Chapter 6 of Baltimore The Magician by Alexander Dumas, translated by Henry L. Williams, this LibriVox recording is in the public domain. The Clairvoyant Baltimore had gone up to the lady, whose appearance in his chamber was not strange to him. I bade you sleep. Do you sleep? Stray aside and nodded with an effort. It is well. Sit here. And he led her by the hand the youth had kissed to a chair, which she took. Now see. Her eyes dilated as though to collect all the luminous rays in the room. I did not tell you to see with your eyes, said he, but with those of the soul. He touched her with a steel rod which he drew from under his waistcoat. She started as though a fiery dart had transfixed her and her eyes closed instantly. Her darkening face expressed the sharpest astonishment. Tell me where you are. In the red room with you, and I am ashamed and afraid. What of? Are we not in sympathy? And do you not know that my intentions are pure, and that I respect you like a sister? You may not mean evil to me, but it is not so as regards others. Possibly, said the magician, but do not heed that. He added in a tone of command, are all asleep under this roof. I'll save my father who was reading one of those bad books which he pesters me to read, but I will not. Good. We are safe in that quarter. Look where Nicole is. She is in her room, in the dark, but I need not the light to see that she is slipping out of it to go and hide behind the yard door to watch. To watch you. No. Then it matters not. When a girl is safe from her father and her attendant, she has nothing to fear, unless she is in love. I? Love? She said sneeringly, and shaking her head, she added sadly, My heart is free. Such an expression of candor and virginal modesty embellished her features that Balsimo radiantly muttered. A lily, a pupil, a seer, clasping his hands in delight, but without loving you may be loved. I know not, and yet, since I returned from school, a youth has watched me, and even now he is weeping at the foot of the stairs. See his face. He hides it in his hands. See through them. Gilbert. She uttered with an effort, impossible that he would presume to love me. Balsimo smiled at her deep disdain, like one who knew that love would leap any distance. What is he doing now? He puts down his hands. He musters up courage to mount hither. No. He has not the courage. He flees. She smiled with scorn. Sees to look that way. Speak of the baron of tavernay. He is too poor to give you any amusements. None. You are dying of tedium here, for you have ambition? No. Love for your father? Yes. Though I bear him a grudge for squandering my mother's fortune, so that poor Red Castle pines is in the garrison, and cannot wear our name handsomely. Who is Red Castle? My brother Philip is called the Knight of Red Castle, from a property of the eldest son, and will wear it till father's death entitles him to be tavernay. Do you love your brother? Dearly. Above all else, because he has a noble heart and would give his life for me. More than your father would. Where is Red Castle? Not Strasburg in the garrison. No. He is gone. Oh, dear Philip! Continued the medium with sparkling eyes and joy. I see him riding through a town I know. It is Nancy, where I was at the convent school. The torches round him light up his darling face. Why, torches? Asked Balsamo in a maze. They are round him on horseback, and a handsome gilded carriage. Balsamo appeared to have guessed at this, for he only said, Who is in the coach? A lovely, graceful, majestic woman. But I seem to have seen her before. How strange! No. I am wrong. She looks like our Nicole, but as the lily is like the jasmine. She leans out of the coach window and beckons Philip to draw near. He takes his hat off with respect as she orders him, with a smile to hurry on the horses. She says that the escort must be ready at six in the morning, as she wishes to take a rest in the daytime. Oh, it is at Tavernay that she means to stop. She wants to see my father. So grand Princess, stop at our shabby house. What shall we do without linen or plate? Be of good cheer. We will provide all that. Oh, thank you. The girl who had partly risen fell back in the chair, uttering a profound sigh. Regain your strength. Said the magician, drawing the excess of magnetism from the beautiful body, which bent as if broken and the fair head heavily resting on the having bosom. I shall require all your lucidity presently. Oh, science! You alone never deceive man. To none other ought man sacrifices all. This is a lovely woman, a pure angel as thou knowest to created angels. But what is this beauty in this innocence to me now? Only worth what information they afford. I care not, though this fair darling dies, as long as she tells me what I seek. Let all worldly delights perish, love, passion and ecstasy, if I may tread the path surely, and well light it. Now, maiden, that in a few seconds my power has given you the repose of ages, plunge once more into your mesmeric slumber. This time speak for myself alone. He made the passes which replaced Andrea in repose. From his bosomy drew the folded paper containing the tress of black hair, from which the perfume had made the paper transparent. He laid it in Andrea's hand, saying, See. Yes, a woman. Joy cried Balsamo. Science is not a mere name like virtue. Mesmer has vanquished Brutus. Depict this woman that I may recognize her. Tall, dark, but with blue eyes. Her hair like this, her arms sinewy. What is she doing? Racing, as though carried off on a fine black horse, flecked with foam, she takes the road yonder to Chalot. Good. My own road, said Balsamo. I was going to Paris, and there we shall meet. You may repose now. And he took back the lock of hair. Andrea's arms fell motionless again along her body. Recover strength, and go back to your harpsichord. Said the mesmerist, enveloping her as she rose at the fresh supply of magnetism. Andrea acted like the racehorse which overtaxes itself to accomplish the master's will, however unfair. She walked through the doorway, where he had opened the door and still asleep, descended the stairs slowly. End of Chapter 6 Recording by John Van Stan, Savannah, Georgia Chapter 7 of Balsamo, The Magician by Alexander Dumas, translated by Henry L. Williams. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. The Maid and the Mistress Yulbert had passed his time in unspeakable anguish. Balsamo was but a man, but he was a strong one, and the youth was weak. He had attempted twenty times to mount to the assault of the guest-room, but his trembling limbs gave way under him, and he fell on his knees. Then the idea struck him to get the gardener's ladder, and by its means climb up outside to the window and listen and spy. But as he stooped to pick up this ladder, lying on the grass where he remembered, he heard a rustling noise by the house, and he turned. He let the ladder fall, for he fancied he saw a shade flit across the doorway. His terror made him believe it. Not a ghost. He was a budding philosopher who did not credit them, but Baron Tavernet. His conscience whispered another name, and he looked up to the second floor. But Nicole had put out her light, and not another or a sound came from all over the house. The guest's room accepted. Seeing and hearing nothing, convinced that he had deluded himself, Gilbert took up the ladder and had set foot on it to climb where he placed it, when Andrea came down from Balsamo's room. With a lacerated heart, Gilbert forgot all to follow her, into the parlor where again she sat at the instrument, her candle still burned beside it. Gilbert tore his bosom with his nails, to think that here he had kissed the hem of her robe with such reverence. Her condescension must spring from one of those fits of corruption recorded in the vile books which he had read, some freak of the senses. But as he was going to invade the room again, a hand came out of the darkness and energetically grasped him by the arm. So I have caught you, based deceiver, try to deny again that you love her and have an appointment with her. Gilbert had not the power to break from the clutch, though he might readily have done so for it was only a girl's.  