"Now that you mention it, my lady, to have the love of my life enslaved and raped by a syphilitic lord does seem quite mild by comparison."

"I cannot tell if you are being sarcastic."

"Neither can I, madame, I honestly cannot. But tell me this: If you cannot get your boy back without destroying his welfare, then what do do you intend?" you intend?"

"In pondering this very question I have hesitated, and in hesitating I have only made matters worse. Soon I shall act."

"And what is the end you have fixed on?"

"I mean to end up, in some sense, with my boot on the neck of Lothar von Hacklheber, and him looking up helpless into my eyes."

"Well. Well! Let me just say that the last bloke who had me me in such a fix was the Earl of Upnor, and-" in such a fix was the Earl of Upnor, and-"

"My powers of organization exceed those of the late Upnor by a significant margin, and so I intend to arrange matters so that I will not end up being beaten to death with a stick by an Irishman."

"Ah. That That is good news." is good news."

"Tell me everything about what is being prepared around Cherbourg, Sergeant Shaftoe, whether you intend for it to be relayed to Marlborough, or not."

"Very well. But how will this intelligence be of any help to you in your machinations against-oh, never mind. You're glowering at me."

"You speak so knowingly of my machinations, as if I were some ridiculous figure in an Italian opera, who does naught but machinate; yet if you could follow me about, you would observe a tired mother who follows her husband from Versailles to St.-Malo, and suckles her infant, and occasionally throws a dinner party, and perhaps once or twice a year f.u.c.ks a cryptologist in a carriage, or a sergeant in a haystack."

"How will this lead to your boot on Lothar's throat again? Never mind, never mind. I'm certain I'd never understand it anyway." will this lead to your boot on Lothar's throat again? Never mind, never mind. I'm certain I'd never understand it anyway."

"You are in good company. If I do it right, not even Lothar will understand it."

Chateau d'Arcachon, St.-Malo, France 11 APRIL 1692.

"THE E ENGLISH HAVE DEVISED an extraordinary scheme for the military defense of their homeland, which is that an extraordinary scheme for the military defense of their homeland, which is that they have no money," they have no money," said Monsieur le comte de Pontchartrain, said Monsieur le comte de Pontchartrain, controleur-general controleur-general of France and (now) Secretary of State for the Navy. of France and (now) Secretary of State for the Navy.

This curious gambit was meant for Eliza, for Pontchartrain was gazing directly into her eyes when he came out with it. But others were privy to the conversation. Five were seated around the ba.s.set-table in the Pet.i.t Salon: Pet.i.t Salon: besides Eliza and Pontchartrain, there were etienne d'Arcachon, who was serving as dealer; a Madame de Bearsul, who was the very young wife of a captain of a frigate; and a Monsieur le chevalier d'Erquy, who was from just down the coast. These latter two were, of course, unique souls, precious in the eyes of G.o.d, endowed with any number of more or less interesting personal quirks, virtues, vices, &c., but Eliza could scarcely tell them apart from all of the other people who were at this moment seated around card-tables in her besides Eliza and Pontchartrain, there were etienne d'Arcachon, who was serving as dealer; a Madame de Bearsul, who was the very young wife of a captain of a frigate; and a Monsieur le chevalier d'Erquy, who was from just down the coast. These latter two were, of course, unique souls, precious in the eyes of G.o.d, endowed with any number of more or less interesting personal quirks, virtues, vices, &c., but Eliza could scarcely tell them apart from all of the other people who were at this moment seated around card-tables in her Pet.i.t Salon Pet.i.t Salon, playing at billiards or backgammon in her Grand Salon Grand Salon, bowling outside on her damp lawn, or noodling around on her harpsichord.

