to be near me was his only object. By a stableman's chance remark, overheard as I was looking at my horses, I learned of his presence on the morning of the day when Varvilliers was to arrive at Artenberg. We were coming together again, we three who had met last for pistol practice in the Garden Pavilion.
About two o'clock I went out alone and got into my canoe. It was a beautiful day; no excuse was needed for a lounge on the water. I paddled up and down leisurely, wondering how soon the decoy would bring my bird. A quarter of an hour proved enough. I saw him saunter down to the water's edge. He perceived me, lifted his soft hat, and bowed. I shot across the space between, and brought the canoe up to the edge of the level lawn that bordered on the river.
"Why, what brings you here?" I cried.
His lips curved in a smile, as he replaced his hat in obedience to a sign from me.
"A passion for the Baroness, sire," said he.
"Ah, that's only a virtuous pretence," I laughed. "You've a less creditable motive?"
"Why, possibly; but who tells his less creditable motives?"
I looked at him curiously and attentively. He had grown older, the hair by his ears was gray, and life had ploughed furrows on his face.
"Well," said I, "a man might do even that who talks romance to the Chamber."
He gave a short laugh as he lit his cigarette.
"Your Majesty has done me the honour of reading what I said?"
"I am told that I suggested it. So runs the gossip in town, doesn't it?"
"And your opinion on it?"
