CHAPTER XX.

I MEET WITH THE TERRIBLE BLACK KING, AND VOLUNTARILY ASSUME A TASK TO REGAIN MY LIBERTY.

Our captors had spoken truthfully, and I now knew which way we were going. I was sorry that I could not reassure the others. I wanted to call out, but I feared what the result would be; so I walked wearily on, wondering if I was never to feast my eyes upon that lovely sight again, wondering when we should see the King, wondering how he would treat us, but wondering more than all when I should have speech of Cynthia.

I now felt that we were walking over a bare and more even flooring, and then that the sweet tropic breeze had been exchanged for the cool, damp air of one of those stone interiors to which I had become accustomed. My guide suddenly stopped. I heard the pushing back of a bolt. I listened for more sounds of the same kind. I heard none. Oh, joy! only one door was opened. Then I was not to be parted from Cynthia. My guard removed the bandage from my eyes. I looked up joyfully to welcome the sight of Cynthia once again. She was not there! There was no one with me but the guard himself. I had been separated from my friends, when, I knew not. Oh, misery! What was I to do? How could I bear this of all troubles the greatest? The passageway from which I entered from the outer air was a stone hall rudely made. Along the sides were rough doorways and battered-looking doors. One of these doors was opened, I was pushed inside, and the door was closed upon me. I turned and hammered upon it with my clenched fists.

"Let me out!" I called. "Let me out! You can not mean to leave me here!" But there was no answer, except the retreating footsteps of him who had thrust me into this hateful prison. I pounded until I was weary, more because I was devoured with my rage than because I expected any response, and when I was exhausted with my futile efforts I threw myself on the floor, oblivious to everything but my sorrow.

As I lay there, alternately groaning and raging, I did not at first hear the faint sound which after a long time was made to attract my attention. Scratch, scratch, scratch, it went, but I did not heed it. It might be a rat, or some pestilent animal. I had not heard any footsteps in the corridor. I hoped that I should hear some more footfalls, but none came. All was as silent as the tomb.

Scratch, scratch, scratch, it came again. At last I awoke to the fact that this might be meant for me.

"Who is that?" I called.

"It's me," answered the Skipper's voice, grammarless, but, oh, how welcome!

"Good God!" I said; "it can't be you?"

"But it is me," shouted the Skipper, regardless of other ears, "darned if it ain't."

For a moment I was too amazed to speak.

"He's bagged the whole of us, hasn't he?" said the Skipper.

I looked to the back of the cell, the place where the sound seemed to come from. There I saw that the stone had sagged a little, and gave room for sound, if not for sight.

"God bless you, Captain!" said I. "How glad I am to see you again!"

"You must have better eyes than I have. Say, Mr. Jones, where is Cynthy?"

"She's somewhere near us," said I. And then in whispers, listening for every sound, I told the Skipper what had happened as well as I could.

"My poor little Cynthy!" said the Skipper, with a half sob.

"How did they get you, Captain?" I inquired.

"They never would have had me if you had paid any attention to me. They gathered me up the very day after I waved to you, when you were up there on that cliff."

"Was that you?" I asked. "I never thought it. Cynthia did suggest it, too."

"God bless my girl!" said the Skipper, with a wet voice.

"How were we to know it was you?" said I. "You were as black as any of the blackest here."

"That's so!" said the Skipper in answer. "I forgot that."

"But that man hadn't any clothes on," argued I, as if I must prove that the Skipper had been somebody else.

"Neither had I," said the Skipper. "Naked as a new-born babe. That's proper to-day, I suppose, anyway. It's my birthday, sixty-sixth."

Poor old man!

"What did they want with your clothes?" I asked, for the memory that I carried with me of the Skipper's ancient raiment, worn and soiled with salt water and earth stains, did not make them seem very valuable, even to a Haitien.

"They didn't want anything with my clothes," answered the Skipper; "'twas me they wanted. But they stripped me to a gantlin' all the same. After that fight I tried to follow you, but three fellows seized me and took my clothes and threw them into the bush, and began to hurry me off to the first temple that we saw, where that little shaver was crying."

"Yes, I know," said I; "and then----"

"Well, the battle was going the other way. I wanted to run after you to the shore, but those men held me between them. In a little while we got near the temple, and I thought my last moment had come for sure, when who should pop out of the trees but some of these big black men, who Christophe has for his body guard."

"Yes, yes," said I, hurrying him on.

"And when they saw me they waved their clubs round their heads, and those forlorn little Haitiens ran away. Then I gave the black men the slip, but they caught me again."

"If they were so little----" suggested I.

"Yes, yes, I know what you would say, but they were three to one, and when they took away my clothes they took my pistol, my knife, and my machete. I did put a bullet through one fellow. He never kicked, but when I tried to reload they were upon me."

I reflected also that the Skipper was not so young as once he was, and that the night had been as tiresome and exciting to him as to the rest of us.

"My, these stones are cold!" The Skipper sneezed. "Have you got that ring yet, Jones?"