This was St.-Malo in the spring of '92. An invasion force was ma.s.sing. It would quite obviously be departing from Cherbourg, which was only half as far from the sh.o.r.e of England as was St.-Malo; but facilities there, at the tip of the peninsula, were not adequate to sustain so many ships and regiments during the weeks it would take for them to gather and draw up into a coherent force. The regiments-ten thousand French and as many Irish, the latter evacuated from Limerick-were obviously not as mobile as the ships, and so they had first claim to the territory, food, fuel, wh.o.r.es, and other military musts in the immediate vicinity of Cherbourg. By process of elimination, then, the ships of the Channel fleet, and the galleys of the Mediterranean fleet that had lately pa.s.sed the Gates of Hercules and voyaged north to take part in the invasion, were stationed in Channel ports within striking distance: most important, Le Havre and St.-Malo. Of those, Le Havre was twice as close to Paris, and a hundred times easier to reach from there, since the Seine joined them. So, much larger and more fashionable parties must, at this moment, be going on in n.o.ble chateaux around Le Havre. St.-Malo, by contrast, was hardly connected to France at all. A doughty pedestrian like Sergeant Bob Shaftoe could get to it, but such a journey was not recommended for normal people; everyone came to St.-Malo by sea. The family de Lavardac had for a long time maintained a chateau, which looked out over the harbor to one side, and had farms and an excellent potagerie potagerie out back. As the fortunes of that family had waxed, this had become the grandest house in St.-Malo, and the former duc d'Arcachon had loved to come here and pace to and fro on the terrace with a golden prospective-gla.s.s gazing down upon his privateer-fleet. Eliza had heard much of the place. Having spent most of her married life pregnant at La Dunette, she'd never laid eyes on it until a month ago. But she'd loved it immediately and now wished she could live here year-round. out back. As the fortunes of that family had waxed, this had become the grandest house in St.-Malo, and the former duc d'Arcachon had loved to come here and pace to and fro on the terrace with a golden prospective-gla.s.s gazing down upon his privateer-fleet. Eliza had heard much of the place. Having spent most of her married life pregnant at La Dunette, she'd never laid eyes on it until a month ago. But she'd loved it immediately and now wished she could live here year-round.

The astonishing appearance of Bob Shaftoe-who, along with his regiment of Irish mercenaries, had marched right past, en route to Cherbourg from their winter quarters above Brest-had enlivened her first week's stay at the place. His return visit last week had forced her to put her rusty scheming-and-intriguing skills to use again, there being no proper, sanctioned way for a French d.u.c.h.ess and nursing mother to meet with an English sergeant and probable spy who just happened to be the brother of the most infamous villain in Christendom.

Eliza and etienne, the infant Lucien, and their household had reached St.-Malo a fortnight in advance of the Mediterranean Fleet. More recently, other Ships of Force had come in from Brest, Lorient, and St.-Nazaire. All of these galleys and ships had officers, who quite often were of n.o.ble rank. The social obligations placed upon le duc le duc and and la d.u.c.h.esse la d.u.c.h.esse d'Arcachon were correspondingly immense. Another d.u.c.h.esse would have welcomed those obligations in the same way as generals welcomed wars, or architects cathedral-commissions. Eliza delegated all of the work to women who actually enjoyed such things (she had inherited a large household staff from the previous d.u.c.h.esse d'Arcachon). Her old trusted aides, such as Brigitte and Nicole, and a few retired privateers deeded to her by Jean Bart, she kept close. The retinue of social climbers that had arrived in the wake of her marriage to etienne, she put to work arranging parties, which kept them busy and, though it did not make them happy, infused them with feelings that they were wont to confuse with happiness. d'Arcachon were correspondingly immense. Another d.u.c.h.esse would have welcomed those obligations in the same way as generals welcomed wars, or architects cathedral-commissions. Eliza delegated all of the work to women who actually enjoyed such things (she had inherited a large household staff from the previous d.u.c.h.esse d'Arcachon). Her old trusted aides, such as Brigitte and Nicole, and a few retired privateers deeded to her by Jean Bart, she kept close. The retinue of social climbers that had arrived in the wake of her marriage to etienne, she put to work arranging parties, which kept them busy and, though it did not make them happy, infused them with feelings that they were wont to confuse with happiness.