What do you want? he said testily. Do you want me to speak out aloud? No, no, be quiet. He stammered, dragging her out of the antechamber. Then follow me. Which was what Gilbert wanted as this was removing Nicole from her mistress. He could with a word have proved that, while he might be guilty of loving the lady, the latter was not an accomplice. But the secret of Andrea was one that enriches a man, whether with love or lucre. Come to my room, she said. Who would surprise us there? Not my young lady, though she may well be jealous of her fine gallant. But folks in the secret are not to be dreaded. The honorable lady, jealous of this servant, I never expected such an honour. It is I who am jealous, for you love me no more. In plainness, Nicole's bedroom did not differ from the others in that dwelling. She sat on the edge of the bed in Gilbert on the dressing-case, which Andrea had given her maid. Coming up the stairs, Nicole had calmed herself, but the youth felt anger rise as it cooled in the girl. So you love our young lady? began Nicole with a kindling eye. You have love-trists with her, or will you pretend you went only to consult the magician? Perhaps so, for you know I feel ambition. Greed you mean. It is the same thing as you take it. Don't let us bandy words. You avoid me lately. I seek solitude. And you want to go up into solitude by a ladder? Beg pardon, I did not know that was the way to do it. Gilbert was beaten in the first defences. You had better out with it, that you love me no longer, or love us both. That would only be an error of society, for in some countries men have several wives. Savages exclaimed the servant testily. Philosophers retorted Gilbert, but you would not like me to have too bow on my string. I do not wish tyrannically and unjustly to restrain the impulses of your heart. Liberty consists in respecting free will. So change your affection, for fidelity is not natural to some. Discussion was the youth's strong point. He knew little but more than the girl, so he began to regain coolness. Have you a good memory, Master Philosopher? Said Nicole. Do you remember when I came back from the nunnery with Mistress, and you consoled me in taking me in your arms said, you are an orphan like me. Let us brother and sister through similar misfortune. Did you mean what you said? Yes. Then, but five months have changed me. I think otherwise at present. You mean you will not wed me? Yet Nicola Gay is worth a Gilbert, it seems to me. All men are equal, but nature or education improves or depreciates them. As their faculties or requirements expand, they part from one another. I understand that we must part, and that you are a scamp. How ever could I fancy such a fellow? Nicole, I am never going to marry, but be a learned man or a philosopher. Learning requires the isolation of the mind, philosophy, that of the body.  She continued with a dry smile more ominous than his satirical laugh. Do not make war with me, for I shall do such deeds that you will be sorry, for they will fall on your head for having turned me astray.  Nicole reflected, clenching her hands and gritting her teeth. I believe you are right, Gilbert, she said. I too see my horizon enlarge, and believe I am fated for better things than to be so mean as a philosopher's wife. Go back to your ladder, Serah, and try not to break your neck, though I believe it would be a blessing to others, and maybe for yourself. Gilbert hesitated for a space in indecision, for Nicole, excited by love and spite, was a ravishing creature, but he had determined to break with her, as she hampered his passion and his aspirations. Gone! murmured Nicole in a few seconds. She ran to the window, but all was dark. She went to her mistress's door where she listened. She is asleep, but I will know all about it tomorrow. It was broad day when Andrea de Tavernay awoke. In trying to rise she felt such lassitude and sharp pain that she fell back on the pillow uttering a groan. Goodness! What is the matter? cried Nicole, who had opened the curtains. I do not know. I feel lame all over. My chest seems broken in. It is the outbreak of the cold you caught last night. Said the maid. Last night? Repeated the surprise, lady, but she remarked the disorder of her room and added, Stay! I remember that I felt very tired, exhausted. It must have been the storm. I felt asleep over my music. I recall nothing further. I went up hither half asleep and must have thrown myself on the bed, without undressing properly. You must have stayed very late at the music then. Observed in Nicole? For, before you retired to your bedroom, I came down, having heard steps about. But I did not stir from the parlor. Oh, of course, you know better than me, said Nicole. You must mistake, replied the other with the utmost sweetness. I never left the seat, but I remember that I was cold, for I walked quite swiftly. When I saw you in the garden, however, you walked very freely. I? In the grounds? You know I never go out after dark. I should think I knew my mistress by sight. Said the maid, doubling her scrutiny. I thought that you were taking a stroll with somebody. With whom would I be taking a stroll? Demanded Andrea, without seeing that her servant was putting her to an examination. Nicole did not think it prudent to proceed, for the coolness of the hypocrite, as she considered her, frightened her, so she changed the subject. I hope you are not going to be sick, either with fatigue or sorrow. Both have the same effect. Well, I know how sorrow is under mine. You do? Have you sorrows, Nicole? Indeed.  No doubt, we both are upset. Really? queried Andrea, offended at the, we both. I am thinking of getting married. Why? You are not yet seventeen. But you are sixteen and... She was going to say something saucy, but she knew Andrea too well to risk it, and cut short the explanation. Indeed. I cannot know what my mistress thinks, but I am low-born and I act according to my nature. It is natural to have a sweetheart. Oh! you have a lover, then. You seem to make good use of your time here. I must look forward. You are a lady and have expectations from rich kinfolks going off, but I have no family and must get into one. As all this seemed straightforward enough, Andrea forgot what had been offensive in tone, and said with her kindness taking the reins. Is it any one I know? Speak out, as it is the duty of masters to interest themselves in the fate of their servants, and I am pleased with you. That is very kind. It is... Gilbert. To her high amaze, Andrea did not wince. As he loves you, marry him. She replied easily. He is an orphan too, so you are both your own masters, only you are both rather young. We shall have the longer life together. You are penniless. We can work. What can he do, who is good for nothing? He is good to catch game for master's table, anyway.  He does his duty as a servant. Nay, he is not a servant. He has never paid. He is son of a farmer of ours. He is kept and does nothing for it, so he steals his support. But what are you aiming at to defend so warmly a boy whom nobody attacks? I never thought you would attack him. It is just the other way about. With a bitter smile. Something more I do not understand. Because you do not want to. Enough. I have no leisure for your riddles. You want my consent to this marriage? If you please and... I hope you will bear Gilbert no ill will. What is it to me, whether he loves you or not? You burden me, miss. I dare say, said Nicole, bursting out in anger at last, you have said the same thing to Gilbert. I speak to your Gilbert?  Leave me in peace. If you do not speak to him now, I believe the silence will not last long. Lord, forgive her. The silly jade is jealous! exclaimed Andrea, covering her with a disdainful look and laughing. Cheer up, little legay. I never looked at your pretty Gilbert, and I do not so much as know the colour of his eyes. Andrea was quite ready to overlook what seemed folly and not pertness, but Nicole felt offended and did not want pardon. I can quite believe that, for one cannot get a good look in the night time. Take care to make yourself clear at once, said Andrea, very pale. Last night I saw Andrea came a voice from below in the garden. My lord, your father, said Nicole, with the stranger who passed the night here. Go down, and say that I cannot answer as I am not well. I have a stiff neck, and return to finish this odd debate. Nicole obeyed, as Andrea was always obeyed when commanding, without reply or wavering. Her mistress felt something unusual, although resolved not to show herself. She was constrained to go to the window left open by legay, through a superior and resistless power. End of Chapter 7 Recording by John Van Stan Savannah, Georgia Chapter 8 of Balsamo the Magician by Alexander Dumas Translated by Henry L. Williams This leper-fox recording is in the public domain. The Harbinger The traveller had risen early to look to his coach and learn how all Taltus was faring. All were still sleeping but Gilbert, who peeped through a window of his room over the doorway and spied all the stranger's movements. The latter was struck by the change which they had brought on the scene so gloomy overnight. The domain of tavernade did not lack dignity or grace. The old house resembled a cavern, which nature embellishes with flowers, creepers, and capricious rookeries, although at night it would daunt a traveller seeking shelter. When Balsamo returned after an hour's stroll to the Red Castle ruins, he saw the lord of it all leave the house by a side door to cull roses and crushed snails. His slender person was wrapped in his flowered dressing-gown. My lord, said Balsamo, with the more courtesy as he had been sounding his host's poverty, allow my excuses with my respects. I ought to wait your coming down, what the aspect of tavernade tempted me, and I yearned to view the imposing ruins and pretty garden. The ruins are rather fine, returned the Baron, about all here worth looking at. The castle was my ancestors. It is called the Red Castle, and we have long borne its name together with tavernade, it being the same barony. Oh, my lord, as you are a magician! continued the nobleman, you ought to the wave of your wand up rear again the old Red Castle, as well as restore the two thousand odd acres around it. But I suppose you wanted all your art to make that beastly bed comfortable. It is my son's, and he growled enough at it. I protest, it is excellent, and I want to prove it by doing you some service in return. Labry was bringing to his master a glass of spring water on a splendid china platter. Here's your chance, said the Baron, always jeering. Turn that into wine as the greatest service of all. Balsamo smiling, the old lord thought it was backing out and took the glass, swallowing the contents at a gulp. Excellent specific, said the mesmerist. Water is the noblest of the elements, Baron. Nothing resists it. It pierces stone now, and one of these days will dissolve diamonds. It is