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satisfaction；　the　good　man　had　permitted　and　congratulated　himself

to　sit　at　table　with　a　free…born　Americanhe　was　even　more

loquacious。　　For　what　then；　he　would　ask；　was　this　incompetence；

this　imbecility；　of　France？　　He　would　tell。　　It　was　the　vile

corruption　of　Paris；　the　grasping　of　capital　and　companies；　the

fatal　influence　of　the　still　clinging　noblesse；　and　the　insidious

Jesuitical　power　of　the　priests。　　As　for　example；　Monsieur　〃the

Booflo…bil〃　had　doubtless　noticed　the　great　gates　of　the　park

before　the　cafe？　　It　was　the　preserve；the　hunting…park　of　one　of

the　old　grand　seigneurs；　still　kept　up　by　his　descendants；　the

Comtes　de　Fontonelleshundreds　of　acres　that　had　never　been

tilled；　and　kept　as　wild　waste　wilderness；kept　for　a　day's

pleasure　in　a　year！　　And；　look　you！　the　peasants　starving　around

its　walls　in　their　small　garden　patches　and　pinched　farms！　　And　the

present　Comte　de　Fontonelles　cascading　gold　on　his　mistresses　in

Paris；　and　the　Comtesse；　his　mother；　and　her　daughter　living　there

to　feed　and　fatten　and　pension　a　brood　of　plotting；　black…cowled

priests。　　Ah；　bah！　where　was　your　Republican　France；　then？　　But　a

time　would　come。　　The　〃Booflo…bil〃　had；　without　doubt；　noticed；　as

he　came　along　the　road；　the　breaches　in　the　wall　of　the　park？



Dick；　with　a　slight　dry　reserve；　〃reckoned　that　he　had。〃



〃They　were　made　by　the　scythes　and　pitchforks　of　the　peasants　in

the　Revolution　of　'93；　when　the　count　was　emigre；　as　one　says　with

reason　'skedadelle；'　to　England。　　Let　them　look　the　next　time　that

they　burn　not　the　chateau；'bet　your　lif'！'〃



〃The　chateau；〃　said　Dick；　with　affected　carelessness。　　〃Wot's　the

blamed　thing　like？〃



It　was　an　old　affair；with　armor　and　a　picture…gallery；and

bricabrac。　　He　had　never　seen　it。　　Not　even　as　a　boy；it　was　kept

very　secluded　then。　　As　a　manyou　understandhe　could　not　ask　the

favor。　　The　Comtes　de　Fontonelles　and　himself　were　not　friends。

The　family　did　not　like　a　cafe　near　their　sacred　gates；where　had

stood　only　the　huts　of　their　retainers。　　The　American　would　observe

that　he　had　not　called　it　〃Cafe　de　Chateau；〃　nor　〃Cafe　de

Fontonelles；〃the　gold　of　California　would　not　induce　him。　　Why

did　he　remain　there？　　Naturally；　to　goad　them！　　It　was　a　principle；

one　understood。　　To　GOAD　them　and　hold　them　in　check！　　One　kept　a

cafe；why　not？　　One　had　one's　principles；one's　conviction；that

was　another　thing！　　That　was　the　kind　of　〃'air…pin〃was　it　not？

that　HE；　Gustav　Ribaud；　was　like！



Yet　for　all　his　truculent　socialism；　he　was　quick；　obliging；　and

charmingly　attentive　to　Dick　and　his　needs。　　As　to　Dick's　horse；　he

should　have　the　best　veterinary　surgeonthere　was　an　incomparable

one　in　the　person　of　the　blacksmithsee　to　him；　and　if　it　were　an

affair　of　days；　and　Dick　must　go；　he　himself　would　be　glad　to

purchase　the　beast；　his　saddle；　and　accoutrements。　　It　was　an

affair　of　business；an　advertisement　for　the　cafe！　　He　would　ride

the　horse　himself　before　the　gates　of　the　park。　　It　would　please

his　customers。　　Ha！　he　had　learned　a　trick　or　two　in　free　America。



Dick's　first　act　had　been　to　shave　off　his　characteristic　beard　and

mustache；　and　even　to　submit　his　long　curls　to　the　village　barber's

shears；　while　a　straw　hat；　which　he　bought　to　take　the　place　of　his

slouched　sombrero；　completed　his　transformation。　　His　host　saw　in

the　change　only　the　natural　preparation　of　a　voyager；　but　Dick　had

really　made　the　sacrifice；　not　from　fear　of　detection；　for　he　had

recovered　his　old　swaggering　audacity；　but　from　a　quick　distaste　he

had　taken　to　his　resemblance　to　the　portrait。　　He　was　too　genuine　a

