Marigold-Michel

I.

MARIGOLD-MICHEL strode down the mountain. It was five o’clock in the morning, and the world was fresh. From his broad-brimmed rush hat, wreathed with marsh - marigolds, streamed long stems of oak leaves dancing and nodding like a cavalier’s plumes. His face was brown, gay, and clean-shaved except for a big mustache, rather yellower than his faded hat, or even the straggling ends of fair hair curling loosely on his shoulders. On his arm he carried a large basket covered with plantain leaves; strapped upon his back, a canister; thrust through his belt, a peasant’s knife sheathed and a solid bunch of marigolds. Tall, powerfully built, in a weatherbeaten brown jacket, his long legs incased in foresters’ boots of stout russet leather reaching halfway up the thigh, he swung along as if his soul were singing a blithe tune. The woods were full of birds ; he piped to them like a thrushinitiate. The trees were his own familiar friends. He smiled as in response to the vehement babble of the small brook that accompanied his swift feet down the slope.

Not far from the edge of the forest he crossed a few fields and approached a lonely hut. Deftly as he took from his basket and put upon the window-ledge some cresses, mint, mushrooms, Waldmeister, and a few flowers, the casement opened slightly, and a voice gruff as that of Red Riding-Hood’s pseudo-grandmother croaked, “Is that you, Michel? ”

“ Yes, granny. I hope you are feeling comfortable this morning?”

“ Comfortable ? Pray what should make me comfortable, I’d like to know ? Old age and poverty and the rheumatism in every bone I ’ve got ? Being shunned like poison, and my great-grandson a jailbird ? Comfortable ! That’s your fooltalk, Marigold-Michel.”

“ All right, granny, “ the man returned cheerily. “ Can I do anything for you in town ? ”

“ Oh, it ’s town-day again, is it ? Nothing better to do than to strut about with your weeds dangling, and the folk a-staring ? ”

“ Not much,” he said, with an amused laugh.

“ Laughing’s cheap ! ” she growled. “ Wait till you are a rheumatic old woman neglected of every mortal soul, your own children quarreling with you tooth and nail whenever they cross your threshold, and Hans in jail.”

“ I know, I know,” he answered soothingly, his voice indulgent and mellow. “ There’s a lot of bad luck in the world.”

“ You don’t know, Marigold-Michel! ” retorted the exasperated voice behind the casement. “ Nobody knows anything about my rheumatism. Those that never had any better keep still; it stands to reason they know nothing about it. Those that had it once, they ’ve forgotten, and what they say is trash and fibs ; they ’re only making themselves important. And those that have got it, they are thinking of their own pains every breath they draw, and that’s why I say nobody on earth knows anything about my rheumatism.”

“ Come, granny, what do you want today ? A little snuff ? ”

“That last was pretty nasty,” she grumbled.

“ We ’ll try to get some that’s good. And a wee drop of gin ? That ’s a bit comforting for our rheumatism, eh, granny? ”

“ Any child knows that without asking.”

“ Coffee ? ”

“Perhaps you think the last quarterpound parcel you brought ought to last forever ? ” she rejoined acrimoniously.

“ Fuel you have for a month, at least, and beer and potatoes ; bread and milk and eggs the child Genoveva brings. As to Hans, poor little chap, I shall go to see him to-day, if they ’ll let me in. But he ’s all right. He had no more to do with the burglary than I had. If he refuses to explain why he was lurking in the neighborhood, it’s a sure case of sweetheart.”

“Minx ! ”

“ But I think he will tell me about it. He’s rather fond of me. He inherits it from his great-grandmother.”

“ Rubbish ! ”

“ And he ’ll be up to see you before long.”

“ If he dare to show himself, I ’ll tell him he ’s disgraced the family, and I ’ll slam the door in his face.”

“ And drive away the only one of your children’s children that still comes to brighten you up a bit ? The youngest, — little Hans ! Oh, you ’ll never do that. I know you better. You ’ll be very amiable and affable, and awfully nice, granny, and you ’ll give him a mug of beer, and bid him come again as soon as ever he can — and bring his sweetheart.”

“ H’m ! Michel, I want a hank of yarn, gray yarn : plain, not mottled ; dark, not light; and medium, neither coarse nor fine. Here’s a sample, which of course you ’ll lose, and you ’ll come back empty-handed and say you forgot. It’s a mean sort of world for a poor lone lame old woman. If you ’re young and strong and go-as-you-please, with a hoitytoity and a whoop and hurrah and hullabaloo, and ” —

“ Now I’m off. I ’ll fetch all your things, never fear. And I would n’t be quite so solitary, day in, day out. Why do you not talk with Genoveva ? ”

“ You live alone yourself, MarigoldMichel! ”

“ Quite true. She’s a jolly little maid, and might amuse you. Can’t you tell her a story or something ? ”

“ Her mother, the last time she ever came, said in my very face that I ” —

“ Oh, but the child is not to blame that all you people have spicy tongues. Tomorrow I ’ll come down and spend the afternoon with you, if I may, being, as you say, so alone myself. I’m weaving a new basket, and will bring my work along.”

“ Then see that you wipe your great dirty boots. I ’ll not have my floor littered with rushes or tracked with black slime from the woods.”

The tall man stood bending toward the tiny curtained casement, which screened his amused smile.

“ We ’ll have a famous gossip.”

“ If you bring any news worth hearing. Your talk is mostly as dull as a son-in-law.”

“ Good-by, granny. Take care of yourself.”

“ If I don’t, nobody else will, that’s pretty clear.”

“ Michel! ” she called presently.

He stopped and turned. “ Well, granny ? ”

“ Those last mushrooms were vile.”

He let loose a long-suppressed chuckle before calling back politely, “ These today are better, I hope.”

“ You ’ll poison me yet! ”

He went on a few steps.

“ Michel! ”

“ Yes.”

“ Plain gray.”

“Not mottled,” he returned jovially.

