"Unless you have incurred Princess Heinrich's anger."
"I tell you I'm going to settle down."
"Never," said I.
"Be careful, sire. The revolver I bought for Struboff is in my pocket."
"Make me a present of it," I suggested.
He looked hard in my eyes, laughed a little, drew out a small revolver, and handed it to me.
"Struboff was never in great danger," he said.
"I was never much afraid for Struboff," said I. "Thanks for the revolver. You're not quibbling with me?"
"I don't understand."
"There's no river in this town; no institution called the Morgue?"
"Not a trace of such things. Do you know why not?"
"Because it's the king's pleasure," said I, smiling and holding out my hand to him.
"Because I'm a friend to a friend," he said, as he took my hand. Then without another word he turned and walked out quickly. I heard him speak to Vohrenlorf in the outer room, and laugh loudly as he ran down the stairs.
He had reminded me that I was a pupil of Hammerfeldt's. The reminder came home to me as a reproach. I had been forgetful of the Prince's lessons; I had allowed myself to fall into a habit of thought which led me to assume that my happiness or unhappiness was a relevant consideration in judging of the merits of the universe. The assumption is so common as to make us forget that so far from being proved it is not even plausible. I saw the absurdity of it at once, in the light of my recent dis-
