"I saw that there was a dauphin too many, hopelessly idiotic. But if he was the one to be guarded, I would guard him." "Who was that idiot?" "Some unknown pauper. No doubt of that." "And what did you do with me?" "A chief of the Iroquois Indians can tell you that." "This is a clumsy story, Bellenger. Try again." "Sire--" "If you knew so little of the country, how did you find an Iroquois chief?" "I met him in the woods when he was hunting. I offered to give you to him, pretending you had the annuity from Europe. Sire, I do not know why trickery was practiced on me, or who practiced it: why such pains were taken to mix the clues which led to the dauphin. But afterwards the same agent had orders to give you two-thirds and me only one-third of the yearly sum. I thought the court was in straits;--when both Russia and Spain supported it! I was nothing but a court painter. But when you went to France, I blocked your way with all the ingenuity I could bring." "I would like to ask you, Bellenger, what a man is called who attempts the life of his king?" "Sire, the tricks of royalists pitted us against each other." "That's enough, Bellenger. I don't believe a word you say, excepting that part of your story agreeing with Madame de Ferrier's. Put your hand under my pillow and find my wallet. Now help yourself, and never let me see you again." He helped himself to everything except a few shillings, weeping because his necessities were so great. But I told him I was used to being robbed, and he had done me all the harm he could; so his turn to pluck me naturally followed. Then I softened, as I always do towards the claimant of the other part, and added that we were on the same footing; I had been a pensioner myself. "Sire, I thank you," said Bellenger, having shaken the wallet and poked his fingers into the lining where an unheard-of gold piece could have lodged. "It tickles my vanity to be called sire." "You are a true prince," said Bellenger. "My life would be well spent if I could see you restored to your own." "So I infer, from the valuable days you have spent trying to bring that result about." "Your majesty is sure of finding support in France." "The last king liked to tinker with clocks. Perhaps I like to tinker with Indians." "Sire, it is due to your birth--" "Never mind my birth," I said. "I'm busy with my life." He bowed himself out of my presence without turning. This tribute to royalty should have touched me. He took a handsome adieu, and did not afterward seek further reward for his service. I heard in the course of years that he died in New Orleans, confessing much regarding myself to people who cared nothing about it, and thought him crazy. They doubtless had reason, so erratic was the wanderer whom I had first consciously seen through Lake George fog. His behavior was no more incredible than the behavior of other Frenchmen who put a hand to the earlier years of their prince's life.