“ Dark.”

“ Not light.”

“ Medium,” she insisted.

“ Neither coarse nor fine.”

“ Michel ! ”

“ Yes, granny, but say it all, this time.”

“ Well, you needn’t be so impatient. Men-folks never have the least control of their tempers.” Her grim and wizened face, framed by a nightcap, peered out of the window. “ Tell Hans he may come up when he gets out. You ’ll get the lad out sure, won’t you, MarigoldMichel ? And tell him not to be such a dyed-in-the-wool idiot another time !

Michel swung his hat, and shouted in a great sonorous voice, “ I ’ll tell him you know he is innocent, and long to see him! ”

“ Well, don’t roar the roof off.”

Her suspicious, thankless gaze mustered his offerings on the window-ledge.

“ Michel! ” she screamed, “ these cesses ! ” and again, “ Michel “ or some other sound of rasping protest jarred across the quiet fields.

But he, going on at a great pace, took care not to pause again or turn his head.

“ Hullo there ! Stop that, will you ? Stop, I say! ” he commanded, as he reached the main road, where, at the foot of a steep byway, a peasant stood pommeling his nag with the butt end of his whip, and had already lifted a hobnailed boot.

Presently he crawled from the gutter, and rubbed various portions of his person as he advanced, red and scowling, toward Michel, who remarked, “ Directly, directly,” in an amiable and slightly preoccupied tone.

Having propped the cart-wheels, Michel was engaged in inspecting the animal, freeing his head, loosening straps, giving him a little water, and, with a wet sponge from the botanical canister, wiping the dust from his eyes and nostrils.

“ What the devil are you doing to my horse ? ”

“ Encouraging him.”

“ What do you mean by pitching me into the gutter ? ”

“ It was necessary.”

“ I ’ll teach you! ” blustered the peasant, squaring.

“ Do,” said Michel pleasantly.

But eying his size and shape, the man came no nearer.

“ I ’ll complain of you. I ’ll have you up for it. Who are you, anyhow, with your silly looks and woman’s hair, and posies like a lovesick maid ? Why, wait! Isay! I’ve heard of you. Your name’s Michel, — Wildflower-Michel. ’

“ That is one of my names.”

“ Marigold-Michel.”

“ That is another.”

“ Fool-Mi chel.”

“ At your service.”

“ Well. I ’ll not fight a fool.”

“Nor I,” returned Michel genially.

The man stared and slowly grinned, watched him awhile, and said at last, “Just leave me my own horse, will you, Fool-Michel ? I must get on.”

“ You’ve lost no time. He ’ll go now without blows. I’ve whispered in his ear.”

“ Oh yes, I’ve heard of your tricks,” muttered the peasant, reluctantly credulous. “ See here. It’s my horse, and none of your business, but even a fool can see there’s nothing the matter with him.”

“ He’s a good little beast, not ill fed, but overloaded and fagged. Galled here, too, see ? I’ve protected it. You’ve come far, I presume ? ”

“ I’ve been on the road four days, and not hit him once until he was jaloux just now.”

Michel repressed a smile at the odd foreign word, a relic of the French occupation, and used in all seriousness by peasants of that region exclusively for balky horses.

“ Then why did you begin ? ”

“ Because I’ve got an ill boy. He ’s all the hoy I have. Perhaps it would get into your own nerves, Fool-Michel, to see the nag go jaloux so near home.’

“ What ails your boy ? ”

“ As if I knew ! He hangs his head and moans, my wife writes. I here never was anything the matter with him before,” the man exclaimed indignantly.

“ How old is he ? ”

“ Eight years old next September.”

“Your name and village.”

The peasant gave them.

“ I ’ll come to see him to-morrow morning. Send for the doctor at once. See, the horse pulls well. It’s only the start that ’s steep. Take care of him. You’ll have to pay somewhere, somehow, for every blow you give him. A good washdown and extra feed, eh ? I ’m sorry about your boy. But cheer up. You may find him brighter than you expect.”

Michel had walked a short distance with the cart. In his manner was a certain benevolent authority, an innocent lordliness, and he no longer spoke in dialect. With a friendly tap on the man’s shoulder, he turned back.

“ I say, you ’re no fool, are you, now ? ” demanded the peasant, staring curiously.

But Michel merely smiled, and walked off swiftly. The other, looking after him. noted the waving oak plumage and all the yellow bravery, and grinned.

“ Anybody ’d know he was a fool! Get along, old fellow. We ’re almost home.”Cheerfully cracking his whip, he slapped with harmless palm the willing horse, now pulling stoutly up the hill.

Down the long road to the town went Michel, now and again branching off to the right or left to leave a rare botanical specimen with a world-forgotten old professor, a bunch of wood violets, anemones, or ferns at the doors of humble and mostly cross-grained invalids. Certain sylvan wares he sold at early market for fair prices, and jested in dialect and rough humor with old wives who hailed him jovially.

Everywhere he was greeted with nods, smiles, and chaff. A coarse fellow on a tram, winking at his mates, called out as Michel sat rearranging his basket,

“ What’s that yellow M for in that bunch of wildflowers ? ”

Michel, silent foolish and sly, with half-closed lids, bent over his posies and moss.

“ What does it cost, Michel ?”

“ Fifty pfennigs.”

“ But for my sweetheart, because her name is Marie, you ’ll sell it me cheaper ? ” “ Is his sweetheart’s name Marie ? ” inquired Michel of another man.

“It really is,” several asserted, laughing.

“ Give it me for twenty pfennigs because her name begins with M,” urged the red-faced jester.

Michel extended the bouquet. “ Give it her, for comfort,” he added gravely, amid the laughter of the men. “ And keep your twenty pfennigs. You look as if you’d need them when you go to housekeeping.”

“ When he is in a good vein he makes very fair shots. Such foolish fellows often can, “ a solemn gentleman explained as Michel stepped off the tram.

