Thus founded and recommended by its sign, the hostelry ofMaster Cropole held its way steadily on towards a solidprosperity.

It was not an immense fortune that Cropole had inperspective; but he might hope to double the thousand louisd'or left by his father, to make another thousand louis bythe sale of his house and stock, and at length to livehappily like a retired citizen.

Cropole was anxious for gain, and was half-crazy with joy atthe news of the arrival of Louis XIV.

Himself, his wife, Pittrino, and two cooks, immediately laidhands upon all the inhabitants of the dove-cote, thepoultry-yard, and the rabbit-hutches; so that as manylamentations and cries resounded in the yards of thehostelry of the Medici as were formerly heard in Rama.

Cropole had, at the time, but one single traveler in hishouse.

This was a man of scarcely thirty years of age, handsome,tall, austere, or rather melancholy, in all his gestures andlooks.

He was dressed in black velvet with jet trimmings; a whitecollar, as plain as that of the severest Puritan, set offthe whiteness of his youthful neck; a small dark-coloredmustache scarcely covered his curled, disdainful lip.

He spoke to people looking them full in the face withoutaffectation, it is true, but without scruple; so that thebrilliancy of his black eyes became so insupportable, thatmore than one look had sunk beneath his like the weakersword in a single combat.

At this time, in which men, all created equal by God, weredivided, thanks to prejudices, into two distinct castes, thegentleman and the commoner, as they are really divided intotwo races, the black and the white, - at this time, we say,he whose portrait we have just sketched could not fail ofbeing taken for a gentleman, and of the best class. Toascertain this, there was no necessity to consult anythingbut his hands, long, slender, and white, of which everymuscle, every vein, became apparent through the skin at theleast movement, and eloquently spoke of good descent.

This gentleman, then, had arrived alone at Cropole's house.He had taken, without hesitation, without reflection even,the principal apartment which the hotelier had pointed outto him with a rapacious aim, very praiseworthy, some willsay, very reprehensible will say others, if they admit thatCropole was a physiognomist and judged people at firstsight.

This apartment was that which composed the whole front ofthe ancient triangular house, a large salon, lighted by twowindows on the first stage, a small chamber by the side ofit, and another above it.

Now, from the time he had arrived, this gentleman hadscarcely touched any repast that had been served up to himin his chamber. He had spoken but two words to the host, towarn him that a traveler of the name of Parry would arrive,and to desire that, when he did, he should be shown up tohim immediately.

He afterwards preserved so profound a silence, that Cropolewas almost offended, so much did he prefer people who weregood company.

This gentleman had risen early the morning of the day onwhich this history begins, and had placed himself at thewindow of his salon, seated upon the ledge, and leaning uponthe rail of the balcony, gazing sadly but persistently onboth sides of the street, watching, no doubt, for thearrival of the traveler he had mentioned to the host.

In this way he had seen the little cortege of Monsieurreturn from hunting, then had again partaken of the profoundtranquillity of the street, absorbed in his ownexpectations.

All at once the movement of the crowd going to the meadows,couriers setting out, washers of pavement, purveyors of theroyal household, gabbling, scampering shopboys, chariots inmotion, hair-dressers on the run, and pages toiling along,this tumult and bustle had surprised him, but without losingany of that impassible and supreme majesty which gives tothe eagle and the lion that serene and contemptuous glanceamidst the hurrahs and shouts of hunters or the curious.

Soon the cries of the victims slaughtered in thepoultry-yard, the hasty steps of Madame Cropole up thatlittle wooden staircase, so narrow and so echoing, thebounding pace of Pittrino, who only that morning was smokingat the door with all the phlegm of a Dutchman; all thiscommunicated something like surprise and agitation to thetraveler.

As he was rising to make inquiries, the door of his chamberopened. The unknown concluded they were about to introducethe impatiently expected traveler, and made threeprecipitate steps to meet him.

But, instead of the person he expected, it was MasterCropole who appeared, and behind him, in the half-darkstaircase, the pleasant face of Madame Cropole, renderedtrivial by curiosity. She only gave one furtive glance atthe handsome gentleman, and disappeared.

Cropole advanced, cap in hand, rather bent than bowing,

A gesture of the unknown interrogated him, without a wordbeing pronounced.

"Monsieur," said Cropole, "I come to ask how - what ought Ito say: your lordship, monsieur le comte, or monsieur lemarquis?"

"Say monsieur, and speak quickly," replied the unknown, withthat haughty accent which admits of neither discussion norreply.

"I came, then, to inquire how monsieur had passed the night,and if monsieur intended to keep this apartment?"

"Yes."

"Monsieur, something has happened upon which we could notreckon."

"What?"

"His majesty Louis XIV. will enter our city to-day and willremain here one day, perhaps two."

Great astonishment was painted on the countenance of theunknown.

"The King of France coming to Blois?"

"He is on the road, monsieur."

"Then there is the stronger reason for my remaining," saidthe unknown.

"Very well; but will monsieur keep all the apartments?"

"I do not understand you. Why should I require less to-daythan yesterday?"

"Because, monsieur, your lordship will permit me to say,yesterday I did not think proper, when you chose yourlodging, to fix any price that might have made your lordshipbelieve that I prejudged your resources; whilst to-day - - "

The unknown colored; the idea at once struck him that he wassupposed to be poor, and was being insulted.

"Whilst to-day," replied he, coldly, "you do prejudge."

