a great open country without trees or streams is,
+of course, absurd to any one who knows America. And as for mountains,
+all men know that the mountains lie to the east of us, not to the
+westward."
+
+"'Twould seem much hearsay," said Law, "this information which comes at
+second, third and fourth hand."
+
+"True," said Du Mesne, "but such is the source of the little we know of
+the valley of the Messasebe, and that which lies beyond it. None the
+less this idea offers interest."
+
+"Yet you ask me if I would return."
+
+"'Twas but for yourself, Monsieur. It is there, if I may humbly confess
+to you, that it is my own ambition some day to arrive. Myself--this
+West, as I said long ago to the gentlemen in London--appeals to me,
+since it is indeed a land unoccupied, unowned, an empire which we may
+have all for ourselves. What say you, Monsieur L'as?"
+
+John Law straightened and stiffened as he stood. For an instant his eye
+flashed with the zeal of youth and of adventure. It was but a transient
+cloud which crossed his face, yet there was sadness in his tone as he
+replied.
+
+"My friend," said he, "you ask me for my answer. I have pondered and I
+now decide. We shall go on. We shall go forward. Let us have this West,
+my friend. Heaven helping us, let me find somewhere, in some land, a
+place where I may be utterly lost, and where I may forget!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+THE PATHWAY OF THE WATERS
+
+
+The news of the intended departure was received with joy by the crew of
+_voyageurs_, who, on the warning of an instant, fell forthwith to the
+simple tasks of breaking camp and storing the accustomed bales and
+bundles in their places in the great _canot du Nord_.
+
+"_La voila_!" said Tete Gris. "Here she sits, this canoe, eager to go
+on. 'Tis forward again, _mes amis_! Forward once more; and glad enough
+am I for this day. We shall see new lands ere long."
+
+"For my part," said Jean Breboeuf, "I also am most anxious to be away,
+for I have eaten this white-fish until I crave no more. I had bethought
+me how excellent are the pumpkins of the good fathers at the Straits;
+and indeed I would we had with us more of that excellent fruit, the
+bean."
+
+"Bah! Jean Breboeuf," retorted Pierre Noir. "'Tis but a poor-hearted
+_voyageur_ would hang about a mission garden with a hoe in his hand
+instead of a gun. Perhaps the good sisters at the Mountain miss thy
+skill at pulling weeds."
+
+"Nay, now, I can live as long on fish and flesh as any man," replied
+Jean Breboeuf, stoutly, "nor do I hold myself, Monsieur Tete Gris, one
+jot in courage back of any man upon the trail."
+
+"Of course not, save in time of storm," grinned Tete Gris. "Then, it is
+'Holy Mary, witness my vow of a bale of beaver!' It is--"
+
+"Well, so be it," said Jean Breboeuf, stoutly. "'Tis sure a bale of
+beaver will come easily enough in these new lands; and--though I insist
+again that I have naught of superstition in my soul--when a raven sits
+on a tree near camp and croaks of a morning before breakfast--as upon my
+word of honor was the case this morning--there must be some ill fate in
+store for us, as doth but stand to reason."
+
+"But say you so?" said Tete Gris, pausing at his task, with his face
+assuming a certain seriousness.
+
+"Assuredly," said Jean Breboeuf. "'Tis as I told you. Moreover, I insist
+to you, my brothers, that the signs have not been right for this trip at
+any time. For myself, I look for nothing but disaster."
+
+The humor of Jean Breboeuf's very gravity appealed so strongly to his
+older comrades that they broke out into laughter, and so all fell again
+to their tasks, in sheer light-heartedness forgetting the superstitions
+of their class.
+
+Thus at length the party took ship again, and in time made the head of
+the great bay within whose arms they had been for some time encamped.
+They won up over the sullen rapids of the river which came into the bay,
+toiling sometimes waist-deep at the _cordelle_, yet complaining not at
+all. So in time they came out on the wide expanse of the shallow lake of
+the Winnebagoes, which body of water they crossed directly, coming into
+the quiet channel of the stream which fell in upon its western shore. Up
+this stream in turn steadily they passed, amid a panorama filled with
+constant change. Sometimes the gentle river bent away in long curves,
+with hardly a ripple upon its placid surface, save where now and again
+some startled fish sprang into the air in fright or sport, or in the
+rush upon its prey. Then the stream would lead away into vast seas of
+marsh lands, waving in illimitable reaches of rushes, or fringed with
+the unspeakably beautiful green of the graceful wild rice plant.
+
+In these wide levels now and again the channel divided, or lost itself
+in little _cul de sacs_, from which the paddlers were obliged to retrace
+their way. All about them rose myriads of birds and wild fowl, which
+made their nests among these marshes, and the babbling chatter of the
+rail, the high-keyed calling of the coot, or the clamoring of the
+home-building mallard assailed their ears hour after hour as they passed
+on between the leafy shores. Then, again, the channel would sweep to one
+side of the marsh, and give view to wide vistas of high and rolling
+lands, dotted with groves of hardwood, with here and there a swamp of
+cedar or of tamarack. Little herds of elk and droves of deer fed on the
+grass-covered slopes, as fat, as sleek and fearless of mankind as though
+they dwelt domesticated in some noble park.
+
+It was a land obviously but little known, even to the most adventurous,
+and as chance would have it, they met not even a wandering party of the
+native tribes. Clearly now the little boat was climbing, climbing slowly
+and gently, yet surely, upward from the level of the great Lake
+Michiganon. In time the little river broadened and flattened out into
+wide, shallow expanses, the waters known as the Lakes of the Foxes; and
+beyond that it became yet more shallow and uncertain, winding among
+quaking bogs and unknown marshes; yet still, whether by patience, or by
+cheerfulness, or by determination, the craft stood on and on, and so
+reached that end of the waterway which, in the opinion of the more
+experienced Du Mesne, must surely be the place known among the Indian
+tribes as the "Place for the carrying of boats."
+
+Here they paused for a few days, at that mild summit of land which marks
+the portage between the east bound and the west bound waters; yet,
+impelled ever by the eager spirit of the adventurer, they made their
+pause but short. In time they launched their craft on the bright, smooth
+flood of the river of the Ouisconsins, stained coppery-red by its
+far-off, unknown course in the north, where it had bathed leagues of the
+roots of pine and tamarack and cedar. They passed on steadily westward,
+hour after hour, with the current of this great stream, among little
+islands covered with timber; passed along bars of white sand and flats
+of hardwood; beyond forest-covered knolls, in the openings of which one
+might now and again see great vistas of a scenery now peaceful and now
+bold, with turreted knolls and sweeping swards of green, as though some
+noble house of old England were set back secluded within these wide and
+well-kept grounds. The country now rapidly lost its marshy character,
+and as they approached the mouth of the great stream, it being now well
+toward the middle of the summer, they reached, suddenly and without
+forewarning, that which they long had sought.
+
+The sturdy paddlers were bending to their tasks, each broad back
+swinging in unison forward and back over the thwart, each brown throat
+bared to the air, each swart head uncovered to the glare of the midday
+sun, each narrow-bladed paddle keeping unison with those before and
+behind, the hand of the paddler never reaching higher than his chin,
+since each had learned the labor-saving fashion of the Indian canoeman.
+The day was bright and cheery, the air not too ardent, and across the
+coppery waters there stretched slants of shadow from the embowering
+forest trees. They were alone, these travelers; yet for the time at
+least part of them seemed care-free and quite abandoned to the sheer
+zest of life. There arose again, after the fashion of the _voyageurs_,
+the measure of the paddling song, without which indeed the paddler had
+not been able to perform his labor at the thwart.
+
+    "_Dans mon chemin j'ai rencontre_--"
+
+chanted the leader; and voices behind him responded lustily with the
+next line:
+
+    "_Trois cavaliers bien montes_--"
+    "_Trois cavaliers bien montes_--"
+
+chanted the leader again.
+
+
+    "_L'un a cheval et l'autre a pied_--"
+
+came the response; and then the chorus:
+
+    "_Lon, lon laridon daine--
+     Lon, lon laridon dai!_"
+
+The great boat began to move ahead steadily and more swiftly, and bend
+after bend of the river was rounded by the rushing prow. None knew this
+country, nor wist how far the journey might carry him. None knew as of
+certainty that he would ever in this way reach the great Messasebe; or
+even if he thought that such would be the case, did any one know how far
+that Messasebe still might be. Yet there came a time in the afternoon of
+that day, even as the chant of the _voyageurs_ still echoed on the
+wooded bluffs, and even as the great birch-bark ship still responded
+swiftly to their gaiety, when, on a sudden turn in the arm of the river,
+there appeared wide before them a scene for which they had not been
+prepared. There, rippling and rolling under the breeze, as though itself
+the arm of some great sea, they saw a majestic flood, whose real nature
+and whose name each man there knew on the instant and instinctively.
+
+"Messasebe! Messasebe!" broke out the voices of the paddlers.
+
+"Stop the paddles!" cried Du Mesne. "_Voila_!"
+
+John Law rose in the bow of the boat and uncovered his head. It was a
+noble prospect which lay before him. His was the soul of the adventurer,
+quick to respond to challenge. There was a fluttering in his throat as
+he stood and gazed out upon this solemn, mysterious and tremendous
+flood, coming whence, going whither, none might say. He gazed and gazed,
+and it was long before the shadow crossed his face and before he drew a
+sigh.
+
+"Madam," said he, at length, turning until he faced Mary Connynge, "this
+is the West. We have chosen, and we have arrived!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+MESSASEBE
+
+
+The boat, now lacking its propelling power, drifted on and out into the
+clear tide of the mighty stream. The paddlers were idle, and silence had
+fallen upon all. The rush of this majestic flood, steady, mysterious,
+secret-keeping, created a feeling of awe and wonder. They gazed and
+gazed again, up the great waterway, across to its farther shore, along
+its rolling course below, and still each man forgot his paddle, and
+still the little ship of New France drifted on, just rocking gently in
+the mimic waves which ruffled the face of the mighty Father of the
+Waters.
+
+"By our Lady!" cried Du Mesne, at length, and tears stood in his
+tan-framed eyes as he turned, "'tis true, all that has been said! Here
+it is, Messasebe, more mighty than any story could have told! Monsieur
+L'as, 'tis big enough to carry ships."
+
+"'Twill carry fleets of them one day, Du Mesne," replied John Law. "'Tis
+a roadway fit for a nation. Ah, Du Mesne! our St. Lawrence, our New
+France--they dwindle when compared to this new land."
+
+"Aye! and 'tis all our own!" cried Du Mesne. "Look; for the last ten
+days we have scarce seen even the smoke of a wigwam, and, so far as I
+can tell, there is not in all this valley now the home of a single white
+man. My friend Du L'hut--he may be far north of the Superior to-day for
+aught we know, or somewhere among the Sauteur people. If there he any
+man below us, let some one else tell who that may be. Sir, I promise
+you, when I see this big water going on so fast and heading so far away
+from home--well, I admit it causes me to shiver!"
+
+"'Tis much the same," said Law, "where home may be for me."
+
+"Ah, but 'tis different on the Lakes," said Du Mesne, "for there we
+always knew the way back, and knew that 'twas down stream."
+
+"He says well," broke in Mary Connynge. "There is something in this big
+river that chills me. I am afraid."
+
+"And what say you, Tete Gris, and you, Pierre Noir?" asked Law.
+
+"Why, myself," replied the former, "I am with the captain. It matters
+not. There must always be one trail from which one does not return."
+
+"_Oui_," said Pierre Noir. "To be sure, we have passed as good beaver
+country as heart of man could ask; but never was land so good but there
+was better just beyond."
+
+"They say well, Du Mesne," spoke John Law, presently; "'tis better on
+beyond. Suppose we never do return? Did I not say to you that I would
+leave this other world as far behind me as might be?"
+
+"_Eh bien_, Monsieur L'as, you reply with spirit, as ever," replied Du
+Mesne, "and it is not for me to stand in the way. My own fortune and
+family are also with me, and home is where my fire is lit."
+
+"Very well," replied Law. "Let us run the river to its mouth, if need
+be. 'Tis all one to me. And whether we get back or not, 'tis another
+tale."
+
+"Oh, I make no doubt we shall win back if need be," replied Du Mesne.
+"'Tis said the savages know the ways by the Divine River of the Illini
+to the foot of Michiganon; and that, perhaps, might be our best way back
+to the Lakes and to the Mountain with our beaver. We shall, provided we
+reach the Divine River, as I should guess by the stories I have heard,
+be then below the Illini, the Ottawas and the Miamis, with I know not
+what tribes from west of the Messasebe. 'Tis for you to say, Monsieur
+L'as, but for my own part--and 'tis but a hazard at best--I would say
+remain here, or press on to the river of the Illini."
+
+"'Tis easy of decision, then," replied Law, after a moment of
+reflection. "We take that course which leads us farther on at least.
+Again the paddles, my friends! To-night we sup in our own kingdom.
+Strike up the song, Du Mesne!"
+
+A shout of approval broke from the hardy men along the boat side, and
+even Jean Breboeuf tossed up his cap upon his paddle shaft.
+
+"Forward, then, _mes amis_!" cried Du Mesne, setting his own
+paddle-blade deep into the flood. "_En roulant ma boule, roulant_--"
+
+Again the chorus rose, and again the hardy craft leaped onward into the
+unexplored.
+
+Day after day following this the journey was resumed, and day after day
+the travelers with eager eyes witnessed a prospect of continual change.
+The bluffs, bolder and more gigantic, towered more precipitous than the
+banks of the gentler streams which they had left behind. Forests ranged
+down to the shores, and wide, green-decked islands crept into view, and
+little timbered valleys of lesser streams came marching down to the
+imposing flood of Messasebe. Again the serrated bluffs broke back and
+showed vast vistas of green savannas, covered with tall, waving grasses,
+broken by little rolling hills, over which crossed herds of elk, and
+buffalo, and deer.
+
+"'Tis a land of plenty," said Du Mesne one day, breaking the habitual
+silence into which the party had fallen. "'Tis a great land, and a
+mighty. And now, Monsieur, I know why the Indians say 'tis guarded by
+spirits. Sure, I can myself feel something in the air which makes my
+shoulder-blades to creep."
+
+"'Tis a mighty land, and full of wonders," assented Law, who, in
+different fashion, had felt the same mysterious spell of this great
+stream. For himself, he was nearer to reverence than ever yet he had
+been in all his wild young life.
+
+Now so it happened that at length, after a long though rapid journey
+down the great river, they came to that stream which they took to be the
+river of the Illini. This they ascended, and so finally, early in one
+evening, at the bank of a wide and placid bayou, shaded by willows and
+birch trees, and by great elms that bore aloft a canopy of clinging
+vines, they made a landing for the bivouac which was to prove their
+final tarrying place. The great _canot du Nord_ came to rest at the foot
+of a timbered hill, back of which stretched high, rolling prairies,
+dotted with little groves and broken with wide swales and winding
+sloughs. The leaders of the party, with Tete Gris and Pierre Noir,
+ascended the bluffs and made brief exploration; not more, as was tacitly
+understood, with view to choosing the spot for the evening encampment
+than with the purpose of selecting a permanent stopping place. Du Mesne
+at length turned to Law with questioning gaze. John Law struck the earth
+with his heel.
+
+"Here!" said he. "Here let us stop. 'Tis as well as any place. There are
+flowers and trees, and meadows and hedges, like to those of England.
+Here let us stay!"
+
+"Ah, you say well indeed!" cried Du Mesne, "and may fortune send us
+happy enterprises."
+
+"But then, for the houses," continued Law. "I presume we must keep close
+to this little stream which flows from the bluff. And yet we must have a
+place whence we can obtain good view. Then, with stout walls to protect
+us, we might--but see! What is that beyond? Look! There is, if I mistake
+not, a house already builded!"
+
+"'Tis true, as I live!" cried Du Mesne, lowering his voice
+instinctively, as his quick eye caught the spot where Law was pointing.
+"But, good God! what can it mean?"
+
+They advanced cautiously into the little open space beyond them, a glade
+but a few hundred yards across and lined by encircling trees. They saw
+indeed a habitation erected by human hands, apparently not altogether
+without skill. There were rude walls of logs, reinforced by stakes
+planted in the ground. From the four corners of the inclosure projected
+overhanging beams. There was an opening in the inclosure, as they
+discovered upon closer approach, and entering at this rude door, the
+party looked about them curiously.
+
+Du Mesne shut his lips tight together. This was no house built by the
+hands of white men. There were here no quarters, no shops, no chapel
+with its little bell. Instead there stood a few dried and twisted poles,
+and all around lay the litter of an abandoned camp.
+
+"Iroquois, by the living Mother of God!" cried Pierre Noir.
+
+"Look!" cried Tete Gris, calling them again outside the inclosure. He
+stood kicking in the ashes of what had been a fire-place. He disclosed,
+half buried in the charred embers, an iron kettle into which he gazed
+curiously. He turned away as John Law stepped up beside him.
+
+"There must have been game here in plenty," said Law. "There are bones
+scattered all about."
+
+Du Mesne and Tete Gris looked at each other in silence, and the former
+at length replied:
+
+"This is an Iroquois war house, Monsieur L'as," said he. "They lived
+here for more than a month, and, as you say, they fed well. But these
+bones you see are not the bones of elk or deer. They are the bones of
+men, and women, and children."
+
+Law stood taking in each detail of the scene about him.
+
+"Now you have seen what is before us," resumed Du Mesne. "The Iroquois
+have gone, 'tis true. They have wiped out the villages which were here.
+There are the little cornfields, but I warrant you they have not seen a
+tomahawk hoe for a month or more. The Iroquois have gone, yet the fact
+that they have been here proves they may come again. What say you, Tete
+Gris; and what is your belief, Pierre?"
+
+Tete Gris remained silent for some moments. "'Tis as Monsieur says,"
+replied he at length. "'Tis all one to me. I go or stay, as it shall
+please the others. There is always the one trail over which one does not
+return."
+
+"And you, Pierre?"
+
+"I stay by my friends," replied Pierre Noir, briefly.
+
+"And you, Monsieur L'as?" asked Du Mesne.
+
+Law raised his head with the old-time determination. "My friends," said
+he, "we have elected to come into this country and take its conditions
+as we find them. If we falter, we lose; of that we may rest assured.
+Let us not turn back because a few savages have been here and have
+slaughtered a few other savages. For me, there seems but one opinion
+possible. The lightning has struck, yet it may not strike again at the
+same tree. The Iroquois have been here, but they have departed, and they
+have left nothing to invite their return. Now, it is necessary that we
+make a pause and build some place for our abode. Here is a post already
+half builded to our hands."
+
+"But if the savages return?" said Du Mesne.
+
+"Then we will fight," said John Law.
+
+"And right you are," replied Du Mesne. "Your reasoning is correct. I
+vote that we build here our station."
+
+"Myself also," said Tete Gris. And Pierre Noir nodded his assent in
+silence.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+MAIZE
+
+
+"Ola! Jean Breboeuf," called out Du Mesne to that worthy, who presently
+appeared, breathing hard from his climb up the river bluff. "Know you
+what has been concluded?"
+
+"No; how should I guess?" replied Jean Breboeuf. "Or, at least, if I
+should guess, what else should I guess save that we are to take boat at
+once and set back to Montreal as fast as we may? But that--what is this?
+Whose house is that yonder?"
+
+"'Tis our own, _mon enfant_," replied Du Mesne, dryly. "'Twas perhaps
+the property of the Iroquois a moon ago. A moon before that time the
+soil it stands on belonged to the Illini. To-day both house and soil
+belong to us. See; here stood the village. There are the cornfields, cut
+and trampled by the Iroquois. Here are the kettles of the natives--"
+
+"But, but--why--what is all this? Why do we not hasten away?" broke in
+Jean Breboeuf.
+
+"Pish! We do not go away. We remain where we are."
+
+"Remain? Stay here, and be eaten by the Iroquois? Nay! not Jean
+Breboeuf."
+
+Du Mesne smiled broadly at his terrors, and a dry grin even broke over
+the features of the impassive old trapper, Tete Gris.
+
+"Not so fast with your going away, Jean, my brother," said Du Mesne.
+"Thou'rt ever hinting of corn and the bean; now see what can be done in
+this garden-place of the Iroquois and the Illini. You are appointed head
+gardener for the post!"
+
+"Messieurs, _me voila_," said Jean Breboeuf, dropping his hands in
+despair. "Were I not the bravest man in all New France I should leave
+you at this moment. It is mad, quite mad you are, every one of you! I,
+Jean Breboeuf, will remain, and, if necessary, will protect. Corn, and
+perhaps the bean, ye shall have; perhaps oven some of those little roots
+that the savages dig and eat; but, look you, this is but because you are
+with one who is brave. _Enfin_, I go. I bend me to the hoe, here in this
+place, like any peasant."
+
+"An excellent hoe can be made from the blade bone of an elk, as the
+woman Wabana will perhaps show you if you like," said Pierre Noir,
+derisively, to his comrade of the paddle.
+
+"Even so," said Jean Breboeuf. "I make me the hoe. Could I have but
+thee, old Pierre, to sit on a stump and fright the crows away, I make no
+doubt that all would go well with our husbandry. I had as lief go
+_censitaire_ for Monsieur L'as as for any seignieur on the Richelieu; of
+that be sure, old Pierre."
+
+"Faith," replied the latter, "when it comes to frightening crows, I'll
+even agree to sit on a stump with my musket across my knees and watch
+you work. 'Tis a good place for a sentinel--to keep the crows from
+picking yet more bones than these which will embarrass you in your
+hoeing, Jean Breboeuf."
+
+"He says the Richelieu, Du Mesne," broke in John Law, musingly. "Very
+far away it sounds. I wonder if we shall ever see it again, with its
+little narrow farms. But here we have our own trails and our own lands,
+and let us hope that Monsieur Jean shall prosper in his belated farming.
+And now, for the rest of us, we must look presently to the building of
+our houses."
+
+Thus began, slowly and in primitive fashion, the building of one of the
+first cities of the vast valley of the Messasebe; the seeds of
+civilization taking hold upon the ground of barbarism, the one
+supplanting the other, yet availing itself of that other. As the white
+men took over the crude fields of the departed savages, so also they
+appropriated the imperfect edifice which the conquerors of those savages
+had left for them. It was in little the story of old England herself,
+builded upon the races and the ruins of Briton, and Koman, and Saxon, of
+Dane and Norman.
+
+Under the direction of Law, the walls of the old war house were
+strengthened with an inner row of palisades, supporting an embankment of
+earth and stone. The overlap of the gate was extended into a re-entrant
+angle, and rude battlements were erected at the four corners of the
+inclosure. The little stream of unfailing water was led through a corner
+of the fortress. In the center of the inclosure they built the houses; a
+cabin for Law, one for the men, and a larger one to serve as store room
+and as trading place, should there be opportunity for trade.
+
+It was in these rude quarters that Law and his companion established
+that which was the nearest approach to a home that either for the time
+might claim; and it was thus that both undertook once more that old and
+bootless human experiment of seeking to escape from one's own self.
+Silent now, and dutifully obedient enough was this erstwhile English
+beauty, Mary Connynge; yet often and often Law caught the question of
+her gaze. And often enough, too, he found his own questioning running
+back up the water trails, and down the lakes and across the wide ocean,
+in a demand which, fiercer and fiercer as it grew, he yet remained too
+bitter and too proud to put to the proof by any means now within his
+power. Strange enough, savage enough, hopeless enough, was this wild
+home of his in the wilderness of the Messasebe.
+
+The smoke of the new settlement rose steadily day by day, but it gave
+signal for no watching enemy. All about stretched the pale green ocean
+of the grasses, dotted by many wild flowers, nodding and bowing like
+bits of fragile flotsam on the surface of a continually rolling sea. The
+little groves of timber, scattered here and there, sheltered from the
+summer sun the wild cattle of the plains. The shorter grasses hid the
+coveys of the prairie hens, and on the marsh-grown bayou banks the wild
+duck led her brood. A great land, a rich, a fruitful one, was this that
+lay about these adventurers.
+
+A soberness had come over the habit of the master mind of this little
+colony. His hand took up the ax, and forgot the sword and gun. Day after
+day he stood looking about him, examining and studying in little all the
+strange things which he saw; seeking to learn as much as might be of
+the timorous savages, who in time began to straggle back to their ruined
+villages; talking, as best he might, through such interpreting as was
+possible, with savages who came from the west of the Messasebe, and from
+the South and from the far Southwest; hearing, and learning and
+wondering of a land which seemed as large as all the earth, and various
+as all the lands that lay beneath the sun--that West, so glorious, so
+new, so boundless, which was yet to be the home of countless
+hearth-fires and the sites of myriad fields of corn. Let others hunt,
+and fish, and rob the Indians of their furs, after the accepted fashion
+of the time; as for John Law, he must look about him, and think, and
+watch this growing of the corn.
+
+He saw it fairly from its beginning, this growth of the maize, this
+plant which never yet had grown on Scotch or English soil; this tall,
+beautiful, broad-bladed, tender tree, the very emblem of all
+fruitfulness. He saw here and there, dropped by the careless hand of
+some departed Indian woman, the little germinating seeds, just thrusting
+their pale-green heads up through the soil, half broken by the tomahawk.
+He saw the clustering green shoots--numerous, in the sign of plenty--all
+crowding together and clamoring for light, and life, and air, and room.
+He saw the prevailing of the tall and strong upthrusting stalks, after
+the way of life; saw the others dwarf and whiten, and yet cling on at
+the base of the bolder stem, parasites, worthless, yet existing, after
+the way of life.
+
+He saw the great central stalks spring boldly up, so swiftly that it
+almost seemed possible to count the successive leaps of progress. He saw
+the strong-ribbed leaves thrown out, waving a thousand hands of cheerful
+welcome and assurance--these blades of the corn, so much mightier than
+any blades of steel. He saw the broad beckoning banners of the pale
+tassels bursting out atop of the stalk, token of fecundity and of the
+future. He caught the wide-driven pollen as it whitened upon the earth,
+borne by the parent West Wind, mother of increase. He saw the thickening
+of the green leaf at the base, its swelling, its growth and expansion,
+till the indefinite enlargement showed at length the incipient ear.
+
+He noted the faint brown of the ends of the sweetly-enveloping silk of
+the ear, pale-green and soft underneath the sheltering and protecting
+husk, He found the sweet and milk-white tender kernels, row upon row,
+forming rapidly beneath the husk, Mud saw at length the hardening and
+darkening of the husk at its free end, which told that man might pluck
+and eat.
+
+And then he saw the fading of the tassels, the darkening of the silk
+and the crinkling of the blades; and there, borne on the strong parent
+stem, he noted now the many full-rowed ears, protected by their husks
+and heralded by the tassels and the blades. "Come, come ye, all ye
+people! Enter in, for I will feed ye all!" This was the song of the
+maize, its invitation, its counsel, its promise.
+
+Under the warped lodge frames which the fires of the Iroquois had
+spared, there were yet visible clusters of the ears of last year's corn.
+Here, under his own eye, were growing yet other ears, ripe for the
+harvesting and ripe for the coming growth. A strange spell fell upon the
+soul of Law. Visions crossed his mind, born in the soft warm air of
+these fecundating winds, of this strange yet peaceful scene.
+
+At times he stood and looked out from the door of the palisade, when the
+prairie mists were rising in the morning at the mandate of the sun, and
+to his eyes these waving seas of grasses all seemed beckoning fields of
+corn. These smokes, coming from the broken tepees of the timid
+tribesmen, surely they arose from the roofs of happy and contented
+homes! These wreaths and wraiths of the twisting and wide-stalking
+mists, surely these were the captains of a general husbandry! Ah, John
+Law, John Law! Had God given thee the right feeling and contented
+heart, happy indeed had been these days in this new land of thine own,
+far from ignoble strivings and from fevered dreams, far from aimless
+struggles and unregulated avarice, far from oppression and from misery,
+far from bickerings, heart-burnings and envyings! Ah, John Law! Had God
+but given thee the pure and well-contented heart! For here in the
+Messasebe, that Mind which made the universe and set man to be one of
+its little inhabitants--surely that Mind had planned that man should
+come and grow in this place, tall and strong, and fruitful, useful to
+all the world, even as this swift, strong growing of the maize.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+THE BRINK OF CHANGE
+
+
+The breath of autumn came into the air. The little flowers which had
+dotted the grassy robe of the rolling hills had long since faded away
+under the ardent sun, and now there appeared only the denuded stalks of
+the mulleins and the flaunting banners of the goldenrod. The wild grouse
+shrank from the edges of the little fields and joined their numbers into
+general bands, which night and morn crossed the country on sustained and
+strong-winged flight. The plumage of the young wild turkeys, stalking in
+droves among the open groves, began to emulate the iridescent splendors
+of their elders. The marshes above the village became the home of yet
+more numerous thousands of clamoring wild fowl, and high up against the
+blue there passed, on the south-bound journey, the harrow of the wild
+geese, wending their way from North to South across an unknown empire.
+
+A chill came into the waters of the river, so that the bass and pike
+sought out the deeper pools. The squirrels busily hoarded up supplies
+of the nuts now ripening. The antlers of the deer and the elk which
+emerged from the concealing thickets now showed no longer ragged strips
+of velvet, and their tips were polished in the preliminary fitting for
+the fall season of love and combat. There came nights when the white
+frost hung heavy upon all the bending grasses and the broad-leafed
+plants, a frost which seared the maize leaves and set aflame the foliage
+of the maples all along the streams, and decked in a hundred flamboyant
+tones the leaves of the sumach and all the climbing vines.
+
+As all things now presaged the coming winter, so there approached also
+the time when the little party, so long companions upon the Western
+trails, must for the first time know division. Du Mesne, making ready
+for the return trip over the unknown waterways back to the Lakes, as had
+been determined to be necessary, spoke of it as though the journey were
+but an affair of every day.
+
+"Make no doubt, Monsieur L'as," said he, "that I shall ascend this river
+of the Illini and reach Michiganon well before the snows. Once at the
+mission of the Miamis, or the village at the river Chicaqua, I shall be
+quite safe for the winter, if I decide not to go farther on. Then, in
+the spring, I make no doubt, I shall be able to trade our furs at the
+Straits, if I like not the long run down to the Mountain. Thus, you see,
+I may be with you again sometime within the following spring."
+
+"I hope it may be so, my friend," replied Law, "for I shall miss you
+sadly enough."
+
+"'Tis nothing, Monsieur; you will be well occupied. Suppose I take with
+me Kataikini and Kabayan, perhaps also Tete Gris. That will give us four
+paddlers for the big canoe, and you will still have left Pierre Noir and
+Jean, to say nothing of our friends the Illini hereabout, who will be
+glad enough to make cause with you in case of need. I will leave Wabana
+for madame, and trust she may prove of service. See to it, pray you,
+that she observes the offices of the church; for methinks, unless
+watched, Wabana is disposed to become careless and un-Christianized."
+
+"This I will look to," said Law, smiling.
+
+"Then all is well," resumed Du Mesne, "and my absence will be but a
+little thing, as we measure it on the trails. You may find a winter
+alone in the wilderness a bit dull for you, mayhap duller than were it
+in London, or even in Quebec. Yet 'twill pass, and in time we shall meet
+again. Perhaps some good father will be wishing to come back with me to
+set up a mission among the Illini. These good fathers, they so delight
+in losing fingers, and ears, and noses for the good of the
+Church--though where the Church be glorified therein I sometimes can not
+say. Perhaps some leech--mayhap some artisan--"
+
+"Nay, 'tis too far a spot, Du Mesne, to tempt others than ourselves."
+
+"Upon the contrary rather, Monsieur L'as. It is matter for laughter to
+see the efforts of Louis and his ministers to keep New France chained to
+the St. Lawrence! Yet my good lord governor might as well puff out his
+cheeks against the north wind as to try to keep New France from pouring
+west into the Messasebe; and as much might be said for those good rulers
+of the English colonies, who are seeking ever to keep their people east
+of the Alleghanies."
+
+"'Tis the Old World over again, there in the St. Lawrence," said Law.
+
+"Right you are, Monsieur L'as," exclaimed Du Mesne. "New France is but
+an extension of the family of Louis. The intendant reports everything to
+the king. Monsieur So-and-so is married. Very well, the king must know
+it! Monsieur's eldest daughter is making sheep's eyes at such and such a
+soldier of the regiment of the king. Very well, this is weighty matter,
+of which the king must be advised! Monsieur's wife becomes expectant of
+a son and heir. 'Tis meet that Louis the Great should be advised of
+this! Mother of God! 'Tis a pretty mess enough back there on the St.
+Lawrence, where not a hen may cackle over its new-laid egg but the king
+must know it, and where not a family has meat enough for its children to
+eat nor clothes enough to cover them. My faith, in that poor medley of
+little lords and lazy vassals, how can you wonder that the best of us
+have risen and taken to the woods! Yet 'tis we who catch their beaver
+for them; and if God and the king be willing, sometime we shall get a
+certain price for our beaver--provided God and the king furnish currency
+to pay us; and that the governor, the priest and the intendant ratify
+the acts of God and the king!"
+
+Law smiled at the sturdy vehemence of the other's speech, yet there was
+something of soberness in his own reply.
+
+"Sir," said he, "you see here my little crooked rows of maize. Look you,
+the beaver will pass away, but the roots of the corn will never be torn
+out. Here is your wealth, Du Mesne."
+
+The sturdy captain scratched his head. "I only know, for my part," said
+he, "that I do not care for the settlements. Not that I would not be
+glad to see the king extend his arm farther to the West, for these
+sullen English are crowding us more and more along our borders. Surely
+the land belongs to him who finds it."
+
+"Perhaps better to him who can both find and hold it. But this soil will
+one day raise up a people of its own."
+
+"Yet as to that," rejoined Du Mesne, as the two turned and walked back
+to the stockade, "we are not here to handle the affairs of either Louis
+or William. Let us e'en leave that to monsieur the intendant, and
+monsieur the governor, and our friends, the gray owls and the black
+crows, the Recollets and the Jesuits. I mind to call this spot home with
+you, if you like. I shall be back as soon as may be with the things we
+need, and we shall plant here no starving colony, but one good enough
+for the home of any man. Monsieur, I wish you very well, and I may
+congratulate you on your daughter. A heartier infant never was born
+anywhere on the water trail between the Mountain and the Messasebe. What
+name have you chosen for the young lady, Monsieur?"
