The four gentlemen bowed low before the Queen. The King bowed to me, Dr. Franklin and Commodore Jones shook my hand. Our kindly minister made an appointment to meet me later in the palace. “You were lucky,” he said. Indeed I realized that, for I replied: “Thanks to you and the Commodore.” “Nay,” said the Quaker, smiling, “thanks to Mademoiselle herself, and to your own ready wit.” Then they left us alone with the Queen and Bucknall. “It strikes me,” said Her Majesty, looking at the old sailor, “that nobody has said anything about the part you have played in this affair.” “Aye, aye, mum,” began the sailor in great confusion, “w’ich I means yer honor——” “‘Mum’ is delightful,” laughed Marie Antoinette. “I was at me wit’s end wot course to lay this mornin’, an’ w’en as luck would hev it I run into Commodore Jones in the street, jist in from L’Orient—he never forgits a shipmate, ma’am, no matter how humble—an’ I ups an’ told him about Mr. Burnham. He fetched me to Dr. Franklin, an’ you knows the rest, Yer Ladyship.” “I shall not forget you,” said the Queen, lifting a well-filled purse from the table and putting it in Bucknall’s hand. The old sailor was not without a streak of gallantry. “It’s the hand wot gives it, lady,” he said, “wot makes me wally it more’n the gold pieces.” “You will await Monsieur Burnham without the door,” she said, dismissing him graciously. “Monsieur Burnham,” she began as we three were alone, “you are a thief after all. You have stolen the fairest jewel of my Court. I ought to be angry with you, but—I am not.” “I thank Your Majesty.” “You will be very good to this daughter of France in your own land?” “Madame, I will cherish her as the King his crown. Nay,” I added quickly, “as I would cherish Your Majesty were I the King.” “You pay me in pretty speeches.” “They come, Madame, from my heart of hearts. After my country and my wife, my sword is yours.” She was gone. Of course I took Mademoiselle in my arms, and this time there was no hesitation on her part in returning my ardent caresses. I do not know what we said or what happened. After a space—how long or how short I cannot tell, for I took no notice of time or place—I said that while we each had the gold pieces I regretted that I had no ring to slip on her finger, nothing of my own to give her to bind the engagement. Of course I could not give her the Queen’s diamond—yet! She was very close to me and doubtless could feel what was in my breast-pocket. “You have one thing,” she replied demurely, “that you could slip on.” “What is that?” “Have you forgotten the talisman?” “The talisman?” I cried. I am stupid sometimes, not often, and I was thinking so hard of her that I did not catch her meaning at first. “That which Master Bucknall brought you—that I gave back to you.” “Oh!” said I; “the slipper saved my life; it gave me hope.” “And hope gave you assurance?” “And assurance won me you.”