Passing rapidly by an hotel entrance, he nearly ran into an immaculate man of fashion emerging languidly in clothes of which the elbows and knees knew no derogatory wrinkles, and the shirt-collar was like unto a high and shining tower, so that when the wearer turned his head he had to turn his toes. The two exchanged brief glances. An involuntary smile of amazement crept into the stranger’s eyes.

“ Good Lord ! “ reflected the emancipated one, stretching himself in his lazy woolens, “ to think I too used to thrust my body into broadcloth tubes and hang a glazed platter on my breast! ”

In a sculptor’s studio he posed long.

“ Ah, give me another hour, Michel.

I ’ll make it worth your while.”

“ Not for your weight in gold.”

“Ah, Michel, an idle, devil-may-care, happy vagabond like you ! ”

“ Not to-day.”

“ But to-morrow.”

“ Not to-morrow. Saturday all day, if you like.”

“ Is it a sweetheart that makes you so inflexible ? ”

“ Sweethearts, — yes.”

“ I cannot make head or tail of the fellow,” said the sculptor to his friend.

“ At all events, you are making a glorious Siegfried of him.”

The two studied the wet clay in silence for some time, pacing solemnly round it, hands behind them, chins in the air.

“ It’s great.”

“ Well,” the artist returned, drawing a deep breath and smiling, “ at least it ’s the best I ’ve done yet. I ’m superstitious about it,” he added, covering it with a damp cloth. “ I scarcely dare look at it when Michel’s not here. I posed him several times. No good. ‘ How’s this ?' he asked suddenly. ‘ Don’t budge for your life! ’ I cried, and worked like a madman. It’s a superb body the queer fellow ’s got.”

“ But a bee in his bonnet.”

“ If he is half-witted, I wish I had the other half. That is why I tell you I don’t know what to make of him. You meet him in the street, where he wears, for reasons of his own, a foolish countenance. What of that ? Do not even the pillars of society the same, and never suspect it ? Here, hour after hour, though he is silent and keeps a wonderfully straight face, the spirit of the man speaks. He simply cannot disguise intelligence and education. I ’d swear he knows the meaning of everything here, of all our talk and traps. He likes it. He knows authors. The other day, I caught in the mirror there his quick smile as some of us were quarreling over a quotation from Pindar, — Leo mangling it awfully, and old Arnim spouting Greek like a schoolboy. The man ’s a gentleman, or I’m daft. The first day he posed he did n’t like it, you know, and he hated the money for it. I cannot explain why, but when he got up there stripped, and turned his eyes on me, I had a vision of a soldier marched out to be shot by his comrades.”

“ Oh, come, you are fanciful ! Of course he gathers up the crumbs that fall from your table. He continually hears the art-chatter of you men here. But you are off the scent, I assure you. You are not yet acquainted with all our landmarks. Marigold-Michel is a public character, who has been roaming about here ten or fifteen years ; twenty, for all I know to the contrary. Children adore him. He ’s a sort of Pied Piper minus the pipe. Always looks the same. Nobody knows his age. But he ’s a bit gray at the temples, I noticed to-day.”

“ On one side only. He may have been that at twenty.”

“ Well, my dear fellow, he may be less foolish than he acts, I grant you ; although I incline to the current belief in his silliness, he does get himself up so like a male travesty of Ophelia, don’t you know ? ”

“ He ’s a better dressed man than you or I.”

The other shrugged his shoulders. “ If you mount that hobby, I yield at discretion. But anyhow he’s a simple rustic : you cannot rout me on that point.”

“ It is possible you are right,” returned the sculptor, lighting another cigarette ; “ but then, you see, I know better. However, since he elects to travel incognito, I shall be precious careful to respect his whim.”

“ Yes, for either there is nothing behind the mask, or there is something monstrously unsavory.”

“Exactly. Whereas my model, Michel the marvelous, Michel the magnificent ”—

“Non olet! ” suggested the other, smiling. “Suppose we go to lunch.”

Meanwhile, Michel was passed along with due ceremony by liveried servants through the courtyard, portals, stairways, and corridors of a palace. These men, although, being the lackeys of a duke, very great men indeed, were less haughty to Michel than to small tradespeople and such trash. The ducal retainers even smiled upon him, with a certain contemptuous tolerance of his vagaries. Men growing rotund upon the bread and beer of idleness, and displaying the splendors of scarlet and gold raiment and opulent calves, naturally found Michel’s costume ludicrous, and his habit of tramping over hill and dale fatuity. Still, he too was a sort of vassal of the palace. At all events, he came often, and was always admitted. Then he could do an obliging thing for one, as many of them knew from experience. So the languid great men were not more than phenomenally insolent, as Michel was announced along the line and advanced in proper form from pillar to post, until he stood on the threshold of a large and somewhat darkened room, where from a cot-bed a long “ Ah ! ” of intense relief greeted him, and a child ’s voice, sharp and imperious, cried, “ Everybody go except Michel! ”

A nurse, a maid, and a man obediently stole out.

“Where you left off!” commanded the small pale tyrant. “ Begin exactly where you left off, Michel ! ”

II.

“ So the King and his fifty glittering knights rode ever on and on, day after day, month after month, in the Strange Country,”began Michel, advancing slowly down the long room, his green leaves nodding, his marigolds and bright hair shining, us he crossed some fugitive sunbeam that stole in despite Venetian blinds and draperies. Smiling, moving very slowly, telling the tale as if born for the purpose, he came on, his eyes fixed upon the child, who, with the habitual frown of pain on his forehead and drawn lines of pain about his mouth, watched breathless, exultant — “in the Strange Country, which became ever stranger. The trees and the grass were sapphire blue. The birds were snow white, marvelous in song, and not one was smaller than an eagle. Voices called, one knew not from whence, in words no man had ever heard. Jewels grew on stalks, and the knights, as you may believe, were not too proud to fill their pockets. But as all the streams ran molten silver, and the noble company, having ridden far without resting, were consumed with thirst, and ready, man and beast, to drop from weariness, even diamonds and rubies as big as your fist began to pall upon them, and they would have given all that they possessed for a cup of cold water. Encircling the vast plain loomed the blood - red smoking mountains of the Strange Country, and as yet was no sign of a town or any human habitation. So the knights were despondent, and the King no less, but no man uttered his thought.

