little, and shook out his handkerchief.

"Well!" The Marquis grew impatient. "You have nothing to say?"

Philip turned.

"C'est merveilleux!" he breathed.

The Marquis beamed, but he shook his head.

"In time, yes. At present, a thousand times no! C'est gauche, c'est impossible!"

Unwontedly humble, Philip begged to be made less gauche.

"It is my intention," said the Marquis. "A month or so and I shall be proud of my pupil."

"Faith, I'm proud of ye now!" cried Tom. "Why, lad, you'll be more modish than ever Maurice was!"

Philip flushed beneath his powder. A ruby on his finger caught his eye. He regarded it for a moment, frowning, then he took it off.

"Oh?" queried the Marquis. "Why?"

"I don't like it."

"You don't like it? Why not?"

"I don't know. I'll only wear sapphires and diamonds."

"By heaven, the boy's right!" exclaimed Tom. "He should be all blue!"

"In a month—two months—I shall present you at Versailles," decided the Marquis. "François, remove that abominable ruby. And now—en avant!"

And so went Philip to his first ball.

At the end of the month Tom went home to London, having set his nephew's feet on the path he was to tread. He left him in charge of M. de Château-Banvau, who had by now developed a lively interest in him.

After that first ball Philip threw off the last shreds of rebellion; he played his part well, and he became very busy. Every morning he fenced with an expert until he had 

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