Westerner；　and　too　vain　a　man；　to　feel　flattered　at　his　resemblance

to　an　aristocratic　bully；　as　he　believed　the　ancestral　De　Fontonelles

to　be。　　Even　his　momentary　sensation　as　he　faced　the　Cure　in　the

picture…gallery　was　more　from　a　vague　sense　that　liberties　had　been

taken　with　his；　Dick's；　personality；　than　that　he　had　borrowed

anything　from　the　portrait。



But　he　was　not　so　clear　about　the　young　girl。　　Her　tender；

appealing　voice；　although　he　knew　it　had　been　addressed　only　to　a

vision；　still　thrilled　his　fancy。　　The　pluck　that　had　made　her

withstand　her　fear　so　longuntil　he　had　uttered　that　dreadful

wordstill　excited　his　admiration。　　His　curiosity　to　know　what

mistake　he　had　madefor　he　knew　it　must　have　been　some　frightful

blunderwas　all　the　more　keen；　as　he　had　no　chance　to　rectify　it。

What　a　brute　she　must　have　thought　himor　DID　she　really　think　him

a　brute　even　then？for　her　look　was　one　more　of　despair　and　pity！

Yet　she　would　remember　him　only　by　that　last　word；　and　never　know

that　he　had　risked　insult　and　ejection　from　her　friends　to　carry

her　to　her　place　of　safety。　　He　could　not　bear　to　go　across　the

seas　carrying　the　pale；　unsatisfied　face　of　that　gentle　girl　ever

before　his　eyes！　　A　sense　of　delicacynew　to　Dick；　but　always　the

accompaniment　of　deep　feelingkept　him　from　even　hinting　his　story

to　his　host；　though　he　knewperhaps　BECAUSE　he　knewthat　it　would

gratify　his　enmity　to　the　family。　　A　sudden　thought　struck　Dick。

He　knew　her　house；　and　her　name。　　He　would　write　her　a　note。

Somebody　would　be　sure　to　translate　it　for　her。



He　borrowed　pen；　ink；　and　paper；　and　in　the　clean　solitude　of　his

fresh　chintz　bedroom；　indited　the　following　letter：





DEAR　MISS　FONTONELLES；Please　excuse　me　for　having　skeert　you。　　I

hadn't　any　call　to　do　it；　I　never　reckoned　to　do　itit　was　all

jest　my　derned　luck；　I　only　reckoned　to　tell　you　I　was　lostin

them　blamed　woodsdon't　you　remember？〃lost〃PERDOO！and　then

you　up　and　fainted！　　I　wouldn't　have　come　into　your　garden；　only；

you　see；　I'd　just　skeered　by　accident　two　of　your　helps；　reg'lar

softies；　and　I　wanted　to　explain。　　I　reckon　they　allowed　I　was　that

man　that　that　picture　in　the　hall　was　painted　after。　　I　reckon　they

took　ME　for　himsee？　　But　he　ain't　MY　style；　nohow；　and　I　never

saw　the　picture　at　all　until　after　I'd　toted　you；　when　you　fainted；

up　to　your　house；　or　I'd　have　made　my　kalkilations　and　acted

according。　　I'd　have　laid　low　in　the　woods；　and　got　away　without

skeerin'　you。　　You　see　what　I　mean？　　It　was　mighty　mean　of　me；　I

suppose；　to　have　tetched　you　at　all；　without　saying；　〃Excuse　me；

miss；〃　and　toted　you　out　of　the　garden　and　up　the　steps　into　your

own　parlor　without　asking　your　leave。　　But　the　whole　thing　tumbled

so　suddent。　　And　it　didn't　seem　the　square　thing　for　me　to　lite　out

and　leave　you　lying　there　on　the　grass。　　That's　why！　　I'm　sorry　I

skeert　that　old　preacher；　but　he　came　upon　me　in　the　picture　hall

so　suddent；　that　it　was　a　mighty　close　call；　I　tell　you；　to　get　off

without　a　shindy。　　Please　forgive　me；　Miss　Fontonelles。　　When　you

get　this；　I　shall　be　going　back　home　to　America；　but　you　might

write　to　me　at　Denver　City；　saying　you're　all　right。　　I　liked　your

style；　I　liked　your　grit　in　standing　up　to　me　in　the　garden　until

you　had　your　say；　when　you　thought　I　was　the　Lord　knows　what

though　I　never　understood　a　word　you　got　offnot　knowing　French。

But　it's　all　the　same　now。　　Say！　　I've　got　your　rose！



Yours　very　respectfully；



RICHARD　FOUNTAINS。





Dick　folded　the　epistle　and　put　it　in　his　pocket。　　He　would　post　it

himself　on　the　morning　before　he　left。　　When　he　came　downstairs　he

