The King’s Closet at the Tuileries.

           WewillleaveVillefortontheroadtoParis,travellingthankstotrebledfeeswithallspeed,andpassingthroughtwoorthreeapartments,enterattheTuileriesthelittleroomwiththearchedwindow,sowellknownashavingbeenthefavoriteclosetofNapoleonandLouisXVIII.,andnowofLouisPhilippe.

           There,seatedbeforeawalnuttablehehadbroughtwithhimfromHartwell,andtowhich,fromoneofthosefanciesnotuncommontogreatpeople,hewasparticularlyattached,theking,LouisXVIII.,wascarelesslylisteningtoamanoffiftyorfifty-twoyearsofage,withgrayhair,aristocraticbearing,andexceedinglygentlemanlyattire,andmeanwhilemakingamarginalnoteinavolumeofGryphius’sratherinaccurate,butmuchsought-after,editionofHoraceaworkwhichwasmuchindebtedtothesagaciousobservationsofthephilosophicalmonarch.

           "Yousay,sir"—saidtheking.

           "ThatIamexceedinglydisquieted,sire."

           "Really,haveyouhadavisionofthesevenfatkineandthesevenleankine?"

           "No,sire,forthatwouldonlybetokenforussevenyearsofplentyandsevenyearsofscarcity;andwithakingasfullofforesightasyourmajesty,scarcityisnotathingtobefeared."

           "Thenofwhatotherscourgeareyouafraid,mydearBlacas?"

           "Sire,Ihaveeveryreasontobelievethatastormisbrewinginthesouth."

           "Well,mydearduke,"repliedLouisXVIII.

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