Eliza, then, merely had to get dressed, show up, try not to forget people's names, and make conversation. When she became insufferably bored, she would claim she could hear Lucien bawling, and flit off to the private apartments in the other wing of the chateau.

And so the only thing the least bit novel about her situation at this moment-viz. seated at a ba.s.set-table watching her husband deal out cards to idle n.o.bles-was that the fellow seated directly across the table from her was of t.i.tanic importance. At any other of the parties that the Arcachons had hosted in the few weeks just past, it would have been the captain of some Ship of the Line, cringing and servile in the presence of his master, the Grand Admiral of France (for etienne had inherited the t.i.tle). Today, though, it was Pontchartrain who, technically, ranked etienne d'Arcachon! etienne was under no obligation to toady, however, as he and Pontchartrain were both of such lofty stature as to be essentially equals. Pontchartrain had turned up unexpectedly this morning on a jacht jacht that had sailed in from Cherbourg. He had spent all of dinner trying to catch Eliza's eye, and that had sailed in from Cherbourg. He had spent all of dinner trying to catch Eliza's eye, and not not because he wanted to flirt with her. She had invited the count to join her and etienne at ba.s.set. Then, to prevent the gentlemen from crossing swords, or the ladies from poisoning each other, for the other seats at the table, Eliza had picked out this Madame de Bearsul and this Monsieur d'Erquy, precisely because they were n.o.bodies who would not interfere too much in the conversation. Or such had been her phant'sy. Of course each of them had turned out (as mentioned) to be fully autonomous souls possessed of free will, intelligence, and an agenda. D'Erquy had heard, through the grapevine, that Eliza had been buying up bad loans from petty n.o.bles like him who had been foolish enough to lend money to the government. De Bearsul was angling for a position in the household of some higher and mightier Court personage. To Pontchartrain, who was accustomed to meeting with the King of France almost every day, they might as well have been ants or lice. And so, about five hands into this ba.s.set-game, he had locked his brown eyes on Eliza's and made this curious remark about the English and their lack of specie. because he wanted to flirt with her. She had invited the count to join her and etienne at ba.s.set. Then, to prevent the gentlemen from crossing swords, or the ladies from poisoning each other, for the other seats at the table, Eliza had picked out this Madame de Bearsul and this Monsieur d'Erquy, precisely because they were n.o.bodies who would not interfere too much in the conversation. Or such had been her phant'sy. Of course each of them had turned out (as mentioned) to be fully autonomous souls possessed of free will, intelligence, and an agenda. D'Erquy had heard, through the grapevine, that Eliza had been buying up bad loans from petty n.o.bles like him who had been foolish enough to lend money to the government. De Bearsul was angling for a position in the household of some higher and mightier Court personage. To Pontchartrain, who was accustomed to meeting with the King of France almost every day, they might as well have been ants or lice. And so, about five hands into this ba.s.set-game, he had locked his brown eyes on Eliza's and made this curious remark about the English and their lack of specie.

Ba.s.set was simple, which was why Eliza had chosen it. Each player was dealt thirteen cards face up on the table, and placed money on any or all of them. The dealer then dealt cards from the bottom and the top of the deck alternately, gaining or losing wagers on all cards of matching ranks. As turns went on, the wagers escalated by a factor of as much as sixty. The dealer was kept very busy. etienne had had to strap on his ba.s.set-dealing prosthesis: a cupped hand with spring-loaded fingers, made to grip a deck of cards. The players could be busy or not, depending on how many of their cards they elected to put money on. Eliza and Pontchartrain had laid only token wagers, which was a way of saying that they were more interested in conversation than in gambling. D'Erquy and de Bearsul were more heavily engaged in the game, and their squeals, moans, stifled curses, sudden outbursts of laughter, &c., provided a ragged, bursty continuo-line for this duet between the other two.

"My English friends have been complaining of this lack of coin for years-especially since the onset of war," said Eliza, "but only you, monsieur, would have the penetration to see it as a defensive strategy."