+
+"I have decided," said John Law, "to call her Catharine."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+TOUS SAUVAGES
+
+
+Had nature indeed intended Law for the wild life of the trail, and had
+he indeed spent years rather than months among these unusual scenes, he
+could hardly have been better fitted for the part. Hardy of limb, keen
+of eye, tireless of foot, with a hand which any weapon fitted, his
+success as hunter made his companions willing enough to assign to him
+the chase of the bison or the stag; so that he became not only patron
+but provider for the camp.
+
+Some weeks after the departure of Du Mesne, Law was returning from the
+hunt some miles below the station. His tall and powerful figure,
+hardened by continued outdoor exercise, was scarce bowed by the weight
+of the wild buck which he bore across his shoulders. His eye, accustomed
+to the instant readiness demanded in the _voyageur's_ life, glanced
+keenly about, taking in each item of the scene, each movement of the
+little bird on the tree, the rustling of the grass where a rabbit
+started from its form, the whisk of the gray squirrel's tail on the
+limb far overhead.
+
+The touch of autumn was now in the air. The leaves of the wild grapevine
+were falling. The oaks had donned garments of somber brown, the
+hickories had lost their leaves, while here and there along the river
+shores the flaming sentinels of the maples had changed their scarlet
+uniform for one of duller hue. The wild rice in the marshes had shed its
+grain upon the mud banks. The acorns were loosening in their cups. Fall
+in the West, gorgeous, beautiful, had now set in, of all the seasons of
+the year, that most loved by the huntsman.
+
+This tall, lean man, clad in buckskin like a savage, brown almost as a
+savage, as active and as alert, seemed to fit not ill with these
+environments, nor to lack either confidence or contentment. He walked on
+steadily, following the path along the bayou bank, and at length paused
+for a moment, throwing down his burden and stooping to drink at the tiny
+pool made by the little rivulet which trickled down the face of the
+bluff. Here he bathed his face and hands in the cool stream, for the
+moment abandoning himself to that rest which the hunter earns. It was
+when at length he raised his head and turned to resume his burden that
+his suspicious eye caught a glimpse of something which sent him in a
+flash below the level of the grasses, and thence to the cover of a tree
+trunk.
+
+As he gazed from his hiding-place he saw the tawny waters of the bayou
+broken into a long series of advancing ripples. Passing the fringe of
+wild rice, swimming down beneath the heavy cordage of the wild
+grapevines, there came on two canoes, roughly made of elm bark, in
+fashion which would have shown an older frontiersman full proof of their
+Western origin.
+
+In the bow of the foremost boat, as Law could now clearly see, sat a
+slender young man, clad in the uniform, now soiled and faded, of a
+captain in the British army. His boat was propelled by four dusky
+paddlers, Indians of the East. Stalwart, powerful, silent, they sent the
+craft on down stream, their keen eyes glancing swiftly from one point to
+the other of the ever-changing panorama, yet finding nothing that would
+seem to warrant pause. Back of the first boat by a short distance came a
+kindred craft, its crew comprising two white men and two Indian
+paddlers. Of the white men, one might have been a petty officer, the
+other perhaps a private soldier.
+
+It was, then, as Du Mesne had said. Every party bound into the West must
+pass this very point upon the river of the Illini. But why should these
+be present here? Were they friends or foes? So queried the watcher,
+tense and eager as a waiting panther, now crouched with straining eye
+behind the sheltering tree.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+As the leading boat swung clear of the shadows, the man in the prow
+turned his face, scanning closely the shore of the stream. As he did so,
+Law half started to his feet, and a moment later stepped from his
+concealment. He gazed again and again, doubting what he saw. Surely
+those clean-cut, handsome features could belong to no man but his former
+friend, Sir Arthur Pembroke!
+
+Yet how could Sir Arthur be here? What could be his errand, and how had
+he been guided hither? These sudden questions might, upon the instant,
+have confused a brain ready as that of this observer, who paused not to
+reflect that this meeting, seemingly so impossible, was in fact the most
+natural thing in the world; indeed, could scarce have been avoided by
+any one traveling with Indian guides down the waterway to the Messasebe.
+
+The keen eyes of the red paddlers caught sight of the crushed grasses at
+the little landing on the bayou bank, even as Law rose from his
+hiding-place. A swift, concerted sweep of the paddles sent the boat
+circling out into midstream, and before Law knew it he was covered by
+half a dozen guns. He hardly noticed this. His own gun he left leaning
+against a tree, and his hand was thrown out high, in front of him as he
+came on, calling out to those in the stream. He heard the command of the
+leader in the boat, and a moment later both canoes swung inshore.
+
+"Have down your guns, Sir Arthur," cried Law, loudly and gaily. "We are
+none but friends here. Come in, and tell me that it is yourself, and not
+some miracle of mine eyes."
+
+The young man so surprisingly addressed half started from the thwart in
+his amazement. His face bent into an incredulous frown, scarce carrying
+comprehension, even as he approached the shore. As he left the boat, for
+an instant Pembroke's hand was half extended in greeting, yet a swift
+change came over his countenance, and his body stiffened.
+
+"Is it indeed you, Mr. Law?" he said. "I could not have believed myself
+so fortunate."
+
+"'Tis myself and no one else," replied Law. "But why this melodrama, Sir
+Arthur? Why reject my hand?"
+
+"I have sworn to extend to you no hand but that bearing a weapon, Mr.
+Law!" said Pembroke. "This may be accident, but it seems to me the
+justice of God. Oh, you have run far, Mr. Law--"
+
+"What mean you, Sir Arthur?" exclaimed Law, his face assuming the dull
+red of anger. "I have gone where I pleased, and asked no man's leave for
+it, and I shall live as I please and ask no man's leave for that. I
+admit that it seems almost a miracle to meet you here, but come you one
+way or the other, you come best without riddles, and still better
+without threats."
+
+"You are not armed," said Sir Arthur. He gazed at the bronzed figure
+before him, clad in fringed tunic and leggings of deer hide; at the belt
+with little knife and ax, at the gun which now rested in the hollow of
+his arm. Law himself laughed keenly.
+
+"Why, as to that," said he, "I had thought myself well enough equipped.
+But as for a sword, 'tis true my hand is more familiar, these days, with
+the ax and gun."
+
+"The late Jessamy Law shows change in his capacity of renegade," said
+Pembroke, raspingly. His face displayed a scorn which jumped ill with
+the nature of the man before him.
+
+"I am what I am, Sir Arthur," said Law, "and what I was. And always I am
+at any man's service who is in search of what you call God's justice, or
+what I may call personal satisfaction. I doubt not we shall find my
+other trinkets in good order not far away. But meantime, before you
+turn my hospitality into shame, bring on your men and follow me."
+
+His face working with emotion, Law turned away. He caught up the body of
+the dead buck, and tossing it across his shoulders, strode up the
+winding pathway.
+
+"Come, Gray, and Ellsworth," said Pembroke. "Get your men together. We
+shall see what there is to this."
+
+At the summit of the river-bluff Law awaited their arrival. He noted in
+silence the look of surprise which crossed Pembroke's face as at length
+they came into view of the little panorama of the stockade and its
+surroundings.
+
+"This is my home, Sir Arthur," said he simply. "These are my fields. And
+see, if I mistake not, yonder is some proof of the ability of my people
+to care for themselves."
+
+He pointed to the gateway, from the loop-holes guarding which there
+might now be seen protruding two long dark barrels, leveled in the
+direction of the approaching party. There came a call from within the
+palisade, and the sound of men running to take their places along the
+wall. Law raised his hand, and the barrels of the guns were lowered.
+
+"This, then, is your hiding-place!" said Pembroke.
+
+"I call it not such. 'Tis public to the world."
+
+"Tush! You lack not in the least of your old conceit and assurance, Mr.
+Law!" said Pembroke.
+
+"Nay, I lack not so much in assurance of myself," said Law, "as in my
+patience, which I find, Sir Arthur, now begins to grow a bit short about
+its breath. But since the courtesy of the trail demands somewhat, I say
+to you, there is my home. Enter it as friend if you like, but if not,
+come as you please. Did you indeed come bearing war, I should be obliged
+to signify to you, Sir Arthur, that you are my prisoner. You see my
+people."
+
+"Sir," replied Sir Arthur, blindly, "I have vowed to find you no matter
+where you should go."
+
+"It would seem that your vow is well fulfilled. But now, since you deal
+in mysteries, I shall even ask you definitely, Sir Arthur, who and what
+are you? Why do you come hither, and how shall we regard you?"
+
+"I am, in the first place," said Sir Arthur, "messenger of my Lord
+Bellomont, governor at Albany of our English colonies. I add my chief
+errand, which has been to find Mr. Law, whom I would hold to an
+accounting."
+
+"Oh, granted," replied Law, flicking lightly at the cuff of his tunic,
+"yet your errand still carries mystery."
+
+"You have at least heard of the Peace of Ryswick, I presume?"
+
+"No; how should I? And why should I care?"
+
+"None the less, the king of England and the king of France are no longer
+at war, nor are their colonies this side of the water. There are to be
+no more raids between the colonies of New England and New France. The
+Hurons are to give back their English prisoners, and the Iroquois are to
+return all their captives to the French. The Western tribes are to
+render up their prisoners also, be they French, English, Huron or
+Iroquois. The errand of carrying this news was offered to me. It agreed
+well enough with my own private purposes. I had tracked you, Mr. Law, to
+Montreal, lost you on the Richelieu, and was glad enough to take up this
+chance of finding you farther to the West. And now, by the justice of
+heaven, as I have said, I have found you easily."
+
+"And has Sir Arthur gone to sheriffing? Has my friend become constable?
+Is Sir Arthur a spy? Because, look you, this is not London, nor yet New
+France, nor Albany. This is Messasebe! This is my valley. I rule here.
+Now, if kings, or constables, or even spies, wish to find John
+Law--why, here is John Law. Now watch your people, and go you carefully
+here, else that may follow which will be ill extinguished."
+
+Pembroke flung down his sword upon the ground in front of him.
+
+"You are lucky, Mr. Law," said he, "lucky as ever. But surely, never was
+man so eminently deserving of death as yourself."
+
+"You do me very much honor, Sir Arthur," replied Law. "Here is your
+sword, sir." Stooping, he picked it up and handed it to the other. "I
+did but ill if I refused to accord satisfaction to one bringing me such
+speech as that. 'Tis well you wear your weapons, Sir Arthur, since you
+come thus as emissary of the Great Peace! I know you for a gentleman,
+and I shall ask no parole of you to-night; but meantime, let us wait
+until to-morrow, when I promise you I shall be eager as yourself. Come!
+We can stand here guessing and talking no longer. I am weary of it."
+
+They came now to the gate of the stockade, and there Pembroke stood for
+a moment in surprise and perplexity. He was not prepared to meet this
+dark-haired, wide-eyed girl, clad in native dress of skin, with tinkling
+metals at wrist and ankle, and on her feet the tiny, beaded shoes. For
+her part, Mary Connynge, filled with woman's curiosity, was yet less
+prepared for that which appeared before her--an apparition, as ran her
+first thought, come to threaten and affright.
+
+"Sir Arthur!" she began, her trembling tongue but half forming the
+words. Her eyes stared in terror, and beneath her dark skin the blood
+shrank away and left her pale. She recoiled from him, her left hand
+carrying behind her instinctively the babe that lay on her arm.
+
+Sir Arthur bowed, but found no word. He could only look questioningly at
+Law.
+
+"Madam," said the latter, "Sir Arthur Pembroke journeys through as the
+messenger of Lord Bellomont, governor at Albany, to spread peace among
+the Western tribes. He has by mere chance blundered upon our valley, and
+will delay over night. It seemed well you should be advised."
+
+Mary Connynge, gray and pale, haggard and horrified, dreading all things
+and knowing nothing, found no manner of reply. Without a word she turned
+and fled back into the cabin.
+
+Sir Arthur once more looked about him. Motioning to the others of the
+party to remain outside the gate, Law led him within the stockade. On
+one hand stood Pierre Noir, tall, silent, impassive as a savage, leaning
+upon his gun and fixing on the red coat of the English uniform an eye
+none too friendly. Jean Breboeuf, his piece half ready and his voluble
+tongue half on the point of breaking over restraint, Law quieted with a
+gesture. Back of these, ranged in a silent yet watchful group, their
+weapons well in hand, stood numbers of the savage allies of this new
+war-lord. Pembroke turned to Law again.
+
+"You are strongly stationed, sir; but I do not understand."
+
+"It is my home."
+
+"But yet--why?"
+
+"As well this as any, where one leaves an old life and begins a new,"
+said Law. "'Tis as good a place as any if one would leave all behind,
+and if he would forget."
+
+"And this--that is to say--madam?"
+
+Sir Arthur stumbled in his speech. John Law looked him straight in the
+eye, a slow, sad smile upon his face.
+
+"Had we here the plank of poor La Salle his ship," said he, "we might
+nail the message of that other renegade above our door--'_Nous sommes
+tous sauvages_!'"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+THE DREAM
+
+
+That night John Law dreamed as he slept, and it was in some form the
+same haunting and familiar dream. In his vision he saw not the low roof
+nor the rude walls about him. To his mind there appeared a little dingy
+room, smaller than this in which he lay, with walls of stone, with door
+of iron grating and not of rough-hewn slabs. He saw the door of the
+prison cell swing open; saw near it the figure of a noble young girl,
+with large and frightened eyes and lips half tremulous. To this vision
+he outstretched his hands. He was almost conscious of uttering some word
+supplicatingly, almost conscious of uttering a name.
+
+Perhaps he slept on. We little know the ways of the land of dreams. It
+might have been half an instant or half an hour later that he suddenly
+awoke, finding his hand clapped close against his side, where suddenly
+there had come a sharp and burning pain. His own hand struck another. He
+saw something gleaming in the light of the flickering fire which still
+survived upon the hearth. The dim rays lit up two green, glowing,
+venomous balls, the eyes of the woman whom he found bending above him.
+He reached out his hand in the instinct of safety. This which glittered
+in the firelight was the blade of a knife, and it was in the hand of
+Mary Connynge!
+
+In a moment Law was master of himself. "Give it to me, Madam, if you
+please," he said, quietly, and took the knife from fingers which
+loosened under his grasp. There was no further word spoken. He tossed
+the knife into a crack of the bunk beyond him. He lay with his right arm
+doubled under his head, looking up steadily into the low ceiling, upon
+which the fire made ragged masses of shadows. His left arm, round, full
+and muscular, lay across the figure of the woman whom he had forced down
+upon the couch beside him. He could feel her bosom rise and pant in
+sheer sobs of anger. Once he felt the writhing of the body beneath his
+arm, but he simply tightened his grasp and spoke no word.
+
+It was not far from morning. In time the gray dawn came creeping in at
+the window, until at length the chinks between the logs in the little
+square-cut window and the ill-fitting door were flooded with a sea of
+sunlight. As this light grew stronger, Law slowly turned and looked at
+the face beside him. Out of the tangle of dark hair there blazed still
+two eyes, eyes which looked steadily up at the ceiling, refusing to turn
+either to the right or to the left. He calmly pulled closer to him, so
+that it might not stain the garments of the woman beside him, the
+blood-soaked shirt whose looseness and lack of definition had perhaps
+saved him from a fatal blow. He paid no attention to his wound, which he
+knew was nothing serious. So he lay and looked at Mary Connynge, and
+finally removed his arm.
+
+"Get up," said he, simply, and the woman obeyed him.
+
+"The fire, Madam, if you please, and breakfast."
+
+These had been the duties of the Indian woman, but Mary Connynge obeyed.
+
+"Madam," said Law, calmly, after the morning meal was at last finished
+in silence, "I shall be very glad to have your company for a few
+moments, if you please."
+
+Mary Connynge rose and followed him into the open air, her eyes still
+fixed upon the dark-crusted stain which had spread upon his tunic. They
+walked in silence to a point beyond the cabin.
+
+"You would call her Catharine!" burst out Mary Connynge. "Oh! I heard
+you in your very sleep. You believe every lying word Sir Arthur tells
+you. You believe--"
+
+John Law looked at her with the simple and direct gaze which the tamer
+of the wild beast employs when he goes among them, the look of a man not
+afraid of any living thing.
+
+"Madam," said he, at length, calmly and evenly, as before, "what I have
+said, sleeping or waking, will not matter. You have tried to kill me.
+You did not succeed. You will never try again. Now, Madam, I give you
+the privilege of kneeling here on the ground before me, and asking of
+me, not my pardon, but the pardon of the woman you have foully stabbed,
+even as you have me."
+
+The figure before him straightened up, the blazing yellow eyes sought
+his once, twice, thrice, behind them all the fury of a savage soul. It
+was of no avail. The cool blue eyes looked straight into her heart. The
+tall figure stood before her, unyielding. She sought to raise her eyes
+once more, failed, and so would have sunk down as he had said, actually
+on her knees before him.
+
+John Law extended a hand and stopped her. "There," said he. "It will
+suffice. I can not demean you. There is the child."
+
+"You called her Catharine!" broke out the woman once more in her
+ungovernable rage. "You would name my child--"
+
+"Madam, get up!" said John Law, sharply and sternly. "Get up on your
+feet and look me in the face. The child shall be called for her who
+should have been its mother. Let those forgive who can. That you have
+ruined my life for me is but perhaps a fair exchange; yet you shall say
+no word against that woman whose life we have both of us despoiled."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+BY THE HILT OF THE SWORD
+
+
+Law passed on out at the gate of the stockade and down to the bivouac,
+where Pembroke and his men had spent the night.
+
+"Now, Sir Arthur," said he to the latter, when he had found him, "come.
+I am ready to talk with you. Let us go apart."
+
+Pembroke joined him, and the two walked slowly away toward the
+encircling wood which swept back of the stockade. Law turned upon him at
+length squarely.
+
+"Sir Arthur," said he, "I think you would tell me something concerned
+with the Lady Catharine Knollys. Do you bring any message from her?"
+
+The face of Pembroke flamed scarlet with sudden wrath. "Message!" said
+he. "Message from Lady Catharine Knollys to you? By God! sir, her only
+message could be her hope that she might never hear your name again."
+
+"You have still your temper, Sir Arthur, and you speak harsh enough."
+
+"Harsh or not," rejoined Pembroke, "I scarce can endure her name upon
+your lips. You, who scouted her, who left her, who took up with the
+lewdest woman in all Great Britain, as it now appears--you who would
+consort with this creature--"
+
+"In this matter," said John Law, simply, "you are not my prisoner, and I
+beg you to speak frankly. It shall be man and man between us."
+
+"How you could have stooped to such baseness is what mortal man can
+never understand," resumed Sir Arthur, bitterly. "Good God! to abandon a
+woman like that so heartlessly--"
+
+"Sir Arthur," said John Law, his voice trembling, "I do myself the very
+great pleasure of telling you that you lie!"
+
+For a moment the two stood silent, facing each other, the face of each
+stony, gone gray with the emotions back of it.
+
+"There is light," said Pembroke, "and abundant space."
+
+They turned and paced back farther toward the open forest glade. Yet now
+and again their steps faltered and half paused, and neither man cared to
+go forward or to return. Pembroke's face, stern as it had been, again
+took on the imprint of a growing hesitation.
+
+"Mr. Law," said he, "there is something in your attitude which I admit
+puzzles me. I ask you in all honor, I ask you on the hilt of that sword
+which I know you will never disgrace, why did you thus flout the Lady
+Catharine Knollys? Why did you scorn her and take up with this woman
+yonder in her stead?"
+
+"Sir Arthur," said John Law, with trembling lips, "I must be very low
+indeed in reputation, since you can ask me question such as this."
+
+"But you must answer!" cried Sir Arthur, "and you must swear!"
+
+"If you would have my answer and my oath, then I give you both. I did
+not do what you suggest, nor can I conceive how any man should think me
+guilty of it. I loved Lady Catharine Knollys with all my heart. 'Twas my
+chief bitterness, keener than even the thought of the gallows itself,
+that she forsook me in my trouble. Then, bitter as any man would be, I
+persuaded myself that I cared naught. Then came this other woman. Then
+I--well, I was a man and a fool--a fool, Sir Arthur, a most miserable
+fool! Every moment of my life since first I saw her, I have loved the
+Lady Catharine; and, God help me, I do now!"
+
+Sir Arthur struck his hand upon the hilt of his sword. "You were more
+lucky than myself, as I know," said he, and from his lips broke half a
+groan.
+
+"Good God!" broke out Law. "Let us not talk of it. I give you my word of
+honor, there has been no happiness to this. But come! We waste time. Let
+us cross swords!"
+
+"Wait. Let me explain, since we are in the way of it. You must know that
+'twas within the plans of Montague that Lady Catharine Knollys should be
+the agent of your freedom. I was pledged to the Lady Catharine to assist
+her, though, as you may perhaps see, sir," and Pembroke gulped in his
+throat as he spoke, "'twas difficult enough, this part that was assigned
+to me. It was I, Mr. Law, who drove the coach to the gate, the coach
+which brought the Lady Catharine. 'Twas she who opened the door of
+Newgate jail for you. My God! sir, how could you walk past that woman,
+coming there as she did, with such a purpose!"
+
+At hearing these words, the tall figure of the man opposed to him
+drooped and sank, as though under some fearful blow. He staggered to a
+near-by support and sank weakly to a seat, his head falling between his
+hands, his whole face convulsed.
+
+"Ah!" said he, "you did right to cross seas in search of me! God hath
+indeed found me out and given me my punishment. Yet I ask God to bear
+me witness that I knew not the truth. Come, Sir Arthur! Come, I beseech
+you! Let us fall to!"
+
+"I shall be no man's executioner for his sentence on himself. I could
+not fight you now." His eye fell by chance upon the blotch in Law's
+bloodstained tunic. "And here," he said; "see! You are already wounded."
+
+"'Twas but one woman's way of showing her regard," said Law. "'Twas Mary
+Connynge stabbed me."
+
+"But why?"
+
+"Nay, I am glad of it; since it proves the truth of all you say, even as
+it proves me to be the most unworthy man in all the world. Oh, what had
+it meant to me to know a real love! God! How could I have been so
+blind?"
+
+"'Tis the ancient puzzle."
+
+"Yes!" cried Law. "And let us make an end of puzzles! Your quarrel, sir,
+I admit is just. Let us go on."
+
+"And again I tell you, Mr. Law," replied Sir Arthur, "that I will not
+fight you."
+
+"Then, sir," said Law, dropping his own sword upon the grass and
+extending his hand with a broken smile, "'tis I who am your prisoner!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+THE IROQUOIS
+
+
+Even as Sir Arthur and John Law clasped hands, there came a sudden
+interruption. A half-score yards deeper in the wood there arose a
+sudden, half-choked cry, followed by a shrill whoop. There was a
+crashing as of one running, and immediately there pressed into the open
+space the figure of an Indian, an old man from the village of the
+Illini. Even as his staggering footsteps brought him within gaze, the
+two startled observers saw the shaft which had sunk deep within his
+breast. He had been shot through by an Indian arrow, and upon the
+instant it was all too plain whose hand had sped the shaft. Following
+close upon his heels there came a stalwart savage, whose face, hideously
+painted, appeared fairly demoniacal as he came bounding on with uplifted
+hatchet, seeking to strike down the victim already impaled by the silent
+arrow.
+
+"Quick!" cried Law, in a flash catching the meaning of this sudden
+spectacle. "Into the fort, Sir Arthur, and call the men together!"
+
+Not stopping to relieve the struggles of the victim, who had now fallen
+forward gasping, Law sprang on with drawn blade to meet the advancing
+savage. The latter paused for an uncertain moment, and then with a
+shrill yell of defiance, hurled the keen steel hatchet full at Law's
+head. It shore away a piece of his hat brim, and sank with edge deep
+buried in the trunk of a tree beyond. The savage turned, but turned too
+late. The blade of the swordsman passed through from rib to rib under
+his arm, and he fell choking, even as he sought again to give vent to
+his war-cry.
+
+And now there arose in the woods beyond, and in the fields below the
+hill, and from the villages of the neighboring Indians, a series of
+sharp, ululating yells. Shots came from within the fortress, where the
+loop-holes were already manned. There were borne from the nearest
+wigwams of the Illini the screams of wounded men, the shrieks of
+terrified women. In an instant the peaceful spot had become the scene of
+a horrible confusion. Once more the wolves of the woods, the Iroquois,
+had fallen on their prey!
+
+Swift as had been Law's movements, Pembroke was but a pace behind him as
+he wrenched free his blade. The two turned back together and started at
+speed for the palisade. At the gate they met others hurrying in,
+Pembroke's men joining in the rush of the frightened villagers. Among
+these the Iroquois pressed with shrill yells, plying knife and bow and
+hatchet as they ran, and the horrified eyes of those within the palisade
+saw many a tragedy enacted.
+
+"Watch the gate!" cried Pierre Noir, from his station in the corner
+tower. As he spoke there came a rush of screaming Iroquois, who sought
+to gain the entrance.
+
+"Now!" cried Pierre Noir, discharging his piece into the crowded ranks
+below him; and shot after shot followed his own. The packed brown mass
+gave back and resolved itself into scattered units, who broke and ran
+for the nearest cover.
+
+"They will not come on again until dark," said Pierre Noir, calmly
+leaning his piece against the wall. "Therefore I may attend to certain
+little matters."
+
+He passed out into the entry-way, where lay the bodies of three
+Iroquois, abandoned, under the close and deadly fire, by their
+companions where they had fallen. When Pierre Noir returned and calmly
+propped up again the door of slabs which he had removed, he carried in
+his hand three tufts of long black hair, from which dripped heavy gouts
+of blood.
+
+"Good God, man!" said Pembroke. "You must not be savage as these
+Indians!"
+
+"Speak for yourself, Monsieur Anglais," replied Pierre, stoutly. "You
+need not save these head pieces if you do not care for them. For myself,
+'tis part of the trade."
+
+"Assuredly," broke in Jean Breboeuf. "We keep these trinkets, we
+_voyageurs_ of the French. Make no doubt that Jean Breboeuf will take
+back with him full tale of the Indians he has killed. Presently I go
+out. Zip! goes my knife, and off comes the topknot of Monsieur Indian,
+him I killed but now as he ran. Then I shall dry the scalp here by the
+fire, and mount it on a bit of willow, and take it back for a present to
+my sweetheart, Susanne Duchene, on the seignieury at home."
+
+"Bravo, Jean!" cried out the old Indian fighter, Pierre Noir, the old
+baresark rage of the fighting man now rising hot in his blood. "And
+look! Here come more chances for our little ornaments."
+
+Pierre Noir for once had been mistaken and underestimated the courage of
+the warriors of the Onondagos. Lashing themselves to fury at the thought
+of their losses, they came on again, now banding and charging in the
+open close up to the walls of the palisade. Again the little party of
+whites maintained a steady fire, and again the Iroquois, baffled and
+enraged, fell back into the wood, whence they poured volley after volley
+rattling against the walls of the sturdy fortress.
+
+"I am sorry, sir," said Sergeant Gray to Pembroke, "but 'tis all up with
+me." The poor fellow staggered against the wall, and in a few moments
+all was indeed over with him. A chance shot had pierced his chest.
+
+"_Peste_! If this keeps up," said Pierre Noir, "there will not be many
+of us left by morning. I never saw them fight so well. 'Tis a good watch
+we'll need this night."
+
+In fact, all through the night the Iroquois tried every stratagem of
+their savage warfare. With ear-splitting yells they came close up to the
+stockade, and in one such charge two or three of their young men even
+managed to climb to the tops of the pointed stakes, though but to meet
+their death at the muzzles of the muskets within. Then there arose
+curving lines of fire from without the walls, half circles which
+terminated at last in little jarring thuds, where blazing arrows fell
+and stood in log, or earth, or unprotected roof. These projectiles,
+wrapped with lighted birch bark, served as fire brands, and danger
+enough they carried. Yet, after some fashion, the little garrison kept
+down these incipient blazes, held together the terrified Illini,
+repulsed each repeated charge of the Iroquois, and so at last wore
+through the long and fearful night.
+
+The sun was just rising across the tops of the distant groves when the
+Iroquois made their next advance. It came not in the form of a concerted
+attack, but of an appeal for peace. A party of the savages left their
+cover and approached the fortress, waving their hands above their heads.
+One of them presently advanced alone.
+
+"What is it, Pierre?" asked Law. "What does the fellow want?"
+
+"I care not what he wants," said Pierre Noir, carefully adjusting the
+lock of his piece and steadily regarding the savage as he approached;
+"but I'll wager you a year's pay he never gets alive past yonder stump."
+
+"Stay!" cried Pembroke, catching at the barrel of the leveled gun. "I
+believe he would talk with us."
+
+"What does he say, Pierre?" asked Law. "Speak to him, if you can."
+
+"He wants to know," said Pierre, as the messenger at length stopped and
+began a harangue, "whether we are English or French. He says something
+about there being a big peace between Corlaer and Onontio; by which he
+means, gentlemen, the governor at New York and the governor at Quebec."
+
+"Tell him," cried Pembroke, with a sudden thought, "that I am an
+officer of Corlaer, and that Corlaer bids the Iroquois to bring in all
+the prisoners they have taken. Tell him that the French are going to
+give up all their prisoners to us, and that the Iroquois must leave the
+war path, or my Lord Bellomont will take the war trail and wipe their
+villages off the earth."
+
+Something in this speech as conveyed to the savage seemed to give him a
+certain concern. He retired, and presently his place was taken by a tall
+and stately figure, dressed in the full habiliments of an Iroquois
+chieftain. He came on calmly and proudly, his head erect, and in his
+extended hand the long-stemmed pipe of peace. Pierre Noir heaved a deep
+sigh of relief.
+
+"Unless my eyes deceive me," said he, "'tis old Teganisoris himself, one
+of the head men of the Onondagos. If so, there is some hope, for
+Teganisoris is wise enough to know when peace is best."
+
+It was, indeed, that noted chieftain of the Iroquois who now advanced
+close up to the wall. Law and Pembroke stepped out to meet him beyond
+the palisade, the old _voyageur_ still serving as interpreter from the
+platform at their back.
+
+"He says--listen, Messieurs!--he says he knows there is going to be a
+big peace; that the Iroquois are tired of fighting and that their
+hearts are sore. He says--a most manifest lie, I beg you to observe,
+Messieurs--that he loves the English, and that, although he ought to
+kill the Frenchmen of our garrison, he will, since some of us are
+English, and hence his friends, spare us all if we will cease to fight."
+
+Pembroke turned to Law with question in his eye.
+
+"There must be something done," said the latter in a low tone. "We were
+short enough of ammunition here even before Du Mesne left for the
+settlements, and your own men have none too much left."
+
+"'Reflect! Bethink yourselves, Englishmen!' he says to us," continued
+Pierre Noir. "'We came to make war upon the Illini. Our work here is
+done. 'Tis time now that we went back to our villages. If there is to be
+a big peace, the Iroquois must be there; for unless the Iroquois demand
+it, there can be no peace at all.' And, gentlemen, I beg you to remember
+it is an Iroquois who is talking, and that the truth is not in the
+tongue of an Iroquois."
+
+"'Tis a desperate chance, Mr. Law," said Pembroke. "Yet if we keep up
+the fight here, there can be but one end."
+
+"'Tis true," said Law; "and there are others to be considered."
+
+It was hurriedly thus concluded. Law finally advanced toward the tall
+figure of the Iroquois headman, and looked him straight in the face.
+
+"Tell him," said he to Pierre Noir, "that we are all English, and that
+we are not afraid; and that if we are harmed, the armies of Corlaer will
+destroy the Iroquois, even as the Iroquois have the Illini. Tell him
+that we will go back with him to the settlements because we are willing
+to go that way upon a journey which we had already planned. We could
+fight forever if we chose, and he can see for himself by the bodies of
+his young men how well we are able to make war."
+
+"It is well," replied Teganisoris. "You have the word of an Iroquois
+that this shall be done, as I have said."
+
+"The word of an Iroquois!" cried Pierre Noir, slamming down the butt of
+his musket. "The word of a snake, say rather! Jean Breboeuf, harken you
+to what our leaders have agreed! We are to go as prisoners of the
+Iroquois! Mary, Mother of God, what folly! And there is madame, and _la
+pauvre petite_, that infant so young. By God! Were it left to me, Pierre
+Berthier would stand here, and fight to the end. I know these Iroquois!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+PRISONERS OF THE IROQUOIS
+
+
+The faith of the Iroquois was worse than Punic, nor was there lacking
+swift proof of its real nature. Law and Pembroke, the moment they had
+led their little garrison beyond the gate, found themselves surrounded
+by a ring of tomahawks and drawn bows. Their weapons were snatched away
+from them, and on the instant they found themselves beyond all
+possibility of that resistance whose giving over they now bitterly
+repented. Teganisoris regarded them with a sardonic smile.
+
+"I see you are all English," said he, "though some of you wear blue
+coats. These we may perhaps adopt into our tribe, for our boys grow up
+but slowly, and some of the blue coats are good fighters. These dogs of
+Illini we shall of course burn. As for your war house, you will no
+longer need it, since you are now friends of the Iroquois, and are going
+to their villages. You may say to Corlaer that you well know the
+Iroquois have no prisoners."
+
+The horrid significance of this threat was all too soon made plain. In
+an hour the little stockade was but a mass of embers and ashes. In
+another hour the little valley had become a Gehenna of anguish and
+lamentations, with whose riot of grief and woe there mingled the savage
+exultations of a foe whose treachery was but surpassed by his cruelty.
+Again the planting-ground of the Illini was utterly laid waste, to mark
+it naught remaining but trampled grain, and heaps of ashes, and remnants
+of blackened and incinerated bones. By nightfall the party of prisoners
+had begun a wild journey through the wilderness, whose horrors surpassed
+any they had supposed to be humanly endurable.
+
+Day after day, week after week, for more than a month, and much of the
+time in winter weather, they toiled on, part of the way by boat, the
+remainder of the journey on foot, crossing snow-clogged forest, and
+tangled thicket and frozen morass, yet daring not to drop out for rest,
+since to lag might mean to die. It was as though after some frightful
+nightmare of suffering and despair that at length they reached the
+villages of the Five Nations, located far to the east, at the foot of
+the great waterway which Law and his family had ascended more than a
+year before.
+
+Yet if that which had gone before seemed like some bitter dream, surely
+the day of awakening promised but little better hope. From village to
+village, footsore and ill, they were hurried without rest, at each new
+stopping place the central figures of a barbarous triumph; and nowhere
+did they meet the representatives of either the French or the English
+government, whose expected presence had constituted their one ground of
+hope.
+
+"Where is your big peace?" asked Teganisoris of Pembroke. "Where are the
+head men of Corlaer? Who brings presents to the Iroquois, and who is to
+tell us that Onontio has carried the pipe of peace to Corlaer? Here are
+our villages as when we left them, and here again are we, save for the
+absent ones who have been killed by your young men. It is no wonder that
+my people are displeased."