dissolving me. Will you drink with me? It has the advantage over wine of running freely here. Not like my liquor. I might make one useful to you. Labry, a glass of water for the Baron. How can the water which I drink daily comprise properties never suspected by me? As the fellow in the play talked prose all his life without knowing it, have I been practicing magic for ten years without an idea of it? I do not know about your lordship, but I do know about myself. Was the other's grave reply? Taking the glass from Labry, who had displayed marvellous celerity, he looked at it steadily. What do you see in it, my dear guest? The Baron continued to mock. I am dying with eagerness. Come, come, a windfall to me. Another red castle to set me on my legs again. I see the advice here to prepare for a visit. A personage of high distinction is coming. Self-invited, conducted by your son Philip, who is even now near us. My dear lord, my son is on military duty at Strasburg, and he will not be bringing guests at the risk of being punished as a deserter. He is nonetheless bringing a lady, a mighty dame, and by the way, you had better keep that pretty Abigail of yours at a distance while she stays, as there is a close likeness between them. The promised lady guest bears a likeness to my servant Legge. What contradiction? Why not? Once I bought a slave so like Cleopatra that the Romans talked of palming her off for the genuine queen in the triumph in their capital. So you are at your old tricks again! laughed the Baron. How would you like it were you a princess, for instance, to see behind your chair a maid who looked like your picture? In short, petticoats and linen neckerchief. Well, we will protect her against that, but I am very pleased with this boy of mine who brings guests without forewarning us.  And if you meant to properly greet the coming guest, you have not a minute to lose. The Baron shook his head like the most incredulous of beings, and as the two were near the dwelling part of the Baron's daughter, he called out to her to impart the stranger's predictions. This was the call which brought her to the window despite herself, and she saw Balsamo. He bowed deeply to her while fixing his eyes upon her. She reeled and had to catch the sill not to fall. Good morning, my lord! she answered. She uttered these words at the very moment when Nicole, telling the Baron that his daughter would not come, stopped stupefied and with gaping mouth at this capricious contradiction. Instantly Andrea fell on a chair. All her powers quitting her, Balsamo had gazed on her to the last. This is disusidly hard to believe, remarked the Baron, and seeing is believing. Then see, said the wonder-worker, pointing up the avenue from the end of which came galloping at full speed, a rider whose steed made the stone's rattle under its hoofs. Oh, it is indeed! began the Baron. Master Philip screamed Nicole, standing on tiptoe while the Bree grunted in pleasure. My brother! cried out Andrea, thrusting her hands through the window. This is the commencement. Said Balsamo.  A smile of triumph appeared on the mesmerist slips. Soon the horse approached plainly, wreaking with sweat and smoking, and the rider, a young man in an officer's uniform, splashed with mud up to the countenance, animated by the speed, leaped off and hurried to embrace his father. It is I! said Philip of Tavernay, seeing the doubt. I bear a great honour for our house. In an hour, Marie Antoinette, archduchess of Austria, and bride of the Dauphine of France will be here. The Baron dropped his arms with as much humility as he had shown sarcasm and irony, and turned to Balsamo for his forgiveness. My lord! said the latter, bowing, I leave you with your son, from whom you have been long separated, and to whom you must have a great deal to say. Saluting Andrea, who rushed to meet her brother in high delight, Balsamo drew off, beckoning Nicole and Labry, who disappeared with him under the trees. CHAPTER IX THE NIGHT OF RED CASEL Philip of Tavernay, knight of red castle, did not resemble his sister, albeit, he was as handsome for a man as she was lovely for a woman. Andrea's embrace of him was accompanied by sobs, revealing all the importance of this union to her chaste heart. He took her hand and his father's, and led them into the parlor where he sat by their sides.  You know that the archduchess made her entry into our realm at Strasburg, as we did not know the exact hour of her arrival, the troops were under arms early, and I was sent out to scout. When I came up with the royal party, the lady herself put her head out of the coach window and hailed me. My fatigue vanished as by enchantment, the delphinesses young like you, dear and beautiful as the angels. Tell me, you enthusiast, interrupted the baron. Does she resemble anyone you have seen here before? No one could resemble her. Stay here. Come to think of it, why, Nicole has a faint likeness, but what led you to suggest that? I had it from a magician, who at the same time foretold your coming. The guest, timidly inquired Andrea. Is he the stranger who discreetly withdrew when I arrived? The same, but continue your story, Philip. Perhaps we had better make something ready, hinted the lady. Now, said her father, staying her, the more we do, the more ridiculous we shall appear. I returned to the city with news, and all the military marched to receive the new princess. She listened absently to the governor's speech and said suddenly, what is the name of this young gentleman who was sent to meet me, and her governess wrote on her tablets, my name, Chevalier Philip Tavernay, Red Castle. Sir, she said, if you have no repugnance to accompany me to Paris, your superior will oblige me by relieving you of your military duties here, for I made a vow to attach to my service the first French gentleman met by me in setting foot in France, and to make him happy, and his family the same in case princes have the power to do so. What delightful words, said Andrea, rubbing her hands. Hence I rode at the princess's coach door to Nancy, through which we marched by torchlight. She called me to her to say that she meant to stop a while at Tavernay, though I said our house was not fit to receive so mighty a princess. The sweeter will be the welcome then, the more plain but the more cordial she replied. Poor though Tavernay may be, it can supply a bowl of milk to the friend who wishes to forget for a time that she is the princess of Austria and the bride of France. Respect prevented me depicting further, so I have ridden ahead. Impossible, said Andrea. However kind the princess may be, she would never be content with a glass of milk and a bunch of flowers. And if she were, went on Tavernay, she would not tolerate my chairs which break one's back and my ragged tapestry offending the sight. Devil take capricious women, France will be prettily governed by a feather brain who has such whims. Plague take such a token of a singular reign. Oh father, how can you talk so of a princess who floods our house with favours? Who dishonours me? returned the old noble, who was thinking about Tavernay, not a soul. My name slept under red-castle ruins not to come forth till I arrange the fit time, and here comes the freak of a royal babe to pull us out into public, dusty, tattered, and beggarly. The newspapers, always on the lookout for food for fun, will make a pretty comic talk of the brilliant princess's visit to the Tavernay hovel. But death of my life, an idea strikes me. I know history, and of the count of Medina setting fire to his palace to win a queen's attention, I will burn down my kennel for a bonfire to the Dauphine's bride. As nimble as though twenty once more, the old peer ran into the kitchen and plucking a brand hurried out and over to the barn. But as he was nearing the trusses of forage, Balsamo sprang forth and clutched his arm. What are you about, my lord? he asked, wrenching away the flambeau. The archduchess of Austria's no constable of bourbon, a traitor whose presence so fouls the dwelling that it must be purified by fire. The old noble paused, pale and trembling and not smiling as usual. Go and change your gown, my lord, for something more seemly. Continued the mysterious guest. When I knew the Baron of Tavernay at Phillipsburg Siege, he wore the Grand Cross of St. Louis. I know not of any suit that does not become rich and stylish under the ribbon of that order. Take it coolly. Her highness will be kept so busy that she will not notice whether your house be new or old, dull or dazzling, be hospitable, as a noble is bound to be. Never force stall vexations, my lord. Every dog has his day. Tavernay obeyed with the resignation he had previously shown, and went to join his children, who were hunting for him uneasy at his absence. The magician silently retired like one engaged in a piece of work. Chapter 10 of Balsamo the Magician by Alexander Dumas, translated by Henry L. Williams, this Librivox recording is in the public domain. Marie Antoinette As Balsamo had warned them, there was no time to lose. On the high road, commonly so peaceful resounded a great tumult of coaches, horses, and voices. Three carriages stopped at the door, held open by Gilbert, whose distended eyes and feverish tremor noted the sharpest emotion at so much magnificence. The principal coach, loaded with a gilding and mythological carvings, was no less mud-spattered and dusty than the others. A score of brilliant young noblemen ranked themselves near this coach, out of which was assisted a girl of sixteen by a gentleman clad in black, with the grand