“ Presently they heard a delicious splashing. Hastening past a luxuriant mass of beautiful aluminum shrubbery, to their exceeding joy they discovered a fountain of purest water playing into a tiny lake.

“ As quick as a flash the King’s cupbearer whipped out his tray and golden cup.

“ ‘ Nay, lad,’ quoth the King, ‘ rather thus !' Promptly kneeling upon his royal knees, he drank with his kingly lips from the refreshing stream, thereby proving what an exceptionally clever and enlightened monarch he was, while the fifty glittering knights stood in a row with courtly mien, each wishing for all he was worth that his Majesty would be quick about it.

“ But when the King had drunk copiously, thoroughly quenched his thirst, and would fain withdraw his august head, he found that his great beard, five and a half feet long, was clutched and held immovable in the water by hands that seemed to weigh a ton, and a voice from the depths cried : —

“ ‘ You are in my power, O King, and the swords of your knights are naught against my spells. Speak not to them. If you call, they will immediately become aluminum. There they will stand, and here you will remain, until you accede to the request I shall shortly make, as soon as I think you able to hear it.’

“ Now only a king with a heard five and a half feet long, the pride of the kingdom, can appreciate the subtle awkwardness of this situation ; not to mention the obvious indignity of having one’s royal mane pulled at all, and the embarrassing consciousness that fifty good knights and true are thirstily drawn up on the shore, and etiquette forbids them to cool their parched throats and those of their red roan and other colored steeds, until the sacred person of royalty rises from its knees and gives them a chance.

“ ‘ Listen, O King,’ said the awful gurgle in the depths. ‘ I will release you upon one sole, single, and solitary condition. You will pledge your sovereign word that on your return to your own realm, to your people, your palace, and your queen, you will’" —

Across Michel’s mouth the child suddenly clapped his hand, exclaiming, “ Time’s up ! Halt!”

The tale stopped short. The boy closed his eyes and sighed. “ Oh, Michel, nobody ’s got any sense but you.”

Michel inspected him closely and said nothing.

The child seized the rustic hat and patted the marigolds. “ Nice ! he murmured. His gaze wandered with gloating delight over the details of the man’s costume. “ The others bore me so. They are all idiots — except mamma. I say, Michel, how long could you rattle on like that, — miles ?

Michel laughed. “ Like that ? Well, yes, I rather think so.”

£ Some time I ‘ll try you a whole day.”

“ All right. In the woods. But there we ’ll have better things to do than to spin that rubbish.”

“ It is rubbish if you hear a lot,” the boy remarked dispassionately.

“ I should say so.”

“ But a little of it is nice, and I stopped you at exactly the right place. For I shall be wondering until next time what old Gurgle was going to make King Longheard promise. So I shall enjoy it three times, don’t you see ? — now, and next time, and all the time between.”

“ Little sybarite !" “ I know what that means.”

“ You know a lot too much. Wait till I get you in the woods ten miles from your books.”

“ Ah, Michel, the woods ! But in this stupid place a fellow has to read, you know.”

“ Such awfully old books for such a little man.”

“ Wait, Michel!” cried the boy eagerly. “ How would you account for this ? Solon said, Call no man happy till he dies. But Socrates said, No harm can befall the truly wise man. Now, I think Solon was a coward and afraid of life, and Socrates was brave : and that is how I account for it, Michel, don’t you see.?”

“ Yes, I see,” said Michel gravely.

The child’s hands strayed like a baby’s over his big friend’s face, patting it, pulling and remodeling.

“I say, Michel, why don’t you wax the ends of your mustache, like papa ? Would n’t you be a guy ! No, don’t. Don’t do a single thing different. Just stay so, Michel, exactly as you are, your hair, your clothes, and all of you, do you hear? ”

“ All right, my lord duke. I ’ll not budge an inch, I promise you, from the ways I find most comfortable.”

“ Michel,” demanded the boy, with a sudden gleam of malice on his sensitive, mobile, and far too clever face, “ how do you know anything about Socrates and Solon ? ”

“ Oh, that amount of wisdom one can buy for a penny at the first bookstall.”

“ Why do you speak peasant dialect before the servants, and like a gentleman when you are alone with me ?

“ Do I ? ” asked Michel placidly.

“ Michel, you are a gentleman !" exclaimed the boy triumphantly.

“ Oh come, now, Azor ! Do I like you because you are his Gracelessness the little Duke of Spitzfels - Höchstberg - Aussicht-über-Alles ? ”

“ Oh, what a funny name! It does sound like ours, though,” laughed Azor.

“ Or because you happen to be a little chap I like ? And suppose I were the Emperor of Japan in disguise, would you like me better ? ”

“ I could n’t like you any better, Michel,” Azor answered, with extreme simplicity and sweetness. “ I like you best — except mamma.”

“ Besides ” —

“Well? the boy said sharply, divining Michel’s thought.

Smiling, tender, ironical, boundlessly indulgent, the big man continued : “ There ’s no possible doubt that Konstantin Albrecht Azor Karl Eugen is a gentleman, I presume ? ”

“ No,” returned the little duke haughtily.

“ And you and I are friends, are we not ? ”

“Yes, Michel.”

“ Well, then.”

The boy ’s eyelids drooped an instant. Presently he looked up into the face bending over him, and said peevishly, “ You are awfully unkind not to come here and live.”

“ I could not, dear boy. I have explained that before. I have other things to do and other people to see.”

“Other boys with hips ? ” asked Azor jealously.

