His misfortunes made him immortal on earth and his generosity to France has preserved his house to us, a quaint and curious structure of the olden days. Note the courtyard and its curious carving, also the ceilings of the guard-rooms shaped like inverted boats. The reception-room of Jacques is now a court-room and where he gave all to his country and received no justice in return, justice is administered impartially, let us hope, to the French of to-day. After all, his life was not a failure, as he is not forgotten, and the desire to be remembered on this earth is, I think, greater than the desire to enter heaven. Certainly, it is the source of all ambition. Bourges, however, possesses another figure in history which is better remembered by the world than that of Jacques, probably because wickedness always carves more deeply than goodness upon the pages of history and the life of a nation. Few in the world will remember who Jacques Coeur was, none can ever forget the crafty King Louis XI. and here in Bourges his sinister shadow was first cast athwart the life of France, for here in the Hôtel Lallement he was born. [Illustration: HÔTEL LALLEMENT AT BOURGES By permission of Messrs. Neurdein] It is more fitting to inspect such a spot after dark, and, as the moon shines brightly to-night, let us go. Leave the hotel and pass up the second crooked street to your left, the Rue Lallement, and you will find a queer old façade, with no evidence of life anywhere near it. The street is so narrow that one can almost touch the houses on either side and the moon can scarcely illumine the centre, much less the dark corners. A French officer, leaning from a casement, asks what I am looking for, and tells me to pull the old bell handle. Doing so brings the custodian who is surprised at a visit by night and suggests that daylight would be better. "Not for _this_ house surely," and I insist upon entering. I follow him across the quaint courtyard, which is alternately in deep shadow or the intense light of the moon, where carved faces grin at us as the wicked old king used to leer at his nobles. The house is not large but it possesses some curious apartments. Note the little chapel and the room near it, a good-sized chamber with heavy beams crossing a sagging ceiling and holding a deep fire-place facing the door. Here Louis was born to the delight of his father, Charles VII, who later on starved himself to death in the neighbouring castle of Mehun through fear of poison by this same son. [Illustration: CHÂTEAU OF MEHUN NEAR BOURGES By permission of Messrs. Neurdein]