York—two doors from the house of Peter Stuyvesant, of whom you must have heard. He is a very hardy man, and he can do it, but I—even a few days of Albany or of Schenectady are enough for me. My life has been in the woods."     

       "I am sure my father would wish you to sleep where you like and to do what you like, as long as it makes you happy."     

       "I thank you, mademoiselle. Then I shall take my things out there, and I shall groom my horse."     

       "Nay, there is Pierre."     

       "I am used to doing it myself."     

       "Then I will come with you," said De Catinat, "for I would have a word with you. Until to-morrow, then, Adele, farewell!"     

       "Until to-morrow, Amory."     

       The two young men passed downstairs together, and the guardsman followed the American out into the yard.     

       "You have had a long journey," he said.     

       "Yes; from Rouen."     

       "Are you tired?"     

       "No; I am seldom tired."     

       "Remain with the lady, then, until her father comes back."     

       "Why do you say that?"     

       "Because I have to go, and she might need a protector."     

       The stranger said nothing, but he nodded, and throwing off his black coat, set to work vigorously rubbing down his travel-stained horse.     

  

  

       CHAPTER II — A MONARCH IN DESHABILLE.     

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