"That is just the difficulty-I did not not penetrate it until rather late," said Pontchartrain. "When one is planning an invasion, one naturally makes plans to pay the soldiers. It is as important as arming, feeding, and housing them-perhaps penetrate it until rather late," said Pontchartrain. "When one is planning an invasion, one naturally makes plans to pay the soldiers. It is as important as arming, feeding, and housing them-perhaps more more so, as soldiers, paid, can shift for themselves when arms, food, and shelter are wanting. But they must be paid in so, as soldiers, paid, can shift for themselves when arms, food, and shelter are wanting. But they must be paid in local local money-which is to say the coin of the realm in whatever place is being invaded. It's easy in the Spanish Netherlands-" money-which is to say the coin of the realm in whatever place is being invaded. It's easy in the Spanish Netherlands-"

"Because they are Spanish," said Eliza, "and so you can pay them in Pieces of Eight-"

"Which we can get anywhere in the world," said Pontchartrain. "But English pennies can only be gotten in England. Supposedly Supposedly they are minted-" they are minted-"

"At the Tower of London. I know," said Eliza, "but why do you say supposedly supposedly?"

Pontchartrain threw up his hands. "No one ever sees these coins. They come out of the Mint and they vanish."

"But is it not the case that anyone anyone may bring silver bullion to the Tower of London and have it minted into pennies?" may bring silver bullion to the Tower of London and have it minted into pennies?"

Pontchartrain was nonplussed for a moment. Then a smile spread over his face and he burst out in laughter and slapped the table hard enough to make money jump and buzz atop the playing-cards. It was a rare outburst for one of Pontchartrain's dignity, and it stopped the game for a few moments.

"Monsieur, what an honour and a privilege it is for us to bring you a few moments' diversion from your cares!" exclaimed etienne. But this only brought an echo of the first laugh from Pontchartrain.

"It is precisely of my cares that your magnificent wife is speaking, monsieur," said Pontchartrain, "and I believe she is getting ready to suggest something cheeky."

etienne's face pinkened. "I pray it shall not be so cheeky as to create an embarra.s.sment for our guests-"

"On the contrary, monsieur, 'tis meant to embarra.s.s the English!"

"Oh, well, that that is all right then." is all right then."

"Pray continue, madame!"

"I shall, monsieur," said Eliza, "but first you must indulge me as I speculate."

"Consider yourself indulged."

"The jacht jacht on which you arrived is under conspicuously heavy guard. I speculate that it is laden with specie that is meant to cross the Channel with the invasion force and be used to pay the French and Irish soldiers during their campaign in England." on which you arrived is under conspicuously heavy guard. I speculate that it is laden with specie that is meant to cross the Channel with the invasion force and be used to pay the French and Irish soldiers during their campaign in England."

Pontchartrain smiled weakly and shook his head. "So much for my efforts at secrecy. It is said of some that he or she has a nose for money; but I truly believe, madame, that you can smell silver a mile away."

"Do not be silly, monsieur, it is, as you said, an obvious necessity of a foreign invasion."

For some reason she glanced, for a moment, at D'Erquy, and then regretted it. The poor chevalier was so transfixed that it took all her discipline not to laugh aloud. This poor fellow had melted down the family plate and loaned it to the King in hopes that it would get him invited to a few parties at Versailles. The interest payments had at first been delayed, then insufficient, later nonexistent. The man with the power to make those payments, or not, was seated less than arm's length away-and now it had been revealed that he had sailed into St.-Malo on top of a king's ransom in silver, which was locked up on a jacht jacht a few hundred yards down the hill. A word, a flick of the pen, from Pontchartrain would pay back the loan, or at least pay the interest on it-and not just in the form of a written promise to pay, but in actual metal. This was the only thing D'Erquy could think about. And yet there was not a single word he could say, because to do so would have been impolite. Etiquette had rendered him helpless as effectively as the iron collar around a slave's neck. All he could do was watch and listen. a few hundred yards down the hill. A word, a flick of the pen, from Pontchartrain would pay back the loan, or at least pay the interest on it-and not just in the form of a written promise to pay, but in actual metal. This was the only thing D'Erquy could think about. And yet there was not a single word he could say, because to do so would have been impolite. Etiquette had rendered him helpless as effectively as the iron collar around a slave's neck. All he could do was watch and listen.