"I haven't thought of it from that day to this." I slapped my hand to my throat. "Yes, here it is."

I took the great circle from the cord which held it round my neck and turned it over and over in my hand. The enormous red eyes shot forth rays like streams of blood. I have never seen anything before or since which shed so strange a light or made one feel so eerie.

"You don't say anything," said the Skipper. "I s'pose you're looking at that devil's ring and feeling all-overish."

"Yes," said I, "that is just exactly what I am doing."

"My, these stones are hard!" The Skipper groaned and sneezed again. "I wonder if they'll let me see Cynthy. But here! Hold on! I can't see her without any clothes."

"Perhaps they'll give you something before then," said I.

I now heard footsteps approaching, and held my peace and feigned sleep. The door was opened and a glass of water and a large piece of cassava bread were pushed into my cell as far as the man's arms could go. Then the door was closed and bolted on the outside. The Skipper's door was then opened, and I heard the same sounds which had heralded the arrival of my breakfast. I heard the Skipper mumbling some words, something between Manhattan-Dutch and Susquehanna-Indian, and he must have made some signs, for he told me that the man nodded his head as if he understood.

We kept up a desultory conversation, the Skipper and I, for an hour or more. I could not bear to hear him complain of the cold and hardness of the stones on which he sat. Northerners imagine, I believe, that one never feels cold in that tropic clime, but in that supposition they are quite mistaken. The heat and the constant exudations from the skin thin the blood, and when one is out of the sun and in the dark interior of the earth a sudden chill comes trembling over one, creeping, creeping, creeping, until the whole body is in an ague, which nothing but a little raiment and plenty of sunshine can relieve.

I judge that I had been in the cell for nearly an hour when I heard some hurried footsteps coming down the corridor. They stopped at my door. The bolt was withdrawn with a loud clatter, and two of the King's body guard stood in the doorway.

"Now I s'pose I'll never see you again," groaned the Skipper. Fearful that they would understand that we had been communicating and that we were friends, I made no reply, but looked round the cell, astonished at the sound of the voice. I addressed myself apparently to the guards in as fierce a tone as I could command. They thought me scolding at them, while my words were really addressed to the Skipper.

"Be quiet, for Heaven's sake!" said I. "They must not know that we are friends." My tone was so sharp and dictatorial, and I looked so squarely in the guard's eyes, that he began in a rough way to answer me, bowing slightly and beckoning me to follow. Then I heard the Skipper's voice in wonder:

"Why, Mr. Jones, are you speaking to me?"

Again I looked above, overhead, and round the walls of my room as if I were daft, and then fiercely at the guard. Again I spoke to the Skipper in my roughest way through these men, who could not understand a word.

"Don't be foolish, Captain," I said, glaring at the guard and shaking my fists in their faces. "They think I am talking to them. I am shaking my fist almost against their black noses, but they don't know that I am talking to you. Be careful, and don't, for Heaven's sake, address me while they are here."

I howled these words and danced up close, and glared at the tallest guard. "They will find us out surely. I'll tell you all about it when I get back, if they ever bring me back."

"Can't you lend me a trouser leg?" groaned the Skipper. But I saw that an answer would be more than foolish, and so turned and followed my guides where they led.

When I emerged from the corridor I found that I was facing toward the north. Our captors had brought us a long way round, so that we should go to the buildings where the offices, prisons, and the like were situated. To go to the palace itself we must walk northward. I had heard of this palace of Sans Souci, but no words had been powerful enough to give me an adequate idea of its wonderful beauty and grandeur. It was situated at the head of its beautiful and fertile valley, surrounded at the back and sides by hills, which, from their immediate rise, seemed to attain to the dignity of great mountains. The grand roads which Christophe had built and was still building ran down into the beautiful valley on their way to Le Cap. At the back of the palace there were gardens filled with rare flowers. Fruits were here, sunny arbours, and shady groves. Cascades of foaming water dashed downward from the neighbouring cliffs, and, caught at the base, were turned into irrigating channels or carried to the palace to supply its various needs. As I walked onward with my guard, I recalled the many facts that I had heard about the delights of this famous garden of the gods, and I wondered what manner of man it could be who could devise all this beauty during one phase of his existence, and fling helpless mortals to birds of prey at another.

At times these phases were not many minutes apart, so that it seemed that the man must have a dual nature, and that two occupants--one an angel and another a devil--must occupy his tenement at one and the same time.

I was thinking these thoughts as I passed onward with the guard. We walked along an open terrace, which would have seemed most grand to me, had not its beauties been effaced at every turn by something still more beautiful, and those in turn by something more wonderful still. We descended a broad flight of steps and came out upon another terrace. The air that blew about that terrace was heavenly. The blue overhead was deep and clear. Trade-wind clouds flecked the sky in every direction. They came like a host of white horses over from the east, sailing steadily along, and disappeared in the west, their places only vacated to be taken by the myriads of others which came moving rapidly after. The breeze was sweet with the scent of fruit and flower. It seemed that with each new breath that came to me, upon its wings was wafted a fresh and delicious odour. The near hills were clad with vernal beauty. The marble balustrades which railed the terrace were overgrown with viridescent plant and flowering vine. Birds sang in the branches of the camaito tree. Such Paradise a setting fit for the greatest and best monarch who ever lived and ruled on earth. It seemed as if some fair queen should inhabit this lovely place, as if even man, no matter how pure he might be, were not worthy of such exquisite surroundings.