“ No. Besides, if I were always here, you ’d not like me as well. You’d get tired of me.”

“ Mamma is always here.”

“ Your mamma is a most lovely lady.”

“And you are Marigold-Michel ! ”

“ But you ’d not get tired of me in the woods, little man. That I promise. When once they let you come, when once you are well enough.”

“ I ’ve waited so long,” wailed Azor. “I’m always waiting. I’m dead tired of everything — except mamma. I hate this nasty room ; I hate to be carried about the garden in an old box in a footman’s arms; I hate to drive in the stupid park. Oh, I do want to go and live in the woods with you ! Oh dear ! Oh dear !" he moaned, all his precocious wisdom fled.

“You are very tired to-day, my poor little Azor. You slept badly, I suppose ? ”

“ Yes, and I would n’t let nurse know. I hate her fussing and the horrid-tasting things she gives. Oh, how they all bother! I hate the whole business. It is so slow, Michel ! It is so nasty to live in a box ! ”

His slight hands fluttered restlessly. Michel took them in his quiet grasp and leaned close to the child.

“Look in my eyes, Azor, and listen,” said the strong man’s low, loving voice. “ Look straight in my eyes. There is a place in the woods where some day you shall be. The way is steep and there is no path. It is a hidden place, only for you and me. But I will carry you softly in my arms, and nothing shall harm you ; and you shall lie in a hammock under a great beech-tree, and squirrels will come and throw bits of bark at you and scamper off and chatter. It is a cool, green place. Its name is Azor’s Camp. The sunshine flickers down in patches on velvety warm moss where last year’s nuts are beginning to grow tails and two little ears in front. All day long you can watch the birds. There are oaks centuries old, a big solemn fir now and then, and lovely white stems scattered about. Out beyond in the heather are hares sitting on their haunches and looking as wise as the School Board. Sometimes a deer will point his nose at you and wonder what sort of queer new animal you are. Down below is a wet, shady place where long grasses and reeds and rushes grow and Solomon’s-seal stretches up ever so high. You shall weave a hat and a basket like mine. And I will fetch you lizards and flat-headed salamanders with very wriggly tails, and little toads speckled orange and blue, and wee bright green baby frogs. There are splendid bright green beetles, too, hundreds of them, and daddy-long-legs and beautiful spiders with crosses on their backs will take impertinent walks on you and tickle your nose, and never so much as say, ‘ By your leave, Azor.’ The air is warm and the breeze is cool, and it’s all fragrant and silent and full of murmurs, — exactly as you love it best. A little rill comes tumbling over steep rocks, and lulls you with many voices when you wish to sleep. Under all the bending ferns, among the dead oak leaves of last year, are innumerable little shy things rustling, and I will tell you stories about them from morning till night, — how they live and work and play, and what they like and dislike. Whatever I know I ’ll tell you. There ’s not a thing in the woods, not a leaf, not an insect, that has not its story. And if you watch them and love them, they will tell you their stories themselves, and that is the best of all. The main thing is to love them. They do the rest.”

The little hands were tranquil. On the wan face was restfulness. With a rapt smile the child gazed straight into the clear eyes that held him in thrall. Health, strength, serenity, the living breath of the woods, had subtly encompassed his frail being with brief but potent blessing. He basked in the generous sunshine of the man’s presence. Michel’s calm, controlling hands, his blue eyes smiling steadily, never varied, and the low voice ran on ceaselessly : —

“ When they begin to tell you their stories, old Solon and Socrates can take a back seat. Azor’s library will be full to bursting without those gentlemen. I never could tell you the distinguished names of all your authors and their works : —

“The History of the Ant Republic; The Glorious Reign of her Majesty Queen Bee ; Butterfly’s Intimations of Immortality ; The Ascent of the Acorn ; The Commonwealth of Frogs; Carols by A Lark and Wood Thrush, M. A., and Principles of Harmony by Signor Blackbird ; The Rise and Fall of Dewdrops; Nightingale on Love, and Breeze on Liberty ; Brook’s Voyages and Adventures ; The Tail of a Tadpole ; Anemone’s Secret; Wild Rose and her Wooers ; Owls’ Night-Thoughts ; The Emancipation of Miss Moss ; Reincarnation, by Lizardius, F. R. S., and The Mystery of Wings, both published by the Soaraway Society ; Bullfrog’s Commentaries ; Bunny’s Pilgrim’s Progress, and Fox’s Martyrs; Black Beetles’ Digest; Snakes’ Lives; Cuckoo’s Essays on Domesticity ; Dr. Snail, D. D., on Races; and Urwald’s Architecture.

“The beauty of these books is, they have no horrid little black letters that spoil one’s eyes, but voices that will speak sweetly to my little Azor, and tell him lovely stories in the cool greenness of the place in the woods that is only for Azor and me. Everything will tell its tale: the swarms of insects, the flickering patches of sunlight, the patter of millions of leaves, the ceaseless trickling of the brook, and all the sleepy, droning tones from far and near in the warm summer noon that is yet silent and cool and restful in the heart of the great woods. For the myriad murmuring leaves, and innumerable fluttering wings, and legions of humming, buzzing things, and the sweet breath of earth — and ferns — and breeze — and — trees" —

Michel’s voice became lower — slower — ceased. He waited awhile, rose noiselessly. Azor’s dark lashes swept his sunken cheeks. The broad eyelids had begun to droop in happy languor long before, had opened, closed, and fluttered drowsily; the flexible mouth had smiled faintly but a moment gone. Now be was sleeping profoundly.

As Michel went out, the nurse at the door stole in. A valet informed him, as usual, that the duchess desired to speak with him. To-day, instead of his stereotyped answer that he “ could n’t stop,” he intimated in shy, rustic fashion that he “ did n’t mind.”

Shown into the presence of her Grace, he bowed gravely and stood by the door hat in hand, his oak leaves trailing.