sash of the St. Louis order under his coat. She wore no hair-powder, but this plainness had not prevented the hairdresser building up her tresses afoot above her forehead. Marie Antoinette Josepha, for it was she, brought in the France a fame for beauty not always owned by Princesses destined to share the throne of that realm. Without being fine, her eyes took any expression she liked, but particularly those so opposite as mildness and scorn. Her nose was well shaped, her upper lip pretty, but the lower one, the aristocratic inheritance of seventeen kaisers, too thick and protruding, even drooping, did not suit the pretty visage, except when it wanted to show ire or indignation. On this occasion, Marie Antoinette wore her womanly look and womanly smile more, that of a happy woman. If possible she did not mean to be the royal princess till the following day, the sweetest calm reigned on her face, the most charming kindness enlivened her eyes. She was robed in white silk and her handsome bare arms supported a heavy lace mantle. She refused the arm of the gentleman in black, and freely advanced snuffing the air and casting glances around as though wishful to enjoy brief liberty. Oh, the lovely sight! What fine old trees and the pretty little house! She ejaculated. How happy they must well in this nice air, and under these trees which hide us in so well! Philip Tavernet appeared, followed by Andrea giving her arm to her father, wearing a fine royal blue velvet cloak, a last vestige of former splendor. Andrea wore a ruddy grey silk dress and had her hair in long plates. Following Balsamo's hint, the Baron had donned the insignia of the nightly order. Your Highness, said Philip, pair with emotion and noble in his sorrow. Allow me the honour to present Baron de Tavernet, red castle, my sire, and mademoiselle Claire Andrea, my sister. The old noble bowed low with the style of one who knew how queens should be saluted. His daughter displayed all the grace of elegant timidity and the most flattering politeness of sincere respect. Regarding the pair and recalling what Philip had stated on their poverty, Marie Antoinette felt with them in their suffering.  I know that I am at the doors of an old soldier of France. Was the royal response? And my mother, the Empress Maria Teresa, who often went to the wars, says that in your kingdom the richest in glory are oft the poorest in gold. With ineffable grace she held out her hand to Andrea, who knelt to kiss it. The Dauphinès suddenly extricated the Baron from his tower about harboring the great number of the retinue. My lords and gentlemen, she said, it is not for you to bear the fatigue of my whims or enjoy the privileges of a royal princess. Pray, await me here. In half an hour I shall return. Come with me, Langenhausen. She said to the countess of that house who was her duena. Follow me, my lord. She added to the gentleman in black. His plain attire was of remarkable style. He was a handsome person of thirty years and smooth manners. He stood aside to let the princess go by. She took Andrea to her side and motioned Philip to follow. The Baron fell into place next to the fashionable gentleman.  Quirried this thfopp as he preened his fine honeton lace ruffles with aristocratic impertinence. Am I to answer a gentleman or a nobleman? Returned the Baron with equal sauciness. Prince will do, said the other. Or eminence? Well, yes, your eminence. I am a real taverné, replied the poor nobleman, without dropping the insolent tone he usually kept. The prince had the tact of great lords, for he readily perceived that he was not dealing with a rustic hobble dihoi. I suppose this is your summer residence, he continued. My residence in all seasons, replied the Baron, desiring to finish with this examination, but accompanying his answers with deep bowels. Philip kept turning round to his father with uneasiness. The house seemed towering up to exhibit more and more of their penury. The Baron was just holding his hand toward the sill, deserted by visitors when the Dauphinas turned to him, saying, Excuse me not going indoors, but these shady spots are so pleasant that I could pass my life beneath them. I am rather weary of interiors. For a fortnight I have been received under roofs, and I like open air, flowers, and the shade of foliage. Might I not have a drink of milk in this bower? What a mean refreshment, your Highness! faltered the Baron. I prefer it. With new laid eggs, my lord, such formed my feasts at Schoenbrunn. All of a sudden, Lebris puffed up with pride in a showy livery, and holding a Damascan napkin appeared in the Jezamine-Hung arbor, which the Archduchess was eyeing covetously. The refreshment is ready for your royal highness! He said with a neat mingling of respect and serenity. Am I housed by an enchanter? exclaimed the Princess, darting into the bower. The perturbed Baron forgot etiquette to leave the gentleman in black and run after his guest. Philip and Andrea looked at each other with even more anxiety and astonishment. Under the twining climatus, Jezamine and honeysuckle, an oval table was set, dazzling from the whiteness of the Damasque cloth and the carved bullion plate upon it. Ten sets of silver awaited as many guests. A choice but strange collation attracted the visitor's gaze. Foreign fruit, preserved in sugar, cake and crackers from Aleppo and Madeira, oranges and melons of uncommon size, set in large vases. The richest and noblest wines glittered in all hues of ruby and topaz in four-cut glass Persian decanters. The milk asked for, filled a crystal cup. But you must have expected me, since in no ten minutes which I have been here could this sumptuous spread be placed. And the Princess glanced at Libri as much as to say, with only one servant, too. I did not expect your royal highness, faltered the baron, of your coming being apprised. If your son did not inform you by letter, then it must have been some fairy. I suppose the godmother of your daughter. It was not so much a fairy as a magician, said Tavernay, offering a seat to the princess. I do not know anything about how he has done this, as I do not dabble in magic, but I owe it to him that I am fitly entertaining your highness. Then I will have none of it. It is contrary to the faith, but his eminence is going to sin with that liver pie. We are rather too worldly, we princes of the church, replied the gentleman in black, to believe the celestial wrath poisons victuals, and we are too human to visit ill on magicians who provide such good things. But I assure your eminence that this is a real sorcerer who conjured up this board, so ready spread, and who may have produced the gold of this service in the same manner. Does he know of the stone which changes all into gold? questioned the churchman with his eyes kindling with covetousness. This pleases the cardinal, who has passed his life seeking the philosopher's stone, said the princess. I own that I find nothing more interesting than supernatural things. Returned to the prince. Nothing more curious than what's impossible. So I have hit the vital spot, have I? said the archduchess. Every great man has a mystery, particularly when he is a diplomatist. Let me warn your eminence that I also am a witch, and that I can see into matters, if not curious and impossible. Incredible. This was an incomprehensible enigma to all but the cardinal, for he was plainly embarrassed. The gentle eye of the Austrian had flared with one of those fires denoting a storm gathering. But there was no thunderous outbreak, for she went on restraining herself. Come, my lord of Tavernay, make the feast complete by producing your magician. Where is he? In what box have you put old Hocus Pocus? La Bre, notify Baron Joseph Balsamo that her royal highness the Dauphinest desires to see him. Balsamo? Repeated the high lady as the valet started off. What an odd name. I fancy I have heard it before. murmured the cardinal. Five minutes passed with none thinking of breaking the stillness, when Andreas shuddered, for she heard before any other the step beneath the foliage, the brancers were parted in right in front of Marie Antoinette. Joseph Balsamo appeared. End of Chapter 10, Recording by John Van Stan, Savannah, Georgia. Chapter 11 of Balsamo, The Magician by Alexander Dumas, translated by Henry L. Williams. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. A marvel of magic. Humble was Balsamo's bow, but immediately raising his intelligent and expressive brow, he fixed his clear eye, though with respect, on the chief guest, silently waiting for her to question him. If you are the person Baron Tavernet has mentioned, pray, draw nigh that we may see what a magician is like. Balsamo came a step nearer and bowed to Marie Antoinette. So you make a business of foretelling? Said the latter, sipping the milk while regarding the newcomer with more curiosity than she liked to betray. I make no business of it, but I do foretell. Please, your Royal Highness, was the answer. Educated in an enlightened faith, we place faith solely in the mysteries of our religion. Undoubtedly they are worthy of veneration. Responded the other dialogist with a profound conge. But the cardinal de Rohan here, though Prince of the Church, will tell you that they are not the only ones worthy of respect. The cardinal started, for his title had not been announced. Not appearing to notice this revelation, Marie Antoinette pursued. But you must allow that they alone cannot be controverted. There can be fact as well as faith. Replied Balsamo with the same respect, but with the same firmness. You speak a trifle darkly, my Lord Baron of Magic. I am at heart a good Frenchwoman, but not in mind, and do not yet understand all the fineness of the language. They say I shall soon pick it up, even to the puns. Meanwhile, I must urge you to speak more plainly if you want my comprehension. I ask your Highness to let me dwell obscure, said the Baron with a melancholy smile. I should feel too much regret to reveal to so great a princess a future not equal to her hopes.  