+
+Indeed those of the Iroquois who had remained at home clamored
+continually that some of the prisoners should be given over to them.
+Thus, in doubt, uncertainty and terror the party passed through the
+villages, moving always eastward, until at length they arrived at the
+fortified town where Teganisoris made his home, a spot toward the foot
+of Lake Ontario, and not widely removed from that stupendous cataract
+which, from the beginning of earth, had uplifted its thunderous
+diapason here in the savage wilderness--Ontoneagrea, object of
+superstitious awe among all the tribes.
+
+Time hung heavy on the hands of the savages. It was winter, and the
+parties had all returned from the war trails. The mutterings arose yet
+more loudly among families who had lost most heavily in these Western
+expeditions. The shrewd mind of Teganisoris knew that some new thing
+must be planned. He announced his decision at his own village, after the
+triumphal progress among the tribes had at length been concluded.
+
+"Since they have sent us no presents," said he, with that daring
+diplomacy which made him a leader in red statesmanship, "let those who
+stayed at home be given some prisoner in pay for those of their people
+who have been killed. Moreover, let us offer to the Great Spirit some
+sacrifice in propitiation; since surely the Great Spirit is offended."
+Such was the conclusion of this head man of the Onondagos, and fateful
+enough it was to the prisoners.
+
+The great gorge through which poured the vast waters of the Northern
+seas was a spot not always visited by those passing up the Great Lakes
+for the Western stations, nor down the Lakes to the settlements of the
+St. Lawrence. Yet there was a trail which led around the great cataract,
+and the occasional _coureurs de bois_, or the passing friars, or the
+adventurous merchants of the lower settlements now and again left that
+trail, and came to look upon the tremendous scene of the great falling
+of the waters. Here where the tumult ascended up to heaven, and where
+the white-blown wreaths of mist might indeed, even in an imagination
+better than that of a savage, have been construed into actual forms of
+spirits, the Indians had, from time immemorial, made their offerings to
+the genius of the cataract--strips of rude cloth, the skin of the beaver
+and the otter, baskets woven of sweet grasses, and, after the advent of
+the white man, pieces of metal or strings of precious beads. Such valued
+things as these were in rude adoration placed upon rocks or uplifted
+scaffolds near to the brink of the abyss. This was the spot most
+commonly chosen by the medicine man in the pursuit of his incantations.
+It was the church, the wild and savage cathedral of the red men.
+
+Following now the command of their chieftain, the Iroquois left their
+stationary lodges and moved in a body, pitching a temporary camp at a
+spot not far from the Falls. Here, in a great council lodge, the older
+men sat in deliberation for a full day and night. The dull drum sounded
+continually, the council pipe went round, and the warriors besought the
+spirits to give them knowledge. The savage hysteria, little by little,
+yet steadily, arose higher and higher, until at length it reached that
+point of frenzy where naught could suffice save some terrible, some
+tremendous thing.
+
+Enforced spectators of these curious and ominous ceremonies, the
+prisoners looked on, wondering, imagining, hesitating and fearing.
+"Monsieur," said Pierre Noir, turning at last to Law, "it grieves me to
+speak, yet 'tis best for you to know the truth. It is to be you or
+Monsieur Pembroke. They will not have me. They say that it must be one
+of you two great chiefs, for that you were brave, your hearts were
+strong, and that hence you would find favor as the adopted child of the
+Great Spirit who has been offended."
+
+Law looked at Pembroke, and they both regarded Mary Connynge and the
+babe. "At least," said Law, "they spare the woman and the child. So far
+very well. Sir Arthur, we are at the last hazard."
+
+"I have asked them to take me," said Pierre Noir, "for I am an old man
+and have no family. But they will not listen to me."
+
+Pembroke passed his hand wearily across his face. "I have behind me so
+long a memory of suffering," said he, "and before me so small an amount
+of promise, that for myself I am content to let it end. It comes to all
+sooner or later, according to our fate."
+
+"You speak," said Law, "as though it were determined. Yet Pierre says it
+will not be both of us, but one."
+
+Pembroke smiled sadly. "Why, sir," said he, "do you think me so sorry a
+fellow as that? Look!" and he pointed to Mary Connynge and the child.
+"There is your duty."
+
+Law followed his gaze, and his look was returned dumbly by the woman who
+had played so strange a part in the late passages of his life. Never a
+word with her had Law spoken regarding his plans or concerning what he
+had learned from Pembroke. As to this, Mary Connynge had been afraid to
+ask, nor dare ask even now.
+
+"Besides," went on Pembroke later, as he called Law aside, "there is
+something to be done--not here, but over there, in England, or in
+France. Your duty is involved not only with this woman. You must find
+sometime the other woman. You must see the Lady Catharine Knollys."
+
+Law sunk his head between his hands and groaned bitterly.
+
+"Go you rather," said he, "and spend your life for her. I choose that it
+should end at once, and here."
+
+"I have not been wont to call Mr. Law a coward," said Pembroke, simply.
+
+"I should be a coward if I should stand aside and allow you to sacrifice
+yourself; nor shall I do so," replied the other.
+
+"They say," broke in Pierre Noir, who had been listening to the excited
+harangues of first one warrior and then another, "that both warriors are
+great chiefs, and that both should go together. Teganisoris insists that
+only one shall be offered. This last has been almost agreed; but which
+one of you 'tis to be has not yet been determined."
+
+Dawn came through the narrow door and open roof holes of the lodge. The
+rising of the sun seemed to bring conviction to the Iroquois. All at
+once the savage council broke up and scattered into groups, which
+hurried to different parts of the village. Presently these reappeared at
+the central lodge. There sounded a concerted savage chant. A ragged
+column appeared, whose head was faced toward the cataract. There were
+those who bore strings of beads and strips of fur, even the prized
+treasures of the tufted scalp locks, whose tresses, combed smooth, were
+adorned with colored cloth and feathers.
+
+Pierre Noir was silent; yet, as the captives looked, they needed no
+advice that the sacrificial procession was now forming.
+
+"They said," began Pierre Noir, at length, with trembling voice, turning
+his eyes aside as he spoke, "that it could not be myself, that it must
+be one of you, and but one. They are going to cast lots for it. It is
+Teganisoris who has proposed that the lots shall be thrown by--" Pierre
+Noir faltered, unwilling to go on.
+
+"And by whom?" asked Law, quietly.
+
+"By--by the woman--by madame!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+THE SACRIFICE
+
+
+There was sometimes practised among the Iroquois a game which bore a
+certain resemblance to the casting of dice, as the latter is known among
+civilized peoples. The method of the play was simple. Two oblong
+polished bones, of the bigness of a man's finger, were used as the dice.
+The ends of these were ground thin and were rudely polished. One of the
+dice was stained red, the other left white. The players in the game
+marked out a line on the hard ground, and then each in turn cast up the
+two dice into the air, throwing them from some receptacle. The game was
+determined by the falling of the red bone, he who cast this colored bone
+closer to the line upon the ground being declared the winner. The game
+was simple, and depended much upon chance. If the red die fell flat upon
+its face at a point near to the line, it was apt to lie close to the
+spot where it dropped. On the other hand, did it alight upon either end,
+it might bound back and fall at some little distance upon one side of
+the line.
+
+It was this game which, in horrible fashion, Teganisoris now proposed to
+play. He offered to the clamoring medicine man and his ferocious
+disciples one of these captives, whose death should appease not only the
+offended Great Spirit, but also the unsated vengeance of the tribe. He
+offered, at the same time, the spectacle of a play in which a human life
+should be the stake. He used as practical executioner the woman who was
+possessed by one of them, and who, in the crude notions of the savages,
+was no doubt coveted by both. It must be the hand of this woman that
+should cast the dice, a white one and a red one for each man, and he
+whose red die fell closer to the line was winner in the grim game of
+life and death.
+
+Jean Breboeuf and Pierre Noir stood apart, and tears poured from the
+eyes of both. They were hardened men, well acquainted with Indian
+warfare; they had seen the writhings of tortured victims, and more than
+once had faced such possibilities themselves; yet never had they seen
+sight like this.
+
+Near the two men stood Mary Connynge, the bright blood burning in her
+cheeks, her eyes dry and wide open, looking from one to the other. God,
+who gives to this earth the few Mary Connynges, alone knows the nature
+of those elements which made her, and the character of the conflict
+which now went on within her soul. Tell such a woman as Mary Connynge
+that she has a rival, and she will either love the more madly the man
+whom she demands as her own, or with equal madness and with greater
+intensity will hate her lover with a hatred untying and unappeasable.
+
+Mary Connynge stood, her eyes glancing from one to the other of the men
+before her. She had seen them both proved brave men, strong of arm,
+undaunted of heart, both gallant gentlemen. God, who makes the Mary
+Connynges of this earth, only can tell whether or not there arose in the
+heart of this savage woman, this woman at bay, scorned, rebuked,
+mastered, this one question: Which? If Mary Connynge hated John Law, or
+if she loved him--ah! how must have pulsed her heart in agony, or in
+bitterness, as she took into her hand those lots which were the arbiters
+of life and death!
+
+Teganisoris looked about him and spoke a few rapid words. He caught Mary
+Connynge roughly by the shoulder and pulled her forward. The two men
+stood with faces set and gray in the pitiless light of morn. Their arms
+were fast bound behind their backs. Eagerly the crowding savages
+pressed up to them, gesticulating wildly, and peering again and again
+into their faces to discover any sign of weakness. They failed. The
+pride of birth, the strength of character, the sheer animal vigor of
+each man stood him in stead at this ultimate trial. Each had made up his
+mind to die. Each proposed, not doubting that he would be the one to
+draw the fatal lot, to die as a man and a gentleman.
+
+Teganisoris would play this game with all possible mystery and
+importance. It should be told generations hence about the council fires,
+how he, Teganisoris, devised this game, how he played it, how he drew it
+out link by link to the last atom of its agony. There was no receptacle
+at hand in which the dice could be placed. Teganisoris stooped, and
+without ceremony wrenched from Mary Connynge's foot the moccasin which
+covered it--the little shoe--beaded, beautiful, and now again fateful.
+Sir Arthur smiled as though in actual joy.
+
+"My friend," said he, "I have won! This might be the very slipper for
+which we played at the Green Lion long ago."
+
+Law turned upon him a face pale and solemn. "Sir," said he, "I pray God
+that the issue may not be as when we last played. I pray God that the
+dice may elect me and not yourself."
+
+"You were ever lucky in the games of chance," replied Pembroke.
+
+"Too lucky," said Law. "But the winner here is the loser, if it be
+myself."
+
+Teganisoris roughly took from Mary Connynge's hand the little bits of
+bone. He cast them into the hollow of the moccasin and shook them
+dramatically together, holding them high above his head. Then he lowered
+them and took out from the receptacle two of the dice. He placed his
+hand on Law's shoulder, signifying that his was to be the first cast.
+Then he handed back the moccasin to the woman.
+
+Mary Connynge took the shoe in her hand and stepped forward to the line
+which had been drawn upon the ground. The red spots still burned upon
+her cheeks; her eyes, amber, feline, still flamed hard and dry. She
+still glanced rapidly from one to the other, her eye as lightly quick
+and as brilliant as that of the crouched cat about to spring.
+
+Which? Which would it be? Could she control this game? Could she elect
+which man should live and which should die--this woman, scorned, abased,
+mastered? Neither of these sought to read the riddle of her set face and
+blazing eyes. Each as he might offered his soul to his Creator.
+
+The hand of Mary Connynge was raised above her head. Her face was
+turned once more to John Law, her master, her commander, her repudiator.
+Slowly she turned the moccasin over in her hand. The white bone fell
+first, the red for a moment hanging in the soft folds of the buckskin.
+She shook it out. It fell with its face nearly parallel to the ground
+and alighted not more than a foot from the line, rebounding scarce more
+than an inch or so. Low exclamations arose from all around the thickened
+circle.
+
+"As I said, my friend," cried Sir Arthur, "I have won! The throw is
+passing close for you."
+
+Teganisoris again caught Mary Connynge by the shoulder, and dragged her
+a step or so farther along the line, the two dice being left on the
+ground as they had fallen. Once more, her hand arose, once more it
+turned, once more the dice were cast.
+
+The goddess of fortune still stood faithful to this bold young man who
+had so often confidently assumed her friendship. His life, later to be
+so intimately concerned with this same new savage country, was to be
+preserved for an ultimate opportunity.
+
+The white and the red bone fell together from the moccasin. Had it been
+the white that counted, Sir Arthur had been saved, for the white bone
+lay actually upon the line. The red fell almost as close, but alighted
+on its end. As though impelled by some spirit of evil, it dropped upon
+some little pebble or hard bit of earth, bounded into the air, fell, and
+rolled quite away from the mark!
+
+Even on that crowd of cruel savages there came a silence. Of the whites,
+one scarce dared look at the other. Slowly the faces of Pembroke and Law
+turned one toward the other.
+
+"Would God I could shake you by the hand," said Pembroke. "Good by."
+
+"As for you, dogs and worse than dogs," he cried, turning toward the red
+faces about him, "mark you! where I stand the feet of the white man
+shall stand forever, and crush your faces into the dirt!"
+
+Whether or not the Iroquois understood his defiance could not be
+determined. With a wild shout they pressed upon him. Borne struggling
+and stumbling by the impulse of a dozen hands, Pembroke half walked and
+half was carried over the distance between the village and the brink of
+the chasm of Niagara.
+
+Until then it had not been apparent what was to be the nature of his
+fate, but when he looked upon the sliding floor of waters below him, and
+heard beyond the thunderous voices of the cataract, Pembroke knew what
+was to be his final portion.
+
+There was, at some distance above the great falls, a spot where descent
+was possible to the edge of the water. Pembroke's feet were loosened and
+he was compelled to descend the narrow path. A canoe was tethered at the
+shore, and the face of the young Englishman went pale as he realized
+what was to be the use assigned it. Bound again hand and foot, helpless,
+he was cast into this canoe. A strong arm sent the tiny craft out toward
+midstream.
+
+The hands of the great waters grasped the frail cockleshell, twisted it
+about, tossed it, played with it, and claimed it irrevocably for their
+own. For a few moments it was visible as it passed on down, with the
+resistless current of the mighty stream. Almost at the verge of the
+plunge, the eyes watching from the shore saw at a distance the struggle
+made by the victim. He half raised himself in the boat and threw himself
+against its side. It was overset. For one instant the cold sun shone
+glistening on the wet bark of the upturned craft. It was but a moment,
+and then there was no dot upon the solemn flood.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+THE EMBASSY
+
+
+"Monsieur! Madame! Pierre Noir! Listen to me! I have saved you! I, Jean
+Breboeuf, I have rescued you!"
+
+So spoke Jean Breboeuf, thrusting his head within the door of the lodge
+in which were the remaining prisoners of the Iroquois.
+
+It was indeed Jean Breboeuf who, strolling beyond the outer edge of the
+village, had been among the first to espy an approaching party of
+visitors. Of any travelers possible, none could have been more important
+to the prisoners. Too late, yet welcome even now, the embassy from New
+France among the Iroquois had arrived. In an instant the village was in
+an uproar.
+
+The leader of this embassy from Quebec was one Captain Joncaire, at that
+time of the French settlements, but in former years a prisoner among the
+Onondagos, where he was adopted into the tribe and much respected.
+Joncaire was accompanied by a priest of the Jesuit brotherhood, by a
+young officer late of the regiment Carignan, and by two or three petty
+Canadian officials, as well as a struggling retinue of savages picked up
+on the way between Lake George and the Indian villages. He advanced now
+at the head of his little party, bearing in his hand a wampum belt. He
+pushed aside the young men, and demanded that he be brought to the chief
+of the village. Teganisoris himself presently advanced to meet him, and
+of him Joncaire demanded that there should at once be called a full
+council of the tribe; with which request the chief of the Onondagos
+hastened to comply.
+
+Fully accustomed to such ceremonies, Joncaire sat in the council calmly
+listening to the speeches of its orators, and at length arose for his
+own reply. "Brothers," said he, "I have here"--and he drew from his
+tunic a copy of the decree of Louis XIV declaring peace between the
+French and the English colonies--"a talking paper. This is the will of
+Onontio, whom you love and fear, and it is the will of the great father
+across the water, whom Onontio loves and fears. This talking paper says
+that our young men of the French colonies are no longer to go to war
+against Corlaer. The hatchet has been buried by the two great fathers.
+Brothers, I have come to tell you that it is time for the Iroquois also
+to bury the hatchet, and to place upon it heavy stones, so that it
+never again can be dug up.
+
+"Brothers, as you know, the great canoes from across the sea are
+bringing more and more white men. Look about you, and tell me where are
+your fathers and your brothers and your sons? Half your fighting men are
+gone; and if you turn to the West to seek out strong young men from the
+other tribes, which of them will come to sit by your fires and be your
+brothers? The war trails of the Nations have gone to the West as far as
+the Great River. All the country has been at war. The friends of Onontio
+beyond Michilimackinac have been so busy fighting that they have
+forgotten to take the beaver, or if they have taken it, they have been
+afraid to bring it down the water trail to us, lest the Iroquois or the
+English should rob them.
+
+"Brothers, a great peace is now declared. Onontio, the father of all the
+red men, has taken the promises of his children, the Hurons, the
+Algonquins, the Miamis, the Illini, the Outagamies, the Ojibways, all
+those peoples who live to the west, that they will follow the war trail
+no more. Next summer there will be a great council. Onontio and Corlaer
+have agreed to call the tribes to meet at the Mountain in the St.
+Lawrence. Onontio says to you that he will give you back your prisoners,
+and now he demands that you in return give back those whom you may have
+with you. This is his will; and if you fail him, you know how heavy is
+his hand.
+
+"Brothers, I see that you have prisoners here, white prisoners. These
+must be given up to us. I will take them with me when I return. For your
+Indian captives, it is the will of Onontio that you bring them all to
+the Great Peace in the summer, and that you then, all of you, help to
+dig the great hill under which the hatchet is going to be buried. Then
+once more our rivers will not be red, and will look more like water. The
+sun will not shine red, but will look as the sun should look. The sky
+will again be blue. Our women and our children will no longer be afraid,
+and you Iroquois can go to sleep in your houses and not dread the arms
+of the French. Brothers, I have spoken. Peace is good."
+
+Teganisoris replied in the same strain as that chosen by Joncaire,
+assuring him that he was his brother; that his heart went out to him;
+that the Iroquois loved the French; and that if they had gone to war
+with them, it was but because the young men of Corlaer had closed their
+eyes so that they could not see the truth. "As to these prisoners," said
+he, "take them with you. We do not want them with us, for we fear they
+may bring us harm. Our medicine man counseled us to offer up one of
+these prisoners as a sacrifice to the Great Spirit. We did so. Now our
+medicine man has a bad dream. He says that the white men are going to
+come and tear down our houses and trample our fields. When the time
+comes for the peace, the Iroquois will be at the Mountain. Brother, we
+will bury the hatchet, and bury it so deep that henceforth none may ever
+again dig it up."
+
+"It is well," said Joncaire, abruptly. "My brothers are wise. Now let
+the council end, for my path is long and I must travel back to Onontio
+at once."
+
+Joncaire knew well enough the fickle nature of these savages, who might
+upon the morrow demand another council and perhaps arrive at different
+conclusions. Hearing there were no white prisoners in the villages
+farther to the west, he resolved to set forth at once upon the return
+with those now at hand. Hurrying, therefore, as soon as might be, to
+their leader, he urged him to make ready forthwith for the journey back
+to the St. Lawrence.
+
+"Unless I much mistake, Monsieur," said he to Law, "you are that same
+gentleman who so set all Quebec by the ears last winter. My faith! The
+regiment Carignan had cause to rejoice when you left for up river, even
+though you took with you half the ready coin of the settlement. Yet come
+you once more to meet the gentlemen of France, and I doubt not they
+will be glad as ever to stake you high, as may be in this
+poverty-stricken region. You have been far to the westward, I doubt not.
+You were, perhaps, made prisoner somewhere below the Straits."
+
+"Far below; among the tribe of the Illini, in the valley of the
+Messasebe."
+
+"You tell me so! I had thought no white man left in that valley for this
+season. And madame--this child--surely 'twas the first white infant born
+in the great valley."
+
+"And the most unfortunate."
+
+"Nay, how can you say that, since you have come more than half a
+thousand miles and are all safe and sound to-day? Glad enough we shall
+be to have you and madame with us for the winter, if, indeed, it be not
+for longer dwelling. I can not take you now to the English settlements,
+since I must back to the governor with the news. Yet dull enough you
+would find these Dutch of the Hudson, and worse yet the blue-nosed
+psalmodists of New England. Much better for you and your good lady are
+the gayer capitals of New France, or _la belle France_ itself, that
+older France. Monsieur, how infinitely more fit for a gentleman of
+spirit is France than your dull England and its Dutch king! Either New
+France or Old France, let me advise you; and as to that new West, let
+me counsel that you wait until after the Big Peace. And, in speaking,
+your friend, Du Mesne, your lieutenant, the _coureur_--his fate, I
+suppose, one need not ask. He was killed--where?"
+
+Law recounted the division of his party just previous to the Iroquois
+attack, and added his concern lest Du Mesne should return to the former
+station during the spring and find but its ruins, with no news of the
+fate of his friends.
+
+"Oh, as to that--'twould be but the old story of the _voyageurs_," said
+Joncaire. "They are used enough to journeying a thousand miles or so, to
+find the trail end in a heap of ashes, and to the tune of a scalp dance.
+Fear not for your lieutenant, for, believe me, he has fended for himself
+if there has been need. Yet I would warrant you, now that this word for
+the peace has gone out, we shall see your friend Du Mesne as big as life
+at the Mountain next summer, knowing as much of your history as you
+yourself do, and quite counting upon meeting you with us on the St.
+Lawrence, and madame as well. As to that, methinks madame will be better
+with us on the St. Lawrence than on the savage Messasebe. We have none
+too many dames among us, and I need not state, what monsieur's eyes have
+told him every morning--that a fairer never set foot from ship from
+over seas. Witness my lieutenant yonder, Raoul de Ligny! He is thus soon
+all devotion! Mother of God! but we are well met here, in this
+wilderness, among the savages. _Voila_, Monsieur! We take you again
+captive, and 'tis madame enslaves us all!"
+
+There had indeed ensued conversation between the young French officer
+above named and Mary Connynge; yet prompt as might have been the former
+with gallant attentions to so fair a captive, it could not have been
+said that he was allowed the first advances. Mary Connynge, even after a
+month of starving foot travel and another month of anxiety at the
+Iroquois villages, had lost neither her rounded body, her brilliance of
+eye and color, nor her subtle magnetism of personality. It had taken
+stronger head than that of Raoul de Ligny to withstand even her slight
+request. How, then, as to Mary Connynge supplicating, entreating,
+craving of him protection?
+
+"Ah, you brave Frenchmen," said she to De Ligny, advancing to him as he
+stood apart, twisting his mustaches and not unmindful of this very
+possibility of a conversation with the captive. "You brave Frenchmen,
+how can we thank you for our salvation? It was all so horrible!"
+
+"It is our duty to save all, Madame," rejoined De Ligny; "our happiness
+unspeakable to save such as Madame. I swear by my sword, I had as soon
+expected to find an angel with the Iroquois as to meet there Madame!
+Quebec--all Quebec has told me who Madame was and is. And I am your
+slave."
+
+"Oh, sir, could you but mean that!" and there was turned upon him the
+full power of a gaze which few men had ever been able to withstand. The
+blood of De Ligny tingled as he bowed and replied.
+
+"If Madame could but demand one proof."
+
+Mary Connynge stepped closer to him. "Hush!" she said. "Speak low! Do
+not let it seem that we are interested. Keep your own counsel. Can you
+do this?"
+
+The eyes of the young officer gleamed. He was bold enough to respond.
+This his temptress noted.
+
+He nodded.
+
+"You see that man--the tall one, John Law? Listen! It is from him I ask
+you to save me. Oh, sir, there is my captivity!"
+
+"What! Your husband?"
+
+"He is not my husband."
+
+"_Mais_--a thousand pardons. The child--your pardon."
+
+"Pish! 'Tis the child of an Indian woman."
+
+"Oh!" The blood again came to the young gallant's forehead.
+
+"Listen, I tell you! I have been scarce better than a prisoner in this
+man's hands. He has abused me, threatened me, would have beaten me--"
+
+"Madame--Mademoiselle!"
+
+"'Tis true. We have been far in the West, and I could not escape. Good
+Providence has now brought my rescue--and you, Monsieur! Oh! tell me
+that it has brought me safety, and also a friend--that it has brought me
+you!"
+
+With every pulse a-tingle, every vein afire, what could the young
+gallant do? What but yield, but promise, but swear, but rage?
+
+"Hush!" said Mary Connynge, her own eyes gleaming. "Wait! The time will
+come. So soon as we reach the settlements, I leave him, and forever!
+Then--" Their hands met swiftly. "He has abandoned me," murmured Mary
+Connynge. "He has not spoken to me for weeks, other than words of 'Yes,'
+or 'No,' 'Do this,' or 'Do that!' Wait! Wait! How soon shall we be at
+Montreal?"
+
+"Less than a month. 'Twill seem an age, I swear!"
+
+"Madam," interrupted Law, "pardon, but Monsieur Joncaire bids us be
+ready. Come, help me arrange the packs for our journey. Perhaps
+Lieutenant de Ligny--for so I think they name you, sir--will pardon us,
+and will consent to resume his conversation later."
+
+"Assuredly," said De Ligny. "I shall wait, Monsieur."
+
+"So, Madam," said Law to Mary Connynge, as they at last found themselves
+alone in the lodge, arranging their few belongings for transport, "we
+are at last to regain the settlements, and for a time, at least, must
+forego our home in the farther West. In time--"
+
+"Oh, in time! What mean you?"
+
+"Why, we may return."
+
+"Never! I have had my fill of savaging. That we are left alive is mighty
+merciful. To go thither again--never!"
+
+"And if I go?"
+
+"As you like."
+
+"Meaning, Madam--?"
+
+"What you like."
+
+Law seated himself on the corded pack, bringing the tips of his fingers
+together.
+
+"Then my late sweetheart has somewhat changed her fancy?"
+
+"I have no fancy left. What I was once to you I shall not recall more
+than I can avoid in my own mind. As to what you heard from that lying
+man, Sir Arthur--"
+
+"Listen! Stop! Neither must you insult the dead nor the absent. I have
+never told you what I learned from Sir Arthur, though it was enough to
+set me well distraught."
+
+"I doubt not that he told you 'twas I who befooled Lady Catharine; that
+'twas I who took the letter which you sent--"
+
+"Stay! No. He told me not so much as that. But he and you together have
+told me enough to show me that I was the basest wretch on earth, the
+most gullible, the most unspeakably false and cruel. How could I have
+doubted the faith of Lady Catharine--how, but for you? Oh, Mary
+Connynge, Mary Connynge! Would God a man were so fashioned he might
+better withstand the argument of soft flesh and shining eyes! I admit, I
+believed the disloyal one, and doubted her who was loyalty itself."
+
+"And you would go back into the wilderness with one who was as false as
+you say."
+
+"Never!" replied John Law, swiftly. "'Tis as you yourself say. 'Tis all
+over. Hell itself hath followed me. Now let it all go, one with the
+other, little with big. I did not forget, nor should I though I tried
+again. Back to Europe, back to the gaming tables, to the wheels and
+cards I go again, and plunge into it madder than ever did man before.
+Let us see if chance can bring John Law anything worse than what he has
+already known. But, Madam, doubt not. So long as you claim my
+protection, here or anywhere on earth--in the West, in France, in
+England--it is yours; for I pay for my folly like a man, be assured of
+that. The child is ours, and it must be considered. But once let me find
+you in unfaithfulness--once let me know that you resign me--then John
+Law is free! I shall sometime see Catharine Knollys again. I shall give
+her my heart's anguish, and I shall have her heart's scorn in return.
+And then, Mary Connynge, the cards, dice, perhaps drink--perhaps gold,
+and the end. Madam, remember! And now come!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+THE GREAT PEACE
+
+
+Of the long and bitter journey from the Iroquois towns to Lake St.
+George, down the Richelieu and thence through the deep snows of the
+Canadian winter, it boots little to make mention; neither to tell of
+that devotion of Raoul de Ligny to the newly-rescued lady, already
+reputed in camp rumor to be of noble English family.
+
+"That _sous-lieutenant_; he is _tete montee_ regarding madame," said
+Pierre Noir one evening to Jean Breboeuf. "As to that--well, you know
+Monsieur L'as. Pouf! So much for yon monkey, _par comparaison_."
+
+"He is a great _capitaine_, Monsieur L'as," said Jean Breboeuf. "Never a
+better went beyond the Straits."
+
+"But very sad of late."
+
+"Oh, _oui_, since the death of his friend, Monsieur _le Capitaine_
+Pembroke--may Mary aid his spirit!"
+
+"Monsieur L'as goes not on the trail again," said Pierre Noir. "At
+least not while this look is in his eye."
+
+"The more the loss, Pierre Noir; but some day the woods will call to him
+again. I know not how long it may be, yet some day Mother Messasebe will
+raise her finger and beckon to Monsieur L'as, and say: 'Come, my son!'
+'Tis thus, as you know, Pierre Noir."
+
+Yet at length the straggling settlements at Montreal were reached, and
+here, after the fashion of the frontier, some sort of _menage_ was
+inaugurated for Law and his party. Here they lived through the rest of
+the winter and through the long, slow spring.
+
+And then set on again the heats of summer, and there came apace the time
+agreed upon, in the month of August, for the widely heralded assembling
+of the tribes for the Great Peace; one of the most picturesque, as it
+was one of the most remarkable and significant meetings of widely
+diverse human beings, that ever took place within the ken of history.
+
+They came, these savages, now first owning the strength of the invading
+white men, from all the far and unknown corners of the Western
+wilderness. They came afoot, and with little trains of dogs, in single
+canoes, in little groups and growing flotillas and vast fleets of
+canoes, pushing on and on, down stream, following the tide of the furs
+down this pathway of more than a thousand miles. The Iroquois, for once
+mindful of a promise, came in a compact fleet, a hundred canoes strong,
+and they stalked about the island for days, naked, stark, gigantic,
+contemptuous of white and red men, of friend and foe alike. The
+scattered Algonquins, whose villages had been razed by these same savage
+warriors, came down by scores out of the Northern woods, along little,
+unknown streams, and over paths with which none but themselves were
+acquainted. From the North, group joined group, and village added itself
+to village, until a vast body of people had assembled, whose numbers
+would have been hard to estimate, and who proved difficult enough to
+accommodate. Yet from the farther West, adding their numbers to those
+already gathered, came the fleets of the driven Hurons, and the
+Ojibways, and the Miamis, and the Outagamies, and the Ottawas, the
+Menominies and the Mascoutins--even the Illini, late objects of the
+wrath of the Five Nations. The whole Western wilderness poured forth its
+savage population, till all the shores of the St. Lawrence seemed one
+vast aboriginal encampment. These massed at the rendezvous about the
+puny settlement of Montreal in such numbers that, in comparison, the
+white population seemed insignificant. Then, had there been a Pontiac or
+a Tecumseh, had there been one leader of the tribes able to teach the
+strength of unity, the white settlements of upper America had indeed
+been utterly destroyed. Naught but ancient tribal jealousies held the
+savages apart.
+
+With these tribesmen were many prisoners, captives taken in raids all
+along the thin and straggling frontier; farmers and artisans, peasants
+and soldiers, women raped from the farms of the Richelieu _censitaires_,
+and wood-rangers now grown savage as their captors and loth to leave the
+wild life into which they had so naturally grown. It was the first
+reflex of the wave, and even now the bits of flotsam and jetsam of wild
+life were fain to cling to the Western shore whither they had been
+carried by the advancing flood. This was the meeting of the ebb with the
+sea that sent it forward, the meeting of civilized and savage; and
+strange enough was the nature of those confluent tides. Whether the red
+men were yielding to civilization, or the whites all turning
+savage--this question might well have arisen to an observer of this
+tremendous spectacle. The wigwams of the different tribes and clans and
+families were grouped apart, scattered along all the narrow shore back
+of the great hill, and over the Convent gardens; and among these
+stalked the native French, clad in coarse cloth of blue, with gaudy belt
+and buckskins, and cap of fur and moccasins of hide, mingling
+fraternally with their tufted and bepainted visitors, as well as with
+those rangers, both envied and hated, the savage _coureurs de bois_ of
+the far Northern fur trade; men bearded, silent, stern, clad in
+breech-clout and leggings like any savage, as silent, as stoical, as
+hardy on the trail as on the narrow thwart of the canoe.
+
+Savage feastings, riotings and drunkenness, and long debaucheries came
+with the Great Peace, when once the word had gone out that the fur trade
+was to be resumed. Henceforth there was to be peace. The French were no
+longer to raid the little cabins along the Kennebec and the Penobscot.
+The river Richelieu was to be no longer a red war trail. The English
+were no longer to offer arms and blankets for the beaver, belonging by
+right of prior discovery to those who offered French brandy and French
+beads. The Iroquois were no longer to pursue a timid foe across the
+great prairies of the valley of the Messasebe. The Ojibways were not to
+ambush the scattered parties of the Iroquois. The unambitious colonists
+of New England and New York were to be left to till their stony farms in
+quiet. Meantime, the fur trade, wasteful, licentious, unprofitable, was
+to extend onward and outward in all the marches of the West. From one
+end of the Great River of the West to the other the insignia of France
+and of France's king were to be erected, and France's posts were to hold
+all the ancient trails. Even at the mouth of the Great River,
+forestalling these sullen English and these sluggish English colonists,
+far to the south in the somber forests and miasmatic marshes, there was
+to be established one more ruling point for the arms of Louis the Grand.
+It was a great game this, for which the continent of America was in
+preparation. It was a mighty thing, this gathering of the Great Peace,
+this time when colonists and their king were seeing the first breaking
+of the wave on the shore of an empire alluring, wonderful, unparalleled.
+
+Into this wild rabble of savages and citizens, of priest and soldier and
+_coureur_, Law's friends, Pierre Noir and Jean Breboeuf, swiftly
+disappeared, naturally, fitly and unavoidably. "The West is calling to
+us, Monsieur," said Pierre Noir one morning, as he stood looking out
+across the river. "I hear once more the spirits of the Messasebe.
+Monsieur, will you come?"
