“The ‘late!’ Mon Dieu! the ‘late!’ And is the prince, my nephew, dead then?” exclaimed the old man, in consternation, controlled even at that trying moment by his sense of kingly dignity. But Mr. Julius Luxmore now had his cue! he bowed with the greatest deference, and lowering his tone to a key of the deepest solemnity, said: “Sire—it is with the profoundest grief that I announce to your Majesty the death of his Highness, the Prince, your nephew, Monseigneur Victoire L’Orient.” “Mon Dieu! Mon Dieu! Oh, hapless house! Oh miserable princes!” ejaculated the old man, sinking into his chair and covering his face with his hands. For a little while both were silent—Monsieur De L’Ile, from real sorrow—Mr. Julius Luxmore, from affected respect and sympathy. At length the former raised his head, saying: “How and when did this occur? Give me all the details, sir.” Julius bowed, and standing, cap in hand, before his Majesty, gave an account of the voyage and wreck of the Mercury. “Mon Dieu! Mon Dieu!” was still the interjection of the bereaved old man. “But, pardon, sire—Monseigneur Victoire, the prince, your nephew, left a daughter.” “Go on, Monsieur; go on. You would speak of the Princess Etoile.” Julius bowed profoundly. “Say on, sir.” Julius then explained that he had enjoyed the friendship and confidence of “Monseigneur” Victoire L’Orient, who had entrusted him with the guardianship of his young daughter; that he was prepared to exhibit the will of the “Prince” at any moment most convenient to “His Majesty.” “I will, then, overlook the documents to-morrow, Monsieur. Bring them to me, in this room, at ten o’clock in the morning. For the present, I feel overcome and must retire. Meanwhile, let me hope that you will avail yourself of what poor hospitality a reduced king can offer. Be good enough to ring, sir,” said the old man, in a weary but still dignified manner. Julius took the bell-rope, and rang a peal that presently brought the little page, Frivole, to the presence. “Boy, show this gentleman into the back drawing-room, and set refreshments before him. Afterward, when he shall wish to retire for the night, attend him to the bed-chamber formerly occupied by Madame,” said “His Majesty.” Then turning toward the visitor, he added: “I hope you will palliate to yourself any lack of attendance that you may perceive, sir. I have lately suffered a great loss in the death of my chamberlain, Monsieur Louis, whose place I have not been able to supply. Good rest be yours, sir,” and with a courteous nod and wave of the hand, the King of the Isle dismissed the ‘Embassador.’ Julius bowed nearly to the ground, and walking backward, as from royal presence, withdrew from the room. “A courteous gentleman—a truly courteous gentleman. I like him well,” ruminated his Majesty, who had never before been so adroitly flattered.