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They were still wondering, still gazing, when abruptly--as he did all

things--Charles thrust back his chair

"Foucauld, you owe lee, and he slapped the

table "Pay, my friend; pay!"

"To-morrow, little master; to-morrow!" Rochefoucauld answered in the same

tone And he rose to his feet

"To-morrow!" Charles repeated "To-morrow?" And on the word his jaw

fell He looked wildly round His face was ghastly

"Well, sire, and why not?" Rochefoucauld answered in astonish; and a chill fell on him "Why

not?" he repeated

For a moment no one answered him: the silence in the Chamber was intense

Where he looked, wherever he looked, he aze on men in their coffins

"What has come to you all?" he cried, with an effort "What is the jest,

for faith, sire, I don't see it?"

The King seeap

"It is pretty apparent," he said, with a rude laugh "The cock will lay

and Foucauld will pay--to- nobleentleman

was no love lost

"There are sohtily "For the rest,

farewell my little master! When one does not understand the jest it is

tione"