+
+Law shook his head. Yet two days later, as he stood at that very point,
+there came to him the silent feet of two _coureurs_ instead of one. Once
+more he heard in his ear the question: "Monsieur L'as, will you come?"
+
+At this voice he started. In an instant his arms were about the neck of
+Du Mesne, and tears were falling from the eyes of both in the welcome of
+that brotherhood which is admitted only by those who have known together
+arms and danger and hardship, the touch of the hard ground and the sight
+of the wide blue sky.
+
+"Du Mesne, my friend!"
+
+"Monsieur L'as!"
+
+"It is as though you came from the depths of the sea, Du Mesne!" said
+Law.
+
+"And as though you yourself arose from the grave, Monsieur!"
+
+"How did you know--?"
+
+"Why, easily. You do not yet understand the ways of the wilderness,
+where news travels as fast as in the cities. You were hardly below the
+foot of Michiganon before runners from the Illini had spread the news
+along the Chicaqua, where I was then in camp. For the rest, the runners
+brought also news of the Big Peace. I reasoned that the Iroquois would
+not dare to destroy their captives, that in time the agents of the
+Government would receive the captives of the Iroquois--that these
+captives would naturally come to the settlements on the St. Lawrence,
+since it was the French against whom the Iroquois had been at war; that
+having come to Montreal, you would naturally remain here for a time. The
+rest was easy. I fared on to the Straits this spring, and then on down
+the Lakes. I have sold our furs, and am now ready to account to you with
+a sum quite as much as we should have expected.
+
+"Now, Monsieur," and Du Mesne stretched out his arm again, pointing to
+the down-coming flood of the St. Lawrence, "Monsieur, will you come? I
+see not the St. Lawrence, but the Messasebe. I can hear the voices
+calling!"
+
+Law dashed his hand across his eyes and turned his head away. "Not yet,
+Du Mesne," said he. "I do not know. Not yet. I must first go across the
+waters. Perhaps sometime--I can not tell. But this, my comrades, my
+brothers, I do know; that never, until the last sod lies on my grave,
+will I forget the Messasebe, or forget you. Go back, if you will, my
+brothers; but at night, when you sit by your fireside, think of me, as I
+shall think of you, there in the great valley. My friends, it is the
+heart of the world!"
+
+"But, Monsieur--"
+
+"There, Du Mesne--I would not talk to-day. At another time. Brothers,
+adieu!"
+
+"Adieu, my brother," said the _coureur_, his own emotion showing in his
+eyes; and their hands met again.
+
+"Monsieur is cast down," said Du Mesne to Pierre Noir later, as they
+reached the beach. "Now, what think you?
+
+"Usually, as you know, Pierre, it is a question of some woman. It
+reminds me, Wabana was remiss enough when I left her among the Illini
+with you. Now, God bless my heart, I find her--how think you? With her
+crucifix lost, cooking for a dirty Ojibway!"
+
+"Mary Mother!" said Pierre Noir, "if it be a matter of a woman--well,
+God help us all! At least 'tis something that will take Monsieur L'as
+over seas again."
+
+"'Tis mostly a woman," mused Du Mesne; "but this passeth my wit."
+
+"True, they pass the wit of all. Now, did I ever tell thee about the
+mission girl at Michilimackinac--but stay! That for another time. They
+tell me that our comrade, Greysolon du L'hut, is expected in to-morrow
+with a party from the far end of Superior. Come, let us have the news."
+
+    "_Tous les printemps,
+     Tant des nouvelles_,"
+
+hummed Du Mesne, as he flung his arm above the shoulder of the other;
+and the two so disappeared adown the beach.
+
+Dully, apathetically, Law lived on his life here at Montreal for yet a
+time, at the edge of that wilderness which had proved all else but Eden.
+Near to him, though in these guarded times guest by necessity of the
+good sisters of the Convent, dwelt Mary Connynge. And as for these two,
+it might be said that each but bided the time. To her Law might as well
+have been one of the corded Sulpician priests; and she to him, for all
+he liked, one of the nuns of the Convent garden. What did it all mean;
+where was it all to end? he asked himself a thousand times; and a
+thousand times his mind failed him of any answer. He waited, watching
+the great encampment disappear, first slowly, then swiftly and suddenly,
+so that in a night the last of the lodges had gone and the last canoe
+had left the shore. There remained only the hurrying flood of the St.
+Lawrence, coming from the West.
+
+The autumn came on. Early in November the ships would leave for France.
+Yet before the beginning of November there came swiftly and sharply the
+settlement of the questions which racked Law's mind. One morning Mary
+Connynge was missing from the Convent, nor could any of the sisters, nor
+the mother superior, explain how or when she had departed!
+
+Yet, had there been close observers, there might have been seen a boat
+dropping down the river on the early morning of that day. And at Quebec
+there was later reported in the books of the intendant the shipping,
+upon the good bark Dauphine, of Lieutenant Raoul de Ligny, sometime
+officer of the regiment Carignan, formerly stationed in New France; with
+him a lady recently from Montreal, known very well to Lieutenant de
+Ligny and his family; and to be in his care _en voyage_ to France; the
+name of said lady illegible upon the records, the spelling apparently
+not having suited the clerk who wrote it, and then forgot it in the
+press of other things.
+
+Certain of the governor's household, as well as two or three _habitants_
+from the lower town, witnessed the arrival of this lady, who came down
+from Montreal. They saw her take boat for the bark Dauphine, one of the
+last ships to go down the river that fall. Yes, it was easily to be
+established. Dark, with singular, brown eyes, _petite_, yet not over
+small, of good figure--assuredly so much could be said; for obviously
+the king, kindly as he might feel toward the colony of New France, could
+not send out, among the young women supplied to the colonists as wives,
+very many such demoiselles as this; otherwise assuredly all France
+would have followed the king's ships to the St. Lawrence.
+
+John Law, a grave and saddened man, yet one now no longer lacking in
+decision, stood alone one day at the parapet of the great rock of
+Quebec, gazing down the broad expanse of the stream below. He was alone
+except for a little child, a child too young to know her mother, had
+death or disaster at that time removed the mother. Law took the little
+one up in his arms and gazed hard upon the upturned face.
+
+"Catharine!" he said to himself. "Catharine! Catharine!"
+
+"Pardon, Monsieur," said a voice at his elbow. "Surely I have seen you
+before this?"
+
+Law turned. Joncaire, the ambassador of peace, stood by, smiling and
+extending his hand.
+
+"Naturally, I could never forget you," said Law.
+
+"Monsieur looks at the shipping," said Joncaire, smiling. "Surely he
+would not be leaving New France, after so luckily escaping the worst of
+her dangers?"
+
+"Life might be the same for me over there as here," replied Law. "As for
+my luck, I must declare myself the most unfortunate man on earth."
+
+"Your wife, perhaps, is ill?"
+
+"Pardon, I have none."
+
+"Pardon, in turn, Monsieur--but, you see--the child?"
+
+"It is the child of a savage woman," said Law.
+
+Joncaire pulled aside the infant's hood. He gave no sign, and a nice
+indifference sat in his query: "_Une belle sauvage_?"
+
+"_Belle sauvage_!"
+
+
+
+
+BOOK III
+
+FRANCE
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+THE GRAND MONARQUE
+
+
+On a great bed of state, satin draped, flanked with ancient tapestries,
+piled sickeningly soft with heaps of pillows, there lay a thin, withered
+little man--old, old and very feeble. His face was shrunken and drawn
+with pain; his eyes, once bright, were dulled; his brow, formerly
+imperious, had lost its arrogance. Under the coverings which, in the
+unrest of illness, he now pulled high about his face, now tossed
+restlessly aside, his figure lay, an elongated, shapeless blot, scarce
+showing beneath the silks. One limb, twitched and drawn up convulsively,
+told of a definite seat of pain. The hands, thin and wasted, lay out
+upon the coverlets; and the thumbs were creeping, creeping ever more
+insistently, under the cover of the fingers, telling that the battle for
+life was lost, that the surrender had been made.
+
+It was a death-bed, this great bed of state; a death-bed situated in the
+heart of the greatest temple of desire ever built in all the world. He
+who had been master there, who had set in order those miles of stately
+columns, those seas of glittering gilt and crystal, he who had been
+magician, builder, creator, perverter, debaser--he, Louis of France, the
+Grand Monarque, now lay suffering like any ordinary human being, like
+any common man.
+
+Last night the four and twenty violins, under the king's command, had
+shrilled their chorus, as had been their wont for years while the master
+dined. This morning the cordon of drums and hautboys had pealed their
+high and martial music. Useless. The one or the other music fell upon
+ears too dull to hear. The formal tribute to the central soul for a time
+continued of its own inertia; for a time royalty had still its worship;
+yet the custom was but a lagging one. The musicians grimaced and made
+what discord they liked, openly, insolently, scorning this weak and
+withered figure on the silken bed. The cordon of the white and blue
+guards of the Household still swept about the vast pleasure grounds of
+this fairy temple; yet the officers left their posts and conversed one
+with the other. Musicians and guards, spectators and populace, all were
+waiting, waiting until the end should come. Farther out and beyond,
+where the peaked roofs of Paris rose, back of that line which this
+imperious mind had decreed should not be passed by the dwellings of
+Paris, which must not come too near this temple of luxury, nor disturb
+the king while he enjoyed himself--back of the perfunctorily loyal
+guards of the Household, there reached the ragged, shapeless masses of
+the people of Paris and of France, waiting, smiling, as some animal
+licking its chops in expectation of some satisfying thing. They were
+waiting for news of the death of this shrunken man, this creature once
+so full of arrogant lust, then so full of somber repentance, now so full
+of the very taste of death.
+
+On the great tapestry that hung above the head of the curtained bed
+shone the double sun of Louis the Grand, which had meant death and
+devastation to so much of Europe. It blazed, mimicking the glory that
+was gone; but toward it there was raised no sword nor scepter more in
+vow or exaltation. The race was run, the sun was sinking to its setting.
+Nothing but a man--a weary, worn-out, dying man--was Louis, the Grand
+Monarque, king for seventy-two years of France, almost king of Europe.
+This death-bed lay in the center of a land oppressed, ground down,
+impoverished. The hearts and lives of thousands were in these
+colonnades. The people had paid for their king. They had fed him fat and
+kept him full of loves. In return, he had trampled the people into the
+very dust. He had robbed even their ancient nobles of honors and
+consideration. Blackened, ruined, a vast graveyard, a monumental
+starving-ground, France lay about his death-bed, and its people were but
+waiting with grim impatience for their king to die. What France might do
+in the future was unknown; yet it was unthinkable that aught could be
+worse than this glorious reign of Louis, the Grand Monarque, this
+crumbling clod, this resolving excrescence, this phosphorescent,
+disintegrating fungus of a diseased life and time.
+
+Seventy-two years a king; thirty years a libertine; twenty years a
+repentant. Son, grandson, great-grandson, all gone, as though to leave
+not one of that once haughty breed. For France no hope at all; and for
+the house of Bourbon, all the hope there might be in the life of a
+little boy, sullen, tiny, timid. Far over in Paris, busy about his games
+and his loves, a jesting, long-curled gallant, the Duke of Orleans,
+nephew of this king, was holding a court of his own. And from this court
+which might be, back to the court which was, but which might not be
+long, swung back and forth the fawning creatures of the former court.
+This was the central picture of France, and Paris, and of the New World
+on this day of the year 1715.
+
+In the room about the bed of state, uncertain groups of watchers
+whispered noisily. The five physicians, who had tried first one remedy
+and then another; the rustic physician whose nostrum had kept life
+within the king for some unexpected days; the ladies who had waited upon
+the relatives of the king; some of the relatives themselves; Villeroy,
+guardian of the young king soon to be; the bastard, and the wife of that
+bastard, who hoped for the king's shoes; the mistress of his earlier
+years, for many years his wife--Maintenon, that peerless hypocrite of
+all the years--all these passed, and hesitated, and looked, waiting, as
+did the hungry crowds in Paris toward the Seine, until the double sun
+should set, and the crawling thumbs at last should find their shelter.
+The Grand Monarque was losing the only time in all his life when he
+might have learned human wisdom.
+
+"Madame!" whispered the dry lips, faintly.
+
+She who was addressed as madame, this woman Maintenon, pious murderer,
+unrivaled hypocrite, unspeakably self-contained dissembler, the woman
+who lost for France an empire greater than all France, stepped now to
+the bed-side of the dying monarch, inclining her head to hear what he
+might have to say. Was Maintenon, the outcast, the widow, the wife of
+the king, at last to be made ruler of the Church in France? Was she to
+govern in the household of the king even after the king had departed?
+The woman bent over the dying man, the covetousness of her soul showing
+in her eyes, struggle as she might to retain her habitual and
+unparalleled self-control.
+
+The dying man muttered uneasily. His mind was clouded, his eyes saw
+other things. He turned back to earlier days, when life was bright, when
+he, Louis, as a young man, had lived and loved as any other.
+
+"Louise," he murmured. "Louise! Forgive! Meet me--Louise--dear one. Meet
+me yonder--"
+
+An icy pallor swept across the face of the arch hypocrite who bent over
+him. Into her soul there sank like a knife this consciousness of the
+undying power of a real love. La Valliere, the love of the youth of
+Louis, La Valliere, the beautiful, and sweet, and womanly, dead and gone
+these long years since, but still loved and now triumphant--she it was
+whom Louis now remembered.
+
+Maintenon turned from the bed-side. She stood, an aged and unhappy
+woman, old, gray and haggard, not success but failure written upon every
+lineament. For one instant she stood, her hands clenched, slow anger
+breaking through the mask which, for a quarter of a century, she had so
+successfully worn.
+
+"Bah!" she cried. "Bah! 'Tis a pretty rendezvous this king would set
+for me!" And then she swept from the room, raged for a time apart, and
+so took leave of life and of ambition.
+
+At length even the last energies of the once stubborn will gave way. The
+last gasp of the failing breath was drawn. The herald at the window
+announced to the waiting multitude that Louis the Fourteenth was no
+more.
+
+"Long live the king!" exclaimed the multitude. They hailed the new
+monarch with mockery; but laughter, and sincere joy and feasting were
+the testimonials of their emotions at the death of the king but now
+departed.
+
+On the next day a cheap, tawdry and unimposing procession wended its way
+through the back streets of Paris, its leader seeking to escape even the
+edges of the mob, lest the people should fall upon the somber little
+pageant and rend it into fragments. This was the funeral cortege of
+Louis, the Grand Monarque, Louis the lustful, Louis the bigot, Louis the
+ignorant, Louis the unhappy. They hurried him to his resting-place,
+these last servitors, and then hastened back to the palaces to join
+their hearts and voices to the rising wave of joy which swept across all
+France at the death of this beloved ruler.
+
+Now it happened that, as the funeral procession of the king was
+hurrying through the side streets near the confines of the old city of
+Paris, there encountered it, entering from the great highway which led
+from the east up to the city gates, the carriage of a gentleman who
+might, apparently with justice, have laid some claim to consequence. It
+had its guards and coachmen, and was attended by two riders in livery,
+who kept it company along the narrow streets. This equipage met the head
+of the hurrying funeral cortege, and found occasion for a moment to
+pause. Thus there passed, the one going to his grave, the other to his
+goal, the two men with whom the France of that day was most intimately
+concerned.
+
+There came from the window of the coach the voice of one inquiring the
+reason of the halt, and there might have been seen through the upper
+portion of the vehicle's door the face of the owner of the carriage. He
+seemed a man of imposing presence, with face open and handsome, and an
+eye bright, bold and full of intelligence. His garb was rich and
+elegant, his air well contained and dignified.
+
+"Guillaume," he called out, "what is it that detains us?"
+
+"It is nothing, Monsieur L'as," was the reply, "They tell me it is but
+the funeral of the king."
+
+"_Eh bien_!" replied Law, turning to one who sat beside him in the
+coach. "Nothing! 'Tis nothing but the funeral of the king!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+EVER SAID SHE NAY
+
+
+The coach proceeded steadily on its way, passing in toward that quarter
+where the high-piled, peaked roofs and jagged spires betokened ancient
+Paris. On every hand arose confused sounds from the streets, now filled
+with a populace merry as though some pleasant carnival were just
+beginning. Shopkeeper called across to his neighbor, tradesman gossiped
+with gallant. Even the stolid faces of the plodding peasants, fresh past
+the gate-tax and bound for the markets to seek what little there
+remained after giving to the king, bore an unwonted look, as though hope
+might yet succeed to their surprise.
+
+"Ohe! Marie," called one stout dame to another, who stood smiling in her
+doorway near by. "See the fine coach coming. That is the sort you and I
+shall have one of these days, now that the king is dead. God bless the
+new king, and may he die young! A plague to all kings, Marie. And now
+come and sit with my man and me, for we've a bottle left, and while it
+lasts we drink freedom from all kings!"
+
+"You speak words of gold, Suzanne," was the reply. "Surely I will drink
+with you, and wish a pleasant and speedy death to kings."
+
+"But now, Marie," said the other, argumentatively, "as to my good duke
+regent, that is otherwise. It goes about that he will change all things.
+One is to amuse one's self now and then, and not to work forever for the
+taxes and the conscription. Long live the regent, then, say I!"
+
+"Yes, and let us hope that regents never turn to kings. There are to be
+new days here in France. We people, aye, my faith! We people, so they
+say, are to be considered. True, we shall have carriages one day, Marie,
+like that of my Lord who passes."
+
+John Law and his companions heard broken bits of such speech as this as
+they passed on.
+
+"Ah, they talk," replied he at last, turning toward his companions, "and
+this is talk which means something. Within the year we shall see Paris
+upside down. These people are ready for any new thing. But"--and his
+face lost some of its gravity--"the streets are none too safe to-day, my
+Lady. Therefore you must forgive me if I do not set you down, but keep
+you prisoner until you reach your own gates. 'Tis not your fault that
+your carriage broke down on the road from Marly; and as for my brother
+Will and myself, we can not forego a good fortune which enables us at
+last to destroy a certain long-standing debt of a carriage ride given
+us, once upon a time, by the Lady Catharine Knollys."
+
+"At least, then, we shall be well acquit on both sides," replied the
+soft voice of the woman. "I may, perhaps, be an unwilling prisoner for
+so short a time."
+
+"Madam, I would God it might be forever!"
+
+It was the same John Law of old who made this impetuous reply, and
+indeed he seemed scarce changed by the passing of these few years of
+time. It was the audacious youth of the English highway who now looked
+at her with grave face, yet with eyes that shone.
+
+Some years had indeed passed since Law, turning his back upon the appeal
+of the wide New World, had again set foot upon the shores of England,
+from which his departure had been so singular. Driven by the goads of
+remorse, it had been his first thought to seek out the Lady Catharine
+Knollys; and so intent had he been on this quest, that he learned almost
+without emotion of the king's pardon which had been entered, discharging
+him of further penalty of the law of England. Meeting Lady Catharine, he
+learned, as have others since and before him, that a human soul may
+have laws inflexible; that the iron bars of a woman's resolve may bar
+one out, even as prison doors may bar him in. He found the Lady
+Catharine unshakeable in her resolve not to see him or speak with him.
+Whereat he raged, expostulated by post, waited, waylaid, and so at
+length gained an interview, which taught him many things.
+
+He found the Lady Catharine Knollys changed from a light-hearted girl to
+a maiden tall, grave, reserved and sad, offering no reproaches,
+listening to no protestations. Told of Sir Arthur Pembroke's horrible
+death, she wept with tears which his survivor envied. Told at length of
+the little child, she sat wide-eyed and silent. Approached with words of
+remorse, with expostulations, promises, she shrank back in absolute
+horror, trembling, so that in very pity the wretched young man left her
+and found his way out into a world suddenly grown old and gray.
+
+After this dismissal, Law for many months saw nothing, heard nothing of
+this woman whom he had wronged, even as he received no sign from the
+woman who had forsaken him over seas. He remained away as long as might
+be, until his violent nature, geyser-like, gathered inner storm and fury
+by repression, and broke away in wild eruption.
+
+Once more he sought the presence of the woman whose face haunted his
+soul, and once more he met ice and adamant stronger than his own fires.
+Beaten, he fled from London and from England, seeking still, after the
+ancient and ineffective fashion of man, to forget, though he himself had
+confessed the lesson that man can not escape himself, but takes his own
+hell with him wherever he goes.
+
+Rejected, as he was now, by the new ministry of England, none the less
+every capital of Europe came presently to know John Law, gambler,
+student and financier. Before every ruler on the continent he laid his
+system of financial revolution, and one by one they smiled, or shrugged,
+or scoffed at him. Baffled once more in his dearest purpose, he took
+again to play, play in such colossal and audacious form as never yet had
+been seen even in the gayest courts of a time when gaming was a vice to
+be called national. No hazard was too great for him, no success and no
+reverse sufficiently keen to cause him any apparent concern. There was
+no risk sharp enough to deaden the gnawing in his soul, no excitement
+strong enough to wipe away from his mind the black panorama of his past.
+
+He won princely fortunes and cast them away again. With the figure and
+the air of a prince, he gained greater reputation than any prince of
+Europe. Upon him were spent the blandishments of the fairest women of
+his time. Yet not this, not all this, served to steady his energies, now
+unbalanced, speeding without guidance. The gold, heaped high on the
+tables, was not enough to stupefy his mind, not enough though he doubled
+and trebled it, though he cast great golden markers to spare him trouble
+in the counting of his winnings. Still student, still mathematician, he
+sought at Amsterdam, at Paris, at Vienna, all new theories which offered
+in the science of banking and finance, even as at the same time he
+delved still further into the mysteries of recurrences and chance.
+
+In this latter such was his success that losers made complaint, unjust
+but effectual, to the king, so that Law was obliged to leave Paris for a
+time. He had dwelt long enough in Paris, this double-natured man, this
+student and creator, this gambler and gallant, to win the friendship of
+Philippe of Orleans, later to be regent of France; and gay enough had
+been the life they two had led--so gay, so intimate, that Philippe gave
+promise that, should he ever hold in his own hands the Government of
+France, he would end Law's banishment and give to him the opportunity he
+sought, of proving those theories of finance which constituted the
+absorbing ambition of his life.
+
+Meantime Law, ever restless, had passed from one capital of Europe to
+another, dragging with him from hotel to hotel the young child whose
+life had been cast in such feverish and unnatural surroundings. He
+continued to challenge every hazard, fearless, reckless, contemptuous,
+and withal wretched, as one must be who, after years of effort, found
+that he could not banish from his mind the pictures of a dark-floored
+prison, and of a knife-stab in the dark, and of raging, awful waters,
+and of a girl beautiful, though with sealed lips and heart of ice. From
+time to time, as was well known, Law returned to England. He heard of
+the Lady Catharine Knollys, as might easily be done in London; heard of
+her as a young woman kind of heart, soft of speech, with tenderness for
+every little suffering thing; a beautiful young woman, whose admirers
+listed scores; but who never yet, even according to the eagerest gossip
+of the capital, had found a suitor to whom she gave word or thought of
+love.
+
+So now at last the arrogant selfishness of his heart began to yield. His
+heart was broken before it might soften, but soften at last it did. And
+so he built up in his soul the image of a grave, sweet saint, kindly and
+gentle-voiced, unapproachable, not to be profaned. To this image--ah,
+which of us has not had such a shrine!--he brought in secret the homage
+of his life, his confessions, his despairs, his hopes, his resolutions;
+guiding thereby all his life, as well as poor mortal man may do, failing
+ever of his own standards, as all men do, yet harking ever back to that
+secret sibyl, reckoning all things from her, for her, by her.
+
+There came at length one chastened hour when they met in calmness, when
+there was no longer talk of love between them, when he stood before her
+as though indeed at the altar of some marble deity. Always her answer
+had been that the past had been a mistake; that she had professed to
+love a man, not knowing what that man was; that she had suffered, but
+that it was better so, since it had brought understanding. Now, in this
+calmer time, she begged of him knowledge of this child, regretting the
+wandering life which had been its portion, saying that for Mary Connynge
+she no longer felt horror and hatred. Thus it was that in a hasty moment
+Law had impulsively begged her to assume some sort of tutelage over that
+unfortunate child. It was to his own amazement that he heard Lady
+Catharine Knollys consent, stipulating that the child should be placed
+in a Paris convent for two years, and that for two years John Law should
+see neither his daughter nor herself. Obedient as a child himself he had
+promised.
+
+"Now, go away," she then had said to him. "Go your own way. Drink,
+dice, game, and waste the talents God hath given you. You have made ruin
+enough for all of us. I would only that it may not run so far as to
+another generation."
+
+So both had kept their promises; and now the two years were done, years
+spent by Law more manfully than any of his life. His fortune he had
+gathered together, amounting to more than a million livres. He had sent
+once more for his brother Will, and thus the two had lived for some time
+in company in lower Europe, the elder brother still curious as ever in
+his abstruse theories of banking and finance--theories then new, now
+outlived in great part, though fit to be called a portion of the great
+foundation of the commercial system of the world. It was a wiser and
+soberer and riper John Law, this man who had but recently received a
+summons from Philippe of Orleans to be present in Paris, for that the
+king was dying, and that all France, France the bankrupt and distracted,
+was on the brink of sudden and perhaps fateful change.
+
+With a quick revival of all his Highland superstition, Law hailed now as
+happy harbinger the fact that, upon his entry into Paris, the city once
+more of his hopes, he had met in such fashion this lady of his dreams,
+even at such time as the seal of silence was lifted from his lips. It
+was no wonder that his eye gleamed, that his voice took on the old
+vibrant tone, that every gesture, in thought or in spite of thought,
+assumed the tender deference of the lover.
+
+It was a fair woman, this chance guest of the highway whom he now
+accosted--bronze-haired, blue-eyed, soft of voice, queenly of mien,
+gentle, calm and truly lovable. Oh, what waste that those arms should
+hold nothing, that lips such as those should know no kisses, that eyes
+like those should never swim in love! What robbery! What crime! And this
+man, thief of this woman's life, felt his heart pinch again in the old,
+sharp anguish of remorse, bitterest because unavailing.
+
+For the Lady Catharine herself there had been also many changes. The
+death of her brother, the Earl of Banbury, had wrought many shifts in
+the circumstances of a house apparently pursued by unkind fate. Left
+practically alone and caring little for the life of London, even after
+there had worn away the chill of suspicion which followed upon the
+popular knowledge of her connection with the escape of Law from London,
+Lady Catharine Knollys turned to a life and world suddenly grown vague
+and empty. Travel upon the continent with friends, occasional visits to
+the old family house in England, long sojourns in this or the other
+city--such had been her life, quiet, sweet, reproachless and
+unreproaching. For the present she had taken an hotel in the older part
+of Paris, in connection with her friend, the Countess of Warrington,
+sometime connected with the embassy of that Lord Stair who was later to
+act as spy for England in Paris, now so soon to know tumultuous scenes.
+With these scenes, as time was soon to prove, there was to be most
+intimately connected this very man who, now bending forward attentively,
+now listening respectfully, and ever gazing directly and ardently, heard
+naught of plots or plans, cared naught for the Paris which lay about,
+saw naught but the beautiful face before him, felt naught but some deep,
+compelling thrill in every heart-string which now reaching sweet accord
+in spite of fate, in spite of the past, in spite of all, went singing on
+in a deep melody of joy. This was she, the idol, the deity. Let the
+world wag. It was a moment yet ere paradise must end!
+
+"Madam, I would God it might be forever!" said Law again. The old
+stubborn nature was showing once more, but under it something deeper,
+softer, tenderer.
+
+A sudden panic fear called at the heart of her to whom he spoke. Two
+rosy spots shone in her cheeks, and as she gazed, her eyes showed the
+veiled softening of woman's gentleness. There fell a silence.
+
+"Madam, I could feel that this were Sadler's Wells over again," said Law
+a moment later.
+
+But now the carriage had arrived at the destination named by Lady
+Catharine. Law sprang out, hat in hand, and assisted Lady Catharine to
+the curb. A passing flower girl, gaily offering her wares, paused as the
+carriage drew up. Law turned quickly and caught from her as many roses
+as his hand could grasp, handing her in return half as much coin as her
+smaller palm could hold. He turned to the Lady Catharine, and bowed with
+that grace which was the talk of a world of gallants. In his hand he
+extended a flower.
+
+"Madam, as before!" he said.
+
+There was a sob in his voice. Their eyes met fairly, unmasked as they
+had not been for years. Tears came into the man's eyes, the first that
+had ever sat there; tears for the past, tears for that sweetness which
+once might have been.
+
+"'Tis for the king! They weep for the king!" sang out the hard voice of
+the flower girl, ironically, as she skipped away. "Ohe, for the king,
+for the king!"
+
+"Nay, for the queen!" said John Law, as he gazed into the eyes of
+Catharine Knollys.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+SEARCH THOU MY HEART
+
+
+"Only believe me, Lady Catharine, and I shall do everything I promised
+years ago--I shall lay all France at your feet. But if you deny me thus
+always, I shall make all France a mockery."
+
+"Monsieur is fresh from the South of France," replied the Lady Catharine
+Knollys. "Has Gascon wine perhaps put Gascon speech into his mouth?"
+
+"Oh, laugh if you like," exclaimed Law, rising and pacing across the
+great room in which these two had met. "Laugh and mock, but we shall
+see!"
+
+"Granted that Mr. Law is well within his customary modesty," replied
+Lady Catharine, "and granted even that Mr. Law has all France in the
+hollow of his hand to-day, to do with as he likes, I must confess I see
+not why France should suffer because I myself have found it difficult to
+endorse Mr. Law's personal code of morals."
+
+It was the third day after Law's entry into Paris, and the first time
+for more than two long years that he found himself alone with the Lady
+Catharine Knollys. His eagerness might have excused his impetuous and
+boastful speech.
+
+As for the Lady Catharine, that one swift, electric moment at the street
+curb had well-nigh undone more than two years of resolve. She had heard
+herself, as it were in a dream, promising that this man might come. She
+had found herself later in her own apartments, panting, wide-eyed,
+afraid. Some great hand, unseen, uninvited, mysterious, had swept
+ruthlessly across each chord of womanly reserve and resolution which so
+long she had held well-ordered and absolutely under control. It was
+self-distrust, fear, which now compelled her to take refuge in this
+woman's fence of speech with him. "Surely," argued she with herself, "if
+love once dies, then it is dead forever, and can never be revived.
+Surely," she insisted to herself, "my love is dead. Then--ah, but then
+was it dead? Can my heart grow again?" asked the Lady Catharine of
+herself, tremblingly. This was that which gave her pause. It was this
+also which gave to her cheek its brighter color, to her eye a softer
+gleam; and to her speech this covering shield of badinage.
+
+Yet all her defenses were in a way to be fairly beaten down by the
+intentness of the other. All things he put aside or overrode, and would
+speak but of himself and herself, of his plans, his opportunities, and
+of how these were concerned with himself and with her.
+
+"There are those who judge not so harshly as yourself, Madam," resumed
+Law. "His Grace the regent is good enough to believe that my studies
+have gone deeper than the green cloth of the gaming table. Now, I tell
+you, my time has come--my day at last is here. I tell you that I shall
+prove to you everything which I said to you long ago, back there in old
+England. I shall prove to you that I have not been altogether an idler
+and a trifler. I shall bring to you, as I promised you long ago, all the
+wealth, all the distinction--"
+
+"But such speech is needless, Mr. Law," came the reply. "I have all the
+wealth I need, nor do I crave distinction, save of my own selection."
+
+"But you do not dream! This is a day unparalleled. There will be such
+changes here as never yet were known. Within a week you shall hear of my
+name in Paris. Within a month you shall hear of it beyond the gates of
+Paris. Within a year you shall hear nothing else in Europe!"
+
+"As I hear nothing else here now, Monsieur?"
+
+Like a horse restless under the snaffle, the man shook his head, but
+went on. "If you should be offered wealth more than any woman of Paris,
+if you had precedence over the proudest peers of France--would these
+things have no weight with you?"
+
+"You know they would not."
+
+Law cast himself restlessly upon a seat across the room from her. "I
+think I do," said he, dejectedly. "At times you drive me to my wit's
+end. What then, Madam, would avail?"
+
+"Why, nothing, so far as the past is to be reviewed for you and me. Yet,
+I should say that, if there were two here speaking as you and I, and if
+they two had no such past as we--then I could fancy that woman saying to
+her friend, 'Have you indeed done all that lay within you to do?'"
+
+"Is it not enough--?"
+
+"There is nothing, sir, that is enough for a woman, but all!"
+
+"I have given you all."
+
+"All that you have left--after yourself."
+
+"Sharp, sharp indeed are your words, my Lady. And they are most sharp
+because they come with justice."
+
+"Oh," broke out the woman, "one may use sharp words who has been scorned
+for her own false friend! You would give me all, Mr. Law, but you must
+remember that it is only what remains after that--that--"
+
+"But would you, could you, have cared had there been no 'that'? Had I
+done all that lay in me to do, could you then have given me your
+confidence, and could you have thought me worthy of it?"
+
+"Oh, 'if!'"
+
+"Yes, 'if!' 'If,' and 'as though,' and 'in that case'--these are all we
+have to console us in this life. But, sweet one--"
+
+"Sir, such words I have forbidden," said Lady Catharine, the blood for
+one cause or another mounting again into her cheek.
+
+"You torture me!" broke out Law.
+
+"As much as you have me? Is it so much as that, Mr. Law?"
+
+He rose and stood apart, his head falling in despair. "As I have done
+this thing, so may God punish me!" said he. "I was not fit, and am not.
+Yet I was bold enough to hope that there could be some atonement, some
+thing--if my suffering--"
+
+"There are things, Mr. Law, for which no suffering atones. But why cause
+suffering longer for us both? You come again and again. Could you not
+leave me for a time untroubled?"
+
+"How can I?" blazed the man, his forehead furrowed up into a frown, the
+moist beads on his brow proving his own intentness. "I can not! I can
+not! That is all I know. Ask me not why. I can not; that is all."
+
+"Sir," said Lady Catharine, "this seems to me no less than terrible."
+
+"It is indeed no less than terrible. Yet I must come and come again,
+bound some day to be heard, not for what I am, but for what I might be.
+'Tis not justice I would have, dear heart, but mercy, a woman's mercy!"
+
+"And you would bully me to agree with you, as I said, in regard to your
+own excellent code of morals, Mr. Law?"
+
+"You evade, like any woman, but if you will, even have it so. At least
+there is to be this battle between us all our lives. I will be loved,
+Lady Catharine! I must be loved by you! Look in my heart. Search beneath
+this man that you and others see. Find me my own fellow, that other self
+better than I, who cries out always thus. Look! 'Tis not for me as I am.