"Monsieur, I am a well-meaning man, thank God! and simplehotelier as I am, there is in me the blood of a gentleman.My father was a servant and officer of the late Marechald'Ancre. God rest his soul!"

"I do not contest that point with you; I only wish to know,and that quickly, to what your questions tend?"

"You are too reasonable, monsieur, not to comprehend thatour city is small, that the court is about to invade it,that the houses will be overflowing with inhabitants, andthat lodgings will consequently obtain considerable prices."

Again the unknown colored. "Name your terms," said he.

"I name them with scruple, monsieur, because I seek anhonest gain, and that I wish to carry on my business withoutbeing uncivil or extravagant in my demands. Now the room youoccupy is considerable, and you are alone."

"That is my business."

"Oh! certainly. I do not mean to turn monsieur out."

The blood rushed to the temples of the unknown; he darted atpoor Cropole, the descendant of one of the officers of theMarechal d'Ancre, a glance that would have crushed him downto beneath that famous chimney-slab, if Cropole had not beennailed to the spot by the question of his own properinterests.

"Do you desire me to go?" said he. "Explain yourself - butquickly."

"Monsieur, monsieur, you do not understand me. It is verycritical - I know - that which I am doing. I expressmyself badly, or perhaps, as monsieur is a foreigner, whichI perceive by his accent - - "

In fact, the unknown spoke with that impetuosity which isthe principal character of English accentuation, even amongmen who speak the French language with the neatest purity.

"As monsieur is a foreigner, I say, it is perhaps he whodoes not catch my exact meaning. I wish for monsieur to giveup one or two of the apartments he occupies, which woulddiminish his expenses and ease my conscience. Indeed, it ishard to increase unreasonably the price of the chambers,when one has had the honor to let them at a reasonableprice."

"How much does the hire amount to since yesterday?"

"Monsieur, to one louis, with refreshments and the chargefor the horse."

"Very well, and that of to-day?"

"Ah! there is the difficulty. This is the day of the king'sarrival; if the court comes to sleep here, the charge of theday is reckoned. From that it results that three chambers,at two louis each, makes six louis. Two louis, monsieur, arenot much; but six louis make a great deal."

The unknown, from red, as we have seen him, became verypale.

He drew from his pocket, with heroic bravery, a purseembroidered with a coat-of-arms, which he carefullyconcealed in the hollow of his hand. This purse was of athinness, a flabbiness, a hollowness, which did not escapethe eye of Cropole.

The unknown emptied the purse into his hand. It containedthree double louis, which amounted to the six louis demandedby the host.

But it was seven that Cropole had required.

He looked, therefore, at the unknown, as much as to say,"And then?"

"There remains one louis, does there not, master hotelier?"

"Yes, monsieur, but - - "

The unknown plunged his hand into the pocket of hishaut-de-chausses, and emptied it. It contained a smallpocket-book, a gold key, and some silver. With this changehe made up a louis.

"Thank you, monsieur," said Cropole. "It now only remainsfor me to ask whether monsieur intends to occupy hisapartments to-morrow, in which case I will reserve them forhim; whereas, if monsieur does not mean to do so, I willpromise them to some of the king's people who are coming."

"That is but right," said the unknown, after a long silence,"but as I have no more money, as you have seen, and as I yetmust retain the apartments, you must either sell thisdiamond in the city, or hold it in pledge."

Cropole looked at the diamond so long, that the unknownsaid, hastily:

"I prefer your selling it, monsieur; for it is worth threehundred pistoles. A Jew - are there any Jews in Blois? - would give you two hundred or a hundred and fifty for it - take whatever may be offered for it, if it be no more thanthe price of your lodging. Begone!"

"Oh! monsieur," replied Cropole, ashamed of the suddeninferiority which the unknown reflected upon him by thisnoble and disinterested confidence, as well as by theunalterable patience opposed to so many suspicions andevasions. "Oh, monsieur, I hope people are not so dishonestat Blois as you seem to think, and that the diamond, beingworth what you say - - "

The unknown here again darted at Cropole one of hiswithering glances.

"I really do not understand diamonds, monsieur, I assureyou," cried he.

"But the jewelers do: ask them," said the unknown. "Now Ibelieve our accounts are settled, are they not, monsieurl'hote?"

"Yes, monsieur, and to my profound regret; for I fear I haveoffended monsieur."

"Not at all!" replied the unknown, with ineffable majesty.

"Or have appeared to be extortionate with a noble traveler.Consider, monsieur, the peculiarity of the case."

"Say no more about it, I desire; and leave me to myself."

Cropole bowed profoundly, and left the room with a stupefiedair, which announced that he had a good heart, and feltgenuine remorse.

The unknown himself shut the door after him, and when leftalone, looked mournfully at the bottom of the purse, fromwhich he had taken a small silken bag containing thediamond, his last resource.

He dwelt likewise upon the emptiness of his pockets, turnedover the papers in his pocket-book, and convinced himself ofthe state of absolute destitution in which he was about tobe plunged.

He raised his eyes towards heaven, with a sublime emotion ofdespairing calmness, brushed off with his hand some drops ofsweat which trickled over his noble brow, and then cast downupon the earth a look which just before had been impressedwith almost divine majesty.

That the storm had passed far from him, perhaps he hadprayed in the bottom of his soul.

He drew near to the window, resumed his place in thebalcony, and remained there, motionless, annihilated, dead,till the moment when, the heavens beginning to darken, thefirst flambeaux traversed the enlivened street, and gave thesignal for illumination to all the windows of the city.