"Want of silver is not your difficulty, then," Eliza continued. "Very well. You must needs translate it across the Channel-very risky. For in the annals of military history, no tale is more tediously familiar than that of the train of pay-wagons, bringing specie to the troops at the front, that is ambushed and lost en route, with disastrous consequences to the campaign."

"We have been reading the same books," Pontchartrain concluded. "Even so, as we laid plans for this operation during the winter, I am afraid I paid more attention to my role as Secretary of State for the Navy, than that of controleur-general controleur-general. Which is to say that I placed more emphasis on preparations of a purely military nature than on the attendant financial arrangements. Not until I reached Cherbourg the other day, and was confronted with the invasion in all of its complexity and scale, did I really grasp the difficulty of getting this specie to England. To send it across in an obvious and straightforward manner seems madness. I have considered breaking it up into small shipments and sending them over in the boats of those who smuggle wine and salt to remote ports of Cornwall."

"That would distribute the risk, but multiply the difficulties," said Eliza. "And even if it succeeded, it would not address the great difficulty, which is that if the silver is not accepted on the local-which is to say, English-market, then the troops will not deem themselves to have been paid."

"Naturally we should like to pay them in English silver pennies," said Pontchartrain, "but matters being what they are, we may have to use French coins."

"This brings us back to the conversation we had in the sleigh at La Dunette two years and some months ago," Eliza said; and the answering look on Pontchartrain's face told her that she had struck home.

But here Madame Bearsul threw a quizzical look in the direction of the Politest Man in France, who intervened. "On behalf of those of our guests who were not in that sleigh," etienne said, "I beg permission to interrupt, so we may hear-"

"I speak of the recoinage, when all of the old coins were called in and replaced with new," said Eliza. "By royal decree, the new had the same value, and so to those of us who live in France, it made no difference. But they contained less silver or gold."

"Madame la d.u.c.h.esse, who in those days was Mademoiselle la comtesse, said to me, then, that it must have consequences difficult to foretell," said Pontchartrain.

"Before Monsieur le comte says a word against himself," said Eliza, "I would have the honor of being the first to rush to his defense. The favorable favorable consequences of the recoinage were immense: for it raised a fortune for the war." consequences of the recoinage were immense: for it raised a fortune for the war."

"But Madame la d.u.c.h.esse was a true Ca.s.sandra that evening in the sleigh," said Pontchartrain, "for there have been consequences that I did not foretell, and one of them is that French coins are not likely to be accepted at full value in English market-places."

"Monsieur, have you given any thought to minting invasion coin?" asked d'Erquy.

"Yes, monsieur, and to using Pieces of Eight. But before we take such measures, I am eager to hear more from our hostess concerning the English Mint."

"I am simply pointing out to you, monsieur," said Eliza, "that there already exists a mechanism for importing silver bullion to England, at no risk to France; having it made into good English coin in London; and transferring the coin into the hands of trusted French agents there."

"What is this mechanism, madame?" inquired d'Erquy, suspicious that Eliza was having them on.

"France's chief connection to the international money market is not here in St.-Malo, or even in Paris, but rather down in Lyon. The King's moneylender is of course Monsieur Samuel Bernard, and he works hand-in-glove with a Monsieur Castan. I know Castan; he is a pillar of the Depot Depot. He can deliver money to any of several merchant banking houses who maintain agencies in Lyon, and get negotiable Bills of Exchange which can be endorsed to French agents who can transport them to London in advance of the invasion. These may be presented well in advance of the expiry of their usance to bankers in London who, upon accepting them, will make whatever arrangements may be necessary to have the coin ready on the date the bills come due-which may mean that they shall have to ship bullion over from Amsterdam or Antwerp and have it minted at the Tower. But that is their concern, not ours, and their risk. The coin shall be delivered to our agents, who need merely transport it to the front to pay the troops."