+No man deserves aught for himself. But find in my heart, Lady Catharine,
+that other self, the man I might have been! Dear heart, I beseech you,
+look!"
+
+Impulsively, he even tore apart the front of his coat, as though indeed
+to invite such scrutiny. He stood before her, trembling, choking. The
+passion of his speech caused the color again to rush to the Lady
+Catharine's face. For a moment her bosom rose and fell tumultuously,
+deep answering as of old unto deep, in the ancient, wondrous way.
+
+"Is it the part of manhood to persecute a woman, Mr. Law?" she asked,
+her own uncertitude now showing in her tone.
+
+"I do not know," he answered.
+
+Lady Catharine looked at him curiously.
+
+"Do you love me, Mr. Law?" she asked, directly.
+
+"I have no answer."
+
+"Did you love that other woman?"
+
+It took all his courage to reply. "I am not fit to answer," said he.
+
+"And you would love me, too, for a time and in a way?"
+
+"I will not answer. I will not trifle."
+
+"And I am to think Mr. Law better than himself, better than other men;
+since you say no man dare ask actual justice?"
+
+"Worse than other men, and yet a man. A man--my God! Lady Catharine--a
+man unworthy, yet a man seized fatally of that love which neither life
+nor death can alter!"
+
+As one fascinated, Lady Catharine sat looking at him. "Then," said she,
+"any man may say to any woman--Mr. Law says to me--'I have cared for
+such, and so many other women to the extent, let us say, of so many
+pounds sterling. But I love you to the extent of twice as many pounds,
+shillings and pence?' Is that the dole we women may expect, Mr. Law?"
+
+"Have back your own words!" he cried. "Nothing is enough but all! And as
+God witnesseth in this hour, I have loved you with all my heart-beats,
+with all my prayers. I call upon you now, in the name of that love I
+know you once bore me--"
+
+Upon the face of the Lady Catharine there blazed the red mark of the
+shame of Knollys. Covering her face with her hands, she suddenly bent
+forward, and from her lips there broke a sob of pain.
+
+In a flash Law was at her side, kneeling, seeking to draw away her
+fingers with hands that trembled as much as her own.
+
+"Do not! Do not!" he cried. "I am not worth it! It shall be as you like.
+Let me go away forever. This I can not endure!"
+
+"Ah, John Law, John Law!" murmured Catharine Knollys, "why did you break
+my heart!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+THE REGENT'S PROMISE
+
+
+"Tell me, then, Monsieur L'as, of this new America. I would fain have
+some information at first hand. There was rumor, I know not how exact,
+that you once traveled in those regions."
+
+Thus spake his Grace Philippe, Duke of Orleans, regent of France, now,
+in effect, ruler of France. It was the audience which had been arranged
+for John Law, that opportunity for which he had waited all his life.
+Before him now, as he stood in the great council chamber, facing this
+man whose ambitions ended where his own began--at the convivial board
+and at the gaming table--he saw the path which led to the success that
+he had craved so long. He, Law of Lauriston, sometime adventurer and
+gambler, was now playing his last and greatest game.
+
+"Your Grace," said he, "there be many who might better than I tell you
+of that America."
+
+"There are many who should be able, and many who do," replied the
+regent. "By the body of the Lord! we get nothing but information
+regarding these provinces of New France, and each advice is worse than
+the one preceding it. The gist of it all is that my Lord Governor and my
+very good intendant can never agree, save upon one point or so. They
+want more money, and they want more soldiers--ah, yes, to be sure, they
+also want more women, though we sent them out a ship load of choice
+beauties not more than a six-month ago. But tell me, Monsieur L'as, is
+it indeed true that you have traveled in America?"
+
+"For a short time."
+
+"I have heard nothing regarding you from the intendant at Quebec."
+
+"Your Grace was not at that time caring for intendants. 'Twas many years
+ago, and I was not well known at Quebec by my own name."
+
+"_Eh bien_? Some adventure, then, perhaps? A woman at the bottom of it,
+I warrant."
+
+"Your Grace is right."
+
+"'Twas like you, for a fellow of good zest. May God bless all fair
+dames. And as to what you found in thus following--or was it in
+fleeing--your divinity?"
+
+"I found many things. For one, that this America is the greatest country
+of the world. Neither England nor France is to be compared with it."
+
+The regent fell back in his chair and laughed heartily.
+
+"Monsieur, you are indeed, as I have ever found you, of most excellent
+wit. You please me enormously."
+
+"But, your Grace, I am entirely serious."
+
+"Oh, come, spoil not so good a jest by qualifying, I beseech you!
+England or France, indeed--ah, Monsieur L'as, Monsieur L'as!"
+
+"Your own city of New Orleans, Sire, will lie at the gate of a realm
+greater than all France. Your Grace will hand to the young king, when he
+shall come of age, a realm excellently worth the ownership of any king."
+
+"You say rich. In what way?" asked the regent. "We have not had so much
+of returns after all. Look at Crozat? Look at--"
+
+"Oh fie, Crozat! Your Grace, he solved not the first problem of real
+commerce. He never dreamed the real richness of America."
+
+Philippe sat thoughtful, his finger tips together. "Why have we not
+heard of these things?" said he.
+
+"Because of men like Crozat, of men like your governors and intendants
+at Quebec. Because, your Grace, as you know very well, of the same
+reason which sent me once from Paris, and kept me so long from laying
+before you these very plans of which I now would speak."
+
+"And that cause?"
+
+"Maintenon."
+
+"Oh, ah! Indeed--that is to say--"
+
+"Louis would hear naught of me, of course. Maintenon took care that he
+should find I was but heretic."
+
+"As for myself," said Philippe the regent, "heretic or not heretic makes
+but small figure. 'Twill take France a century to overcome her late
+surfeit of religion. For us, 'tis most a question of how to keep the
+king in the saddle and France underneath."
+
+"Precisely, your Grace."
+
+"Frankly, Monsieur L'as, I take it fittest now not so much to ponder
+over new worlds as over how to keep in touch with this Old World yet
+awhile. France has danced, though for years she danced to the tune of
+Louis clad in black. Now France must pay for the music. My faith, I like
+not the look of things. This joyful France to-day is a hideous thing.
+These people laugh! I had sooner see a lion grin. Now to govern those
+given us by Providence to govern," and the regent smiled grimly at the
+ancient fiction, "it is most meet that the governed should produce
+somewhat of funds in order that they may be governed."
+
+"Yes, and the error has been in going too far," said Law. "These people
+have been taxed beyond the taxation point. Now they laugh."
+
+"Yes; and by God, Monsieur L'as, when France laughs, beware!"
+
+"Your Grace admits that France has no further resources."
+
+"Assuredly."
+
+"Then tax New France!" cried Law, his hand coming down hard upon the
+table, his eyes shining. "Mortgage where the security doubles every
+year, where the soil itself is security for wealth greater than all
+Europe ever owned."
+
+"Oh, very well, Monsieur; though later I must ask you to explain."
+
+"You admit that no more money can be forced from the people of France."
+
+"Ask the farmers of the taxes. Ask Chamillard of the Treasury. My faith,
+look out of the window! Listen! Do I not tell you that France is
+laughing?"
+
+"Very well. Let us also laugh. Let us all laugh together. There is money
+in France, more money in Europe. I assure you these people can be
+brought to give you cheerfully all they have."
+
+"It sounds well, Monsieur L'as, but let me ask you how?"
+
+"France is bankrupt--this is brutal, but none the less true. France must
+repudiate her obligations unless something be swiftly done. It is not
+noble to repudiate, your Grace. Yet, if we cancel and not repudiate, if
+we can obtain the gold of France, of Europe--"
+
+"Body of God! but you speak large, my friend."
+
+"Not so large. All subjects shrink as we come close to them by study.
+'Tis easy to see that France has not money enough for her own business.
+If we had more money in France, we should have more production, and if
+we had more production, we might have taxes. Thereby we might have
+somewhat in our treasury wherewith to keep the king in the saddle, and
+not under foot."
+
+"Then, if I follow you," said Philippe, leaning slightly forward and
+again placing his finger tips judicially together, "you would coin
+greater amounts of money. Then, I would ask you, where would you get
+your gold for the coinage?"
+
+"It is not gold I would coin," said Law, "but credit."
+
+"The kingdom hath been run on credit for these many years."
+
+"No, 'tis not that kind of credit that I mean. I mean the credit which
+comes of confidence. It is fate, necessity, which demands a new system.
+The world has grown too much for every man to put his sixpence into the
+other man's hand, and carry away in a basket what he buys. We are no
+longer savages, to barter beads for hides. Yet we were as savages, did
+we not come to realize that this insufficient coin must be replaced, in
+the evolution of affairs, just as barter has long ago been, replaced."
+
+"And by what?"
+
+"As I said, by credit."
+
+"Do not annoy me by things too deep, but rather suggest some definite
+plan, if that may be."
+
+"First of all, then, as I said to you years ago, we need a bank, a bank
+in which all the people of France shall have absolute confidence."
+
+"You would, then, wish a charter of some sort?"
+
+"Only provided your Grace shall please. I have of my own funds a half
+million livres or more. This I would put into a bank of general nature,
+if your Grace shall please. That should be some small guarantee of my
+good faith in these plans."
+
+"Monsieur L'as would seem to have followed play to his good fortune."
+
+"Never to so good fortune as when first I met your Grace," replied Law.
+"I have given to games of chance the severest thought and study. Just
+as much more have I given thought and study to this enterprise which I
+propose now to lay before you."
+
+"And you ask the patent of the Crown for your bank?"
+
+"It were better if the institution received that open endorsement."
+
+A slow frown settled upon the face of the other. "That is, at the
+beginning, impossible, Monsieur L'as," said the regent. "It is you who
+must prove these things which you propose."
+
+"Let it be so, then," said Law, with conviction. "I make no doubt I
+shall obtain subscriptions for the shares. Remember my words. Within a
+few months you shall see trebled the energies of France. Money is the
+only thing which we have not in France. Why, your Grace, suppose the
+collectors of taxes in the South of France succeed in raising the king's
+levies. That specie must come by wheeled vehicle all the way to Paris.
+Consider what loss of time is there, and consider what hindrance to the
+trade of the provinces from which so much specie is taken bodily, and to
+which it can return later only a little at a time. Is it any wonder that
+usury is eating up France? There is not money enough--it is the one
+priceless thing; by which I mean only that there is not belief, not
+confidence, not credit enough in France. Now, given a bank which holds
+the confidence of the people, and I promise the king his taxes, even as
+I promise to abolish usury. You shall see money at work, money begetting
+money, and that begetting trade, and that producing comfort, and comfort
+making easier the collection of the king's taxes."
+
+"By heaven! you begin to make it somewhat more plain to me."
+
+"One thing I beg you to observe most carefully, your Grace," said Law,
+"nor must it ever be forgotten in our understanding. The shares of this
+bank must have a fixed value in regard to the coin of the realm. There
+must be no altering of the value of our coin. Grant that the coin does
+not fluctuate, and I promise you that my bank _actions_, notes of the
+chief bank of Paris, shall soon be found better than gold or silver in
+the eyes of France. Moreover, given a greater safety to foreign gold,
+and I promise you that too shall pour into Paris in such fashion as has
+never yet been seen. Moreover, the people will follow their coin. Paris
+will be the greatest capital of Europe. This I promise you I can do."
+
+"In effect," said the regent, smiling, "you promise me that you can
+build a new Paris, a new world! Yet much of this I can in part believe
+and understand. Let that be as it may. The immediate truth is that
+something must be done, and done at once."
+
+"Obviously."
+
+"Our public debt is twenty-six hundred millions of livres. Its annual
+interest is eighty millions of livres. We can not pay this interest
+alone, not to speak of the principal. Obviously, as you say, the matter
+admits of no delay. Your bank--why, by heaven, let us have your bank!
+What can we do without your bank? Lastly, how quickly can we have it?"
+
+"Sire, you make me the happiest man in all the world!"
+
+"The advantage is quite otherwise, sir. But my head already swims with
+figures. Now let us set the rest aside until to-morrow. Meantime, I must
+confess to you, my dear friend, there is somewhat else that sits upon my
+mind."
+
+A change came upon the demeanor of his Grace the regent. Laying aside
+the dignity of the ruler with the questions of state, he became again
+more nearly that Philippe of Orleans, known by his friends as gay, care
+free and full of _camaraderie_.
+
+"Your Grace, could I be of the least personal service, I should be too
+happy," said Law.
+
+"Well, then, I must admit to you that this is a question of a diamond."
+
+"Oh, a diamond?"
+
+"The greatest diamond in the world. Indeed, there is none other like it,
+and never will be. This Jew hounds me to death, holding up the thing
+before mine eyes. Even Saint Simon, that priggish little duke of ours,
+tells me that France should have this stone, that it is a dignity which
+should not be allowed to pass away from her. But how can France,
+bankrupt as she is, afford a little trifle which costs three million
+francs? Three million francs, when we can not pay eighty millions annual
+interest on our debts!"
+
+"'Tis as you say, somewhat expensive," said Law.
+
+"Naturally, for I say to you that this stone had never parallel in the
+history of the world. It seems that this overseer in the Golconda mines
+got possession of it in some fashion, and escaped to Europe, hiding the
+stone about his person. It has been shown in different parts of Europe,
+but no one yet has been able to meet the price of this extortioner who
+owns it."
+
+"And yet, as Saint Simon says, there is no dignity too great for the
+throne of France."
+
+"Yet, meantime, the king will have no use for it for several years to
+come. There is the Sancy stone--"
+
+"And, as your Grace remembers, this new stone would look excellent well
+upon a woman?" said Law. He gazed, calm and unsmiling, directly into the
+eyes of Philippe of Orleans.
+
+"Monsieur L'as, you have the second sight!" cried the latter,
+unblushingly. "You have genius. May God strike me blind if ever I have
+seen a keener mind than thine!"
+
+"All warm blood is akin," replied John Law. "This stone is perhaps for
+your Grace's best beloved?"
+
+"Eh--ah--which? As you know--"
+
+"Ah! Perhaps for La Parabere. Richly enough she deserves it."
+
+"Ah, Monsieur L'as, even your mind is at fault now," cried the regent,
+shaking his finger exultingly. "I covet this new stone, not for Parabere
+nor for any one of those dear friends whom you might name, and whom you
+may upon occasion have met at some of my little suppers. It is for
+another, whose name or nature you can not guess."
+
+"Not that mysterious beauty of whom rumor goes about this week, the
+woman rated surpassing fair, who has lately come into the acquaintance
+of your Grace, and whom your Grace has concealed as jealously as though
+he feared to lose her by some highway robbery?"
+
+"It is the same, I must admit!"
+
+Law remained thoughtful for a time. "I make no doubt that the Hebrew
+would take two million francs for this stone," said he.
+
+"Perhaps, but two millions is the same as three millions," said
+Philippe. "The question is, where to get two millions."
+
+"As your Grace has said, I have been somewhat fortunate at play,"
+replied Law, "but I must say that this sum is beyond me, and that both
+the diamond and the bank I can not compass. Yet, your Grace has at
+disposal the crown jewels of France. Now, beauty is the sovereign of all
+sovereigns, as Philippe of Orleans must own. To beauty belongs the use
+of these crown jewels. Place them as security, and borrow the two
+millions. For myself, I shall take pride in advancing the interest on
+the sum for a certain time, until such occasion as the treasury may
+afford the price of this trinket. In a short time it will be able to do
+so, I promise your Grace; indeed able to buy a dozen such stones, and
+take no thought of the matter."
+
+"Monsieur L'as, do you actually believe these things?"
+
+"I know them."
+
+"And you can secure for me this gem?"
+
+"Assuredly. We shall have it. Let it be called the 'Regent's Diamond,'
+after your Grace of Orleans. And when the king shall one day wear it,
+let us hope that he will place it as fitly as I am sure your Grace will
+do, on the brow of beauty--even though it be beauty unknown, and kept
+concealed under princely prerogative!"
+
+"Ah! You are too keen, Monsieur L'as, too keen to see my new discovery.
+Not for a little time shall I take the risk of introducing this fair
+friend to one so dangerous as yourself; but one of these times, my very
+good friend, if you can secure for me this diamond, you shall come to a
+very little supper, and see where for a time I shall place this gem, as
+you say, on the brow of beauty. For the sake of Monsieur L'as, head
+magician of France my mysterious alien shall then unmask."
+
+"And then I am to have my bank?"
+
+"Good God, yes, a thousand banks!"
+
+"It is agreed?"
+
+"It is agreed."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+A DAY OF MIRACLES
+
+
+The regent of France kept his promise to Law, and the latter in turn
+fulfilled his prophecy to the regent. Moreover, he swiftly went far
+toward verifying his boast to the Lady Catharine Knollys; for in less
+than a month his name was indeed on every tongue in Paris. The Banque
+Generale de L'as et Compagnie was seized upon by the public, debtor and
+creditor alike, as the one new thing, and hence as the only salvation.
+As ever, it pleased Paris to be mystified. In some way the rumor spread
+about that Monsieur L'as was _philosophique_; that the Banque Generale
+was founded upon "philosophy." It was catch-word sufficient for the
+time.
+
+"_Vive_ Jean L'as, _le philosophe_--Monsieur L'as, he who has saved
+France!" So rang the cry of the shallow-witted people of an age splendid
+even in its contradictions. And meantime the new bank, crudely
+experimental as it was, flourished as though its master spirit had
+indeed in his possession the philosopher's stone, turning all things to
+gold.
+
+One day, shortly after the beginning of that brilliantly spectacular
+series of events destined so soon to make Paris the Mecca of the world,
+there sat at table, in a little, obscure _cabaret_ of the gay city, a
+group of persons who seemed to have chosen that spot for purposes of
+privacy. Yet privacy was difficult where all the curious passers-by
+stared in amaze at the great coach near the door, half filling the
+narrow and unclean street--a vehicle bearing the arms of no less a
+person than that august and unscrupulous representative of the French
+nobility, the Prince de Conti. No less a person than the prince himself,
+thin-faced, aquiline and haughty, sat at this table, looking about him
+like any common criminal to note whether his speech might be overheard.
+Next to him sat a hook-nosed Jew from Austria, Fraslin by name, one of
+many of his kind gathered so quickly within the last few weeks in Paris,
+even as the scent of carrion fetches ravens to the feast. Another of the
+party was a man of middle age, of handsome, calm, patrician features and
+an unruffled mien--that De la Chaise, nephew of the confessor of Louis
+the Grand, who Was later to represent the young king in the provinces of
+Louisiana.
+
+Near by the latter, and indeed the central figure of this gathering, was
+one less distinguished than either of the above, evidently neither of
+churchly ancestry nor civic distinction--Henri Varenne, sometime clerk
+for the noted Paris Freres, farmers of the national revenues. Varenne,
+now serving but as clerk in the new bank of L'as et Compagnie, could
+have been called a man of no great standing; yet it was he whose
+presence had called hither these others to this unusual meeting. In
+point of fact, Varenne was a spy, a spy chosen by the jealous Paris
+Freres, to learn what he might of the internal mechanism of this new and
+startling institution which had sprung into such sudden prominence.
+
+"As to the bank of these brothers L'as," said the Prince de Conti,
+rapping out emphasis with his sword hilt on the table, "it surely has
+much to commend it. Here is one of its notes, and witness what it says.
+'The bank promises to pay to the bearer at sight the sum of fifty livres
+in coin of the weight and standard of this day.' That is to say, of this
+date which it bears. Following these, are the words 'value received.'
+Now, my notary tells me that these words make this absolutely safe, so
+that I know what it means in coin to me at this day, or a year from now.
+Is it not so, Monsieur Fraslin?"
+
+The Jew reached out his hand, took the note, and peered over it in close
+scrutiny.
+
+"'Tis no wonder, Monsieur le Prince," said he, presently, "that orders
+have been given by the Government to receive this note without discount
+for the payment of the general taxes. Upon my reputation, I must say to
+you that these notes will pass current better than your uncertain coin.
+The specie of the king has been changed twice in value by the king's
+orders. Yet this bases itself upon a specie value which is not subject
+to any change. Therein lies its own value."
+
+"It is indeed true," broke in Varenne. "Not a day goes by at this new
+bank but persons come to us and demand our notes rather than coin of the
+realm of France."
+
+"Yes, yes," broke in the prince, "we are agreed as to all this, but
+there is much talk about further plans of this Monsieur L'as. He has the
+ear of his Grace the regent, surely. Now, sir, tell us what you know of
+these future affairs."
+
+"The rumor is, as I understand it," answered Varenne, "that he is to
+take over control of the Company of the West--to succeed, in short, to
+the shoes of Anthony Crozat. There come curious stories of this province
+of Louisiana."
+
+"Of course," resumed the prince, with easy wisdom, "we all of us know of
+the voyage of L'Huillier, who, with his four ships, went up this great
+river Messasebe, and who, as is well known, found that river of Blue
+Earth, described by early writers as abounding in gold and gems."
+
+"Aye, and there comes the strange part of it, and this is what I would
+lay before your Lordships, as bearing upon the value of the shares of
+this new bank, since it is taking over the charter of the Company of the
+West. It is news not yet known upon the street. The story goes that the
+half has not been told of the wealth of these provinces.
+
+"Now, as you say, L'Huillier had with him four ships, and it is well
+known that his gentlemen had with them certain ladies of distinction,
+among these a mysterious dame reported to have earlier traveled in
+portions of New France. The name of this mysterious female is not known,
+save that she is reported to have been a good friend of a
+_sous-lieutenant_ of the regiment Carignan, sometime dweller at Quebec
+and Montreal, and who later became a lieutenant under L'Huillier. It is
+said that this same mysterious fair, having returned from America and
+having cast aside her lieutenant, has come under protection of no less a
+person than his Grace Philippe of Orleans, the regent. Now, as you know,
+the bank is the best friend of the regent, and this mysterious dame, as
+we are advised by servants of his Grace's household, hath told his Grace
+such stories of the wealth of the Messasebe that he has secretly and
+quickly made over the control of the trade of those provinces to this
+new bank. There is story also that his Grace himself will not lack
+profit in this movement!"
+
+The hand of Conti smote hard upon the table. "By heaven! it were strange
+thing," said he, "if this foreign traveler should prove the same
+mysterious beauty Philippe is reported to have kept in hiding. My faith,
+is it indeed true that we are come upon a time of miracles?"
+
+"Listen!" broke in again Varenne, his ardor overcoming his
+obsequiousness. "These are some of the tales brought back--and reported
+privately, I can assure you, gentlemen, now for the first time and to
+yourselves. The people of this country are said to be clad in beauteous
+raiment, made of skins, of grasses, and of the barks of trees. Their
+ornaments are made of pure, yellow gold, and of precious gems which they
+pick up from the banks of the streams, as common as pebbles here in
+France. The climate is such that all things grow in the most unrivaled
+fruitfulness. There is neither too much sun nor too much rain. The lakes
+and rivers are vast and beautiful, and the forests are filled with
+myriads of strange and sweet-voiced birds. 'Tis said that the dream of
+Ponce de Leon hath been realized, and that not only one, but scores of
+fountains of youth have been discovered in this great valley. The people
+are said never to grow old. Their personal beauty is of surpassing
+nature, and their disposition easy and complaisant to the last degree--"
+
+"My faith, say on!" broke in De la Chaise. "'Tis surely a story of
+paradise which you recount."
+
+"But, listen, gentlemen! The story goes yet farther. As to mines of gold
+and silver, 'twas matter of report that such mines are common in all the
+valley of the Messasebe. Indeed the whole surface of the earth, in some
+parts, is covered with lumps of gold, so that the natives care nothing
+for it. The bottoms of the streams, the beaches of the lakes, carry as
+many particles of gold as they have pebbles and little stones. As for
+silver, none take note of it. 'Tis used as building stone."
+
+"In the name of Jehovah, is there support for these wonders you have
+spoken?" broke in Fraslin the Jew, his eyes shining with suppressed
+excitement.
+
+"Assuredly. Yet I am telling not half of the news which came to my
+knowledge this very morning--the story is said to have emanated from the
+Palais Royal itself, and therefore, no doubt, is to be traced to this
+game unknown queen of the Messasebe. She reports, so it is said, that
+beyond the country where L'Huillier secured his cargo of blue earth,
+there is a land where grows a most peculiar plant. The meadows and
+fields are covered with it, and it is said that the dews of night, which
+gather within the petals of these flowers, become, in the course of a
+single day, nothing less than a solid diamond stone! From this in time
+the leaves drop down, leaving the diamond exposed there, shining and
+radiant."
+
+"Ah, bah!" broke in Fraslin the Jew. "Why believe such babblings? We all
+know that the diamond is a product not of the vegetable but of the
+mineral world!"
+
+"So have we known many things," stoutly replied Varenne, "only to find
+ourselves frequently mistaken. Now for my part, a diamond is a diamond,
+be it born in a flower or broken from a rock. And as for the excellence
+of these stones, 'tis rumored that the lady hath abundant proof. 'Tis no
+wonder that the natives of the valley of the Messasebe robe themselves
+in silks, and that they deck themselves carelessly with precious stones,
+as would a peasant of ours with a chain of daisy blossoms. Now, if there
+be such wealth as this, is it not easy to see the profit of a bank which
+controls the trade with such a province? True, there have been some
+discoveries in this valley, but nothing thorough. 'Tis but recent the
+thing hath been done thorough."
+
+The Prince de Conti sat back in his chair and drew a long breath. "If
+these things be true," said he, "then this Monsieur L'as is not so bad a
+leader to follow."
+
+"But listen!" exclaimed Varenne once more. "I have not even yet told you
+the most important thing, and this is rumor which perhaps your Grace has
+caught. 'Tis whispered that the bank of the brothers L'as is within a
+fortnight to be changed."
+
+"What is that?" queried Fraslin quickly. "'Tis not to be abandoned?"
+
+"By no means. Abandoned would be quite the improper word. 'Tis to be
+improved, expanded, increased, magnified! My Lords, there is the
+opportunity of a life-time for every one of us here!"
+
+"Say on, man, say on!" commanded the prince, the covetousness of his
+soul shining in his eyes as he leaned forward.
+
+"I mean to say this," and the spy lowered his voice as he looked
+anxiously about. "The regent hath taken a fancy to be chief owner
+himself of an enterprise so profitable. In fine, the Banque Generale is
+to become the Banque Royale. His Majesty of France, represented by his
+Grace the regent, is to become the head banker of France and Europe!
+Monsieur L'as is to be retained as director-general of this Banque
+Royale. There are to be branches fixed in different cities of the realm,
+at Lyons, at Tours, at Amiens, at Rochelle, at Orleans--in fact, all
+France is to go upon a different footing."
+
+The glances of the Prince de Conti and the Austrian met each other. The
+Jew drew a long breath as he sat back in his chair, his hands grasping
+at the edge of the table. Try as he might, he scarce could keep his chin
+from trembling. He licked out his tongue to moisten his lips.
+
+"There is so much," resumed Varenne, "that 'tis hard to tell it all. But
+you must know that this Banque Royale will be still more powerful than
+the old one. There will be incorporated with it, not only the Company of
+the West, but also the General Company of the Indies, as you know, the
+most considerable mercantile enterprise of France. Now listen! Within
+the first year the Banque Royale will issue one thousand million livres
+in notes. This embodiment of the Compagnie Generale of the Indies will
+warrant, as I know by the secret plans of the bank, the issue of notes
+amounting to two billion livres. Therefore, as Monsieur de la Chaise
+signifies, he who is lucky enough to-day to own a few _actions_ of the
+Banque Royale, or even the old _actions_ of Monsieur L'as' bank, which
+will be redeemed by its successor, is in a way to gain greater sums than
+were ever seen on the face of any investment from the beginning of the
+world until to-day! Now, as I was about to ask of you, Monsieur
+Fraslin--"
+
+The speaker turned in his chair to where Fraslin had been but a moment
+before. The chair was empty.
+
+"Our friend stepped to the door but on the instant," said De la Chaise.
+"He is perhaps--"
+
+"That he has," cried Varenne. "He is the first of us to profit! Monsieur
+le Prince, in virtue of what I have said to you, if you could favor me
+with an advance of a few hundred louis, I could assure my family of
+independence. Monsieur le Prince! Monsieur le Prince--"
+
+Monsieur le Prince, however, was not so far behind the Austrian! Varenne
+followed him, tugging at his coat, but Conti shook him off, sprang into
+his carriage and was away.
+
+"To the Place Vendome!" he cried to his coachman, "and hasten!"
+
+De la Chaise, aristocratic, handsome and thick-witted, remained alone at
+the table, wondering what was the cause of this sudden commotion.
+Varenne re-appeared at the door wringing his hands.
+
+"What is it, my friend?" asked De la Chaise. "Why all this haste? Why
+this confusion?"
+
+"Nothing!" exclaimed Varenne, bitterly, "except that every minute of
+this day is worth a million francs. Man, do you know?"--and in his
+frenzy he caught De la Chaise by the collar and half shook him out of
+his usual calm--"man, can you not see that Jean L'as has brought
+revolution into Paris? Oh! This L'as, this devil of a L'as! A thousand
+louis, my friend, a hundred, ten--give me but ten louis, and I will make
+you rich! A day of miracles is here!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+THE GREATEST NEED
+
+
+There sprang now with incredible swiftness upward and outward an Aladdin
+edifice of illusion. It was as though indeed this genius who had waved
+his wand and bidden this fairy palace of chimera to arise, had used for
+his material the intangible, iridescent film of bubbles, light as air.
+Wider and wider spread the balloon of phantasm. Higher and higher it
+floated, on it fixed the eyes of France. And France laughed, and asked
+that yet other bubbles should be blown.
+
+All France was mad, and to its madness there was joined that of all
+Europe. The population of Paris doubled. The prices of labor and
+commodities trebled in a day. There was now none willing to be called
+artisan. Every man was broker in stocks. Bubbles, bubbles, dreams,
+fantasies--these were the things all carried in their hands and in their
+hearts. These made the object of their desire, of their pursuit
+unimaginably passionate and frenzied.
+
+With a leap from the somberness of the reign of Louis, all France went
+to the extreme of levity. Costumes changed. Manners, but late devout,
+grew debonair. Morals, once lax, now grew yet more lax. The blaze and
+tinsel, the music and the rouge, the wine, the flowing, uncounted
+gold--all Paris might have been called a golden brothel of delirious
+delight, tenanted by a people utterly gone mad.
+
+It was a house made of bubbles. Its domes were of bubbles. Its roof was
+of bubbles, and its walls. Its windows were of that nacreous film. Even
+its foundations had naught in them more substantial than an evanescent
+dream of gauze-like web, frail as the spider's house upon the dew-hung
+grasses.
+
+Yet as to this latter, there should be somewhat of qualification. The
+wizard who created this fairy structure saw it swiftly grow beyond its
+original plan, saw unforeseen results spring from those causes which
+were first well within his comprehension.
+
+Berated by later generations as an adventurer, a schemer, a charlatan,
+Law originally deserved anything but such a verdict of his public.
+Dishonest he was not, insincere he never was; and as a student of
+fundamentals, he was in advance of his age, which is ever to be
+accursed. His method was but the forerunner of the modern commercial
+system, which is of itself to-day but a tougher faith bubble, as may be
+seen in all the changing cycles of finance and trade. His bank was but
+a portion of a nobler dream. His system was but one vast belief, one
+glorious hope.
+
+The Company of the West--this it was that made John Law's heart throb.
+America--its trade--its future! John Law, dead now and gone--he was the
+colossal pioneer! He saw in his dreams what we see to-day in reality;
+and no bubble of all the frenzied Paris streets equaled this splendid
+dream of a renewed and revived humanity that is a fact to-day.
+
+But there came to this dreamer and doer, at the very door of his
+success, that which arrested him even upon his entering in. There came
+the preliminary blow which in a flash his far-seeing mind knew was to
+mean ultimate ruin. In a word, the loose principles of a dissolute man
+were to ruin France, and with it one who had once saved France from
+ruin.
+
+Philippe of Orleans found it ever difficult to say no to a friend, and
+more so if that friend were a woman; and of the latter sort, none had
+more than he. Men and women alike, these could all see only this
+abundance of money made of paper. What, then, was to prevent the regent,
+all powerful, from printing more and yet more of it, and giving it to
+his friends? The regent did so. Never were mistresses better paid than
+those of Philippe of Orleans, receiving in effect faithlessness in
+return for insincerity.
+
+Philippe of Orleans could not see why, since credit based on specie made
+possible a great volume of accepted notes, a credit based on all France
+might not warrant an indefinite issue of such notes. He offered his
+director-general all the concessions which the crown could give, all the
+revenue-producing elements of France--in effect, all France itself, as
+security. In return he asked but the small privilege of printing for
+himself as much money as he chose and whenever he saw fit!
+
+The notes of the private bank of Law were an absolute promise to pay a
+certain and definite sum, not a changeable or indefinite sum; and Law
+made it a part of his published creed that any banker was worthy of
+death who issued notes without having the specie wherewith to pay them.
+He insisted that the payment should mean specie in the value of the day
+on which the note was issued. This item the regent liked little, as
+being too irksome for his temper. Was it not of record how Louis, the
+Grand Monarque, had twice made certain millions for himself by the
+simple process of changing the value of the coin? Dicing, drinking,
+amorous Philippe, easy-going, shallow-thinking, truly wert thou better
+fitted for a throne than for a banker's chair!
+
+The royal bank, which the regent himself hastened to foster when he saw
+the profits of the first private bank of circulation and discount France
+had ever known, issued notes against which Law entered immediately his
+firm protest. He saw that their tenor spelled ruin for the whole system
+of finance which, at such labor, he had erected. These notes promised to
+pay, for instance, fifty livres "in silver coin," not "in coin of the
+weight and standard of this day," as had the honester notes of Law's
+bank. That is to say, the notes meant nothing sure and nothing definite.
+They might be money for a time, but not forever; and this the
+director-general was too shrewd a man not to know.
+
+"But under this issue you shall have all France," said the regent to him
+one day, as they renewed their discussion yet again upon this scheme.
+"You shall have the farming of the taxes. I will give you all the
+foreign trade as monopoly, if you like--will give you the mint--will
+give you, in effect, as I have said, all France. But, Monsieur my
+director-general, I must have money. It is for that purpose that I
+appoint you director-general--because I find you the most remarkable man
+in all the world."
+
+"Your Grace," said Law, "print your notes thus, and print them to such
+extent as you wish, and France is again worse than bankrupt! Then,
+indeed, you have worse than repudiated the debts of France."