Neither the old crone nor the peasant, neither the sculptor nor little Azor, had ever seen Marigold-Michel bear himself with this fine deference.

For some minutes after the door closed there was no sound or movement in the room.

III.

“ Guido,” began the lady, hardly above her breath.

He merely looked at her.

She rose and came forward a few steps, a slight, small woman with Azor’s eyes. “ Ah, Guido ! ” she faltered.

“ The youth Guido is dead,” he answered gently. “ I read his death in the papers years ago. They said he died in India.”

“ Is it worth while to speak so to me ? ” she said, trembling. “ Do you imagine you deceived me for one moment ? Did I not know you were innocent ? Could I doubt you a second, in spite of all you did to prove yourself guilty ? So mad — so good — so glorious — so unheard of — so senseless — so like you, Guido ! ”

Over his face flashed the sudden light of great joy. “ Madam,” he returned quietly, “ I could almost at this moment wish it were possible for me to have the honor to receive your commands in my castle, where are neither doors nor servants, —: not for the sake of the youth Guido, since he is dead and nothing can harm him, but on account of all who were dear to him years ago.”

“ No one will hear. I have given orders we are not to be disturbed. Was it well to let me wait years to tell you I understood ? Why, if it were not for my poor little Azor’s whim, I might never have been able to speak with you at all. And why only to-day ? Why not months ago, Guido ? ”

“ Your Grace will pardon me. I venture to present myself to-day to entreat a special favor.”

“ Ah,” she said most sorrowfully, “ not even now because you wanted to speak with me ? ” She sat down, looked at him drearily, covered her face with her hands and dropped her head on a table.

Michel stood a few moments irresolute before he crossed the room and said, “ Forgive me, Erika.”

She wept on softly. At last she murmured, “ Tears are rare with me. But it is all so utterly hopeless.” Turning towards him abruptly, “ The favor. Let us get it out of the way, for we two have long accounts to settle.”

“ Two favors, indeed. First the child Azor. May I interfere ? ”

“ You ? All you like.”

“ Ought he not to have more air ? Is he not too cooped up ? ”

“ Of course. He ought to live outdoors from morning till night. How can I manage it in town, and with the sort of life I lead ? I am going off with him. Konstantin has at last consented. The doctors say Azor must follow the sunshine round the world.”

“ Bravo ! Then I need say no more. I had designs on the boy. When you return and lie is stronger, if you could trust him to me for a while, I dare to believe you would never repent it.”

“ I would have trusted him to Guido.”

“Trust Michel no less,” he replied quietly. “ The other favor is this. A word from the duke, if that were possible, would, I suppose, induce the proper authorities, whoever they may be, to permit me to see a young fellow in prison. Appearances are against him, and he is obstinately silent. I am sure he is innocent, and I think be would speak freely to me. It is a pity for him ” —

“To sacrifice himself outright? I agree, Guido. Let us save him, by all means. Why should silly boys insist upon self-destruction ? Give me his name and the necessary facts.”

Having written a few words, she rang for a servant.

“Konstantin is in his study, I believe.

He will be eager to do, not this, but a real service for you. He often speaks of your devotion to our boy, and your strange reluctance to meet us.”

Replying to the sudden question in Michel’s eyes, “No, Guido,” she continued, “ I have never intimated to my husband that you are other than you seem. I have respected your secret. How could I do otherwise when you guarded it so jealously, when you have shunned me all these years, and let me gaze at you with a great heartache as you walked the streets in your cap and bells ? How often I have driven past you and longed to stop my carriage and say, ‘ Guido, cousin, playmate, dear old friend, best of men, come up where you belong, come to your own ’ ! But you went flaunting by, the crowd grinning. It is incredible ! It is heart-breaking!” she exclaimed, frowning. “ Don’t stand there, Guido, like an errand - boy. It is distressing. It annoys me. Sit down.”

“ It is better so till the calves-in-waiting have returned, is it not?” he suggested tranquilly.

“ I am glad,” he said, as she presently handed him a cordially worded message from the duke. “I thank you. I had no other way. I know one man of influence here who would befriend me in need, but I cannot see him to-day.”

“ Does he know you ? ”

“ He may suspect.”

“ But is discreet ? ”

“ Perfectly.”

“ Ah,” retorted the duchess with spirit, “ he has no reason to intrude ! He never was your comrade, your other self, your shadow, through all the young, happy years.”

“No, little Erika, he was not.”

“ Sit here and talk to me, dear Guido, now that I have you at last.”

“ If I may talk in my own way,” he said simply, and went on, pausing a little between his sentences : “ It is not easy to bridge over the years. I knew it would be terribly painful, yet I could not refuse Azor. I knew too, of course, coming to your house, that this meeting must sooner or later take place. I could not put it off forever.”

“ Well,” she said impatiently, “ you did very nearly, and here you are, temporizing.”

“ I cannot bear to pain you, Erika, but for the past there is no explanation, and I have lived this sort of life so long” — he glanced down good-humoredly at his clothes — “it really seems odd to me that it should need justification.”

“ Oh,” she cried, surprised and indignant, “ a mountebank ! You ! ”

“ Not quite that,” he returned, with gentleness.

“ You, with your talents,” she continued bitterly, “ leading this utterly wasted life! Forgive me. You are so sweet to Azor. You have a marvelous influence over him. You help him when none else can. I know it. I feel it. But how forgotten, how ignoble, is your existence ! Ah, when I look back ! Why, there was nothing beyond your grasp. What a general you might have become, what a statesman ! ”

He smiled. “ I am not of much use, I admit, but upon the whole I do little harm. Perhaps the generals and the statesmen cannot always say as much.”

“ A man should serve his country.”

“ I am totally without patriotism,” he replied, with a certain sweetness of voice and expression. “ I hold it to be a gross error. I have reverence for few national or social rubrics. But I ’ll not bore you with my theories. They wax strong in solitude.”