Heaven forbid my being forced into it. Observed Balsamo coldly. Of course, for you would be put too much pains for little result. Laughed the princess, but her merriment died away without a courtier's echoing it. All suffered the influence of the mystic man who claimed the whole attention. Still, it was you foretold my coming to Tavernay, said the mighty lady, to which Balsamo silently bowed. How was the trick done, my Lord Baron? Simply by looking into a glass of water, my liege lady. Was the old noble's answer. If that be truly your magic mirror, it is guileless at any rate. May your words be as clear. The cardinal smiled, and the master of the place said, Your Highness will not have to take lessons in punning. Nay, my dear host, do not flatter me, or flatter me better. It seems to me it was a mild quip, but, my Lord. She resumed turning toward Balsamo by that irresistible attraction, drawing us to a danger. If you can read the future in a glass for a gentleman, may you not read it for a lady in a decanter. Perfectly. But the future is uncertain, and I should shrink from saddening your royal highness, if a cloud veiled it, as I have already had the honour to say. Do you know me before times? Where did you first see me? I saw you as a child, beside your august mother, that mighty queen. Empress, my Lord. Queen by heart and mind, but such have weaknesses when they think they act for their daughter's happiness. I hope history will not record one single weakness in Maria Theresa, retorted the other, because it does not know what is known solely to your highness, her mother, and myself. Is there a secret among us three? sneered the lady. I must hear it. In Shunburn Palace is the Saxony cabinet, where the Empress sits in private. One morning, about seven, the Empress not being up, your highness entered this study, and perceived a letter of hers, open on the writing table. The hearer blushed.  Speak them aloud. My dear friend. Maria Antoinette bit her lips as she turned pale. Am I to tell to whom the letter was addressed? Inquired the seer. No, no. But you may write it. The soothsayer took out his memorandum book, fastened with a guilt clasp, and with a kind of pencil from which flowed ink, wrote on a leaf. Detaching this page, he presented it to the princess who read. The letter was addressed to the maschioness of Pompadour, Mistress of King Louis XV. The dowfiness is astounded look, roads upon this clearly speaking man with pure and steady voice, who appeared to tower over her, although he bowed lowly. All this is quite true, she admitted. And though I am unaware how you could learn this secret, I am bound to allow before all that you speak true. Then I may retire upon this innocent proof of my science. Not so, my Lord Baron, said the princess and netled, The wiser you are, the more I long for your forecast. You have only spoken of the past, and I demand the future. Her feverish agitation could not escape the bystanders. Let me at least consult the oracle to learn whether the prediction may be revealed. Good or bad, I must hear it! cried Marie Antoinette with growing irritation. I shall not believe it if good, taking it for flattery, but bad, I shall regard it as a warning, and I promise any way not to bear you ill will. Begin your witchcraft. Balsamo took up the decanter with a broad mouth, and stood it in a golden saucer. He raised it thus high up, and after looking at it, shook his head. I cannot speak. Some things must not be told to princes. He said, Because you have nothing to say? And she smiled scornfully. Balsamo appeared embarrassed so that the cardinal began to laugh in his face, and the Baron grumbled. My wizard is worn out. He said, Nothing is to follow but the gold turning into dry leaves as in the Arabian tale. I would have preferred the leaves to all this show, for there is no shame in drinking from a nobleman's pewter goblet, while a daffiness of France ought not to have to use the thimble-rigging cup of a charlatan. Balsamo started erect, as if a viper had bitten him. Your highness shall know your fate, since your blindness drives you to it. These words were uttered in a voice so steady, but so threatening that the hearers felt icy chills in their veins. The lady turned pale, visibly. Do not listen to him, my daughter, whispered the old governess in German to her ward. Let her hear, for since she wanted to know, know she shall. Said Balsamo in the same language, which doubled the mystery over the incident. But to you alone, my lady. Be it so, said the latter, stand back. I suppose this is just an artifice to get a private audience, sneered she, turning again to the magician. Do not try to irritate me, said he. I am but the instrument of a higher power, used to enlighten you. Insult fate, and it will revenge itself, well-knowing how. I merely interpret its moves. Do not fling at me the wrath which will recoil on yourself, for you cannot visit on me the woes of which I am the sinister herald. Then there are woes? said the princess, softened by his respectfulness and disarmed by his apparent resignation. Very great ones. Tell me all. First, will my family live happy? Your misfortunes will not reach those you leave at home. They are personal to you and your new family. This royal family has three members, the Duke of Barry, the Count of Provence, and the Count of Artois. They will all three reign. Am I to have no son? Sons will be among your offspring, but you will deplore the one that should live and the other die. Will not my husband love me? Too well, but his love and your family's support will fail you. Those of the people will yet be mine? Popular love and support, the ocean in a calm. Have you seen it in a storm? I will prevent it rising, or ride upon the billows. The higher its crest, the deeper the abyss. Heaven remains to me? Heaven does not save the heads it dooms. My head in danger. Shall I not reign a queen? Yes, but would to God you never did. The princess smiled disdainfully. Hawken, and remember, proceeded Balsamo. Did you remark the subject on the tapestry of the first room you entered on French ground? The massacre of the innocents. The ominous figures must have remained in your mind. During that storm did you see that the lightning felled a tree on your left, almost to crush your coach. Such presages are not to be interpreted, but as fatal ones.   Count Provence, legless, and Artois heartless. But, myself, I commend you to speak, where shall hold all this as a paltry trick. Take care, my lord, for the daughter of Maria Teresa is not to be sported with. A woman who holds in hand the destinies of thirty millions of souls. You know no more, or your imagination is exhausted. Balsamo placed the saucer and the decanter on a bench in the darkest nook of the arbor, which thus resembled a Pythanes' cave. He led her within the gloom. Down on your knees. He said, alarming her by the action. For you will seem to be employing God to spare you the terrible outcome which you are about to view. Mechanically the princess obeyed, but as Balsamo touched the crystal with his magic wand, some frightful picture no doubt appeared in it, for the princess tried to rise, reeled, and screamed as she fell in a swoon. They ran to her. That decanter! She cried when revived. The water was limpid and stainless. The wonder-worker had disappeared. End of Chapter 11 Recording by John Van Stan, Savannah, Georgia Chapter 12 of Balsamo The Magician by Alexander Dumas Translated by Henry L. Williams This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Tavernay's prospects brighten. The first to perceive the Arsh Dush's fainting fit was Baron Tavernay who was on the lookout from being most uneasy about the interview. Hearing the scream and seeing Balsamo dart out of the bower, he ran up. The first word of the Dauphinès was to call for the bewitched decanter. Her second to bid no harm to be done the sorcerer. It was time to say it. For Philip Tavernay had rushed after the latter. She attributed the swoon to fever from the journey. She talked of sleeping for some hours in Andrea's room, but the Governor of Strasburg arrived in hot haste with a dispatch from Versailles, and she had to receive Lord Stainville, who was brother-in-law of the Prime Minister. Opening this missive, the Princess read, The court presentation of Lady Dupère is fixed on. If she can find a patroness which we hope will not be, but the surest method of blocking the project is to have your royal highness here, in whose presence none will dare suggest such an offence. Very good. My horses must be put too. We depart at once. Cardinal Rohan looked at Lord Stainville as if for an explanation of this abrupt change. The Dauphinès in a hurry to see his wife. Whispered the latter with such cunning that the Churchman thought it had slipped his tongue and was satisfied with it. Andrea had been trained by her father to understand royal freaks. She was not surprised at the contradiction. So the lady saw only smoothness on her face as she turned to her, saying, Thank you. Your welcome has deeply touched me. Baron, you are aware that I made the vow to benefit