the position had not been jostling one another on his threshold. And then that flash of satisfaction was followed by a look of surprise.
"You are come in regard to that?"
André-Louis shrugged and half smiled. "One must live," said he.
"But come in. Sit down there. I shall be at your.... I shall be free to attend to you in a moment."
André-Louis took a seat on the bench ranged against one of the whitewashed walls. The room was long and low, its floor entirely bare. Plain wooden forms such as that which he occupied were placed here and there against the wall. These last were plastered with fencing trophies, masks, crossed foils, stuffed plastrons, and a variety of swords, daggers, and targets, belonging to a variety of ages and countries. There was also a portrait of an obese, big-nosed gentleman in an elaborately curled wig, wearing the blue ribbon of the Saint Esprit, in whom André-Louis recognized the King. And there was a framed parchment—M. des Amis' certificate from the King's Academy. A bookcase occupied one corner, and near this, facing the last of the four windows that abundantly lighted the long room, there was a small writing-table and an armchair. A plump and beautifully dressed young gentleman stood by this table in the act of resuming coat and wig. M. des Amis sauntered over to him—moving, thought André-Louis, with extraordinary grace and elasticity—and stood in talk with him whilst also assisting him to complete his toilet.
At last the young gentleman took his departure, mopping himself with a fine kerchief that left a trail of perfume on the air. M. des Amis closed the door, and turned to the applicant, who rose at once.
"Where have you studied?" quoth the fencing-master abruptly.
"Studied?" André-Louis was taken aback by the question. "Oh, at Louis Le Grand."
M. des Amis frowned, looking up sharply as if to see
