“'Dismiss the _chasse_, gentlemen,' said he, in a low thick voice. 'And do you, Monsieur de Verneuil, attend me.' “The cortege was soon scattered; and the Marquis de Verneuil followed the king with an expression where fear and dread were not to be mistaken. “Monsieur de Verneuil did indeed seem an altered man when he appeared among his friends that evening. Whatever the king had said to him assuredly had worked its due effect; for all his raillery was gone, and even the veriest trifler of the party might have dared an encounter with wits which then were subdued and broken. “Next morning, however, the sun shone out brilliantly. The king was in high spirits; the game abounded; and his Majesty with his own hand brought down eight pheasants. The Marquis de Verneuil could hit nothing; for although the best marksman of the day, his hand shook and his sight failed him, and the king won fifty louis from him before they reached Saint-Germain. “Never was there a happier day nor followed by a pleasanter evening. The king supped in Madame de la Vallière's apartment; the private band played the most delicious airs during the repast; and when at length the party retired to rest, not one bright dream was clouded by the memory of Arnoud de Gency. “Here, now, were I merely recounting an anecdote, I should stop,” said the chevalier; “but must continue a little longer, though all the romance of my story is over. The Marquis de Verneuil was a good hater: even poor De Gency's fate did not move him, and he actually did do what he had only threatened in mockery,--he sent the orphan child to be a turnspit in the royal kitchen. Of course he changed his name,--the title of an old and honored family would soon have betrayed the foul deed,--and the boy was called Jacotot, after the _chef_ himself. The king inquired no further on the subject; Arnoud's name recalled too unpleasant a topic for the lips of a courtier ever to mention; and the whole circumstance was soon entirely forgotten. “This same Jacotot was the grandfather of my old friend, whom you saw a few minutes since. Fate, that seems to jest with men's destinies, made them as successful at the fire of the kitchen as ever their ancestors were at that of a battery; and Monsieur Jacotot, our present host, has not his equal in Paris. Here for years the younger members of the royal family used to sup; this room was their favorite apartment; and one evening, when at a later sitting than usual the ruler of the feast was carried beyond himself in the praise of an admirable plat, he sent for Jacotot, and told him, whatever favor he should ask, he himself would seek for him at the hands of the king. “This was the long-wished-for moment of the poor fellow's life. He drew from his bosom the title-deeds of his ancient name and fortune, and placed them in the prince's hand without uttering a word. “'What! and are you a De Gency?' said the prince. “'Alas! I shame to say it, I am.'