The Governor looked at them a moment without speaking. "It is French uniform of the time of Louis Quinze," he said. "Picturesque, but informal," he added.
He went over, and taking a carbine from one of the men, examined it. "Your carbines are not so unconventional and antique," he said meaningly, and with a frosty smile. " The compromise of the centuries—hein?" he added to the Curé, who, with the Avocat, was now looking on with some trepidation. "I am wondering if it is quite legal. It is charming to have such a guard of honour, but I am wondering—wondering—eh, monsieur l'avocat, is it legal?"
The Avocat made no reply, but the Curé's face was greatly troubled. The Seigneur's momentary placidity passed.
"I answer for their legality, your Excellency," he said, in a high, assertive voice.
"Of course, of course, you will answer for it," said the Governor, smiling enigmatically. He came suddenly forward and held out his hand to Madelinette.
"Madame, I shall remember your kindness, and I appreciate the simple honours done me here. Your arrival at the moment of my visit is a happy circumstance."
There was a meaning in his eye—not in his voice—which went straight to Madelinette's understanding. She murmured something in reply, and a moment afterwards the Governor, his suite, and the crowd were gone, and the men-at-arms—the fantastic body of men in their antique livery, armed with the latest modern weapons, had gone back to civic life again.
Inside the house once more, Madelinette laid her hand upon Louis' arm with a smile that wholly de-