+
+"Ah bah! _mon drole_! You are ill to-day. You have a _migraine_,
+perhaps? What folly for you to speak thus. France hath swiftly grown so
+strong that she can never again be ruined. What ails my magician, my
+Prince of Golconda, this morning? France bankrupt! Even were it so, does
+that relieve me of this begging of De Prie, of Parabere, and all the
+others? My God, Monsieur L'as, they are like leeches! They think me made
+of money."
+
+"And your Grace thinks France made of money."
+
+"Nay; I only think my director-general is made of money, or can make it
+as he likes."
+
+And this was ever the end of Law's reproaches and his expostulations.
+This, then, was to be the end of his glorious enterprises, thought he,
+as he sat one morning, staring out of the window when left alone. This
+sordid love for money for its own sake--this was to be the limit of an
+ambition which dealt in theories, in men, in nations, and not in livres
+and louis d'or! Law smiled bitterly. For an instant he was not the
+confident man of action and of affairs, not the man claiming with
+assurance the perpetual protection of good fortune. He sat there, alone,
+feeling nothing but the great human craving for sympathy and trust. A
+line of carriages swept back across the street at his window, and
+streams of nobles besought entrance at his door. And the man who had
+called out all these, the man for whose friendship all Europe
+clamored--that man sat with aching heart, longing, craving, begging now
+of fortune only the one thing--a friend!
+
+At last he arose, his face showing lean and haggard. He passed into
+another room.
+
+"Will," said he, "I am at a place where I am dizzy and need a hand. You
+know what hand it means for me. Can you go--will you take her, as you
+did once before for me, a message? I can not go. I can not venture into
+her presence. Will you go? Tell her it is the last time! Tell her it is
+the last!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+THE MIRACLE UNWROUGHT
+
+
+"You do not know my brother, Lady Catharine."
+
+Thus spoke Will Law, who had been admitted but a half hour since at the
+great door of the private hotel where dwelt the Lady Catharine Knollys.
+
+"'Twould seem, then, 'tis by no fault of his," replied Lady Catharine,
+hotly.
+
+"And is that not well? There are many in Paris who would fain change
+places with you, Lady Catharine."
+
+"Would heaven they might!" exclaimed she. "Would that my various
+friends, or the prefect of police, or heaven knows who that may have
+spread the news of my acquaintance with your brother, would take me out
+of that acquaintance!"
+
+"They might hold his friendship a high honor," said Will.
+
+"Oh, an honor! Excellent well comes this distinguished honor. Sirrah,
+carriages block my street, filled with those who beseech my introduction
+to John Law. I am waylaid if I step abroad, by women--persons of
+quality, ladies of the realm, God knoweth what--and they beg of me the
+favor of an introduction to John Law! There seems spread, I know not
+how, a silly rumor of the child Kate. And though I did scarce more than
+name a convent for her attendance, there are now out all manner of
+reports of Monsieur John Law's child, and--what do I say--'tis
+monstrous! I protest that I have come closer than I care into the public
+thoughts with this prodigy, this John Law, whose favor is sought by
+every one. Honor!--'tis not less than outrage!"
+
+"'Tis but argument that my brother is a person not without note."
+
+"But granted. 'We have seen his carriage at your curb,' they say. I
+insist that it is a mistake. 'But we saw him come from your door at such
+and such an hour.' If he came, 'twas but for meeting such answer as I
+have always given him. Will they never believe--will your brother
+himself never believe that, though did he have, as he himself says, all
+France in the hollow of his hand, he could be nothing to me? Now I will
+make an end to this. I will leave Paris."
+
+"Madam, you might not be allowed to go."
+
+"What! I not allowed to go! And what would hinder a Knollys of Banbury
+from going when the hour shall arrive?"
+
+"The regent."
+
+"And why the regent?"
+
+"Because of my brother."
+
+"Your brother!"
+
+"Assuredly. My brother is to-day king of Paris. If he liked he could
+keep you prisoner in Paris. My brother does as he chooses. He could
+abolish Parliament to-morrow if he chose. My brother can do all
+things--except to win from you, Lady Catharine, one word of kindness, of
+respect. Now, then, he has come to the end. He told me to come to you
+and bear his word. He told me to say to you that this is the last time
+he will importune, the last time that he will implore. Oh, Lady
+Catharine! Once before I carried to you a message from John Law--from
+John Law, not in distress then more than he is now, even in this hour of
+his success."
+
+Lady Catharine paled as she sank back into her seat. Her white hand
+caught at the lace at her throat. Her eyes grew dark in their emotion.
+
+"Yes, Madam," went on Will Law, tears shining in his own eyes, "'twas I,
+an unfaithful messenger, who, by an error, wrought ruin for my brother
+and for yourself, even as I did for myself. Madam, hear me! I would be a
+better messenger to-day."
+
+Lady Catharine sat still silent, her bosom heaving, her eyes gone wide
+and straining.
+
+"I have seen my brother weep," said Will, going on impulsively. "I have
+seen him walk the floor at night, have heard him cry out to himself.
+They call him crazed. Indeed he is crazed. Yet 'tis but for one word
+from you."
+
+"Sir," said Lady Catharine, struggling to gain self-control, and in
+spite of herself softened by this appeal, "you speak well."
+
+"If I do, 'tis but because I am the mouth-piece of a man who all his
+life has sought to speak the truth; who has sought--yes, I say to you
+even now, Lady Catharine--who has sought always to live the truth. This
+I say in spite of all that we both know."
+
+There came no reply from the woman, who sat still looking at him, not
+yet moved by the voice of the proxy as she might then have been by the
+voice of that proxy's principal. Vehemently the young man, ordinarily so
+timid and diffident, approached her.
+
+"Look you!" exclaimed he. "If my brother said he could lay France at
+your feet, by heaven! he can well-nigh do so now. See! Here are some of
+the properties he has lately purchased in the realm of France. The
+Marquisat d'Effiat--'tis worth eight hundred thousand livres; the estate
+of Riviere--worth nine hundred thousand livres; the estate of
+Roissy--worth six hundred and fifty thousand livres; the estates of
+Berville, of Fontaine, of Yville, of Gerponville, of Tancarville, of
+Guermande--the tale runs near a score! Lately my brother has purchased
+the Hotel Mazarin, and the property at Rue Vivienne, paying for them one
+million two hundred thousand livres. He has other city properties,
+houses in Paris, estates here and there, running not into the hundreds
+of thousands, but into the millions of livres in actual value. Among
+these are some of the estates of the greatest nobles of France. Their
+value is more than any man can compute. Is this not something? Moreover,
+there goes with it all the dignity of the most stupendous personal
+success ever made by a single man since the world began. 'Tis all yours,
+Lady Catharine. And unless you share it, it has no value to my brother.
+I know myself that he will fling it all away, calling it worthless,
+since he can not have that greatest fortune which he craves!"
+
+"Sirrah, I have entertained much speech of both yourself and your
+brother, because I would not seem ungracious nor forgetful. Yet this
+paying of court by means of figures, by virtue of lists of estates--do
+you not know how ineffectual this must seem?"
+
+"If you could but understand!" cried Will. "If you could but believe
+that there is none on earth values these less than my brother. Under
+all this he has yet greater dreams. His ambition is to awaken an old
+world and to build a new one. By heaven! Lady Catharine, I am asked to
+speak for my brother, and so I shall! These are his ambitions. First of
+all, Lady Catharine, you. Second, America. Third, a people for
+America--a people who may hope! Oh, I admit all the folly of his life.
+He played deep, yet 'twas but to forget you. He drank, but 'twas to
+forget you. Foolish he was, as are all men. Now he succeeds, and finds
+he can not forget you. I have told you his ambitions, Madam, and though
+others may never know nor acknowledge them, you, at least, must do so.
+And I beg you to remember, Madam, that of all his ambitions, 'twas you,
+Lady Catharine, your favor, your kindness, your mercy, that made his
+first and chief desire."
+
+"As for that," said the woman, somewhat scornfully, "if you please, I
+had rather I received my protestations direct; and your brother knows I
+forbid him further protestations. He has, it is true, raised some
+considerable noise by way of enterprises. That I might know, even did I
+not see this horde of dukes and duchesses and princes of the blood,
+clamoring for the recognition of even his remotest friends. I know,
+too, that he is accepted as a hero by the people."
+
+"And well he may be. Coachmen and valets have liveries of their own
+these days. Servants now eat from plate, and clerks have their own
+coaches. Paris is packed with people, and, look you, they are people no
+longer clamoring for bread. Who has done this? Why, my brother, John Law
+of Lauriston, Lady Catharine, who loves you, and loves you dearly."
+
+The old wrinkle of perplexity gathered between the brows of the woman
+before him. Her face was clouded, the changeful eyes now deep covered by
+their lids.
+
+Lacking the precise word for that crucial moment, Will Law broke further
+on into material details. "To be explicit, as I have said," resumed he,
+"everything seems to center about my brother, the director-general of
+finance. He took the old notes of the government, worth not half their
+face, and in a week made them treble their face value. The king owes him
+over one hundred million livres to-day. My brother has taken over the
+farming of the royal taxes. And now he forms a little Company of the
+Indies; and to this he adds the charter of the Senegal Company. Not
+content, he adds the entire trade of the Indies, of China and the South
+Seas. He has been given the privilege of the royal farming of tobacco,
+for which he pays the king the little trifle of two hundred million
+livres, and assures to the king certain interest moneys, which, I need
+not say, the king will actually obtain. In addition to these things, he
+has lately been given the mint of France. The whole coinage of the realm
+has been made over to this Company of the Indies. My brother pays the
+king fifty million livres for this privilege, and this he will do within
+fifteen months. All France is indeed in the hands of my brother. Now,
+call John Law an adventurer, a gambler, if you will, and if you can; but
+at least admit that he has given life and hope to the poor of France,
+that he has given back to the king a people which was despoiled and
+ruined by the former king. He has trebled the trade of France, he has
+saved her honor, and opened to her the avenues of a new world. Are these
+things nothing? They have all been done by my brother, this man whom you
+believe incapable of faith and constancy. Good God! It surely seems that
+he has at least been constant to himself!"
+
+"Oh, I hear talk of it all. I hear that a share in the new company
+promises dividends of two hundred livres. I hear talk of shares and
+'sub-shares,' called 'mothers,' and 'daughters,' and 'granddaughters,'
+and I know not what. It seems as though half the coin were divided into
+centimes, and as though each centime had been planted by your brother
+and had grown to be worth a thousand pounds. I admit somewhat of
+knowledge of these miracles."
+
+"True, Lady Catharine. Can there not be one miracle more?"
+
+Lady Catharine Knollys bent her face forward upon her hands, unhappiness
+in every gesture.
+
+"Sir," said she, "it grieves my heart to say it; yet this answer you
+must take to your brother, John Law. That miracle hath not yet been
+wrought which can give us back the past again."
+
+"This," said Will Law, sadly, "is this all the message I may take?"
+
+"It is all."
+
+"Though it is the last?"
+
+"It is the last."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+THE LITTLE SUPPER OF THE REGENT
+
+
+Paris, city of delights, Paris drunk with gold, mad with the delirium of
+excesses, Paris with no aim except joy, no method but extravagance, held
+within her gilded gates one citadel of sensuality which remained ever an
+object of mystery, a source of curiosity even in that dissipated and
+pleasure-sated city. In the Palais Royal, back of the regally beautiful
+gardens, back of the noble rows of trees, beyond the gates of iron and
+the guards in uniform, lived France's regent, in a city of libertines
+the prince of libertines. In a city where there were more mistresses
+than wives, he it was who led the list of the licentious. In a city of
+unregulated vice and yet of exquisitely ordered taste, he it was who
+accorded to himself daily pleasures which were admittedly beyond
+approach. How unspeakably unbridled, how delightfully wicked, how
+temptingly ingenious in their features the little suppers of the regent
+might be--these were matters of curious interest to all, of intimate
+knowledge to but few.
+
+It was to one of these famous yet mysterious gatherings that the regent
+of France had invited the master of that great and glittering bubble
+house, wherein dwelt so insecurely the affairs of France. John Law,
+director-general of the finances, controller of the Company of the
+Indies, was chosen by Philippe of Orleans for a position not granted to
+the crafty Dubois or to the shrewd D'Argenson, the last of that strange
+trinity who made his council. John Law, gallant, graceful, owner of a
+reputation as wit and beau scarce behind that of his sudden fame as
+financier, was admitted not only to the business affairs of the gay
+duke, but to his pleasures as well. To him and his brother Will, still
+associated in large measure in the stupendous operations of the
+director-general, there came the invitation of the regent, practically
+the command of the king, to join the regent after the opera for a little
+supper at the Palais Royal.
+
+Law would have excused himself from this unsought honor. "Your Grace
+will observe," said he, "that my time is occupied to the full. The
+people scarcely suffer me to rest at night. Perhaps your Grace might not
+care for company so dull as mine."
+
+"Fie! my friend, my very good friend," replied Philippe. "Have you
+become _devot_? Whence this sudden change? Consider; 'tis no hardship to
+meet such ladies as Madame de Sabran, or Madame de Prie--designer
+though I fear De Prie is for the domestic felicity of the youthful
+king--nor indeed my good friend, La Parabere, somewhat pale and pensive
+though she groweth. And what shall I say for Madame de Tencin, the
+_spirituelle_, who is to be with us; or Madame de Caylus, niece of
+Maintenon, but the very opposite of Maintenon in every possible way?
+Moreover, we are promised the attendance of Mademoiselle Aisse. She hath
+become devout of late, and thinks it a sin even to powder her hair, but
+Aisse devout is none the less Aisse the beautiful."
+
+"Surely your Grace hath never lacked in excellent taste, and that is the
+talk of Paris," replied Law.
+
+"Oh, well, long training bringeth perfection in due time," replied
+Philippe of Orleans, composedly, it having no ill effect with him to
+call attention to his numerous intrigues. "It should hardly be called a
+poor privilege, after all, to witness the results of that highly
+cultivated taste, as it shall be displayed this evening, not to mention
+the privilege you will have of meeting one or two other gentlemen; and
+lastly, of course, myself, if you be not tired of such company."
+
+"Your Grace," replied Law, "you both honor and flatter me."
+
+"Why, sir, you speak as if this were a new experience for you. Now, in
+the days--"
+
+"'Tis true; but of late years I have grown grave in the cares of state,
+as your Grace may know."
+
+"And most efficiently," replied the regent. "But stay! I have kept until
+the last my main attraction. You shall witness there, I give you my
+word, the making public of the secret of the fair unknown who is reputed
+to have been especially kind to Philippe of Orleans for these some
+months past. Join us at the little enterprise, my friend, and you shall
+see, I promise you, the most beautiful woman in Paris, crowned with the
+greatest gem of all the world. The regent's diamond, that great gem
+which you have made possible for France, shall, for the first time, and
+for one evening at least, adorn the forehead of the regent's queen of
+beauty!"
+
+As the gay words of the regent fell upon his ears, there came into Law's
+heart a curious tension, a presentiment, a feeling as though some great
+and curious thing were about to happen. Yet ever the challenge of danger
+was one to draw him forward, not to hold him back. If for a moment he
+had hesitated, his mind was now suddenly resolved.
+
+"Your Grace," said he, "your wish is for me command, and certainly in
+this instance is peculiarly agreeable."
+
+"As I thought," replied the regent. "Had you hesitated, I should have
+called your attention to the fact that the table of the Palais Royal is
+considered to possess somewhat of character. The Vicomte de Bechamel is
+at the very zenith of his genius, and he daily produces dishes such as
+all Paris has not ever dreamed. Moreover, we have been fortunate in some
+recent additions of most excellent _vin d'Ai_. I make no doubt, upon the
+whole, we shall find somewhat with which to occupy ourselves."
+
+Thus it came about that, upon that evening, there gathered at the
+entrance of the Palais Royal, after an evening with Lecouvreur at the
+Theatre Francais, some scattered groups of persons evidently possessing
+consequence. The chairs of others, from more distant locations,
+threading their way through the narrow, dark and unlighted streets of
+the old, crude capital of France, brought their passengers in time to a
+scene far different from that of the gloomy streets.
+
+The little supper of the regent, arranged in the private _salle_, whose
+decorations had been devised for the special purpose, was more
+entrancing than even the glitter of the mimic world of the Theatre
+Francais. There extended down the center of the room, though filling but
+a small portion of its vast extent, the grand table provided for the
+banquet, a reach of snowy linen, broken at the upper end by the arm of
+an abbreviated cross. At each end of this cross-arm stood magnificent
+candelabra, repeated at intervals along the greater extension of the
+board. Noble epergnes, filled with the choicest plants, found their
+reflections in plates of glass cunningly inlaid here and there upon the
+surface of the table. Vast mirrors, framed in wreaths of roses and
+surmounted by little laughing cupids, gleamed in the walls of the room,
+and in the faces of these mirrors were reflected the beams of the
+many-colored tapers, carried in brackets of engraved gold and silver and
+many-colored glasses. The ceiling of the room was a soft mass of silken
+draperies, depending edgewise from above, thousands of yards of the most
+expensive fabrics of the world. From these, as they were gently swayed
+by the breath of invisible fans, there floated delicious, languorous
+perfumes, intoxicating to the senses. On any hand within the great room,
+removed at some distance from the table, were rich, luxurious couches
+and divans.
+
+As one trod within the door of this temple of the senses, surely it must
+have seemed to him that he had come into another world, which at first
+glance might have appeared to be one of an unrighteous ease, an
+unprincipled enjoyment and an unmanly abandonment to embowered vice.
+Yet here it was that Philippe of Orleans, ruler of France, spent those
+hours most dear to him. If he gave thought to affairs of state during
+the day it was but that these affairs of state might give to him the
+means to indulge fancies of his own. Alike shrewd and easy, alike
+haughty and sensuous, here it was that Philippe held his real court.
+
+These young gentlemen of France, these _roues_ who have come to meet
+Philippe at his little supper--how different from the same beings under
+the rule of the Grand Monarque. Their coats are no longer dark in hue.
+Their silks and velvets have blossomed out, even as Paris has blossomed
+since the death of Louis the Grand. Jabots of lace are shown in full
+abundance, and so far from the abolishment of jewels from their garb,
+rubies, sapphires, diamonds sparkle everywhere, from the clasp of the
+high ruffles of the neck to the buckles of the red-heeled shoes. Powder
+sparkles on the head coverings of these new gallants of France. They
+step daintily, yet not ungracefully, into this brilliantly-lighted room,
+these creatures, gracious and resplendent, sparkling, painted,
+ephemeral, not unsuited to the place and hour.
+
+For the ladies, witness the attire, for instance, of that Madame de
+Tencin, the wonder of the wits of Paris. A full blue costume, with
+pannier more than five yards in circumference, under a skirt of silver
+gauze, trimmed with golden gauze and pink crape, and a train lying six
+yards upon the floor, showing silver embroideries with white roses. The
+sleeves are half-draped, as is the skirt, and each caught up with
+diamonds, showing folds lying above and below the silk underneath.
+Madame wears a necklace of rubies and of diamonds, and above the pannier
+a belt of diamonds and rubies. Her hair is dressed, following the mental
+habit of madame, in the Greek style, and abundantly trimmed with roses
+and gems and bits of silver gauze. There is a little crown upon the top
+of madame's coiffure. Her bodice, cut sufficiently low, is seen to be of
+light silken weave. From her hair depends a veil of light gauze covered
+with gold spangles, and it is secured upon the left side by a hand's
+grasp of pink and white feathers, surmounted by a magnificent heron
+plume of long and silken whiteness. The gloves of madame are white silk,
+and so also, as she is not reluctant to advise, are her stockings,
+picked out with pink and silver clocks. Her shoes, made by the
+celebrated _cordonnier_, Raveneau, show heels three inches in height. As
+madame enters she casts aside the camlet coat which has covered her
+costume. She sweeps back the veil, endangering its confining clasp of
+plumes. Madame makes a deliberate and open inspection of her face in her
+little looking-glass to discover whether her _mouches_ are well placed.
+She carefully arranges the patch upon the middle of her cheek. She would
+be "gallant" to-night, would lay aside things _spirituelle_. She twirls
+carelessly her fan, a creation of ivory and mother of pearl, elaborately
+carved, tipped with gold and silver and set with precious stones.
+
+Close at the elbow of Madame de Tencin steps a figure of different type,
+a woman not accustomed to please by brilliance of mind or vivacity of
+speech, but by sheer femininity of face and form. Tall, slender, yet
+with figure divinely proportioned, this beautiful girl, Haidee, or
+Mademoiselle Aisse, reputed to be of Turkish or Circassian birth, and
+possessed of a history as strange as her own personality is attractive,
+would seem certainly as pure as angel of the skies. Not so would say the
+gossips of Paris, who whisper that mademoiselle is not happy from her
+_chevalier_--who speak of a certain visit to England, and a little child
+born across seas and not acknowledged by its parent. Aisse, the devout,
+the beautiful, is no better than others of her sex in this gay city.
+True, she has abandoned all artificial aids to the complexion and
+appears distinct among her flattering rivals, the clear olive of her
+skin showing in strange contrast to the heightened colors of her
+sisters. Yet Aisse, the toast of Europe and the text of poets, proves
+herself not behind the others in the loose gaiety of this occasion.
+
+And there came others: Madame de Prie, later to hold such intimate
+relations with the fortunes of France in the selection of a future queen
+for the boy king; De Sabran, plain, gracious and good-natured; Parabere,
+of delicately oval face, of tiny mouth, of thin high nose and large
+expressive eyes, her soft hair twined with a deep flushed rose, and over
+her corsage drooping a continuous garland of magnificent flowers. Also
+Caylus the wit, Caylus the friend of Peter the Great, by duty and by
+devotion a _religieuse_, but by thought and training a gay woman of the
+world--all these butterflies of the bubble house of Paris came swimming
+in as by right upon this exotic air.
+
+And all of these, as they advanced into the room, paused as they met,
+coming from the head of the apartment, the imposing figure of their
+host. Philippe of Orleans, his powdered wig drawn closely into a
+half-bag at the nape of the neck, his full eye shining with merriment
+and good nature, his soft, yet not unmanly figure appearing to good
+advantage in his well-chosen garments, advances with a certain dignity
+to meet his guests. He is garbed in a coat made of watered silk, its
+straight collar faced with dark-green material edged with gold. A green
+and gold shoulder knot sets off the garment, which is provided with
+large opal buttons set in brilliants, this same adornment appearing on
+the hilt of his sword, which he lays aside as he approaches. From the
+sides of his wig depend two carefully-arranged locks, dusted with a
+tan-colored powder. His small-clothes, of lighter hue than the coat,
+display fitly the proportions of his lower limbs. The high-heeled shoes
+blaze with the glare of reflected lights as the diamonds change their
+angles during the calm advance down the room.
+
+"Welcome, my very dear ladies," exclaimed Philippe, advancing to the
+head of the board and at once setting all at ease, if any there needed
+such encouragement, by the grace and good feeling of his air. "You do me
+much honor, ladies. If I be not careful, the fair Adrienne will become
+jealous, since I fear you have deserted the pomp of the play full early
+for the table of Philippe. Ladies, as you know, I am your devoted slave.
+Myself and the Vicomte de Bechamel have labored, seriously labored, for
+your welfare this day. I promise you something of the results of those
+painstaking efforts, which we both hope will not disappoint you.
+Meantime, that the moments may not lag, let me recommend, if I am
+allowed, this new vintage of Ai, which Bechamel advises me we have
+never yet surpassed in all our efforts. Madame de Tencin, let me beg of
+you to be seated close to my arm. Not upon this side, Mademoiselle
+Haidee, if you please, for I have been wheedled into promising that
+station this night to another. Who is it to be, my dear Caylus? Ah, that
+is my secret! Presently we shall see. Have I not promised you an
+occasion this evening? And did Philippe ever fail in his endeavors to
+please? At least, did he ever cease to strive to please his angels? Now,
+my children, accept the blessing of your father Philippe, your friend,
+who, though years may multiply upon him, retains in his heart, none the
+less, for each and all of you, those sentiments of passion and of
+admiration which constitute for him his dearest memories! Ladies, I pray
+you be seated. I pray you tarry not too long before proving the judgment
+of Bechamel in regard to this new vintage of Ai."
+
+"Ah, your Grace," exclaimed De Tencin, "were it not Philippe of Orleans,
+we women might not be apt to sit in peace together. Yet, as we have
+earlier proved your hospitality, we may perhaps not scruple to
+continue."
+
+Philippe smiled blandly. The remark was not ill-fitted to the actual
+case. Though the regent counted his sweethearts by scores, he dismissed
+the one with the same air of interest as he welcomed the other, and
+indeed ended by retaining all as his friends.
+
+"Madame de Tencin, in admiration there can be no degrees," said he. "In
+love there can be no rank."
+
+"Why, then, do you place as your chief guest this other, this unknown?"
+pouted Mademoiselle Aisse, as she seated herself, turning upon her host
+the radiance of her large, dark eyes. "Is this stranger, then, so
+passing fair?"
+
+"Not so fair as you, my lovely Haidee, that I may swear, and safely,
+since she is not yet present. Yet I announce to you that she is _tres
+interessante_, my unknown queen of beauty, my _belle sauvage_ from
+America. But see! Here she comes. 'Tis time for her to appear, and not
+keep our guests in waiting."
+
+There sounded at the back of the great hall the tinkle of a little bell
+of some soft metal. It approached, and with it the sweeping stir of
+heavy silken garb. The door opened, admitting a still greater blaze of
+light, and there swept into the hall, as though swimming upon the flood
+of this added brilliance, a figure striking enough to arouse attention
+even at that time and place, even among the beauties of the court of
+France. There advanced, calm and stately, with the gliding ease of a
+perfect carriage, the figure of a woman, slender, with full bright eyes
+and somber hair--so much might be seen at a glance. Yet the newcomer
+left somewhat of query in the mind of womankind accustomed to view in
+detail any costume.
+
+The stranger was enveloped in a wide and undefining garment, a sweeping
+robe fit for any duchess of the realm, whose flowing folds showed a
+magnificent tissue of silver embroidery covered with golden flowers,
+below the plum-color and green. The high corsage of the white robe
+covered the bosom fully, and was caught at the throat with a bunch of
+blazing jewels. Under these soft draperies, tinkling in time with the
+movements of an otherwise noiseless tread, there sounded ever the faint
+note of the little bell. At the toe of shoes otherwise silent, there
+peeped in and out the flash of diamonds, and in the dark masses of her
+hair, shifting as she trod beneath each new sconce in turn, and catching
+more and more brilliance as she advanced, there smoldered the flame of a
+mass of scintillating gems. A queen's raiment was that of this unknown
+beauty, and she herself might have been a queen as she swept down the
+great hall, scornfully careless of the eyes of those other beauties.
+
+She stepped to the place at the regent's right hand, with head high and
+eyes undrooping. For a dramatic instant she paused, as though in the
+rehearsal of a part--a part of which it might be said that the regent
+was not alone the author. This triumph of woman over other women, this
+triumph of vice over other vice, of effrontery over effrontery
+akin--this could not have been so planned and executed by any but a
+woman. One another these beauties might tolerate, knowing one another's
+frailties as they did; yet the elegance, the disdain, the indifference
+of this newcomer--this they could not support. Hatred sat in the bosom
+of each woman there as she swept her courtesy to the new guest of the
+regent, who took her place as of right at the head of the board and near
+the regent's arm.
+
+"Our gentlemen are somewhat late this evening," exclaimed Philippe.
+"'Tis too bad the Abbe Dubois could not be with us to-night to
+administer clerical consolation."
+
+"Ah! _le drole_ Dubois!" exclaimed Madame de Tencin.
+
+"And that vagabond, the Due de Richelieu--but we may not wait. Again
+ladies, the glasses, or Bechamel will be aggrieved. And finally, though
+I perceive most of you have graciously unmasked, let me say that the
+moment has now arrived when we make plain all secrets."
+
+He turned his gaze upon the woman at his right. As though at a signal,
+she half rose, unclasped the circlet of gems at her throat, and swept
+back across the arm of her chair the soft garment which enveloped her.
+
+A sigh, a long breath of amazement broke from those other dames of
+Paris. Not one of them but was sated with the blaze of diamonds, the
+rich, red light of rubies and the fathomless radiance of sapphires.
+Silks and satins and cloth of gold and silver had few novelties for
+them. The costumers of Paris, center of the world of art, even in those
+times of unrivaled extravagance and unbridled self-gratification, held
+no new surprise for these beauties, possessed so long of all that their
+imagination required or that princely liberality could supply. Yet here
+indeed was a surprise.
+
+As she stood at the regent's right, calmly and composedly looking down
+the long board as she arranged her drapery before reseating herself,
+this new favorite of the regent appeared in the full costume of the
+American native! A long soft tunic of exquisitely dressed white leather
+fell below her hips, intricately embroidered in the native bead work of
+America, and stained with great blotches of colors done in the quills of
+the porcupine--heavy reds, sprightly yellows, and deep blues. Down the
+seams of this loose-fitting tunic depended little waving fringes. The
+belt which caught it at the waist was wrought likewise in beads. Beneath
+the level of the table, as she stood, the inquiring eyes might not so
+clearly see; yet the white leggings, fringed and beaded, and covered by
+a sweeping blanket of snowy buckskin, might have been seen to finish at
+the ankle and blend in texture and ornamentation with tiny shoes, which
+covered the smallest foot yet seen in Paris--shoes at the side of which
+there dangled the little bells of metal whose tones had told her coming.
+
+Here and there upon the bead work of the native artist, who had made
+this attire at the expense of so much patient effort, there blazed the
+changing rays of real gems, diamonds, rubies, emeralds--every stone
+known as precious. As the full bosom of the scornful beauty rose and
+fell there were cast about in sprays of light the reflections of these
+gems. Bracelets of dull, beaten metal hung about her wrists. In her hair
+were ornaments of some dull blue stone. Barbaric, beautiful,
+fascinating, savage she surely seemed as she met unruffled the startled
+gaze of these beautiful women of the court, who never, at even the most
+fanciful _bal masque_ in all Paris, had seen costume like to this.
+
+"Ladies, _la voila_!" spoke the regent. "_Ma belle sauvage_!"
+
+The newcomer swept a careless courtesy as she took her seat. As yet she
+had spoken no word. The door at the lower end of the hall opened.
+
+"His Grace le Duc de Richelieu," announced the attendant, who stood
+beneath the board.
+
+There advanced into the room, with slouchy, ill-bred carriage, a young
+man whose sole reputation was that of being the greatest rake in Paris,
+the Duc de Richelieu, half-gamin, half-nobleman, who counted more
+victims among titled ladies than he had fingers on his hands, whose sole
+concern of living was to plan some new impassioned avowal, some new and
+pitiless abandonment. This creature, meeting the salute of the regent,
+and catching at the same moment a view of the regent's guest, found eyes
+for nothing else, and stood boldly gazing at the face of her whom Paris
+knew for the first time and under no more definite title than that of
+"_Belle Sauvage_."
+
+"Pray you, be seated, Monsieur le Duc," said the regent, calmly, and the
+latter was wise enough to comply.
+
+"Your Grace," said Madame de Sabran, "was it not understood that we were
+to meet to-night none less than the wizard, Monsieur L'as?"
+
+"Monsieur L'as will be with us, and his brother," replied Philippe.
+"But now I ask you to bear witness to the shrewdness of your friend
+Philippe in entertainment. I bethought me that, as we were to have with
+us the master of the Messasebe, it were well to have with us also the
+typified genius of that same Messasebe. 'Twas but a little conceit of my
+own. And why--_mon enfant_, what is it to you? What do you know of our
+controller of finance?"
+
+The face of the woman at his right had suddenly gone white with a pallor
+visible even beneath its rouge and patches. She half turned, as though
+to push back her chair from the board, would have arisen, would have
+spoken perhaps; yet act and gesture were at the time unnoticed.
+
+"His Excellency, Monsieur Jean L'as, _le controleur-general_," came the
+soft tones of the attendant near the door. "Monsieur Guillaume L'as,
+brother of the _controleur-general_."
+
+The eyes of all were turned toward the door.. Every petted bolle of
+Paris there assembled shifted bodily in her seat, turning her gaze upon
+that man whose reputation was the talk of all the realm of France.
+
+There appeared now the tall, erect and vigorous form of a man owning a
+superb physical beauty. Powerful, yet not too heavy for ease, his figure
+retained that elasticity and grace which had won him favor in more than
+one court of Europe. He himself might have been king as he advanced
+steadily up the brilliantly-illuminated room. His costume, simply made,
+yet of the richest materials of the time; his wig, highly powdered
+though of modest proportions; his every item of apparel appeared alike
+of great simplicity and barren of pretentiousness. As much might be said
+for the garb of his brother, who stepped close behind him, a figure less
+self-contained than that of the man who now occupied the absorbed
+attention of the public mind, even as he now filled the eager eyes of
+those who turned to greet his entrance.
+
+"Ah, Monsieur L'as, Monsieur L'as!" exclaimed Philippe of Orleans,
+stepping forward to welcome him and taking the hand of Law in both his
+own. "You are welcome, you are very welcome indeed. The soup will be
+with us presently, and the wine of Ai is with us now. You and your
+brother are with us; so all at last is well. These ladies are, as I
+believe, all within your acquaintance. You have been present at the
+_salon_ of Madame de Tencin. You know her Grace the Duchesse de Falari,
+recently Madame d'Artague? Mademoiselle de Caylus you know very well,
+and of course also Mademoiselle Aisse, _la belle Circassienne_--But
+what? _Diable_! Have you too gone mad? Come, is the sight of my guest
+too much for you also, Monsieur L'as?"
+
+There was irritation in the tone with which the regent uttered this
+protest, yet he continued.
+
+"Monsieur L'as, 'tis but a little surprise I had planned for you.
+Mademoiselle, my princess of the Messasebe, let me present Monsieur Jean
+L'as, king of the Messasebe, and hence your sovereign! This is my fair
+unknown, whose face I have promised you should see to-night--this,
+Monsieur L'as, is my princess, the one whom I have seen fit to honor
+this evening by the wearing of the chief gem of France."
+
+The regent fumbled for an instant at his fob. He stepped to the side of
+the faltering figure which stood arrayed in all its savage finery. One
+movement, and upon the dark locks which fell about her brow there blazed
+the unspeakable fires of a stone whose magnificence brought forth
+exclamations of awe from every person present.
+
+"See!" cried Philippe of Orleans. "'Twas on the advice and by the aid of
+Monsieur L'as that I secured the gem, whose like is not known in all the
+world. 'Tis chief of the crown jewels of the realm of France, this
+stone, now to be known as the regent's diamond. And now, as regent of
+France and master for a day of her jewels, I place this gem upon the
+brow of her who for this night is to be your queen of beauty!"
