wicked black eyes seemed to flash and kindle at his own；its lip
curled with Dick's own sardonic humor！
He was recalled to himself by a step in the gallery。 It was the
Cure who had entered hastily； evidently in search of one of the
servants。 Partly because it was a man and not a woman； partly from
a feeling of bravadoand partly from a strange sense； excited by
the picture； that he had some claim to be there； he turned and
faced the pale priest with a slight dash of impatient devilry that
would have done credit to the portrait。 But he was sorry for it
the next moment！
The priest； looking up suddenly； discovered what seemed to him to
be the portrait standing before its own frame and glaring at him。
Throwing up his hands with an averted head and an 〃EXORCIS！〃 he
wheeled and scuffled away。 Dick seized the opportunity； darted
through the narrow door on to the rear terrace； and ran； under
cover of the shadow of the house； to the steps into the garden。
Luckily for him； this new and unexpected diversion occupied the
inmates too much with what was going on in the house to give them
time to search outside。 Dick reached the lilac hedge； tore up the
hill； and in a few moments threw himself； panting； on his blanket。
In the single look he had cast behind； he had seen that the half…
dark salon was now brilliantly lightedwhere no doubt the whole
terrified household was now assembled。 He had no fear of being
followed； since his confrontation with his own likeness in the
mysterious portrait； he understood everything。 The apparently
supernatural character of his visitation was made plain； his
ruffled vanity was soothedhis vindication was complete。 He
laughed to himself and rolled about； until in his suppressed
merriment the rose fell from his bosom； andhe stopped！ Its
freshness and fragrance recalled the innocent young girl he had
frightened。 He remembered her gentle； pleading voice； and his
cheek flushed。 Well； he had done the best he could in bringing her
back to the houseat the risk of being taken for a burglarand
she was safe now！ If that stupid French parson didn't know the
difference between a living man and a dead and painted one； it
wasn't his fault。 But he fell asleep with the rose in his fingers。
He was awake at the first streak of dawn。 He again bathed his
horse's shoulder； saddled； but did not mount him； as the beast；
although better； was still stiff； and Dick wished to spare him for
the journey to still distant Havre； although he had determined to
lie over that night at the first wayside inn。 Luckily for him； the
disturbance at the chateau had not extended to the forest； for Dick
had to lead his horse slowly and could not have escaped； but no
suspicion of external intrusion seemed to have been awakened； and
the woodland was； evidently； seldom invaded。
By dint of laying his course by the sun and the exercise of a
little woodcraft； in the course of two hours he heard the creaking
of a hay…cart； and knew that he was near a traveled road。 But to
his discomfiture he presently came to a high wall； which had
evidently guarded this portion of the woods from the public。 Time；
however； had made frequent breaches in the stones； these had been
roughly filled in with a rude abatis of logs and treetops pointing
towards the road。 But as these were mainly designed to prevent
intrusion into the park rather than egress from it； Dick had no
difficulty in rolling them aside and emerging at last with his
limping steed upon the white high…road。 The creaking cart had
passed； it was yet early for traffic； and Dick presently came upon
a wine…shop； a bakery； a blacksmith's shop； laundry； and a somewhat
pretentious cafe and hotel in a broader space which marked the
junction of another road。
Directly before it； however； to his consternation； were the
massive； but timeworn； iron gates of a park； which Dick did not
doubt was the one in which he had spent the previous night。 But it
was impossible to go further in his present plight； and he boldly
approached the restaurant。 As he was preparing to make his usual
explanatory signs； to his great delight he was addressed in a
quaint； broken English； mixed with forgotten American slang； by the
white…trousered； black…alpaca coated proprietor。 More than that
he was a Social Democrat and an enthusiastic lover of Americahad
he not been to 〃Bos…town〃 and New York； and penetrated as far west
