“How did you lose your money?” asked the King, quite as a father might have spoken to his son. There was something pleasant about the plain, homely man. I hesitated not a moment. “I am sorry to say, Sire, that I gambled it away.” The King shook his head. “I can make good your loss,” he said; “but play is the curse of the young nobles of my Court, and of all strangers who come to Paris, as well.” “Your Majesty is most kind. When I can hear from America I shall be able to discharge all my obligations, and I wish to say to Your Majesty and before you all”—all meant Mademoiselle—“that I shall eschew play in the future.” “There were charges against you of highway robbery, I believe?” “On information laid by me, Your Majesty,” broke in du Trémigon. “But Monsieur du Trémigon withdraws the charges now. Highway robbery! It hath an ugly sound,” said the Queen. “How is that, Monsieur du Trémigon?” I never saw such a look of baffled rage and hatred as that on du Trémigon’s face. He was completely powerless. The evidence against him was too strong. He tried to speak, but there was no help for it. He bowed at last. “I am too much of a gentleman”—I have always been suspicious of a man who protests his quality overmuch, by the way—“to contradict the Queen of France.” “Good,” said the King. “But there were some papers?” “Monsieur du Trémigon lost them, unfortunately,” again interposed the Queen. “Very careless, I’m sure,” commented the King severely. “I,” volunteered Dr. Franklin, “will be surety for Monsieur Burnham’s debts to the Marquis du Trémigon.” “The word of a gentleman so vouched for is sufficient,” said the Marquis, raging in his heart, but helpless. “I’d rather pay him the money, doctor, and owe it to you,” I said softly to Dr. Franklin. “Is it a great sum, lad?” whispered the Quaker aside. “Our exchequer is running low. And, hark ye, that highway robbery in England. ’Tis hardly a crime of which you could be convicted in France.” Now, why had neither I nor anyone else thought of that! “We will attend to the debt,” said the King, after a momentary consultation with the Queen. “Now, gentlemen, no more of this.” Of course when he put on his royal look and said that, there was nothing more for me to do. “Pardon, Your Majesty,” said the Duc de Rivau-Huet, who had noted all that had occurred with ill-concealed impatience. “Monsieur du Trémigon has another announcement to make.” “What is that, Duke?” asked the King. “Your Majesty is doubtless aware that my son and the father of the Marquis du Trémigon entered into a contract that their children should be married at a suitable age, provided they were both willing to carry out the agreement?” “I have heard so,” answered the King. “The Marquis du Trémigon wishes, in the presence of these witnesses, to renounce all pretension to the hand of Mademoiselle de Villars.” “Your Majesty,” protested the Marquis in one last desperate attempt to gain his end, “Monsieur le Duc mis——”