+
+The wine of Ai had already done part of its work. There were brightened
+eyes, easy gestures and ready compliance as the guests arose to quaff
+the toast to this new queen.
+
+As for the queen herself, she stood faltering, her eyes averted, her
+limbs trembling. John Law, tall, calm, self-possessed, did not take his
+seat, but stood with set, fixed face, gazing at the woman who held the
+place of honor at the table of the regent.
+
+"Come! Come!" cried the latter, testily, his wine working in his brain.
+"Why stand you there, Monsieur L'as, gazing as though spellbound?
+Salute, sir, as I do, the chief gem of France, and her who is most fit
+to wear it!"
+
+John Law stood, as though he had not heard him speak. There swept
+through the softly brilliant air, over the flash and glitter of the
+great banquet board, across the little group which stood about it, a
+sudden sense of a strange, tense, unfamiliar situation. There came to
+all a presentiment of some unusual thing about to happen. Instinctively
+the hands paused, even as they raised the bright and brimming glasses.
+The eyes of all turned from one to the other, from the stern-faced man
+to the woman decked in barbaric finery, who now stood trembling,
+drooping, at the head of the table.
+
+Law for a moment removed his gaze from the face of the regent's guest.
+He flicked lightly at the deep cuff of lace which hung about his hands.
+"Your Grace is not far wrong," said he. "I regret that you do not have
+your way in planning for me a surprise. Yet I must say to you, that I
+have already met this lady."
+
+"What?" cried the regent. "You have met her? Impossible! Incredible!
+How, Monsieur L'as? We will admit you wizard enough, and owner of the
+philosopher's stone--owner of anything you like, except this secret of
+mine own. According to mademoiselle's own words, it would have been
+impossible."
+
+"None the less, what I have said is true," said John Law, calmly, his
+voice even and well-modulated, vibrating a little, yet showing no trace
+of anger nor of emotional uncontrol.
+
+"But I tell you it could not be!" again exclaimed the regent.
+
+"No, it is impossible," broke in the young Duc de Richelieu. "I would
+swear that had such beauty ever set foot in Paris before now, the news
+would so have spread that all France had been at her feet."
+
+Law looked at the impudent youth with a gaze that seemed to pass
+through him, seeing him not. Then suddenly this scene and its
+significance, its ultimate meaning seemed to take instant hold upon him.
+He could feel rising within his soul a flood of irresistible emotions.
+All at once his anger, heritage of an impetuous youth, blazed up hot and
+furious. He trod a step farther forward, after his fashion advancing
+close to that which threatened him.
+
+"This lady, your Grace," said he, "has been known to me for years. Mary
+Connynge, what do you masquerading here?"
+
+A sudden silence fell, a silence broken at length by the voice of the
+regent himself.
+
+"Surely, Monsieur L'as," said Philippe, "surely we must accept your
+statements. But Monsieur must remember that this is the table of the
+regent, that these are the friends of the regent. We bring no
+recollections here which shall cut short the joy of any person. Sir, I
+would not reprimand you, but I must beg that you be seated and be calm!"
+
+Yet the imperious nature of the other brooked not even so pointed a
+rebuke. As though he had not heard, Law stepped yet a pace nearer to the
+woman, upon whom he now bent the blaze of his angered eyes. He looked
+neither to right nor left, but visually commanded the woman until in
+turn her eyes sought his own.
+
+"This woman, your Grace," said Law, at length, "was for some time in
+effect my wife. This I do not offer as matter of interest. What I would
+say to your Grace is this--she was also my slave!"
+
+"Sirrah!" cried the regent.
+
+"Ah, Dame!" exclaimed the Duc de Richelieu. And even from the women
+about there came little murmurs of expostulation. Indeed there might
+have been pity, even in this assemblage, for the agony now visible upon
+the brow of Mary Connynge.
+
+"Monsieur, the wine has turned your head," said the regent scornfully.
+"You boast!"
+
+"I boast of nothing," cried Law, savagely, his voice now ringing with a
+tone none present had ever known it to assume. "I say to you again, this
+woman was my slave, and that she will again do as I shall choose. Your
+Grace, she would come and wipe the dust from my shoes if I should
+command it! She would kneel at my feet, and beg of me, if I should
+command it! Shall I prove this, your Grace?"
+
+"Oh, assuredly!" replied the regent, with a sarcasm which now seemed his
+only relief. "Assuredly, if Monsieur L'as should please. We here in
+Paris are quite his humble servants."
+
+Law said nothing. He stood with his biting blue eyes still fixed upon
+Mary Connynge, whose own eyes faltered, trying their utmost to escape
+from his; whose fingers, resting just lightly on the snowy Hollands of
+the table cloth, moved tremulously; whose limbs appeared ready to sink
+beneath her.
+
+"Come, then, Mary Connynge!" cried Law at last, his teeth setting
+savagely together. "Come, then, traitress and slave, and kneel before
+me, as you did once before!"
+
+Then there ensued a strange and horrible spectacle. A hush as of death
+fell upon the group. Mary Connynge, trembling, halting, yet always
+advancing, did indeed as her master had bidden! She passed from the head
+of the table, back of the chair of the regent, who stood gazing with
+horror in his eyes; she passed the chair of Aisse, near which Law now
+stood; she paused in front of him, and stood as though in a dream. Her
+knees would have indeed sunk beneath her. She drew from her bosom a
+silken kerchief, as though she would indeed have performed the ignoble
+service which had been threatened for her. There came neither voice nor
+motion to those who saw this thing. The sheer force of one strong
+nature, terrible in the intensity of one supreme moment--this might have
+been the spell which commanded at the table of the regent. Yet this did
+occur.
+
+There came a sound which broke the silence, which caused all to start as
+with swift relief. A sob, short, dry, hard, as from one whose heart is
+broken, came from beyond the place where Law stood facing the trembling
+woman. The eyes of all turned upon Will Law, from whom had burst this
+irrepressible exclamation of agony. Will Law, as one grown swiftly old,
+haggard, broken-down, stood gazing in wide-eyed horror at this woman, so
+humiliated in the presence of all in this brilliantly-lighted hall;
+before the blazing mirrors which should have reflected back naught but
+beauty and joy; under the twining roses, which should have been the
+signs manual of undying love; under the smiling cherubs, which should
+have typified the deities of happy love. Will Law, too, had loved.
+Perhaps still he loved.
+
+This sharp sound served to break also the spell under which Law himself
+seemed held. He cast aloft his arms, as in remorse or in despair. Then
+he extended a hand to the woman who would have sunk before him.
+
+"God forgive me! Madam," he cried. "I had forgot. Savage indeed you are
+and have been, but 'tis not for me to treat you brutally."
+
+"Your Grace," said he, turning toward the regent, "I crave your
+pardon. Our explanations shall reach you on the morrow."
+
+[Illustration]
+
+He turned, and taking his brother by the arm, advanced toward the door
+at which he had recently entered, pausing not to look behind him. Had
+his eye been more curious as he and his half-fainting brother bowed
+before passing through the door, it might have seen that which he must
+long have borne in memory.
+
+Mary Connynge, trembling, pallid, utterly broken, never found her way
+back to the right hand of the regent. She half stumbled into a chair
+near the foot of the table. Her bosom fluttered at the base of the
+throat. Half blindly she reached out her hand toward a glass of wine
+which stood near by, foaming and sparkling, its gem-like drops of keen
+pungency swimming continuously up to the surface. Her hand caught at the
+slender stem of the glass. Leaning upon her left arm, she half rose as
+though to put it to her lips. Her head moved, as though she would follow
+the retreating figure of the man who had thus scornfully used her. All
+at once, slowly, and then with a sudden crash, she sank down upon her
+seat and fell forward across the table. The fragile glass snapped in her
+fingers. The amber wine rushed in swift flood across the linen. In the
+broadening stain there fell and lay blazing the great gem of France.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+THE NEWS
+
+
+"Lady Kitty! Lady Kitty! Have you heard the news?"
+
+Thus, breathless, the Countess of Warrington, Lady Catharine's English
+neighbor in exile, who burst into the drawing-room early in the morning,
+not waiting for announcement of her presence.
+
+"Nay, not yet, my dear," said Lady Catharine, advancing and embracing
+her. "What is it, pray? Has the poodle swallowed a bone, or the baby
+perhaps cut another tooth? And, forsooth, how is the little one?"
+
+Lady Emily Warrington, slender, elegant, well clad, and for the most
+part languorously calm, was in a state of excitement quite without her
+customary _aplomb_. She sank into a seat, fanning herself with a vigor
+which threatened ruin to the precious slats of a fan which bore the
+handiwork of Watteau.
+
+"The streets are full of it," said she. "Have you not heard, really?"
+
+"I must say, not yet. But what is it?"
+
+"Why, the quarrel between the regent and his director-general, Mr.
+Law."
+
+"No, I have not heard of it." Lady Catharine sought refuge behind her
+own fan. "But tell me" she continued.
+
+"But that is not all. 'Twas the reason for the quarrel. Paris is all
+agog. 'Twas about a woman!"
+
+"You mean--there was--a woman?"
+
+"Yes, it all happened last night, at the Palais Royal. The woman is
+dead--died last night. 'Tis said she fell in a fit at the very
+table--'twas at a little supper given by the regent--and that when they
+came to her she was quite dead."
+
+"But Mr. Law--"
+
+"'Twas he that killed her!"
+
+"Good God! What mean you?" cried Lady Catharine, her own face blanching
+behind her protecting fan. The blood swept back upon her heart, leaving
+her cold as a statue.
+
+"Why," continued the caller, in her own excitement to tell the news
+scarce noting what went on before her, "it seems that this mysterious
+beauty of the regent's, of whom there has been so much talk, proved to
+be none other than a former mistress of this same Mr. Law, who is
+reputed to have been somewhat given to that sort of thing, though of
+late monstrous virtuous, for some cause or other. Mr. Law came suddenly
+upon her at the table of the regent, arrayed in some kind of savage
+finery--for 'twas in fashion a mask that evening, as you must know. And
+what doth my director-general do, so high and mighty? Why, in spite of
+the regent and in spite of all those present, he upbraids her, taunts
+her, reviles her, demanding that she fall on her knees before him, as it
+seems indeed she would have done--as, forsooth, half the dames of Paris
+would do to-day! Then, all of a sudden, my Lord Director changes, and he
+craves pardon of the woman and of the regent, and so stalks off and
+leaves the room! And now then the poor creature walks to the table,
+would lift a glass of wine, and so--'tis over! 'Twas like a play! Indeed
+all Paris is like a play nowadays. Of course you know the rest."
+
+A gesture of negative came from the hand that lay in Lady Catharine's
+lap. The busy gossip went on.
+
+"The regent, be sure, was angry enough at this cheapening of his own
+wares before all, and perhaps 'tis true he had a fancy for the woman. At
+any rate, 'tis said that this very morning he quarreled hotly with Mr.
+Law. The latter gave back words hot as he received, and so they had it
+violent enough. 'Tis stated on the Quinquempoix that another must take
+Mr. Law's place. But if Mr. Law goes, what will become of the System?
+And what would the System be without Mr. Law? And what would Paris be
+without the System? Why, listen, Lady Catharine! I gained fifty thousand
+livres yesterday, and my coachman, the rascal, in some manner seems to
+have done quite as well for himself. I doubt not he will yet build a
+mansion of his own, and perhaps my husband may drive for him! These be
+strange days indeed. I only hope they may continue, in spite of what my
+husband says."
+
+"And what says he?" asked Lady Catharine, her own voice sounding to her
+unfamiliar and far away.
+
+"Why, that the city is mad, and that this soon must end--this
+Mississippi bubble, as my Lord Stair calls it at the embassy."
+
+"Yet I have heard all France is prosperous."
+
+"Oh, yes indeed. 'Tis said that but yesterday the kingdom paid four
+millions of its debt to Bavaria, three millions of its debt to
+Sweden--yet these are not the most pressing debts of France."
+
+"Meaning--"
+
+"Why, the debts of the regent to his friends--those are the important
+things. But the other day he gave eighty thousand livres to Madame
+Chateauthiers, as a little present. He gave two hundred thousand livres
+to the Abbe Something-or-other, who asked for it, and another thousand
+livres to that rat Dubois. The thief D'Argenson ever counsels him to
+give in abundance now that he hath abundance, and the regent is ready
+with a vengeance with his compliance. Saint Simon, that priggish duke,
+has had a million given him to repay a debt his father took on for the
+king a generation ago. To the captain of the guard the regent gives six
+hundred thousand livres, for carrying the fan of the regent's forgotten
+wife; to the Prince Courtenay, two hundred thousand, most like because
+the prince said he had need of it; a pension of two hundred thousand
+annually to the Marquise de Bellefonte, the second such sum, because
+perhaps she once made eyes at him; a pension of sixty thousand livres to
+a three-year-old relative to the Prince de Conti, because Conti cried
+for it; one hundred thousand livres to Mademoiselle Haidee, because she
+has a consumption; and as much more to the Duchesse de Falari, because
+she has not a consumption. Bah! The credit of France might indeed, as my
+husband says, be called leaking through the slats of fans."
+
+"But, look you!" she went on, "how Mr. Law feathers his own nest. He
+bought lately, for a half million livres, the house of the Comte de
+Tesse; and on the same day, as you know, the Hotel Mazarin. There is no
+limit to his buying of estates. This, so says my husband, is the great
+proof of his honesty. He puts his money here in France, and does not
+send it over seas. He seems to have no doubt, and indeed no fear, of
+anything."
+
+Lady Warrington paused, half for want of breath. Silence fell in the
+great room. A big and busy fly, deep down in the crystal _cylindre_
+which sheltered a taper on a near-by table, buzzed out a droning
+protest. The face of Lady Catharine was averted.
+
+"You did not tell me, Lady Emily," said she, with woman's feigned
+indifference, "what was the name of this poor woman of the other
+evening."
+
+"Why, so I had forgot--and 'tis said that Mr. Law, after all, comported
+himself something of the gentleman. No one knows how far back the affair
+runs, nor how serious it was. And indeed I have seen no one who ever
+heard of the woman before."
+
+"And the name?"
+
+"'Twas said Mr. Law called her Mary Connynge."
+
+The big fly, deep down in the crystal cage, buzzed on audibly; and to
+one who heard it, the drone of the lazy wings seemed like the roars of a
+thousand tempests.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+MASTER AND MAN
+
+
+John Law, idle, preoccupied, sat gazing out at the busy scenes of the
+street before him. The room in which he found himself was one of a suite
+in that magnificent Hotel de Soisson, bought but recently of the Prince
+de Carignan for the sum of one million four hundred thousand livres,
+which had of late been chosen as the temple of Fortuna. The great
+gardens of this distinguished site were now filled with hundreds of
+tents and kiosks, which offered quarters for the wild mob of speculators
+which surged and swirled and fought throughout the narrow avenues,
+contending for the privilege of buying the latest issue of the priceless
+shares of the Company of the Indies.
+
+The System was at its height. The bubble was blown to its last limit.
+The popular delirium had grown to its last possible degree.
+
+From the window these mad mobs of infuriated human beings might have
+seemed so many little ants, running about as though their home had been
+destroyed above their heads. They hastened as though fleeing from the
+breath of some devouring flame. Surely the point of flame was there, at
+that focus of Paris, this focus of all Europe; and thrice refined was
+the quality of this heat, burning out the hearts of those distracted
+ones.
+
+Yet it was a scene not altogether without its fascinations. Hither came
+titled beauties of Paris, peers of the realm, statesmen, high officials,
+princes of the blood; all these animated but by one purpose--to bid and
+outbid for these bits of paper, which for the moment meant wealth,
+luxury, ease, every imaginable desire. It seemed indeed that the world
+was mad. Tradesmen, artisans, laborers, peasants, jostled the princes
+and nobility, nor met reproof. Rank was forgotten. Democracy, for the
+first time on earth, had arrived. All were equal who held equal numbers
+of these shares. The mind of each was blank to all but one absorbing
+theme.
+
+Law looked over this familiar scene, indifferent, calm, almost moody,
+his cheek against his hand, his elbow on his chair. "What was the call,
+Henri," asked he, at length, of the old Swiss who had, during these
+stormy times, been so long his faithful attendant. "What was the last
+quotation that you heard?"
+
+"Your Honor, there are no quotations," replied the attendant. "'Tis
+only as one is able to buy. The _actions_ of the last issue, three
+hundred thousand in all, were swept away at a breath at fifteen thousand
+livres the share."
+
+"Ninety times what their face demands," said Law, impassively.
+
+"True, some ninety times," said the Swiss. "'Tis said that of this issue
+the regent has taken over one-third, or one hundred thousand, himself.
+'Tis this that makes the price of the other two-thirds run the higher,
+since 'tis all that the public has to buy."
+
+"Lucky regent," said Law, sententiously. "Plenty would seem to have been
+his fortune!"
+
+He grimly turned again to his study of the crowds which swarmed among
+the pavilions before his window. Outside his door he heard knockings and
+cries, and impatient footfalls, but neither he nor the impassive Swiss
+paid to these the least attention. It was to them an old experience.
+
+"Your Honor, the Prince de Conti is in the antechamber and would see
+you," at length ventured the attendant, after listening for some time
+with his ear at an aperture in the door.
+
+"Let the Prince de Conti wait," said Law, "and a plague take him for a
+grasping miser! He has gained enough. Time was when I waited at his
+door."
+
+"The Abbe Dubois--here is his message pushed beneath the door."
+
+"My dearest enemy," replied Law, calmly. "The old rat may seek another
+burrow."
+
+"The Duchesse de la Rochefoucauld."
+
+"Ah, then, she hath overcome her husband's righteousness of resolution,
+and would beg a share or so? Let her wait. I find these duchesses the
+most tiresome animals in the world."
+
+"The Madame de Tencin."
+
+"I can not see the Madame de Tencin."
+
+"A score of dukes and foreign princes. My faith! master, we have never
+had so large a line of guests as come this morning." The stolid
+impassiveness of the Swiss seemed on the point of giving way.
+
+"Let them wait," replied Law, evenly as before. "Not one of them would
+listen to me five years ago. Now I shall listen to them--shall listen to
+them knocking at my door, as I have knocked at theirs. To-day I am
+aweary, and not of mind to see any one. Let them wait."
+
+"But what shall I say? What shall I tell them, my master?"
+
+"Tell them nothing. Let them wait."
+
+Thus the crowd of notables packed into the anterooms waited at the
+door, fuming and execrating, yet not departing. They all awaited the
+magician, each with the same plea--some hope of favor, of advancement,
+or of gain.
+
+At last there arose yet a greater tumult in the hall which led to the
+door. A squad of guardsmen pushed through the packed ranks with the cry:
+"For the king!" The regent of France stood at the closed door of the man
+who was still the real ruler of France.
+
+"Open, open, in the name of the king!" cried one, as he beat loudly on
+the panels.
+
+Law turned languidly toward the attendant. "Henri," said he, "tell them
+to be more quiet."
+
+"My master, 'tis the regent!" expostulated the other, with somewhat of
+anxiety in his tones.
+
+"Let him wait," replied Law, coolly. "I have waited for him."
+
+"But, my master, they protest, they clamor--"
+
+"Very well. Let them do so--but stay. If it is indeed the regent, I may
+as well meet him now and say that which is in my mind. Open the door."
+
+The door swung open and there entered the form of Philippe of Orleans,
+preceded by his halberdiers and followed close by a rush of humanity
+which the guards and the Swiss together had much pains to force back
+into the anteroom.
+
+"How now, Monsieur L'as, how now?" fumed the regent, his heavy face
+glowing a dull red, his prominent eyes still more protruding, his
+forehead bent into a heavy frown. "You deny entrance to our person, who
+are next to the body of his Majesty?"
+
+"Did you have delay?" asked Law, sweetly. "'Twas unfortunate."
+
+"'Twas execrable!"
+
+"True. I myself find these crowds execrable."
+
+"Nay, execrable to suffer this annoyance of delay!"
+
+"Your Grace's pardon," said Law, coolly. "You should have made an
+appointment a few days in advance."
+
+"What! The regent of France need to arrange a day when he would see a
+servant!"
+
+"Your Grace is unfortunate in his choice of words," replied Law,
+blandly. "I am not your servant. I am your master."
+
+The regent sank back into a chair, gasping, his hand clutching at the
+hilt of his sword.
+
+"Seize him! Seize him! To the Bastille with him! The presumer! The
+impostor!"
+
+Yet even the guards hesitated before the commanding presence of that man
+whom all had been so long accustomed to obey. With hand upraised, Law
+gazed at them for one instant, and then gave them no further attention.
+
+"Yet these words I must hasten to qualify," resumed he. "True, I am at
+this moment your master, your Grace, but two minutes hence, and for all
+time thereafter, I shall no longer be your master. Your Grace was once
+so good as to make me head of certain financial matters, and to give me
+control of them. The fabric of this Messasebe, which you see without,
+was all my own. It was this which made me master of Paris, and of every
+man within the gates of Paris. So far, very well. My plans were honest,
+and the growth of France--nay, let us say the resurrection of
+France--the new life of France--shows how my own plans were made and how
+well I knew that which was to happen. I made you rich, your Grace. I
+gave you funds to pay off millions of your private debts, millions to
+gratify your fancies. I gave you more millions to pay the debts of
+France. France and her regent have again taken a position of honor in
+the eyes of the world. You may well call me master of your fate, who
+have been able to accomplish these things. So long as you knew your
+master, you did well. Now your Grace has seen fit to change masters. He
+would be his own master again. There can not be two in control of a
+concern like this. Sir, the two minutes hare elapsed. I am your very
+humble servant!"
+
+The regent still sat staring from his chair, and speech was yet denied
+him.
+
+"There are your people. There is your France," said Law, beckoning as he
+turned toward the window and pointing to the crowd without. "There is
+your France. Now handle it, my master! Here are the reins! Now drive;
+but see that you be careful how you drive. Come, your Grace," said he,
+mockingly, over his shoulder. "Come, and see your France!"
+
+The audacity of John Law was a thing without parallel, as had been
+proved a hundred times in his strange life and in a hundred places. His
+sheer contemptuous daring brought Philippe of Orleans to his senses. He
+relaxed now in his purpose, changeable as was his wont, and advanced
+towards Law with hand outstretched.
+
+"There, there, Monsieur L'as, I did you wrong, perhaps," said he. "But
+as to these hasty words, pray reconsider them at once. 'Twill have a bad
+effect should a breath of this get afloat. Indeed, 'twas because of some
+such thing that I came to see you this morning. A most unspeakable, a
+most incredible thing hath occurred. It comes to me with certain
+confirmation that there have been shares sold upon the street at twelve
+thousand livres to the _action_, whereas, as you very well know,
+fifteen thousand should be the lowest price to-day."
+
+"And what of that, your Grace?" said Law, calmly. "Is it not what you
+planned? Is it not what you have been expecting?"
+
+"How, sirrah! What do you mean?"
+
+"Why, I mean this, your Grace," said Law, calmly, "that since you have
+taken the reins, it is you who must drive the chariot. I shall suggest
+no plans, shall offer no remedy. But, if you still lack ability to see
+how and why this thing has attained this situation, I will take so much
+trouble as to make it plain."
+
+"Go on, then, sir," said the regent. "Is not all well? Is there any
+danger?"
+
+"As to danger," said Law, "we can not call it a time of danger after the
+worst has happened."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"Why, that the worst has happened. But, as I was about to say, I shall
+tell you how it happened."
+
+The gaze of the regent fell. His hand trembled as he fumbled at his
+sword hilt.
+
+"Your Grace," said Law, calmly, "will do me the kindness to remember
+that when I first asked of you the charter of the Banque Generale, to be
+taken privately in the name of myself and my brother, I told you that
+any banker merited the punishment of death if he issued notes or bills
+of exchange without having their effective value safe in his own strong
+boxes."
+
+"Well, what of that?" queried the regent, weakly.
+
+"Nothing, your Grace, except that your Grace deserves the punishment of
+death."
+
+"How, sir! Good God!"
+
+"If the truth of this matter should ever become known, those people out
+there, that France yonder, would tear your Grace limb from limb, and
+trample you in the dust!"
+
+The livid face of the regent went paler as the other spoke. There was
+conviction in those tones which could not fail to reach even his heavy
+wits.
+
+"Let me explain," went on Law. "I beg your Grace to remember again, that
+when your Grace was good enough to take out of the hands of my brother
+and myself our little bank--which we had run honorably and
+successfully--you changed at one sweep the whole principle of honest
+banking. You promised to pay something which was unstipulated. You
+issued a note back of which there was no value, no fixed limit of
+measurement. Twice you have changed the coinage of the realm, and twice
+assigned a new value to your specie. No one can tell what one of your
+shares in the stock of the Indies means in actual coin. It means
+nothing, stands for nothing, is good for nothing. Now, think you, when
+these people, when this France shall discover these facts, that they
+will be lenient with those who have thus deceived them?"
+
+"Yet your theory always was that we had too great a scarcity of money
+here in France," expostulated the regent.
+
+"True, so I did. We had not enough of good money. We can not have too
+little of false money, of money such as your Grace--as you thought
+without my knowledge--has been so eager to issue from the presses of our
+Company. It had been an easy thing for the regent of France to pay off
+all the debts of the world from now until the verge of eternity, had not
+his presses given out. Money of that sort, your Grace, is such as any
+man could print for himself, did he but have the linen and the ink."
+
+The regent again dropped to his chair, his head falling forward upon his
+breast.
+
+"But what does it all mean? What shall be done? What will be the
+result?" he asked, his voice showing well enough the anxiety which had
+swiftly fallen upon his soul.
+
+"As to that," replied Law, laconically, "I am no longer master here. I
+am not controller of finance. Appoint Dubois, appoint D'Argenson. Send
+for the Brothers Paris. Take them to this window, your Grace, and show
+them your people, show them your France, and then ask them to tell you
+what shall be done. Cry out to all the world, as I know you will, that
+this was the fault of an unknown adventurer, of a Scotch gambler, of one
+John Law, who brought forth some pretentious schemes to the detriment of
+the realm. Saddle upon me the blame for all this ruin which is coming.
+Malign me, misrepresent me, imprison me, exile me, behead me if you
+like, and blame John Law for the discomfiture of France! But when you
+come to seek your remedies, why, ask no more of John Law. Ask of Dubois,
+ask of D'Argenson, ask of the Paris Freres; or, since your Grace has
+seen fit to override me and to take these matters in his own hands, let
+your Grace ask of himself! Tell me, as regent of France, as master of
+Paris, as guardian of the rights of this young king, as controller of
+the finances of France, as savior or destroyer of the welfare of these
+people of France and of that America which is greater than this
+France--tell me, what will you do, your Grace? What do you suggest as
+remedy?"
+
+"You devil! you arch fiend!" exclaimed the regent, starting up and
+laying his hand on his sword. "There is no punishment you do not
+deserve! You will leave me in this plight--you--you, who have supplanted
+me at every turn; you who made that horrible scene but last night at my
+own table, within the very gates of the Palais Royal; you, the murderer
+of the woman I adored! And now, you mocker and flouter of what may be my
+bitterest misfortune--why, sir, no punishment is sharp enough for you!
+Why do you stand there, sir? Do you dare to mock me--to mock us, the
+person of the king?"
+
+"I mock not in the least, your Grace," said John Law, "nor do aught else
+that ill beseems a gentleman. I should have been proud to be known as
+the friend of Philippe of Orleans, yet I stand before that Philippe of
+Orleans and tell him that that man doth not live, nor that set of
+terrors exist, which can frighten John Law, nor cause him to depart from
+that stand which he once has taken. Sir, if you seek to frighten me, you
+fail."
+
+"But, look you--consider," said the regent. "Something must be done."
+
+"As I said," replied Law.
+
+"But what is going to happen? What will the people do?"
+
+"First," said Law, judicially, flicking at the deep lace of his cuff as
+though he were taking into consideration the price of a wig or cane,
+"first, the price of a share having gone to twelve thousand livres this
+morning, by two o'clock will be so low as ten thousand. By three
+o'clock this afternoon it will be six thousand. Then, your Grace, there
+will be panic. Then the spell will be broken. France will rub her eyes
+and begin to awaken. Then, since the king can do no wrong, and since the
+regent is the king, your Grace can do one of two things. He can send a
+body-guard to watch my door, or he can see John Law torn into fragments,
+as these people would tear the real author of their undoing, did they
+but recognize him."
+
+"But can nothing be done to stop this? Can it not be accommodated?"
+
+"Ask yourself. But I must go on to say what these people will do. All at
+once they will demand specie for their notes. The Prince de Conti will
+drive his coaches to the door of your bank, and demand that they be
+loaded with gold. Jacques and Raoul and Pierre, and every peasant and
+pavior in Paris will come with boxes and panniers, and each of them will
+also demand his gold. Make edicts, your Grace. Publish broadcast and
+force out into publicity, on every highway of France, your decree that
+gold and silver are not so good as your bank notes; that no one must
+have gold or silver; that no one must send his gold and silver out of
+France, but that all must bring it to the king and take for it in
+exchange these notes of yours. Try that. It ought to succeed, ought it
+not, your Grace?" His bantering tone sank into one of half plausibility.
+
+"Why, surely. That would be the solution."
+
+"Oh, think you so? Your Grace is wondrous keen as a financier! Now take
+the counsel of Dubois, of D'Argenson, my very good friends. This is what
+they will counsel you to do. And I will counsel you at the same time to
+avail yourself of their advice. Tell all France to bring in its gold, to
+enable you to put something essential under the value of all this paper
+money which you have been sending out so lavishly, so unthinkingly, so
+without stint or measure."
+
+"Yes. And then?"
+
+"Why, then, your Grace," said Law, "then we shall see what we shall
+see!"
+
+The regent again choked with anger. Law continued. "Go on. Smooth down
+the back of this animal. Continue to reduce these taxes. The specie of
+the realm of France, as I am banker enough to know, is not more than
+thirteen hundred millions of livres, allowing sixty-five livres to the
+marc. Yet long before this your Grace has crowded the issue of our
+_actions_ until there are out not less than twenty-six hundred millions
+of livres in the stock of our Company. Your Brothers Paris, your
+D'Argenson, your Dubois will tell you how you can make the people of
+France continue to believe that twice two is not four, that twice
+thirteen is not twenty-six!"
+
+"But this they are doing," broke in the regent, with a ray of hope in
+his face. "This they are doing. We have provided for that. In the
+council not an hour ago the Abbe Dubois and Monsieur d'Argenson decided
+that the time had come to make some fixed proportion between the specie
+and these notes. We have to-day framed an edict, which the Parliament
+will register, stating that the interests of the subjects of the king
+require that the price of these bank notes should be lessened, so that
+there may be some sort of accommodation between them and the coin of the
+realm. We have ordered that the shares shall, within thirty days, drop
+to seventy-five hundred livres, in another thirty days to seven thousand
+livres, and so on, at five hundred livres a month, until at last they
+shall have a value of one-half what they were to-day. Then, tell me, my
+wise Monsieur L'as, would not the issue of our notes and the total of
+our specie be equal, one with the other? The only wrong thing is this
+insulting presumption of these people, who have sold _actions_ at a
+price lower than we have decreed."
+
+Law smiled as he replied. "You say excellently well, my master. These
+plans surely show that you and your able counselors have studied deeply
+the questions of finance! I have told you what would happen to-day
+without any decree of the king. Now go you on, and make your decrees.
+You will find that the people are much more eager for values which are
+going up than values which are going down. Start your shares down hill,
+and you will see all France scramble for such coin, such plate, such
+jewels as may be within the ability of France to lay her hands upon.
+Tell me, your Grace, did Monsieur d'Argenson advise you this morning as
+to the total issue of the _actions_ of this Company?"
+
+"Surely he did, and here I have it in memorandum, for I was to have
+taken it up with yourself," replied the regent.
+
+"So," exclaimed Law, a look of surprise passing over his countenance,
+until now rigidly controlled, as he gazed at the little slip of paper.
+"Your Grace advises me that there are issued at this time in the shares
+of the Company no less than two billion, two hundred and thirty-five
+million, eighty-five thousand, five hundred and ninety livres in notes!
+Against this, as your Grace is good enough to agree with me, we have
+thirteen hundred millions of specie. Your Grace, yourself and I have
+seen some pretty games in our day. Look you, the merriest game of all
+your life is now but just before you!"
+
+"And you would go and leave me at this time?"
+
+"Never in my life have I forsaken a friend at the time of distress,"
+replied Law. "But your Grace absolved me when you forsook me, when you
+doubted and hesitated regarding me, and believed the protestations of
+those not so able as myself to judge of what was best. And now it is too
+late. Will your Grace allow me to suggest that a place behind stout
+gates and barred doors, deep within the interior of the Palais Royal,
+will be the best residence for him to-night--perhaps for several nights
+to come?"
+
+"And yourself?"
+
+"As for myself, it does not matter," replied Law, slowly and
+deliberately. "I have lived, and I thought I had succeeded. Indeed,
+success was mine for some short months, though now I must meet failure.
+I have this to console me--that 'twas failure not of my own fault. As
+for France, I loved her. As for America, I believe in her to-day, this
+very hour. As for your Grace in person, I was your friend, nor was I
+ever disloyal to you. But it sometimes doth seem that, no matter how
+sincere be one in one's endeavors, no matter how cherished, no matter
+how successful for a time may be his ambitions, there is ever some
+little blight to eat the face of the full fruit of his happiness.
+To-morrow I shall perhaps not be alive. It is very well. There is
+nothing I could desire, and it is as well to-morrow as at any time."
+
+"But surely, Monsieur L'as," interrupted the regent, with a trace of his
+old generosity, "if there should be outbreak, as you fear, I shall, of
+course, give you a guard. I shall indeed see you safe out of the city,
+if you so prefer, though I had much liefer you would remain and try to
+help us undo this coil, wherein I much misdoubt myself."
+
+"Your Grace, I am a disappointed man, a man with nothing in the world to
+comfort him. I have said that I would not help you, since 'twas yourself
+brought ruin on my plans, and cast down that work which I had labored
+all my life to finish. Yet I will advise this, as being your most
+immediate plan. Smooth down this France as best you may. Remit more
+taxes, as I said. Depreciate the value of these shares gently, but
+rapidly as you can. Institute great numbers of perpetual annuities.
+Juggle, temporize, postpone, get for yourself all the time you can.