as 〃Booflo；〃 and had much pleasure in that beautiful and free
country？ Yes！ it was a 〃go…a…'ed〃 countryyou 〃bet…your…lif'。〃
One had reason to say so： there was your electricityyour street
carsyour 〃steambots〃ah！ such steambotsand your 〃r…rail…r…
roads。〃 Ah！ observe！ compare your r…rail…r…roads and the buffet of
the Pullman with the line from Paris； for exampleand where is
one？ Nowhere！ Actually； positively； without doubt； nowhere！
Later； at an appetizing breakfastat which； to Dick's great
satisfaction； the good man had permitted and congratulated himself
to sit at table with a free…born Americanhe was even more
loquacious。 For what then； he would ask； was this incompetence；
this imbecility； of France？ He would tell。 It was the vile
corruption of Paris； the grasping of capital and companies； the
fatal influence of the still clinging noblesse； and the insidious
Jesuitical power of the priests。 As for example； Monsieur 〃the
Booflo…bil〃 had doubtless noticed the great gates of the park
before the cafe？ It was the preserve；the hunting…park of one of
the old grand seigneurs； still kept up by his descendants； the
Comtes de Fontonelleshundreds of acres that had never been
tilled； and kept as wild waste wilderness；kept for a day's
pleasure in a year！ And； look you！ the peasants starving around
its walls in their small garden patches and pinched farms！ And the
present Comte de Fontonelles cascading gold on his mistresses in
Paris； and the Comtesse； his mother； and her daughter living there
to feed and fatten and pension a brood of plotting； black…cowled
priests。 Ah； bah！ where was your Republican France； then？ But a
time would come。 The 〃Booflo…bil〃 had； without doubt； noticed； as
he came along the road； the breaches in the wall of the park？
Dick； with a slight dry reserve； 〃reckoned that he had。〃
〃They were made by the scythes and pitchforks of the peasants in
the Revolution of '93； when the count was emigre； as one says with
reason 'skedadelle；' to England。 Let them look the next time that
they burn not the chateau；'bet your lif'！'〃
〃The chateau；〃 said Dick； with affected carelessness。 〃Wot's the
blamed thing like？〃
It was an old affair；with armor and a picture…gallery；and
bricabrac。 He had never seen it。 Not even as a boy；it was kept
very secluded then。 As a manyou understandhe could not ask the
favor。 The Comtes de Fontonelles and himself were not friends。
The family did not like a cafe near their sacred gates；where had
stood only the huts of their retainers。 The American would observe
that he had not called it 〃Cafe de Chateau；〃 nor 〃Cafe de
Fontonelles；〃the gold of California would not induce him。 Why
did he remain there？ Naturally； to goad them！ It was a principle；
one understood。 To GOAD them and hold them in check！ One kept a
cafe；why not？ One had one's principles；one's conviction；that
was another thing！ That was the kind of 〃'air…pin〃was it not？
that HE； Gustav Ribaud； was like！
Yet for all his truculent socialism； he was quick； obliging； and
charmingly attentive to Dick and his needs。 As to Dick's horse； he
should have the best veterinary surgeonthere was an incomparable
one in the person of the blacksmithsee to him； and if it were an
affair of days； and Dick must go； he himself would be glad to
purchase the beast； his saddle； and accoutrements。 It was an
affair of business；an advertisement for the cafe！ He would ride
the horse himself before the gates of the park。 It would please
his customers。 Ha！ he had learned a trick or two in free America。
Dick's first act had been to shave off his characteristic beard and
mustache； and even to submit his long curls to the village barber's
shears； while a straw hat； which he bought to take the place of his
slouched sombrero； completed his transformation。 His host saw in
the change only the natural preparation of a voyager； but Dick had
really made the sacrifice； not from fear of detection； for he had
recovered his old swaggering audacity； but from a quick distaste he
had taken to his resemblance to the portrait。 He was too genuine a
Westerner； and too vain a man； to feel flattered at his resemblance
to an aristocratic bully； as he believed the ancestral De Fontonelles
to be。 Even his momentary sensation as he faced the Cure in the
picture…gallery was more from a vague sense that liberties had been
taken with his； Dick's； personality； than that he had borrowed
anything from the portrait。