“And for this I am responsible!” said the king, as if speaking to himself. “It shall be remedied! It shall be remedied! Good man, I thank you! It is seldom that a monarch hears the truth, when it cuts him to the heart like this. I can listen to no more,” he added, lifting his hand as the locksmith opened his lips to speak. “Some other time you shall come to me again, but not here. I had hoped in this place to escape from all cares of state; but I do not complain. You have performed the duty of a good citizen, and have the king’s gratitude. Mark me, when the people say that Louis is inaccessible to his subjects, tell them that he not only sees them, but listens to painful truths without anger, when they are honestly told. Some day hereafter I may need you as a medium between me and the people, for whom you plead so boldly.” The locksmith bent his head in deeper reverence than he had yet given to the monarch. “When I entered the gates of Versailles, sire, my heart went out first to the people of France, then to the king. I go away with them united so firmly in my love, that death itself shall not tear them apart.” The locksmith laid one hand on his breast as he said this, bent low, and turned to quit the room. Louis recalled him. “Your name, citizen?” “They know me as ‘Monsieur Jacques’ in the city.” “Leave that and your address with the guard as you go out. You may be wanted.” “At the gate!” These words seemed to arrest the man, and he turned suddenly. But the king had arisen, and was leaving the room by another door. Whatever Monsieur Jacques wished to say was thus rendered impossible; and he left the work-room with a baffled and dejected look. This was the second time he had represented De Witt, the locksmith, very successfully; but he could hardly hope to gain access to the king in that way again; and in the excitement of his patriotism, he had utterly forgotten the most immediate object of his visit until it was too late. “Heaven forgive me! It will break her heart! And he would have done it—I am sure he would have done it!” exclaimed the noble-hearted man who had forgotten everything in his love of France. CHAPTER XVIII. THE LANDLADY AND THE WHITE HENS. All that morning a young girl sat in the parlor of a little public house in the town of Versailles, waiting with such impatience as can only be felt by anxious youth, for the appearance of Monsieur Jacques. “Have no fear,” he had said, in going out with a box of tools in his hand. “I shall see the king, and so plead with him that you will read my good news on my face at the first sight. Perhaps I shall have managed to get an interview for yourself; so keep a brave heart, and watch for me at the little window yonder.”