Early in this discourse, the mouth of Madame de Bearsul fell open, as if she might more easily take in these difficult words and notions through her mouth mouth than her ears; and as Eliza went on, similar transformations came over the faces of all her other auditors, including some at adjacent tables; and by the time she reached the terminal phrase than her ears; and as Eliza went on, similar transformations came over the faces of all her other auditors, including some at adjacent tables; and by the time she reached the terminal phrase pay the troops pay the troops, they had all begun glancing at each other, trying to build solidarity in their confusion. And so before anyone could give voice to his amazement, Eliza, with unfeigned, uncharacteristic ardor for her role as entertainer to the bored n.o.bility of France, had got to her feet (obliging etienne, Pontchartrain, and d'Erquy to stand) and begun to arrange a new parlor-game. "We are going to put on a little masque," she announced, "and all of you must sit, sit, sit!" And she called to a servant to bring quills, ink, and paper.

"But, Eliza, how can gentlemen sit in the presence of a lady who stands?" asked etienne.

"The answer is simple: In the masque, I am no lady, but a G.o.d: Mercury, messenger of Olympus, and patron deity of Commerce. You must phant'sy wings on my ankles."

The mere mention of ankles caused a little intake of breath from etienne, and a few eyes flicked nervously his way. But Eliza forged on: "You, Monsieur de Pontchartrain, must sit. You are the Deliverer: the controleur-general controleur-general of France." of France."

"That should be an easy role for me to play, Mercury," said the controleur-general controleur-general, and, with a little bow to Eliza, sat down.

Now-since the ranking man in the room had done it-all others were eager to join in.

"First we enact the simple Bill of Exchange," said Eliza, "which requires only four, plus Mercury. Later we will find roles for the rest of you." For several had gravitated over from different tables to see what the commotion was about. "This table is Lyon."

"But, Mercury, already I cannot suspend my disbelief, for the controleur-general controleur-general does not go to Lyon," said Pontchartrain. does not go to Lyon," said Pontchartrain.

"We will remedy that in a few minutes, but for now you are in Lyon. Sitting across from you will be etienne, playing the role of Lothar the Banker."

"Why must I have such a ridiculous name?" demanded etienne.

"It is an excellent name among bankers-Lothar is Ditta di Borsa Ditta di Borsa in Lyon, Bruges, and many other places." in Lyon, Bruges, and many other places."

"That means he has impeccable credit among other bankers," said Pontchartrain.

"Very well. As long as the fellow is as well-reputed as you say, I shall accept the role," said etienne, and sat down across the table from Pontchartrain.

"You have money," said Eliza, and used one hand as a rake to sweep a pile of coins across the table so that it ended up piled before Pontchartrain. "And you wish to get it-here!" She strode through the double doors to the Grand Salon Grand Salon where a backgammon game had been abandoned. "Madame de Bearsul, you are a merchant banker in London-this table is London." where a backgammon game had been abandoned. "Madame de Bearsul, you are a merchant banker in London-this table is London."

Madame de Bearsul approached London with a show of cringing, blushing, and hand-wringing that made Eliza want to slap her. "But, madame, I know nothing of such occupations!"

"Of course not, for you are so well-bred; but just as Kings may play Vagabonds in masques, you are now a merchant banker named Signore Punchinello. Here, Signore Punchinello, is your strong-box." Mercury clapped the backgammon-set closed, imprisoning the game pieces, and handed it to de Bearsul, who with much hair-patting and skirt-smoothing took a seat at London. Monsieur le chevalier d'Erquy pulled her chair out for her, for, antic.i.p.ating Eliza's next command, he had followed them into the Grand Salon Grand Salon.

"Monsieur, you are Pierre Dubois, a Frenchman in London."

"Miserable fate! Must I be?" complained d'Erquy, to general amus.e.m.e.nt.