“ Guido, tell me this : when you are not displaying yourself in town for fools to gape at, how do you spend your days?”

“ Oh, I don’t know. Doing odd jobs,”

“ What sort of odd jobs? ” she asked sharply.

“Well, I mended a man’s roof the other day. Don’t groan. I did it very well.”

“ They say,” her face expressed repugnance and distress, “ but this I refuse to believe, — that you pose for artists.”

“I do sometimes. Why not ? ”

“ Oh, Guido ! oh, Guido ! ”

“ I wish I could comfort you, Erika,” he said very kindly. “ You see, I think one can so easily do worse things. If I keep my body wholesome and strong, it seems to me I do my duty by it. I don’t know that I owe it any special obsequiousness.”

“ A gentleman born ” —

“ I admit I had some scruples at first. It is odd how tenacious certain sentiments are. But all you have to do is to change your point of view and shake off a few husks. I assure you I don’t mind it an atom now.”

“ They say you sleep on the ground in the woods or in a cave ; at any rate, like a beast of the field. Is that true, too ? ”

“Sigh no more, lady,” he returned, with a laugh. “I’ve got a capital little cabin, originally a forester’s lodge, which suits me perfectly. It is not a large establishment. You could put it in that bay window. But it’s really got a bed in it, Erika ; oh dear, yes, a most respectable sort of bed, which I greatly esteem — in winter, sometimes, and in long storms. But I confess, at the risk of your displeasure, I have a graduated set of bunks in the open, — nicely adjusted to my whims and the Lord’s seasons, — and I ’d be more explicit, but you ’d never understand. You ’re not educated up to it. You see I am terribly epicurean.”

It was true, then, all true, — the impossible tales people told of MarigoldMichel; yet there he sat, brown, handsome, superb in strength, his blue eyes shining with mirth as in the old days. He had spoken in the old, boyish, jesting way. His voice had a mellow, contented ring. The tragedy of facts seemed persistently set aside by his comfortable unconcern. It was stupendous, but she felt herself yielding, against knowledge and conviction, to the potent cheerfulness of his interpretation of things. Not thus had she pictured this interview.

“ Guido,” she persisted, “ tell me, how can you live so out of the movement, with no refinements, no advantages, no society of your kind, no talk of the day, no politics, no art, no books ? Or have you books ? I suppose you do not ever read the papers ? ”

“ Papers ? Not habitually, thank Heaven ! ” he replied devoutly. “ Books I have, — not many, but sufficient, — the masters. After all, the best of our reading most men get young, and then we keep mammaling it the rest of our lives, as an old sailor his old quid. Still, perhaps you ’d not be quite displeased with me in that one respect, Erika. It is not difficult in this electrical year of our Lord to keep somewhat in touch with vital things, even if one is uninformed by the gossip of drawing-rooms and clubs. You do not suspect what wisdom is in the air, on the road, on the lips, it may be, of the unknown workingman with whom one chances to walk as one goes home in the dusk. Besides, I do not live in a desert, but near a large town. I can get what I want. I am only a pinchbeck hermit, you see. But I am spared, oh, such a lot of jibber-jabber that you have to put up with, my poor little duchess ! ”

“ I believe you,” she returned wearily, with a strange look. After a long silence she resumed: “There are many detestable social functions, I admit; machinery so cumbersome, arduous, inexorable, soul-stifling, that I even I could comprehend your glee in being able to snap your fingers at it, if — if only your mask were less ignoble.”

“All, my marigolds ! ”

“ Your whole position. The crucial step once taken, your great renunciation made, I grasp the sad necessity of selfeffacement, but not of self-abasement, not the choice of your low, grotesque garb and clown tricks.”

“ Is it so bad ? ” In his smile was a wealth of affection and serenity. “ See, Erika, my cap and bells, as you call them, give me the right of way everywhere and disarm suspicion. Dear cousin, before I go let me comfort you, if I can ; let me try to reconcile you to my fate.”

“ You will reconcile me to nothing, Guido, — neither to your insensate magnificent self-immolation nor to this motley anti-climax.”

“ Erika,” he pleaded, “ there are things you say which it is impossible for me to answer. I entreat you to let sleeping dogs lie. Let me talk to you a little about the evolution of the cap and bells. Let us suppose, merely by way of illustration, a young fellow ” — he paused an instant — “ commits some sort of crime and ” —

“ Never will I suppose that! ” she broke in passionately. “ Let us suppose instead that a quixotic boy assumes the onus of a felony committed by his older brother. Let us suppose things look most ominous for the older. Suddenly the younger disappears like a thief in the night. He too had access to the room where the deeds were. ‘ This is guilt! ’ cry the wiseacres. ‘ This is Guido,’ says one girl, but only to herself. To what end speak ? To whom? When did she ever reveal any prank of his ? His monstrous flight throws inquiry off the scent. The scandal is gradually hushed up out of consideration for so old and influential a family. All people in general know is that there was some mystery about a scapegrace who disappeared. And the much respected older brother lives in peace on the lands of his forefathers ; and much good may it do him, for Philip was not worth so much love, Guido, — not worth heroism, exile, crucifixion, like yours ! ”

“ Don’t, Erika ! ” exclaimed the listener sternly. “ He was always a good brother to me.” His face half averted and concealed by his hand, he had drunk in every word thirstily, though once or twice he had sought to restrain her by word or gesture. After a long pause, “ In the hypothetical case under discussion,” he continued imperturbably, “ it is immaterial why the young fellow finds it imperative to leave home suddenly. The point is, he goes off. Another young fellow is with him, ostensibly his servant, but always his best friend, — a gardener’s son brought up with him. The boy follows without permission ; gives no sign until it is too late to send him back.”

“ Michel always worshiped you,” said the duchess softly.

