They tarried briefly at Mayence, keeping the while an eye on the gate by which Wedeker would enter if he should continue his efforts. But, if Wedeker entered at all, it was after the four travellers had departed from the city of priests and were on their way to Birkenfeld. From Birkenfeld they went to Metz, where they disposed of their horses and hired a coach and four to convey them onward by easy stages. Once on French ground, they breathed with perfect freedom. "And when ye do get to Paris, lad," asked Tom, "what then? If ye have a mind to serve your country in the way of sea-fighting, we can do nae better than seek out Captain Jones." "I think," was the answer, "after I see Paris,--for I never have seen it, though I have passed through it,--I would like to have a look at my own country again. But it is for others to say." "No," said Catherine, gently. "It is for you to say. Is it not, Gerard?" "When my affairs in France are settled," replied Gerard, "I am sure the other side of the Atlantic will be good enough for me." Verdun, Chalons, Epernay, one after another, were left behind; then Meaux, and, at last, one cold but sunny afternoon late in December, the coach rolled through a faubourg, passed under an arch, and rumbled along the Rue St. Martin, whence it was to take its passengers to a hotel in the Rue St. Honore. But, at Dick's desire, the coachman drove first to the Pont Neuf, and there stopped. Through the right-hand window the four passengers could see the Louvre and the Tuileries, as well as the buildings at the opposite side of the Seine; through the left-hand window they could see, above the mass of roofs and spires, the towers of Notre Dame, flashing back the horizontal sun-rays. "It is like in the picture-book," said Dick, softly,--for his fancy had long since transfigured the stiff engravings he had studied in his childhood. Then he turned and looked at the friendly faces within the coach,--Gerard's, old Tom's; last of all, the face beside him, whose dark eyes met his. "Do you know, I was always sure," he said, "that the road to Paris was to be my road to happiness." THE END. _SELECTIONS FROM L. C. PAGE AND COMPANY'S LIST OF NEW FICTION._ [Illustration] Selections from L. C. Page and Company's List of New Fiction. =An Enemy to the King.= From the Recently Discovered Memoirs of the Sieur de la Tournoire. By ROBERT NEILSON STEPHENS. Illustrated by H. De M. Young. 1 vol., library 12mo, cloth =$1.25= An historical romance of the sixteenth century, describing the adventures of a young French nobleman at the Court of Henry IV., and on the field with Henry of Navarre. =The Continental Dragoon.= A Romance of Philipse Manor House, in 1778. By ROBERT NEILSON STEPHENS, author of "An Enemy to the King." Illustrated by H. C. Edwards. 1 vol., library 12mo, cloth =$1.50=