"You must. But you need not sit down yet, for you have not yet made the acquaintance of Signore Punchinello. Instead, you wander about the city like a lost soul, trying to find a decent loaf of bread. Now! Places, everyone!" and she walked back into the Pet.i.t Salon, Pet.i.t Salon, where the Lyon table had been supplied with quills, ink, and paper. where the Lyon table had been supplied with quills, ink, and paper.

"Monsieur le controleur-general le controleur-general, give your silver-which is to say, France's France's silver-to Lothar the Banker." silver-to Lothar the Banker."

"Monsieur, s'il vous plait," said Pontchartrain, shoving the pile across the table. said Pontchartrain, shoving the pile across the table.

"Merci beaucoup, monsieur," said etienne, a bit uncertainly. said etienne, a bit uncertainly.

"You must give him more than polite words! Write out the amount, and the word 'Londres,' 'Londres,' and a time, say five minutes in the future." and a time, say five minutes in the future."

etienne dutifully took up his quill and did as he was told, putting down "half past three," as the clock in the corner was currently reading twenty-five minutes past. "To the controleur-general controleur-general give it," said Eliza. "And now you, give it," said Eliza. "And now you, controleur-general, controleur-general, write an address on the back, thus: 'To Monsieur Pierre Dubois, London.' Meanwhile you, Lothar, must write an write an address on the back, thus: 'To Monsieur Pierre Dubois, London.' Meanwhile you, Lothar, must write an avisa avisa addressed to Signore Punchinello in London, containing the same information as is in the Bill." addressed to Signore Punchinello in London, containing the same information as is in the Bill."

"The Bill?"

"The doc.u.ment you have given to the controleur-general controleur-general is a Bill of Exchange." is a Bill of Exchange."

Pontchartrain had finished addressing the Bill, and so Mercury s.n.a.t.c.hed it out of his hand and pranced out of the room and gave it to "Pierre Dubois," who had been watching, bemused, from the doorway. Then she returned to "Lothar," who was writing out the avisa avisa with a good deal more formality than was called for. Mercury jerked it out from under the quill. with a good deal more formality than was called for. Mercury jerked it out from under the quill.

"Good heavens, I haven't even finished the Apology yet."

"You must learn better to inhabit the role of Lothar. He would not be so discursive," said Mercury, and wafted the avisa avisa out of the room to "Signore Punchinello." "In truth, there would be two or even three copies of the Bill and the out of the room to "Signore Punchinello." "In truth, there would be two or even three copies of the Bill and the avisa avisa both, sent by separate couriers," said Mercury, "but to prevent the masque from becoming tedious we shall only use one. Signore Punchinello! You said earlier you did not know how to play your role; but I tell you now that you need only know how to read, and be capable of recognizing Lothar's handwriting. Do you? (The correct answer is 'Yes, Mercury.')" both, sent by separate couriers," said Mercury, "but to prevent the masque from becoming tedious we shall only use one. Signore Punchinello! You said earlier you did not know how to play your role; but I tell you now that you need only know how to read, and be capable of recognizing Lothar's handwriting. Do you? (The correct answer is 'Yes, Mercury.')"

"Yes, Mercury."

"Monsieur Dubois, I think you can guess what to do."

Indeed, "Pierre Dubois" now helped himself to a seat at the London table across from "Signore Punchinello," and presented the bill.

"Now, signore," said Eliza to Madame de Bearsul, "you must compare what is written on Monsieur Dubois's Bill to what is in the avisa. avisa."

"They are the same," answered "Punchinello."

"Do they appear to have been written in the same hand?"

"Indeed, Mercury, the hands are indistinguishable."

"What time is it?"

"By yonder clock, twenty-eight minutes past the hour of three."

"Then take up yonder quill and write 'accepted' across the face of the Bill, and sign your name to it."

Madame de Bearsul did so, and then, getting into the spirit of the thing, opened up her backgammon-set and began to count out pieces.

"Not yet!" said Mercury. "That is, it's fine for you to count them out, and make sure you have enough. But good banker that you are, you'll not give them to Monsieur Dubois until the Bill has come due."