the first French gentleman in his family whom I should meet on the frontier. But I am not going to stop at this point, and Mademoiselle Andrea is not to be forgotten. Yes, I wish her to be my maid of honour. The brother will defend the king and the army. The sister will serve me. The father will instruct the first in loyalty, the other in virtue. I shall have enviable servitors. Do you not agree? She continued to fill up who was kneeling. I will leave one of my carriages to bring you in my train. Governor, name somebody to accompany my carriage for the tavernays, and notify that it is of my household. Balsail, called out the Governor, come forward. A sharp-eyed cavalier, some twenty-four years old, rode out from the escort and saluted. Settle guard over Baron Tavernay's coach, and escort it. We shall meet soon again, then, said the Princess with a smile. Let us be off, my lords and gentlemen. In a quarter of an hour, all remaining of the whirling cavalcade was the carriage left in the avenue, and the guardsman whose horse was cropping the dandelions. Where is the magician? Inquired Tavernay. Gone too, my lord. I never heard of the like, leaving all that valuable plate. He left a note which Gilbert is fretting to deliver. Father, said Andrea, I know what is tormenting you. You know I have thirty gold pieces, and the diamond-set watch Queen Maria Lechinska gave my mother. That is well, said the Baron. But keep it. Though we must hunt up means for a handsome robe for your court presentation. Hush, here is Lebris. The note, my lord, which was given Gilbert by the strange gentleman. The Baron snatched it from the servant and read in an undertone. My lord, since in August Hand touched this service of plate under your roof, it belongs to your lordship, and I pray you keep it as a memento, and sometimes to remember your grateful guest, Balsamo. Lebris, is there a good goldsmith at Bar-la-Duke? Yes, my lord, the one who mended our young lady's jewelry. Put aside the cup the princess used, and pack up the rest of the plate in our carriage, and then haste to the cellar and serve that officer with all the liquor left. Come, come, Andrea. Courage. We are going to court, a splendid place where the sun never fails. You are naturally lovely, and have only to set the gem becomingly to outshine them all. Nicole followed Andrea to her room. I am off to arrange my titles of nobility and proofs of service. Continued the Baron trotting to his room briskly, we shall be off from this den in an hour. Do you hear, Andrea? And we leave by the Golden Gates, too.  Really, I have become as superstitious as the devil's own, but make haste. Lebris! He cried to his man, groping about in the cellar. I can't get on faster, master. We have not a candle left. It is plain that we are getting out in the right time. Thought the Baron. End of Chapter 12 Recording by John Van Stan Savannah, Georgia Chapter 13 of Balsam of the Magician by Alexander Dumas Translated by Henry L. Williams This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Nicole's Dower Nicole aided her young mistress in her traveling preparations with Arder, which speedily dissipated the cloud risen that morning between maid and mistress. The latter smiled as she found that she would have no need to scold her. She is a good devoted girl, and grateful, she mused. Only, she has weaknesses like all womankind. Let us forget. On her part, Nicole was not the girl not to watch her mistresses face, and she saw the kindness increasing. I was a fool nearly to get into a scrape with her for that rascal killed bear, when she is going to town where everybody makes a fortune. Put my lace in my box. Stop. I gave you that box, I remember, and you will want it as you are going to set up housekeeping. Oh, my lady, said Nicole, reddening and replying merrily, my wedding garments will be easily kept in no great space. How so? I want you to be well off when you wed. Have you found me a rich match? No, but a dower of twenty-five gold pieces.  A motion followed her surprise, and tears gushed into her eyes as she kissed Andrea's hand. Nicole began to think that Gilbert had rejected her from fear of poverty, and that now she had funds. She had better marry the ambitious spark to whom she would appear more desirable. But a germ of pride mingled with the generosity as she wanted to humble one who had jilted her. It looks as though you really loved your gilt bear. Observe the lady. How incredible for something in the lad to please you. I must have a look at this lady-killer next time I see him. Nicole eyed her with lingering doubt. Was this deep hypocrisy or perfect ignorance? Is Gilbert coming to Paris with us? She inquired to be settled on the point. What for? He is not a domestic and is not fitted for a Parisian establishment. The loungers about tavernay are like the birds which can pick up a living on their own ground. But in Paris a hangar on would cost too much, and we cannot tolerate that. If you marry him, you must stay here. I give you an hour to decide between my household or your husband's. I detest these cannubial details, and will not have a married servant. In any case, here is the money. Marry, and have it as a dower. Follow me, and it is your first two years wages in advance. Nicole took the purse from her hand and kissed it. The lady watched her go away and muttered, she is happy, for she loves. Nicole, in five minutes, was at the window of Gilbert's room, at the back of which she was turning over his things. I have come to tell you that my mistress wants me to go with her to Paris. Good, said the young man. Unless I get married and settled here. Are you still thinking of that? He asked without any feeling. Particularly since I am rich from my lady dowering me. And she showed the bright gold. A pretty sum. He said dryly. That is not all. My lord is going to be rich. He will build the castle, and the house will have to be guarded. By the happy mate of Nicole, suggested Gilbert with irony, not sufficiently wrapped up not to wound the girl, though she contained herself. I refuse the offer, for I am not going to bury myself here when Paris is open to me also. Paris is my stage, do you understand? And mine, and I understand you. You may not regret me, but you will fear me and blush to see to what you drive me. I long to be an honest woman, but when I was leaning over the verge you repulsed me instead of pulling me back. I am slipping and I shall fall. In heaven will ask you to account for the loss. Farewell, Gilbert. The proud girl spun round with anger now, or, in patience, having exhausted all her generosity of soul. Gilbert quietly closed the window and resumed the mysterious business which Nicole's coming had interrupted. She returned to her mistress with a deliberate air. I shall not marry, she said. But you are great love? It is not worth the kindness your ladyship has done me. I belong to you, and shall ever so belong. I know the mistress which heaven gave me, but I might never know the master whom I give myself. Andrea was touched by this display of emotion, which she was far from expecting in the maid.   You are doing right, she said. If Blisper falls me, you shall have your share. But did you settle with your sweetheart? I told him that I would have no more to do with him. She was restored to her former suspicion, and it was fated that the two should never understand each other, one with her diamond purity and the other with her tendency to evil. Meanwhile, the Baron had packed up his scanty valuables, and Labry shouldered the half-empty trunk, containing them, to accompany his master out to where the corporal of guards was finishing the wine to the last drop. This soldier gallant had remarked the fine waist in pretty limbs of Nicole, and he was prowling round the pool to see her again. He was drawn from his reverie by the Baron calling for his carriage. Saluting him, he called in a ringing voice for the driver to come up the avenue. Labry put the trunk on the rack behind with unspeakable pride and delight. I am going to ride in the royal coaches, he muttered. But up behind, my old boy, corrected Beaux-Sire with a patronizing smile. Who is to keep Tavernay if you take Labry, father? inquired Andrea.  I warrant, for there is plenty of game at Tavernay. Andrea looked at Nicole, who laughed and added, He is a sly dog. He will not starve. Leave him a trifle, suggested Andrea. It will spoil him. He is bad enough now. If he wants anything, we will send him help. He would not accept money, my lord. Your Gilbert must be pretty proud then. Thank heaven, he is no longer my Gilbert. Doos take Gilbert, whoever's property he is, sent Tavernay to cut short what annoyed his selfishness. The coach is stopping the way. Get in, daughter. Andrea gave the house a farewell glance, and stepped into the vehicle. The Baron installed himself next to her. Labry and his glorious livery and Nicole got upon the box, for the driver turned himself into a postillian and bestowed one of the horses. But that corporal, inquired the Baron, I ride my Charger! responded Beaux-Sire, ogling Nicole, who culled up with pleasure at having so soon replaced the rustic lad with a stylish cavalier. Gilbert stood with his hat off at the gate, and without seeming to see, looked on Andrea alone. She was bending out the opposite window to watch the house to the last. Stop a bit! ordered Baron Tavernay. Hark you! Master Idler, he said to Gilbert, you ought to be a happy dog to be left by yourself, as suits a true philosopher, with nobody to bother you or upgrade you.  Go ahead, Coachman.  