And half-crazy with fear, Madame seized the bell-rope, and rang a peal that presently brought Louis hurrying to the room. “Did you ring, Madame?” “Yes! I should think I did. It is you I want! you! Come here! Tell me now—supposing that old madman were to take it into his precious head to order an execution, what would you do?” “Madame, pardon, I do not comprehend. I know no madman.” “Diable! Suppose, then, that my brother-in-law, your master, his majesty the King of the Isles, were to order you to cut off the head of a fellow-servant, what should you do?” “I should obey him, Madame.” “You would? Well, suppose he were to command you to decapitate a member of his own family?” “I should do it, Madame.” “Then you would deserve to be hanged,” cried the lady, breaking out into a cold sweat. Louis bowed respectfully. “And—supposing it were even my own head?” she gasped. “I should have to take it off, honored Madame.” “Mon Dieu, I shall go crazy! Begone!” Louis bowed deeply and retired. Madame sank back in her chair, pressing her handkerchief to her panic-stricken and ghastly face. And from that day forth, Madame L’Orient never felt her life, for an instant, secure from the caprices of a madman. She ceased entirely to plot “against the peace and dignity of the king,” and only thought of the best means of securing her personal safety until she could make her escape from the Isle. She wished above all things to return to Paris, where she hoped that her “misfortunes,” as she called her _sins_, were by this time forgotten. But to go to Paris and reside there comfortably required much money, and though Monsieur Henri was the soul of generosity, she doubted in this instance whether he would think proper to advance what she would consider sufficient funds. However, she broke the matter to him, and found Monsieur Henri very willing to aid her with money to the full extent of her desires. But when she mentioned her wish to take her grandchild Etoile to Paris, Monsieur Henri struck his cane upon the ground, which was his form of taking an oath, and swore that the “princess” should never depart from the Island, but should remain to have her education completed at his court. At length, terrified and worn out, Madame consented to leave the little girl behind. A very favorable opportunity offered for her voyage. Captain Brande, in his fine new clipper, the “Mercury,” was lying off the Headland, shipping a cargo of tobacco, preparatory to setting sail for Havre. A passage was engaged for Madame L’Orient.