pensioner on the whims of his foolish but regnant brethren. I
had heard tales of a growing sottishness, a decline in spirit, a
squalid taste in pleasures. Small blame, I had always thought,
to so ill-fated a princeling. And now I had chanced upon the
gentleman in his dotage, travelling with a barren effort at
mystery, attended by a sad-faced daughter and two ancient
domestics. It was a lesson in the vanity of human wishes which
the shallowest moralist would have noted. Nay, I felt more than
the moral. Something human and kindly in the old fellow had
caught my fancy. The decadence was too tragic to prose about,
the decadent too human to moralise on. I had left the chamber of
the--shall I say de jure King of England?--a sentimental adherent
of the cause. But this business of the bagpipes touched the
comic. To harry an old valet out of bed and set him droning on
pipes in the small hours smacked of a theatrical taste, or at
least of an undignified fancy. Kings in exile, if they wish to
keep the tragic air, should not indulge in such fantastic
serenades.

My mind changed again when after breakfast I fell in with Madame
on the stair. She drew aside to let me pass, and then made as if
she would speak to me. I gave her good-morning, and, my mind
being full of her story, addressed her as "Excellency."

"I see, sir," she said, " hat you know the truth. I have to ask
your forbearance for the concealment I practised yesterday. It
was a poor requital for your generosity, but is it one of the
shifts of our sad fortune. An uncrowned king must go in disguise
or risk the laughter of every stable-boy. Besides, we are too
poor to travel in state, even if we desired it."