“ Three years later the poor lad dies in India, and is buried—it is all very simple, you see — under the name of the other man, who is not much of a fellow, for after the death of his companion he grows so deadly homesick he is literally good for nothing, and droops like an anæmic girl. He has a tremendous admiration for strong men who can orientalize or occidentalize themselves at will, turn sheik or cowboy, and carve their way anywhere. But he’s not that sort. Lacks character or something. Finds no rest, pines for his home, cannot recover his strength. You see, he left behind — much that he cared for.”

“ Go on, dear Guido.” murmured the duchess.

“ Well, after looking about in pretty much all the hemispheres there are, he finally sneaks back to his own land, — to a corner of it where he is unknown. Remember he is legally dead, and appears under the name and papers of the dead boy. He is bound, in the nature of the case, to lie more or less perdu forever. He has always loved the woods, and naturally enough drifts thither. He does a good turn now and then for an old forester, and wins his confidence. Slowly, very slowly the wanderer learns to shape his life anew.

“ But a serious man who lives alone in the woods is of course, to the general public, a suspicious character, planning the assassination of monarchs or construtting dynamite bombs. Ergo the cap and bells. I spare you obvious historical examples, but trust me, judicious fooling is the only complete disguise. For some occult reason, silliness — the ‘childish-foolish’ — is ingratiating; sense repels. What if the man looked wise, studious, or even respectable ? He could not escape probing and embarrassment from all quarters. As it is, no mortal enjoys such unbounded freedom. Every policeman in town grins at him for a harmless fool, and at midnight as at high noon he is protected by the beneficence of his cap and bells.”

She looked at him thoughtfully. “ Almost you persuade me you are happy.”

“ I am content. I have space.”

“ You might die all alone up there.”

“ Everybody dies alone.”

“It is marvelous,” she sighed.

“ And you,” he said gently, after a while, “ are you happy, Erika ? ”

“ Oh, Konstantin is very considerate and good,” she replied, rather indifferently. “ He is always much occupied, of course, with affairs of state. We see each other less than one expects before marriage. Azov’s condition is a great blow to his ambition.” Replying to his slightly elevated eyebrows, “ Oh, you know how men are, what they want. It is natural they should be ambitious, particularly a man in his position. It is an unfree, artificial world we live in. We all are forced to work and strive so hard. I sometimes ask myself for what. Court life is thankless business. My only real happiness, strangely enough, my little ill boy gives me.”

Michel was silent, smiling faintly, his eyes regarding her thoughtfully. Presently he asked, “ And your brothers ? Jolly little beggars, how have they turned out ? ”

“ It is certainly not their fault that they are not beggars in earnest,” she answered dryly. “ Papa storms periodically, and calls upon the gods to witness he ’ll not put up with this sort of thing a day longer, then pays their bills like a holy martyr. Oh, they are not bad fellows ; only a little selfish and terribly gay, like all their set. When cavalry lieutenants dine, and play, and keep racers — well, you know how it is.”

“ Yes, I know.”

Michel paced the room once or twice before asking, rather low, “Are Philip and Aline happy ? ”

“ In their own way. They jog along together pretty much like the rest of the world.”

His look was still wistful.

“ They have three fine boys and a charming little girl.”

“ Thank God,” he broke out, “ there’s life and laughter still on the old place ! ” And his jubilant heart sang, “For them — it was for those children — even then, and in all dark hours, though I knew it not — for them ! ”

“ Philip has named his last boy Guido,” she said suddenly, and wondered at Michel’s face, touched, grateful, and strangely illumined.

Still transfigured, he approached with extended hand.

“ You are not going? ”

“ I must.”

“ But you will come again ? Surely, Guido ! ”

“ When you consider,” he said gently, “you will see it is inexpedient. From this time let me be only Marigold-Michel. I beg, dear Erika, I implore you.”

She hesitated long, deeply agitated. “ But if you should need me ” —

“ For myself or another, I will let you know. If you need me, you have but to command.”

“Oh, Guido,” she said as they stood hand in hand, “ I see I may not interfere with the strange course you have chosen, no more than with the orbit of a planet. But it is sad to say farewell. Still, it is better than before you came. At least. I know now you have not avoided me from want of affection.”

“ Never that !”

Y“ You dared not see me because you dared not deny your innocence,” she declared, with sudden vehemence. “ ou have not denied it. You cannot deny it. You can do all the rest, but you cannot look me in the eyes and lie. Thank God, your honor is spotless. Thank God, I always knew it.”

He breathed deep ; across his face flitted swift reflections of varying emotions, as if he fain would respond a thousand things to her sweet turbulence, yet he merely stooped and slowly kissed her hands, and said in his kind and simple way, “ Little Erika was always a loyal little thing ; ” and in answer to her troubled gaze, “It is not really good-by. I shall always come to Azor. We will make him a strong man yet. Some time you will trust him to me. And you and I are always at heart the old ” —

“ Rascals ! ” she suggested, smiling with wet eyes.

“ And we shall see each other now and then, if only to pass with a good thought and the memories that will always live. But Guido is dead. These marigolds grew on his grave. There is nothing at all gloomy about them. See how gay and sunny they look. Let us never mourn or resurrect him again. Now give Michel one good word before he goes.”

“ It is inconceivable, humiliating,” she exclaimed, between a sob and a laugh, “ but I am actually beginning to like Michel and his marsh-marigolds ! ”

“ Always my generous little Erika, so straight and honest, so utterly her old self, so like Azor ! Marigold - Michel thanks you from his heart that you could say that. It will help him in hours when he is not jingling his bells.”

“Ah, such hours come ! ”

Again he bent over her hands. “ Farewell, dear little duchess.”

“ Farewell — Michel,” she faltered.

“ Now smile, Serenissime ; and ring and hand me over to the tender mercies of the calves.”

“ Show Marigold - Michel out,” said her Grace languidly.

Turning away, she paid no further attention to the tall bright figure crossing the room, but bent over a bunch of yellow flowers lying on her writing-table.

Blanche Willis Howard.