CHAPTER III.
THE HOLDING OF THE DOOR.
Whilst Louis had been affording his court that which he had openly stated to be the highest of human pleasures--the sight of the royal face--the young officer of the guard outside had been very busy passing on the titles of the numerous applicants for admission, and exchanging usually a smile or a few words of greeting with them, for his frank, handsome face was a well-known one at the court.

With his merry eyes and his brisk bearing, he looked like a man who was on good terms with Fortune.

Indeed, he had good cause to be so, for she had used him well.
Three years ago he had been an unknown subaltern bush-fighting with Algonquins and Iroquois in the wilds of Canada.

An exchange had brought him back to France and into the regiment of Picardy, but the lucky chance of having seized the bridle of the king's horse one winter's day in Fontainebleau when the creature was plunging within a few yards of a deep gravel-pit had done for him what ten campaigns might have failed to accomplish.

Now as a trusted officer of the king's guard, young, gallant, and popular, his lot was indeed an enviable one.