It also contained his savings in a silver piece. Mahon was howling when he came out and straining at his chain. Am I not cast off like a dog? Why should not a dog be cast off like a man? No. You shall at least be free to seek your livelihood like myself. The liberated dog ran around the house, but finding all the doors closed, he bounded the ruins. Now, we are going to see who fares the better. Man or dog? said Gilbert. Farewell, mansion, where I have suffered and where all despised me, where bread was cast to me with the reproach that I was stealing it by making no return. Farewell, no. Curses on you. My heart leaps with joy at no longer being jailed up in your walls. Forever be a cursed prison, hell, lair of tyrants. He had lost his coin. He fell in the dusty highway, but with clenched fists and eyes glaring with rage. Out of the way, there! yelled a horse voice amid cracking of a whip. He did not hear, for his senses left him. He remained before the hooves of the horses, drawing a post-chase up a side road between Faulclair and Tiableau Mall, which he had not perceived. A scream peeled from inside the carriage, which the horses were whirling along like a feather on the gale. The post-boy made a superhuman effort and managed to keep his horses from trampling on the boy, though one of the leaders gave him a kick. Good God! screamed a woman again. You have crushed the unhappy child. The lady-traveller got out and the postillian alighted to lift Gilbert's body from under the wheel. What luck! said the man. Dashed if he be hurt, only swooned. With fright, I suppose. I'll drag him to the roadside, and let us go on, since your lady-ship is in hot haste.   It is some truant scholar undertaking a journey beyond his powers. How pale he is! He will die! No! No! I will not abandon him! Put him inside on the front seat. The post-boy obeyed the lady who had already got in the Berlin. As were called such carriages, Gilbert was put on a good cushion with his back supported by the padded sides.  Ten minutes lost, for which you must make up, while I will pay you the more. When Gilbert came to his senses he found himself in the coach, swept along by three post-horses. He was not a little surprised, too, to be almost in the lap of a young woman who attentively studied him. She was not more than twenty-five. She had cheeks scorched by the southern sun, with a turn-up nose and gray eyes. A clear character of cunning and circumspection was given to her open and jovial countenance by the little mouth of delicate and fanciful design. Her arms, the finest in the world, were molded in violet velvet sleeves adorned with gilt buttons. Nearly the whole vehicle was filled up by the wavy folds of her large flower-patterned gray silk dress. As the countenance was smiling and expressed interest, Gilbert stared for fear he was in a dream. Well, are you better, my little man? asked she. Where am I? Counter queried Gilbert, who had learned this phrase from novels, where alone it is used. In safety, my dear little fellow, replied the lady in a southern accent. A while ago you ran great risk of being smashed under my carriage-wheels. What happened to you to drop on the high road right in the middle? I swooned from having walked some 18 leagues since four yesterday afternoon, or rather, run. Where there are you bound? To Versailles, lady, I come from Tavernay, a castle between Pierre-Fait and Baladouk. Did you not give yourself time to eat? I had neither the time nor the means, for I lost a bit of money, and I soon ate the crusts I carried. Poor boy, but you might have asked for more bread. I am too proud, lady, said Gilbert, smiling loftily. Pride is all very well, but not when it lets one die of hunger. Death before disgrace. Hello, where did you learn such talk? Not at home, for I am an orphan. My name is Gilbert, and no more. Some bi-blow of a country squire, thought the woman. You are very young to roam the highway. She continued, I was not roaming, said the youth who thought the truth would recommend him to a woman. I was following a carriage. With your lady love in it, dear me, there is a romance in your adventure. Gilbert was not enough his own master not to ridden. What was the carriage, my little Cato? One of the Dauphinesses retinue. What? Is she ahead of us? exclaimed the woman. Are they not making a fuss over her along the route? They wanted to, but she pressed on after having talked of staying for rest at Tavernay Castle, for a letter came from Versailles. They said, and she was off in three-quarters of an hour. A letter? Brought by the Governor of Strasburg. Lord Stainville, Duke Choise's brother, the mischief, whip on, postillian, faster, faster! The whip snapped, and Gilbert felt that vehicle jump with more velocity. We may outstripper if she stops for breakfast or at night. Meditated the woman. Postillian, which is the next town of any account? Vitry. Where do we change horses? Vaucler. Go on, but tell me if you see a string of carriages on the main road. Poor child. She continued seeing how pale Gilbert was. It was my fault for making him chatter when he is dying of hunger and thirst. To make up for the lost time, she took out a travelling flask with a silver-capice stopper, into which she poured a cordial. Drink that, and eat a cake. She said, until you can have a substantial breakfast in an hour or two. Now, as you are a wit refreshed, tell me if you have any trust in me, what interest you have in following the carriage belonging to the Dauphiness's train? He related his story with much clearness. Cheer up, she said. I congratulate you, but you must know that one cannot live on courage at Versailles or Paris. But one can by toil. That's so. But you have not the hands of a craftsman or labourer? I will work with my head. Yes. You appear rather knowing. I know I am ignorant, said Gilbert recalling Socrates. You will make a good doctor, then, since a doctor is one who administers drugs of which he knows little into a body of which he knows less in ten years. I shall try to deserve the honour, lady, replied Gilbert. The horses were changed without their having overtaken the royal party, which had stopped for the same and to breakfast at the tree. The lady offered bounteously for the distance between to be covered, but the postillian dared not outstrip the princess, a crime for which he would be sent to the Dauphiness's train. The Dauphiness's train had not yet arrived at the Dauphiness's train, but had arrived at the Dauphiness's train, a crime for which he would be sent to prison for life. If I might suggest, observed Gilbert, you could cut ahead by a by-road. The vehicle therefore turned off to the right and came out on the main road at Chalon. The princess had breakfast at the tree, but was so tired that she was reposting, having ordered the horses to be ready to start again at three or four p.m. This so delighted the lady-traveller that she paid the post-boy lavishly and said to Gilbert, We shall have a feast at the next posting-house. But it was decreed that Gilbert should not dine there. The change of horses was to be at Chausset village. The most remarkable object here was a man who stood in the mid-road as if on duty there. He looked along it and on a long-tailed barb which was hitched to a wagon-shutter and nade fretfully for its master to come out of the cottage. At length the man knocked on the shutter and called. I say, sir. He demanded of the man who showed his head at the window. If you want to sell that horse, here is the customer. Not for sale! replied the peasant, banging the shutter, too. This did not satisfy the stranger, who was a lusty man of forty, tall and ruddy, with coarse hands and lace ruffles. He wore a laced cocked hat crosswise like soldiers who want to scare rustics. You are not polite, he said, hammering on the shutter. If you do not open, I shall smash in the blind. The panel opened at this menace and the clown reappeared. Who does this error belong to? A lady lodging here, who was very fond of it. Let me speak with her. Kent, she is sleeping. Ask her if she wants five hundred pistoles for the barb. That is a right royal price. And the rustic opened his eyes widely. Just so, the king wants the creature. You are not the king. But I represent him, and he is in a hurry. I must not wake her. Then I shall.  But he lowered it without hitting, for at the same instant he caught sight of a carriage tearing up the slope behind three fagged horses. The skilled eye of the would-be buyer recognized the vehicle, for he rushed toward it with a speed the Arabian might have envied. It was the post carriage of Gilbert's guardian angel, which the post boy was enchanted to stop on seeing the man wave him to do so, for he knew the nags would never reach the post house. Chon, my dear Chon, said the stranger, What joy that you turn up at last! It is I, y'all, replied the lady to whom was given this odd name. What are you doing here? A pretty question by Jove. I was waiting for you. The Hercules stepped on the folding step and kissed the lady through the window. Suddenly he caught sight of Guildbear and turned as black as a dog from which his snatched a bone, from not knowing the terms between the pair and the Berlin.  