found　his　indefatigable　host　awaiting　him；　with　the　report　of　the

veterinary　blacksmith。　　There　was　nothing　seriously　wrong　with　the

mustang；　but　it　would　be　unfit　to　travel　for　several　days。　　The

landlord　repeated　his　former　offer。　　Dick；　whose　money　was　pretty

well　exhausted；　was　fain　to　accept；　reflecting　that　SHE　had　never

seen　the　mustang　and　would　not　recognize　it。　　But　he　drew　the　line

at　the　sombrero；　to　which　his　host　had　taken　a　great　fancy。　　He　had

worn　it　before　HER！



Later　in　the　evening　Dick　was　sitting　on　the　low　veranda　of　the

cafe；　overlooking　the　white　road。　　A　round　white　table　was　beside

him；　his　feet　were　on　the　railing；　but　his　eyes　were　resting　beyond

on　the　high；　mouldy　iron　gates　of　the　mysterious　park。　　What　he　was

thinking　of　did　not　matter；　but　he　was　a　little　impatient　at　the

sudden　appearance　of　his　hostwhom　he　had　evaded　during　the

afternoonat　his　side。　　The　man's　manner　was　full　of　bursting

loquacity　and　mysterious　levity。



Truly；　it　was　a　good　hour　when　Dick　had　arrived　at　Fontonelles；

〃just　in　time。〃　　He　could　see　now　what　a　world　of　imbeciles　was

France。　　What　stupid　ignorance　ruled；　what　low　cunning　and　low　tact

could　achieve；in　effect；　what　jugglers　and　mountebanks；

hypocritical　priests　and　licentious　and　lying　noblesse　went　to　make

up　existing　society。　　Ah；　there　had　been　a　fine　excitement；　a

regular　coup　d'theatre　at　Fontonelles；the　chateau　yonder；　here　at

the　village；　where　the　news　was　brought　by　frightened　grooms　and

silly　women！　　He　had　been　in　the　thick　of　it　all　the　afternoon！　　He

had　examined　it；interrogated　them　like　a　juge　d'instruction；

winnowed　it；　sifted　it。　　And　what　was　it　all？　　An　attempt　by　these

wretched　priests　and　noblesse　to　revive　in　the　nineteenth　century

the　age　of　electricity　and　Pullman　carsa　miserable　mediaeval

legend　of　an　apparition；　a　miracle！　　Yes；　one　is　asked　to　believe

that　at　the　chateau　yonder　was　seen　last　night　three　times　the

apparition　of　Armand　de　Fontonelles！



Dick　started。　　〃Armand　de　Fontonelles！〃　　He　remembered　that　she　had

repeated　that　name。



〃Who's　he？〃　he　demanded　abruptly。



〃The　first　Comte　de　Fontonelles！　　When　monsieur　knows　that　the

first　comte　has　been　dead　three　hundred　years；　he　will　see　the

imbecility　of　the　affair！〃



〃Wot　did　he　come　back　for？〃　growled　Dick。



〃Ah！　it　was　a　legend。　　Consider　its　artfulness！　　The　Comte　Armand

had　been　a　hard　liver；　a　dissipated　scoundrel；　a　reckless　beast；

but　a　mighty　hunter　of　the　stag。　　It　was　said　that　on　one　of　these

occasions　he　had　been　warned　by　the　apparition　of　St。　Hubert；　but

he　had　laughed；for；　observe；　HE　always　jeered　at　the　priests　too；

hence　this　story！and　had　declared　that　the　flaming　cross　seen

between　the　horns　of　the　sacred　stag　was　only　the　torch　of　a

poacher；　and　he　would　shoot　it！　　Good！　the　body　of　the　comte；　dead；

but　without　a　wound；　was　found　in　the　wood　the　next　day；　with　his

discharged　arquebus　in　his　hand。　　The　Archbishop　of　Rouen　refused

his　body　the　rites　of　the　Church　until　a　number　of　masses　were　said

every　year　andpaid　for！　　One　understands！　one　sees　their　'little

game；'　the　count　now　appears；he　is　in　purgatory！　　More　masses；

more　money！　　There　you　are。　　Bah！　　One　understands；　too；　that　the

affair　takes　place；　not　in　a　cafe　like　this；not　in　a　public

place；but　at　a　chateau　of　the　noblesse；　and　is　seen　by〃the

proprietor　checked　the　characters　on　his　fingersTWO　retainers；

one　young　demoiselle　of　the　noblesse；　daughter　of　the　chatelaine

herself；　and；　my　faith；　it　goes　without　saying；　by　a　fat　priest；

the　Cure！　　In　effect；　two　interested　ones！　　And　the　pries