"Ritha-Gaur, who made himself a blouse of the beard of the kings whom he shaved, overthrew royalty in Gaul about ten centuries ago. He held that, under royalty, it is the people and their descendants who are transmitted by hereditary right, to kings, and that these are rarely good, and generally bad. More and more enlightened by our venerable druids, the Gauls have wisely preferred to elect the chief whom they consider worthiest to govern them. They thus constituted themselves into a Republic. My grandson is still a child in his cradle; no one can know whether he will later have the qualities that are necessary for the government of a great people like ours. To acknowledge this child to-day as the heir of his father's office is tantamount to restoring the royalty that we have wisely overthrown. I hate royalty as much as did Ritha-Gaur." Still hoping to overcome the resolution of the Mother of the Camps by his persistence, Tetrik prolonged his stay in Mayence--at least I was long under the impression that such was the only reason for his postponing his departure. Nor did Tetrik seem to be less surprised at the unaccountable change that came over Victorin. The latter, although plunged in brooding sadness, still preserved his affection for me. I even thought that more than once he was on the point of opening his heart to me and of confiding to me what he there kept hidden. Later, however, he ceased calling at my house as he formerly used to, and seemed even to avoid meeting me. His features, once so handsome and open, were no longer the same. Pale with suffering, worn by excessive and solitary indulgence in wine, their expression gradually assumed a sinister aspect. At times a sort of dementia seemed to speak out of his alternately fixed and wandering gaze. About five weeks after the great battle of the Rhine, Victorin resumed his visits to my house. The turn was marked, both in point of suddenness and assiduity. Noticeable was the circumstance that the hours which he chose for his visits were those during which Sampso and my wife were home alone, I being at Victoria's writing the letters which she dictated. Ellen received the son of my foster-sister with her wonted affability. At first I imagined that, sorry at having kept himself away from me without cause and by a mere whim, he sought to bring about a reconciliation by means of my wife. I believed this all the more seeing that, despite his persistence in seeking to avoid me, he never spoke of me to Ellen except in terms of deep affection. Sampso was usually present at the conversations between her sister and Victorin. Only once did she leave them alone, and then, when she returned she was struck by the painful expression on my wife's face and the visible embarrassment shown by Victorin, who speedily took his departure. "What is the matter, Ellen?" asked Sampso.