On the road, but never mind him. Another matter, indeed, worries us. What about the old Countess of Bayern? Asked Chon. I have done the job, and she will come. I said I was her lawyer's daughter, Mademoiselle Flageot. And that, passing through Verdun, I repeated from my father that her case was coming on. I added that she must appear in person, whereupon she opened her gray eyes, took a pinch of snuff, and saying Lawyer Flageot was the first of businessmen. She gave orders for her departure. Splendid, Chon. I appoint you my ambassador extraordinary. Come and have breakfast. Only too glad for this poor boy's dying of hunger. But we must make haste for the Delphines' only three leagues off. Plague, that changes the tune. Go on to the posting house with me hanging on as I am. In five minutes the coach was at the indoor, where Chon ordered cutlets, fowl, wine and eggs, as they had to be off forthwith. Excuse me, lady, but it will have to be with your own horses, for all mine are out. If you find one at the manger, I will eat it. You ought to have some for the regulations require it. Let me tell you. Thundered Chon with a hectoring air, I am not the man to jest. If I had fifty in the stable, it would be the same as none, for they are all held in the Delphines' service. Fifty, and you would not let us have three? Said Chon. I do not ask for eight, to which number royal highnesses are entitled, but three. You shall not have one. Returned the postmaster, springing in between the stables and the obstinate gentleman. Blunderhead, do you know who I am? Cried the other, pale with rage. This count, interposed Chon, in heaven's name, no disorder. You are right, my dear. No more words, only deeds. He turned to the innkeeper, saying, I shall shield you from responsibility by taking three horses myself. It must not be done, I tell ye. Do not help him, harness. Said the posting housekeeper to the grooms. Chon. Said Chon. Don't get into a scrape, on an errand one must put up with anything. Except delay. Repeated this count, Chon, with the utmost ease, and he began taking down three sets of harness which he threw on three horses' backs. Mind master. Said the postmaster as he followed Chon, leading the horses out to the coach. This is high treason. I am not stealing the royal horses, but taking them on loan. The innkeeper rushed at the reins, but the strong man sent him spinning. Brother, oh, brother! screamed Chon. Only her brother? muttered Gillbear. End of Chapter 14, recording by John Van Stan, Savanna Georgia. Chapter 15 of Balsamo the Magician by Alexander Dumas, translated by Henry L. Williams. This Leap of Box recording is in the public domain. Taverné to the rescue. At this period a window in the cottage opened and a lovely woman's face appeared, above the Arabian coarser, the uproar having aroused her. The very person wanted. Cried John. There, lady, I offer you five hundred bestoles for your horse. My horse? Question the lady in bad French. Yes, the barb hitched there. Not for sale. And the lady slammed the window. Come, come, I am not in luck this day. Said John. For folk will neither sell nor hire. Confound it all. I shall take the Arab if not for sale, and the coach horses if not for hire, and run them to their last legs. Put the horses to. He concluded to the lady traveller's lackey, who was on the coach. Help me, boys. Shouted the postmaster to his hustlers. Oh, don't. Cried John to her brother. You will only be massacred. Massacred? With three to three. For I count on your philosopher. Said John, shouting to Gilbert, who was stupefied. Get out, and pitch in with a cane or a rock or the fist, and don't look like a plaster image. Here the burlesque battle began. With the horses pulled between John and their owner, the stronger man hurled the ladder into the duck pond, where he floundered among the frightened ducks and geese. Help! Murder! He shrieked, while the viscount hastened to get the fresh horses into the traces. Help in the king's name! yelled the innkeeper, rallying his two grooms. Who claims help in the royal name? Challenged a horseman who suddenly galloped into the inn yard, and pulled up his reeking steed amid the fighting party. Lieutenant Philip the Tevernet! exclaimed Gilbert, sinking back deeper than ever into the carriage corner. John, who let nothing slipper, caught this name. The young officer of the Dauphine's dragoon guards leaped off his horse amid the scene which was attracting all the villagers. The innkeeper ran up to him imploringly as the saver, Officer, this gentleman is trying to take away the horses kept for her royal highness. He faltered. Gentlemen, queried Philip. Yes, this gentleman retorted John. You mistake, you are mad, or no gentleman, replied the chevalier of Red Castle. My dear lieutenant, you are wrong on both points. Said the viscount, I have my senses and I am entitled to ride in the royal carriages. How dare you then lay hands on the horses for the royal princess? Because there are fifty here and the royals are entitled to but eight. Am I to go afoot when lackeys have four nags to draw them? If it is the order of his majesty, they may have what they like, so be good enough to make your fellow take back those horses. Yes, if you are on duty to guard them, lieutenant, replied John, but I did not know that the Dauphine's dragoons were set to guard grooms.  You are wrong, sir. I am on duty, as the Dauphine's has sent me forward to look after the relays. That is different, but allow the remark that you are on paltry duty, and the young Bonnebel is shamefully treating the army. Of whom are you speaking in such terms? Interrupted Philip. Ah, only of that Austrian beauty. Tavernet turned pale as his cravat, but in his usual calm voice he said, as he caught hold of the bridle. Do me the pleasure to acquaint me with your name. If you are bent upon that, I am Viscount Jean Dubarie. What? Brother of that notorious? Who will send you to rot in the Bastille prison if you add a word to the adjective? The Viscount sprang onto the coach, up to the door of which went the barren sun. If you do not come forth in a second, I give you my word of honour, that I shall run my sword through your body. Having hold of the door with his left hand, pulling against the Viscount, he drew his sword with the other. The idea, said John. This is murder. Give up the horses, Jean.  Hiss the Viscount, exasperated, and snatching his sword from the cushion. We shall never get away at this rate, whispered John. Do smooth the officer down. Neither violence nor gentleness will stay me in my duty. Observed Tavernet, politely bowing to the young woman, advise obedience to the gentleman, or in the name of the king, whom I represent, I shall kill him if he will fight me, or arrest him if he refuses. Shall I lug him out, Lieutenant? asked the corporal, who had Tavernet's half-dozen men as escort. No, this is a personal quarrel, said his superior. You need not interfere. There was truly no need, for after three minutes, Jean Dubar, he drew back from the conflict with Red Castle, his sleeve died with blood. Go, sir, said the victor, and do not play such pranks any more. Hush, I pay for them. Grumbled the Viscount. Luckily, three horses came, in which would do for the change, and the innkeeper was only too glad to get rid of the turbulent Viscount at their price. As he mounted the carriage steps, he grumbled at Gilbert as being in the way. Hush, brother, said Jean. He knows the man who wounded you. He is Philip of Tavernet. Then we shall be even yet. said the Viscount, with a gleam of gladness.  He shouted out to Tavernet. But turn about his fair play. To the return, if you please, replied the officer. Yes, Chevalier Philip de Tavernet. Called Jean, watching for the effect of the sudden declaration of his name. Indeed, his hearer raised his head with sharp surprise, in which entered some unease. But recovering himself and lifting his hat, he rejoined with the utmost grace. A pleasant journey, Chevalier Jean de Bahie. A thousand thunders! swore the Viscount, grinning horribly as the coach started. I am in acute pain. Jean, and shall want a surgeon sooner than breakfast. We will get one at the first stop, while this youth has his meal. Excuse me, said Gilbert as the invalid expressed their desire to drink. But strong drink is bad for you at present. What, are you a doctor as well as philosopher? Query Jean. Not yet, my lord, although I hope to be one some day. But I read that wounded patients must not take anything heated. But if you will let me have your handkerchief, I will dip it in water at the first spring and cool the wound by bandaging it. The carriage was stopped for Gilbert to get out and wet the cambrick. The youngster is dreadfully in the way for us to talk. Said de Bahie. Chevalier, we will talk in the southern dialect. Said Jean, and it was thanks to this precaution that the two communed to the puzzlement of the youth on the rest of the journey. But he had the consolation of thinking that he had comforted a Viscount who stood in the king's favor. If Andrea only saw him now, he did not think of Nicole. Hello. Broke off the Viscount as he looked behind out of the window. Here comes that Arab with the strange woman on its back. I would give a thousand bestolles for that steed, and a fortune for the beauty. The black-eyed woman wrapped in a white cloak, with her brow shaded by a broad brimmed felt hat with long feathers, flew by like an arrow along the roadside, crying, Avanti, the Jared. She says forward in Italian. Said the Viscount. Oh, the lovely creature. If I were not in such pain, I would jump out and after her. You could not catch her on that horse. It is the magician, and she is his wife. Magician? Questioned the de Bahie's together. Yes, Baron Joseph Balsimo. The sister looked at the brother as much as to say, Was I not right to keep him? And he nodded emphatically. End of Chapter 15, Recording by John Van Stan, Savannah, Georgia.