Ten minutes brought them to the landing-place on the Isle—a little pier beside the boat-house, painted white, and ascended by three steps. From this pier an avenue of half a mile in length, shaded by beautiful trees, led up through fields and pleasure grounds, toward the house. All this, Madame saw at a glance, while the boat was pushed up and moored. But upon the pier stood a most interesting group—namely, “His Majesty, the King of the Isles,” and the chief ministers of his court—in other words, Monsieur Henri De L’Isle and a half dozen of his negro men. Madame gazed in a sort of consternation—she had expected to find a very aged, decrepit, driveling madman. “His Majesty,” on the contrary, though eighty years of age, was still one of the finest looking men she had ever set her eyes upon—tall, broad shouldered, and erect in form, with a fresh, handsome, noble countenance, surrounded by a thick growth of hair and beard as white as snow. He wore a purple cashmere morning-gown folded like a royal robe about his person. His manner was dignified and courteous, as he stood waiting to receive his guests. The half-dozen negro men that were with him were neatly dressed in white trousers and pink shirts, and were remarkable for their healthful and joyous appearance. “Very good! the madman and his familiars are not so ill to look upon!” said Madame, as with the child in her arms she left the boat. Monsieur Henri, with the air of the Grand Monarque, came down to meet her. “Welcome, illustrious lady and beloved sister! welcome to our court, our kingdom, and our heart!” he said, holding out both his hands. “I thank you, Monsiegneur!” replied Madame. But as she was embarrassed with the babe in her arms, she could not accept his offered courtesy. “Why, how then! is Madame, my sister, left without her retinue? And has the Princess, my niece, no attendance?” exclaimed Monsieur Henri, looking excessively shocked. “Madame the Duchesse de Berri had no more, when she wandered in La Vendee!” said our Madame, demurely. “Oh, miserable country!—oh, unfortunate princes!” exclaimed the old man, lifting his hands and raising his eyes to heaven. Then—“Give me the illustrious babe,” he said; and taking the child in his arms with the solemn air of a bishop, who was about to baptize it, he called to one of his negroes—“Come hither, Monsieur Louis.” A tall, aged man, with a very black skin, and very white hair, who was clothed like the others, in a pink shirt and white trousers, approached and bowed respectfully. “This is my High Constable of the Kingdom, Madame,” said Monsieur De L’Ile, introducing the new-comer. Then placing the infant solemnly in the arms of the old negro, he charged him, saying— “Receive your Princess, Monsieur Louis! and bear her on before us to the palace! I follow with Madame.” Without suffering a muscle of his very intelligent face to change, the old negro received the babe, and led the way up the shaded avenue toward the house.