from the gates of death. As he had come home from the futile public meeting, galloping through the streets and out upon the Seigneury road in the dusk, his horse had shied upon a bridge where mischievous lads waylaid travellers with ghostly heads made of lighted candles in hollowed pumpkins, and horse and man had been plunged into the stream beneath. His faithful servant Havel had seen the accident, and dragged his insensible master from the water.
Now the Seigneur sat in the great arm-chair glowering out upon the cheerful day. As he brooded, shaken and weak and bitter—all his thoughts were bitter now—a flash of scarlet, a glint of white plumes crossed his line of vision, disappeared, then again came into view, and horses' hoofs rang out on the hard road below. He started to his feet, but fell back again, so feeble was he, then rang the bell at his side with nervous insistence. A door opened quickly behind him, and his voice said imperiously:
"Quick, Havel—to the door! The Governor and his suite have come. Call Tardif, and have wine and cake brought at once. When the Governor enters, let Tardif stand at the door and you beside my chair. Have the men-at-arms get into livery and make a guard of honour for the Governor when he leaves. Their new rifles, too, and let old Fashode wear his medal! See that Lucre is not filthy—ha! ha! very good, I must let the Governor hear that. Quick—quick, Havel! They are entering the grounds. Let the manor bell be rung and every one mustered. He shall see that to be a Seigneur is not an empty honour. I am something in the state, something in my own right!" His lips moved restlessly; he frowned; his hands nervously clasped the arms of the chair. "Madelinette, too, shall see that I