+Trade for the people's shares all you have that they will take. You can
+never strike a balance, and can never atone for the egregious error of
+this over-issue of stock which has no intrinsic value. Eventually you
+may have to declare void many of these shares and withdraw from the
+currency these _actions_ for which so recently the people have been
+clamoring."
+
+"That means repudiation!" broke in the regent.
+
+"Certainly, your Grace, and in so far your Grace has my extremest
+sympathy. I know it was your resolve not to repudiate the debts of
+France, as those debts stood when I first met you some years ago. That
+was honorable. Yet now the debts of France are immeasurably greater,
+rich as France thinks herself to be. Not all France, were the people and
+the produce of the commerce counted in the coin, could pay the debt of
+France as it now exists. Hence, honorable or not, there is nothing
+else--it is repudiation which now confronts you. France is worse than
+bankrupt. And now it would seem wise if your Grace took immediate steps,
+not only for the safety of his person, but for the safety of the
+Government."
+
+"Sir, do you mean that the people would dare, that they would presume--"
+
+"The people are not what they were. There hath come into Europe the
+leaven of the New World. I had looked there to see a nobler and a better
+France. It is too late for that, and surely it is too late for the old
+ways of this France which we see about us. You can not presume now upon
+the temper of these folk as you might have done fifty years ago. The
+Messasebe, that noble stream, it hath swept its purifying flood
+throughout the world! Look you, at this moment there is tumbling this
+house which we have built of bubbles, one bubble upon another, blowing
+each bubble bigger and thinner than the last. Mine is not the only
+fault, nor yet the greatest fault. I was sincere, where others cared
+naught for sincerity. Another day, another people, may yet say the world
+was better for my effort, and that therefore at the last I have not
+failed."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+THE BREAKING OF THE BUBBLE
+
+
+It was the evening of the day following that on which John Law and the
+regent of France had met in their stormy interview. During the morning
+but little had transpired regarding the significant events of the
+previous day. In these vast and excited crowds, divided into groups and
+cliques and factions, aided by no bulletins, counseled by no printed
+page, there was but little cohesion of purpose, since there was little
+unity of understanding. The price of shares at one kiosk might be
+certain thousands of livres, whereas a square away, the price might vary
+by half as many livres; so impetuous was the advance of these
+continually rising prices, and so frenzied and careless the temper of
+those who bargained for them.
+
+Yet before noon of the day following the decree of the regent, which
+fixed the value of _actions_ upon a descending scale, the news, after a
+fashion of its own, spread rapidly abroad, and all too swiftly the truth
+was generally known. The story started in a rumor that shares had been
+offered and declined at a price which had been current but a few moments
+before. This was something which had not been known in all these
+feverish months of the Messasebe. Then came the story that shares could
+not be counted upon to realize over eight thousand livres. At that the
+price of all the _actions_ dropped in a flash, as Law had prophesied. A
+sudden wave of sanity, a panic chill of sober understanding swept over
+this vast multitude of still unreasoning souls who had traded so long
+upon this impossible supposition of an ever-advancing market. Reason
+still lacked among them, yet fear and sudden suspicion were not wanting.
+Man after man hastened swiftly away to sell privately his shares before
+greater drop in the price might come. He met others upon the same
+errand.
+
+Precisely the reverse of the old situation now obtained. As all Paris
+had fought to buy, so now all Paris fought to sell. The streets were
+filled with clamoring mobs. If earlier there had been confusion, now
+there was pandemonium. Never was such a scene witnessed. Never was there
+chronicled so swift and utter reversion of emotion in the minds of a
+great concourse of people. Bitter indeed was the wave of agony that
+swept over Paris. It began at the Messasebe, in the gardens of the Hotel
+de Soisson, at that focus hard by the temple of Fortuna. It spread and
+spread, edging out into all the remoter portions of the walled city. It
+reached ultimately the extreme confines of Paris. Into the crowded
+square which had been decreed as the trading-place of the Messasebe
+System, there crowded from the outer purlieus yet other thousands of
+excited human beings. The end had come. The bubble had burst. There was
+no longer any System of the Messasebe!
+
+It was late in the day, in fact well on toward might, when the knowledge
+of the crash came into the neighborhood where dwelt the Lady Catharine
+Knolls. To her the news was brought by a servant, who excitedly burst
+unannounced into her mistress's presence.
+
+"Madame! Madame!" she cried. "Prepare! 'Tis horrible! 'Tis impossible!
+All is at an end!"
+
+"What mean you, girl!" cried Lady Catharine, displeased at the
+disrespect. "What is happening? Is there fire? And even if there were,
+could you not remember your duty more seemly than this?"
+
+"Worse, worse than fire, Madame! Worse than anything! The bank has
+failed! The shares of the System are going down! 'Tis said that we can
+get but three thousand livres the share, perhaps less--perhaps they will
+go down to nothing. I am ruined, ruined! We are all ruined! And within
+the month I was to have been married to the footman of the Marquis
+d'Allouez, who has bought himself a title this very week!"
+
+"And if it has fallen so ill," said Lady Catharine, "since I have not
+speculated in these things like most folk, I shall be none the worse for
+it, and shall still have money to pay your wages. So perhaps you can
+marry your marquis after all."
+
+"But we shall not be rich, Madame! We are ruined, ruined! _Mon Dieu_! we
+poor folk! We had the hope to be persons of quality. 'Tis all the work
+of this villain Jean L'as. May the Bastille get him, or the people, and
+make him pay for this!"
+
+"Stop! Enough of this, Marie!" said the Lady Catharine, sternly. "After
+this have better wisdom, and do not meddle in things which you do not
+understand."
+
+Yet scarce had the girl departed before there appeared again the sound
+of running steps, and presently there broke, equally unannounced, into
+the presence of his mistress, the coachman, fresh from his stables and
+none too careful of his garb. Tears ran down his cheeks. He flung out
+his hands with gestures as of one demented.
+
+"The news!" cried he. "The news, my Lady! The horrible news! The System
+has vanished, the shares are going down!"
+
+"Fellow, what do you here?" said Lady Catharine. "Why do you come with
+this same story which Marie has just brought to me? Can you not learn
+your place?"
+
+"But, my Lady, you do not understand!" reiterated the man, blankly.
+"'Tis all over. There is no Messasebe; there is no longer any System, no
+longer any Company of the Indies. There is no longer wealth for the
+stretching out of the hand. 'Tis all over. I must go back to horses--I,
+Madame, who should presently have associated with the nobility!"
+
+"Well, and if so," replied his mistress, "I can say to you, as I have to
+Marie, that there will still be money for your wages."
+
+"Wages! My faith, what trifles, my Lady! This Monsieur L'as, the
+director-general, he it is who has ruined us! Well enough it is that the
+square in front of his hotel is filled with people! Presently they will
+break down his doors. And then, pray God they punish him for this that
+he has done!"
+
+The cheek of Lady Catharine paled and a sudden flood of contending
+emotions crossed her mind. "You do not tellme that Monsieur L'as is in
+danger, Pierre?" said she.
+
+"Assuredly. Perhaps within the very hour they will tear down his doors
+and rend him limb from limb. There is no punishment which can serve him
+right--him who has ruined our pretty, pretty System. _Mon Dieu_! It was
+so beautiful!"
+
+"Is this news certain?"
+
+"Assuredly, most certain. Why should it not be? The entire square in
+front of the Hotel de Soisson is packed. Unless my Lady needs me, I
+myself must hasten thither to aid in the punishment of this Jean L'as!"
+
+"You will stay here," said Lady Catharine. "Wait! There may be need! For
+the present, go!"
+
+Left alone, Lady Catharine stood for a moment pale and motionless, in
+the center of the room. She strode then to the window and stood looking
+fixedly out. Her whole figure was tense, rigid. Yonder, over there,
+across the gabled roofs of Paris, they were clamoring at the door of him
+who had given back Paris to the king, and Franceagain to its people.
+They were assailing him--this man so long unfaltering, so insistent on
+his ambitions, so--so steadfast! Could she call him steadfast? And they
+would seize him in spite of the courage which she knew would never fail.
+They would kill, they would rend, they would trample him! They would
+crush that glorious body, abase the lips that had spoke so well of love!
+
+The clenched fingers of Lady Catharine broke apart, her arms were flung
+wide in a gesture of resolution. She turned from the window, looking
+here and there about the room. Unconsciously she stopped before the
+great cheval-glass that hung against the wall. She stood there, looking
+at her own image, keenly, deeply.
+
+She saw indeed a woman fit for sweet usages of love, comely and rounded,
+deep-bosomed, her oval face framed in the piled masses of glorious
+red-brown hair. But her wide, blue eyes, scarce seeing this outward
+form, stared into the soul of that other whom she witnessed.
+
+It was as though the Lady Catharine Knollys at last saw another self and
+recognized it! A quick, hard sob broke from her throat. In haste she
+flew, now to one part of the room, now to another, picking up first this
+article and then that which seemed of need. And so at last she hurried
+to the bell-cord.
+
+"Quick," cried she, as the servant at length appeared. "Quick! Do not
+delay an instant! My carriage at once!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+THAT WHICH REMAINED
+
+
+As for John Law, all through that fatal day which meant for him the ruin
+of his ambitions, he continued in the icy calm which, for days past, had
+distinguished him. He discontinued his ordinary employments, and spent
+some hours in sorting and destroying numbers of papers and documents.
+His faithful servant, the Swiss, Henri, he commanded to make ready his
+apparel for a journey.
+
+"At six this evening," said he, "Henri, we shall be ready to depart. Let
+us be quite ready well before that time."
+
+"Monsieur is leaving Paris?" asked the Swiss, respectfully.
+
+"Quite so."
+
+"Perhaps for a stay of some duration?"
+
+"Quite so, indeed, Henri."
+
+"Then, sir," expostulated the Swiss, "it would require a day or so for
+me to properly arrange your luggage."
+
+"Not at all," replied Law. "Two valises will suffice, not more, and I
+shall perhaps not need even these."
+
+"Not all the apparel, the many coats, the jewels--"
+
+"Do not trouble over them."
+
+"But what disposition shall I make--?"
+
+"None at all. Leave all these things as they are. But stay--this package
+which I shall prepare for you--take it to the regent, and have it marked
+in his care and for the Parliament of France."
+
+Law raised in his hands a bundle of parchments, which one by one he tore
+across, throwing the fragments into a basket as he did so.
+
+"The seat of Tancarville," he said. "The estate of Berville; the Hotel
+Mazarin; the lands of Bourget; the Marquisat of Charleville; the lands
+of Orcher; the estate of Roissy--Gad! what a number of them I find."
+
+"But, Monsieur," expostulated the Swiss, "what is that you do? Are these
+not your possessions?"
+
+"Not so, _mon ami_," replied Law. "They once were mine. They are estates
+in France. Take back these deeds. Dead Sully may have his own again, and
+each of these late owners of the lands. I wished them for a purpose.
+That purpose is no longer possible, and now I wish them no more. Take
+back your deeds, my friends, and bear in your minds that John Law tore
+them in two, and thus canceled the obligation."
+
+"But the moneys you have paid--they are enormous. Surely you will exact
+restitution?"
+
+"Sirrah, could I not afford these moneys?"
+
+"Admirably at the time," replied the Swiss, with the freedom of long
+service. "But for the future, what do we know? Besides, it is a matter
+of right and justice."
+
+"Ah, _mon ami_" said Law, "right and justice are no more. But since you
+speak of money, let us take precautions as to that. We shall need some
+money for our journey. See, Henri! Take this note and get the money
+which it calls for. But no! The crowd may be too great. Look in the
+drawer of my desk yonder, and take out what you find."
+
+The Swiss did as he was bidden, but at length returned with troubled
+face.
+
+"Monsieur," said he, "I can find but a hundred louis."
+
+"Put half of it back," said Law. "We shall not need so much."
+
+"But, Monsieur, I do not understand."
+
+"We shall not need more than fifty louis. That is enough. Leave the
+rest," said Law. "Leave it where you found it"
+
+"But for whom? Does Monsieur soon return?"
+
+"No. Leave it for him who may be first to find it. These dear people
+without, these same people whom I have enriched, and who now will claim
+that I have impoverished them--these people will demand of me everything
+that I have. As a man of honor I can not deny them. They shall have
+every Jot and stiver of the property of John Law, even the million or so
+of good coin which he brought here to Paris with him. The coat on my
+back, the wheels beneath me, gold enough to pay for the charges of the
+inns through France--that is all that John Law will take away with him."
+
+The arms of the old servant fell helpless at his side. "Sir, this is
+madness," he expostulated.
+
+"Not so, Henri," replied Law, leniently. "Madness enough there has been
+in Paris, it is true, but madness not mine nor of my making. For
+madness, look you yonder."
+
+He pointed a finger through the window where the stately edifice of the
+Palais Royal rose.
+
+"My good friend the regent--it is he who hath been mad," continued Law.
+"He, holding France in trust, has ruined France forever."
+
+"Monsieur, I grieve for you," said the Swiss. "I have seen your success
+in these years and, as you may imagine, have understood something of
+your affairs as time went on."
+
+"And have you not profited by your knowledge in these times?"
+
+"I have had the salary your Honor has agreed to pay me," replied the
+Swiss.
+
+"And no more?"
+
+"No more."
+
+"Why, there are serving folk in France by the hundreds who have grown
+millionaires by the knowledge of their employers' affairs these last two
+years in Paris. Never was such a time in all the world for making money.
+Have you been more blind than they? Why did you not tell me? Why did you
+not ask?"
+
+"I was content with your employment. Monsieur L'as. I would ask no
+better master."
+
+"It is not so with certain others. They think me a hard master enough,
+and having displaced me, will do all they can to punish me. But now,
+Henri, you will perhaps need to look elsewhere for a master. I am going
+far away--perhaps across the seas. It may he--but I know not where and
+care not where my foot may wander hereafter, nor will I seek now to plan
+for it. As for you, Henri, since you admit you have been thus blind to
+your own interests, let us look to that. Go to the desk again. Take out
+the drawer--that one on the left hand. So--bring it to me."
+
+The servant obeyed. Law took from his hand the receptacle, and with a
+sweep of his hand poured out on the table its contents. A mass of
+glittering gems, diamonds, sapphires, pearls, emeralds, fell and spread
+over the table top. The light cast out by their thousand facets lit up
+the surroundings with shimmering, many-colored gleams. The wealth of a
+kingdom might have been here in the careless possession of this man,
+whose resources had been absolutely without measure.
+
+"Help yourself, Henri," said Law, calmly, and turned about to his
+employment among the papers. A moment later he turned again to see his
+servant still standing motionless.
+
+"Well?" said Law.
+
+"I do not understand," said the Swiss.
+
+"Take what you like," said Law. "I have said it, and I mean it. It is
+for your pay, because you have been honest, because I understand you as
+a faithful man."
+
+"But, Monsieur, these things have very great value," said the Swiss.
+"Let me ask how is it that you yourself take so little gold along? Does
+Monsieur purpose to take with him his fortune in gems and jewels
+instead?"
+
+"By no means. I purpose taking but fifty louis, as I have said."
+
+"Monsieur would have me replace the drawer?"
+
+"How do you mean?"
+
+"Why, I want none of them."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because Monsieur wants none of them."
+
+"Fie! Your case is quite different from mine."
+
+"Perhaps, but I want none of them."
+
+"Are you afraid?"
+
+"Monsieur!"
+
+"Do you not think them genuine stones?"
+
+"Assuredly," said the Swiss, "else why should we have cared for them
+among our gems?"
+
+"Well, then, I command you as your master, to take forth some of these
+jewels and keep them for your own."
+
+"But no," replied the Swiss. "It is only after Monsieur."
+
+"What? Myself?"
+
+"Assuredly."
+
+"Then, for the sake of precedent," said Law, "let me see. Well, then, I
+will take one gem, only one. Here, Henri, is the diamond which I brought
+with me when I came to Paris years ago. It was the sole jewel owned then
+by my brother and myself, though we had somewhat of gold between us,
+thanks to this same diamond. It was once my sole capital, in years gone
+by. Perhaps we may need a carriage through France, and this may serve to
+pay the hire of a vehicle from one of my late dukes or marquises. Or
+perhaps at best I may send this same stone across the channel to my
+brother Will, who has wisely gone to Scotland, or should have departed
+before this. So, very well, Henri, to oblige you I will take this single
+stone. Now, do you help yourself."
+
+"Since Monsieur limits himself to so little," said the Swiss, sturdily,
+"I shall not want more. This little pin will serve me, and I shall wear
+it long in memory of your many kindnesses."
+
+Law rose to his feet and caught the good fellow by the hand.
+
+"By heaven, I find you of good blood!" said he. "My friend, I thank you.
+And now put up the box. I shall not counsel you to take more than this.
+We shall leave the rest for those who will presently come to claim it."
+
+For some time silence reigned in the great room, as Law, deeply engaged
+in the affairs before him, buried himself in the mass of scattered books
+and papers. Hour after hour wore on, and at last he turned from his
+employment. His face showed calm, pale, and furrowed with a sadness
+which till now had been foreign to it. He arose at last, and with a
+sweep of his arm pushed back the papers which lay before him.
+
+"There," said he. "This should conclude it all. It should all be plain
+enough now to those who follow."
+
+"Monsieur is weary," mentioned the faithful attendant. "He would have
+some refreshment."
+
+"Presently, but I think not here, Henri. My household is not all so
+faithful as yourself, and I question if we could find cook or servants
+for the table below. No, we are to leave Paris to-night, Henri, and it
+is well the journey should begin. Get you down to the stables, and, if
+you can, have my best coach brought to the front door."
+
+"It may not be quite safe, if Monsieur will permit me to suggest."
+
+"Perhaps not. These fools are so deep in their folly that they do not
+know their friends. But safe or not, that is the way I shall go. We
+might slip out through the back door, but 'tis not thus John Law will go
+from Paris."
+
+The servant departed, and Law, left alone, sat silent and motionless,
+buried in thought. Now and again his head sank forward, like that of one
+who has received a deep hurt. But again he drew himself up sternly, and
+so remained, not leaving his seat nor turning toward the window, beyond
+which could now be heard the sound of shouting, and cries whose confused
+and threatening tones might have given ground for the gravest
+apprehension. At length the Swiss again reported, much agitated and
+shaken from his ordinary self-control.
+
+"Monsieur," said he, "come. I have at last the coach at the door.
+Hasten, Monsieur; a crowd is gathering. Indeed, we may meet violence."
+
+Law seemed not to hear him, but sat for a time, his head still bowed,
+his eyes gazing straight before him.
+
+"But, Monsieur," again broke in the Swiss, anxiously, "if I may
+interrupt, there is need to hasten. There will be a mob. Our guard is
+gone."
+
+"So," said Law. "They were afraid?"
+
+"Surely. They fled forthwith when they heard the people below crying out
+at the house. They are indeed threatening death to yourself. They cry
+that they will burn the house--that should you appear, they will have
+your blood at once."
+
+"And are you not afraid?" asked Law.
+
+"I am here. Does not Monsieur fear for himself?"
+
+Law shrugged his shoulders. "There are many of them, and we are but
+two," said he. "For yourself, go you down the back way and care for your
+own safety. I will go out the front and meet these good people. Are we
+quite ready for the journey?"
+
+"Quite ready, as you have directed."
+
+"Have you the two valises, with the one change of clothing?"
+
+"They are here."
+
+"And have you the fifty louis, as I stated?"
+
+"Here in the purse."
+
+"And I think you have also the single diamond."
+
+"It is here."
+
+"Then," said Law, "let us go."
+
+He rose, and scarce looking behind him, even to see that his orders to
+the servant had been obeyed, he strode down the vast stairway of the
+great hotel, past many precious works of art, between walls hung with
+richest tapestries and noble paintings. The click of his heel on a
+chance bit of exposed marble here and there echoed hollow, as though
+indeed the master of the palace had been abandoned by all his people.
+The great building was silent, empty.
+
+"What! Are you, then, here?" he said, seeing the servant had disobeyed
+his instructions and was following close behind him. He alone out of
+those scores of servants, those hundreds of fawning nobles, those
+thousands of sycophant souls who had but lately cringed before him, now
+accompanied the late master of France as he turned to leave the house
+in which he no longer held authority.
+
+Without, but the door's thickness from where he stood, there arose a
+tumult of sound, shouts, cries, imprecations, entreaties, as though the
+walls of some asylum for the unfortunate had broken away and allowed its
+inmates to escape unrestrained, irreclaimable, impossible to control.
+
+"Down with Jean L'as! Down with Jean L'as!" rose a cadenced, rhythmic
+shout, the accord of a mob of Paris beating into its tones. And this
+steady burden was broken by the cries of "Enter! Enter! Break down the
+door! Kill the monster! Assassin! Thief! Traitor!" No word of the
+vocabulary of scorn and loathing was wanting in their cries.
+
+Hearing these cries, the face of this fighting man now grew hot with
+anger, and now it paled with grief and sorrow. Yet he faltered not, but
+stepped on, confidently. The Swiss opened the door and stood at the head
+of the flight of stairs. Tall, calm, pale, fearless, John Law stood
+facing the angry mob, his eyes shining brightly. He laid his hand for an
+instant upon his sword, yet it was but to unbuckle the belt. The weapon
+he left leaning against the wall, and so stepped on down toward the
+crowd.
+
+He was met by a rush of excited men and women, screaming, cursing,
+giving vent to inarticulate and indistinguishable speech. A man laid his
+hand upon his shoulder. Law caught the hand, and with a swift wrench of
+the wrist, threw the owner of it to the ground. At this the others gave
+back, and for half a moment silence ensued. The mob lacked just the
+touch of rage to hurl themselves upon him. He raised his hand and
+motioned them aside.
+
+"Are you not Jean L'as?" cried one dame, excitedly, waving in his face a
+handful of the paper shares of the latest issue in the Company of the
+Indies. "Are you not Jean L'as? Tell me, then, where is my money for
+these things? What shall I get for this rotten paper?"
+
+"You are Jean L'as, the director-general!" cried a man, pushing up to
+his side. "'Twas you that ruined the Company. See! Here is all that I
+have!" He wept as he shook his bunch of paper in John Law's face. "Last
+week I was worth half a million!" He wept, and tore across, with
+impotent rage, the bundle of worthless paper.
+
+"Down with Jean L'as! Down with Jean L'as!" came the recurrent cry. A
+rush followed. The carriage, towering above the ring of the surrounding
+crowd, showed its coat of arms, and thus was recognized. A paving-stone
+crashed through its heavy window. A knife ripped up the velvets of the
+cushions.
+
+The coachman was pulled from his box. The horses, plunging with terror,
+were cut loose from the pole and led away. With shouts and cries of rage
+and busy zeal, one madman vied with another in tearing, cutting and
+destroying the vehicle, until it stood there ruined, without means of
+locomotion, defaced and useless. And still the ring of desperate
+humanity closed around him who had late been master of all France.
+
+"What do you want, my friends?" asked he, calmly, as for an instant
+there came a lull in the tumult. He stood looking at them curiously now,
+his dulling eyes regarding them as though they presented some new and
+interesting study. "What is it that you desire?" he repeated.
+
+"We want our money," cried a score of voices. "We want back that which
+you have stolen."
+
+"You are not exact," replied Law, calmly. "I have not your money, nor
+yet have I stolen it. If you have suffered by this foolish panic, you do
+not mend matters by thus treating me. By heaven, you go the wrong way to
+get anything from me! Out of the way, you _canaille_! Do you think to
+frighten me? I made your city. I made you all Now, do you think to
+frighten me, John Law?"
+
+"Oh! You would go away, you want to escape!" cried the voices of those
+near at hand. "We will see as to that!"
+
+Again they fell upon the carriage, and still they hemmed him in the
+closer.
+
+"True, I am going away," said Law. "But you can not say that I tried to
+steal away without your knowing it. There, up the stairs, are my papers.
+You will see in time that I have concealed nothing. Now I am going to
+leave Paris, it is true; but not because I am afraid to stay here. 'Tis
+for other reason, and reason of mine own."
+
+"'Twas you who ruined Paris--this city which you now seek to leave!"
+shrieked the dame who had spoken before, still shaking her useless
+bank-notes in her hand.
+
+"Oh, very well, my friend. For the argument, let us agree upon that,"
+said Law.
+
+"You ruined our Company, our beautiful Company!" cried another.
+
+"Certainly. Since I was the originator of it, that follows as matter of
+reason," replied Law.
+
+"Ah, he admits it! He admits it!" cried yet another. "Don't let him
+escape. Kill him! Down with Jean L'as!"
+
+"We are going to kill you precisely here!" cried a huge fellow,
+brandishing a paving-stone before his eyes. "You are not fit to live."
+
+"As to that," said Law, "I agree with you perfectly. My hand upon it; I
+am not fit to live. I have found that I made mistakes. I have found that
+there is nothing left to desire. I have found out that all this money is
+not worth the having. I have found out so many things, my very dear
+friends, that I quite agree with you. For if one must want to live
+before he is fit to live, then indeed I am not fit. But what then?"
+
+"Kill him! Kill him! Strike him down!" cried out a voice back of the
+giant with the menacing paving-stone.
+
+"Oh, very well, my friends," resumed the object of their fury, flicking
+again with his old, careless gesture at the deep cuff of his wrist. "As
+you like in regard to that. More than one man has offered me that
+happiness in the past, yet it was many a long year since, any man could
+trouble me by announcing that he was about to kill me."
+
+Something in the attitude of the man stayed the hands of the most
+dangerous members of the mob. Yet ever there came the cry from back of
+them. "Down with Jean L'as! He has ruined everything!"
+
+"Friends," responded Law to this cry, bitterly, "you little know how
+true you speak. It was indeed John Law who brought ruin to everything.
+It was indeed he who threw away what was worth more than all the gold in
+France. It is indeed he who has failed, and failed most utterly. You can
+not frighten John Law, but you may do as you like with him, for surely
+he has failed!"
+
+The bitterness of despair was in his tones. Then, perhaps, the sullen,
+savage crowd had wrought their last act of anger and revenge on him, had
+it not been for a sudden change in that tide of ill fortune that now
+seemed to carry him forward to his doom. There came a sound of far-off
+cries, a distant clacking of hoofs, the clatter of steel, many shouts,
+entreaties and commands. The close-packed crowd which filled the open
+space in front of the hotel writhed, twisted, turned and would have
+sought to resolve itself into groups and individuals. Some cried out
+that the troops were coming. A detachment of the king's household, sent
+out to disperse these dangerous gatherings, came full front down the
+street, as had so often come the arm of the military in this turbulent
+old city of Paris. Remorselessly they rode over and through the mob,
+driving them, dispersing them. A moment later, and Law stood almost
+alone at the steps of his own house. The squadron wheeled, headed by an
+officer, who rode upon him with sword uplifted as though to cut him
+down. Law raised his hand at this new menace.
+
+"Stop!" he cried. "I am the cause of this rioting. I am John Law."
+
+"What! Monsieur L'as?" cried the lieutenant. "So the people have found
+you, have they?"
+
+"It would so seem. They have destroyed my carriage, and they would have
+killed me," replied Law. "But I perceive it is Captain Mirabec. 'Twas I
+who got you your commission, as you may remember."
+
+"Is it so?" replied the other, with a grin. "I have no recollection.
+Since you are Jean L'as, the late director-general, the pity is I did
+not let the people kill you. You are the cause of the ruin of us all,
+the cause of my own ruin. Three days more, and I had been a
+major-general. I had nearly the sum in _actions_ ready to pay over at
+the right place. By our Lady of Grace, I am minded to run you through
+myself, for a greater villain never set foot in France!"
+
+"Monsieur, I am about to leave France," said Law.
+
+"Oh, you would leave us? You would run away?"
+
+"As you like. But most of all, I am now very weary. I would not remain
+here longer talking. Henri, where are you?"
+
+The faithful Swiss, who had remained close to his employer all the time,
+and who had been not far from his side during the scenes just concluded,
+was in a moment at his side. He hardly reached his master too soon, for
+as he passed his arm about him, the head of Law sank wearily forward. He
+might, perhaps, have sunk to the ground had he lacked a supporting arm.
+
+At this moment there came again the sound of hoofs upon the pavement.
+There was the rush of a mounted outrider, and hard after him sped the
+horses of a carriage, whose driver pulled up close at the curb and
+scarce clear of the little group gathered there. The door of the coach
+was opened, and at it appeared the figure of a woman, who quickly
+descended from the step.
+
+"What is it?" she cried. "Is not this the residence of Monsieur Law?"
+The officer saluted, and the few loiterers gave back and made room, as
+she stepped fully into the street and advanced with decision towards
+those whom she saw.
+
+"Madam," replied the Swiss, "this is the residence of Monsieur L'as, and
+this is Monsieur L'as himself. I fear he is taken suddenly ill."
+
+The lady stepped quickly to his side. As she did so, Law, as one not
+fully hearing, half raised his head. He looked full into her face, and
+releasing himself from the arms of his servant, stood thus, staring
+directly at the visitor, his face haggard, his fixed eyes bearing no
+sign of actual recognition.
+
+"Catharine! Catharine!" he exclaimed. "Oh God, how cruel of you too to
+mock me! Catharine!"
+
+The unspeakable yearning of the cry went to the heart of her who heard
+it. She put out a hand and laid it on his forehead. The Swiss motioned
+toward the house. And even as the officer wheeled his troop to depart,
+these two again ascended the steps, half carrying between them a
+stumbling man, who but repeated mumblingly to himself the same words:
+
+"Mockery! Mockery!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+THE QUALITY OF MERCY
+
+
+Within the great house there was silence, for the vistas of the wide
+interior led far back from the street and its tumult; nor did there
+arise within the walls any sound of voice or footfall. Of the entire
+household there was but one left to do the master service.
+
+They entered the great hall, passed the foot of the wide stairway, and
+turned at the first _entresol_, where were seats and couches. The
+servant paused for a moment and looked inquiringly at the lady with whom
+he now found himself in company.
+
+"The times are serious," he began. "I would not intrude, Madame, yet
+perhaps you are aware--"
+
+"I am a friend of monsieur," replied Lady Catharine. "He is ill. See, he
+is not himself. Tell me, what is this illness?"
+
+"Madame," said the Swiss, gravely, "his illness is that of grief.
+Monsieur's failure sits heavily upon him."
+
+[Illustration]
+
+"How long is it since he slept?" asked the lady, for she noted the
+drooping head of the man now reclining upon the couch.
+
+"Not for many days and nights," replied the Swiss. "He has for the last
+few days been under much strain. But shall I not assist you, Madame? You
+are, perhaps--pardon me, since I do not know your relationship with
+monsieur--"
+
+"A friend of years ago. I knew Mr. Law when he lived in England."
+
+"I perceive. Perhaps Madame would be alone for a time? If you please, I
+will seek aid."
+
+They approached the side of the couch. Law's head lay back upon the
+cushions. His breath came deeply and slowly, not stertorously nor
+labored.
+
+"How strange," whispered the Swiss, "he sleeps!"
+
+Such was indeed the truth. The iron nature, so long overwrought, now
+utterly unstrung, had yielded for the first time to the stress of nature
+and of events. The relief from what he had taken to be death had come
+swiftly, and the reaction brought a lethal calm of its own. If he had
+indeed recognized the face of the woman who had touched him with her
+hand, it was as though he had witnessed her in a vision, a dream bitter
+and troubled, since it was a dream impossible to be true.
+
+The Swiss looked still hesitatingly at the lady who had thus strangely
+come upon the scene, noticing her sweet and tender mouth, her cheeks
+just faintly tinged with pink, her eyes shining with a soft, mysterious
+radiance. She approached the couch and laid both her hands upon the face
+of the unconscious man. Tears sprang within her eyes and fell from her
+dark lashes. The old servant looked up at her, simply.
+
+"Madame would be alone with monsieur?" asked he. "It will be better."
+
+Lady Catharine Knollys, left alone, gazed upon the sleeper. John Law,
+the failure, lay there, supine, abased, cast-down, undone, shorn utterly
+of his old arrogance of mind and mien. Fortune, wealth, even the boon of
+physical well-being--all had fled from him. The pride of a superb
+manhood had departed from the lines of this limp figure. The cheeks were
+lined and sunken, the eye, even had the lid not covered it, lacked the
+late convincing fire. No longer commanding, no longer strong, no longer
+gay and debonair, he lay, a man whose fate was failure, as he himself
+had said.
+
+The woman who stood with clasped hands, gazing at him, tears welling in
+her eyes--she, so closely linked to his every thought for these many
+years--well enough she knew the story of his boundless ambitions, now so
+swiftly ended. Well enough, too, she knew the shortcomings of this
+mortal man before her. Even as she had in her mirror looked into her own
+soul, so now she saw deep into his heart as he lay there, helpless,
+making no further plea for himself, urging no claim, making no
+explanations nor denials, no asseverations, no promises. Did she indeed
+see and recognize again, as sometimes gloriously happens in this poor
+life of ours, that other and inner man, the only one fit to touch a
+woman's hand--the man who might have been? Did she see this, and greet
+again the friend of long ago? God, who hath given mercy, remedy alone
+sufficing for the ill that men may do, He alone may know these things.
+
+Could John Law failing be John Law succeeding, and in his most sublime
+success? Upon the wreck and ruin of the old nature could there grow
+another and a better man? Mayhap the answer to this was what the eye of
+woman saw. How else could there have come into this great room, so late
+the scene of turbulent activities, this vast and soothing calm? How else
+could this man's breath come now so deep and regular and content? The
+angels of God may know, they who drop down the gentle dew of heaven.
+
+An hour passed by. A soft tread came to the door, but Henri heard no
+sound, and saw only the prone figure of the sleeper, and beside it the
+form of the woman, who still held his hand in her own. Still the hours
+wore on, and still the watch continued, there under the mysteries of
+Life and of Love, of Mercy and of Forgiveness. And so at last the gray
+dawn broke again. The panes of the high mullioned windows were tinged
+with splashes of color. The pale light crept into the room, slowly
+revealing and lighting up its splendors.
+
+With the dawn there came into the heart of Catharine Knollys a flood of
+light and joy. Why, she knew not; how, she cared not; yet she knew that
+the shadows were gone. The same tide of peace and calm might have swept
+into the bosom of the man before her. He stirred, moved. His eyes opened
+wide, in their gaze wonder and disbelief, yet hope and longing.
+
+"Catharine," he murmured, "Catharine! Is it you? Catharine! Dear Kate!"
+
+She bent over and softly kissed his face. "Dear heart," she whispered,
+"I have loved you always. Awake. The day has come. There is another
+world before us. See, I have come to you, dear heart, for Faith, and for
+Love, and for Hope!"
+
+
+
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