These thoughts came to me as I walked forward to the spot where the greatest tyrant of modern times sat awaiting me, in common with his other slaves; for I was a slave, if Christophe chose to consider me as such--the slave of a man whose brutality was the wonder of those who had read tales of the Borgias, of the Caesars, of Nero himself. I had heard of his chaining human beings to his carriage wheels, I had heard of his throwing his unsuccessful labourers off the great cliff which skirted the citadel, and I had heard the revolting tale of a certain day when his dogs, being hungry, he ordered an arm cut from an unoffending prisoner and thrown to the ravenous beasts. Imagine, if you can, my feelings when I reflected that this was the wretch to whose mercy fate had consigned me, and not only me, but Cynthia. If I had fear for my own safety, imagine, if you can, the horror with which I thought of him as the jailer of Cynthia. If I could only get speech of Cynthia, I thought, I could manage to tell her something--to warn her in some way. But then, after all, what should I tell her other than she knew already? If I frightened her, it would be worse, perhaps, than to leave her some confidence in her captors. She was not in Christophe's presence now, at all events, for I had been told that the King was attending to the business of the day at that moment.

We passed many windows and openings, where I saw men in uniform, secretaries, cooks, coachmen, horses, carriages, and everything that the mind can conceive as necessary to the comfort and well being of a great ruler. We passed by some round towers, that I thought must be sentry boxes, and then the terrace widened out, and again we walked past some very grand and gorgeous apartments. I remember an impression of mirrors and gilding, and in the most spacious of the rooms I saw a throne of velvet and gold, a sceptre lying there, a crown, and everything more splendid than I had ever imagined a white king would have desired with which to adorn his greatness. I looked along the marble esplanade, and at the end of the vista which I was approaching I espied some forms. They were human beings, but they were kneeling upon the ground. The figure before whom they knelt was seated upon a high dais. Over his head spread the famous camaito tree, which gave its name to the terrace. The figure was peculiarly dressed, and on his head he had a strange sort of military hat with fine gold lace binding the brim. In its front, among a tuft of ostrich plumes, blazed a diamond as fine as the one that I had taken from the cave and had unknowingly buried. As we approached, there were curious looks from the more privileged ones, who still had the manhood not to bow the knee to this tyrant King. Perhaps they were favourites, but I noticed that many of those present hid their faces in their hands as if afraid to look upon the evidence of so much magnificence and power. As we approached the throne, the King waved a small gold sceptre which he held. I suppose that he said, "Stand aside!" for the crowd blew apart in two straight lines, as if they were puppets. Then my guard and I walked up between the rows, and I stood in the presence of the redoubtable Christophe himself.

The man was of gigantic stature, and as black as a coal. To see a man who had been nothing more than an African slave seated there, with all the pomp and power that the proudest nation of the earth could confer, caused me to gasp with astonishment.

The King thundered something at my guard, who went down at once upon his knees and tried to drag me down with him, but I made up my mind on the spot that as I behaved so would I be treated, and, to preserve my dignity and make Christophe feel, if possible, that I had a position of my own, I stood more erect than ever. My clothes were torn and ragged, my hair had grown long, my appearance was generally unkempt and wretched, but I stood as straight as would Christophe himself had our positions been reversed.

Again he thundered some words at me, and the guard endeavoured to pull me to the ground; but I straightened myself, folded my arms, and looked proudly at this modern and literal Black Prince.

Then there was a cry for some one, and forty messengers went running. All the while I stood looking at the crowd and surveying the motley garments that they wore. There were prisoners from the South, dressed in rags that scarce covered their nakedness; there was that body guard of Christophe's, garbed as I have described; there were the officers of the King's army, gorgeous in all the buttons and straps and gold lace that could be crowded into the space which their bodies occupied. While I thus gazed, I was conscious that some one had joined me. I did not turn until I heard some words whispered in my ear.

"It's rather awkward for me," said the Bo's'n. "I haven't met many kings."

"Call that nigger a king?" asked the Smith's voice on the other side of me. Here there was a commotion from the throne.

Christophe had arisen and was pointing excitedly at us, waving his arms and foaming at the mouth. He motioned with his hands, and said something which I supposed was intended for "Down! down! kneel before the King! I am the King!"

The Smith and the Bo's'n seemed to understand what he intended to convey. They immediately plumped themselves down upon the hard pavement, in the hot glare of the sun; but I looked at them contemptuously, and only moved myself a little nearer to the camaito tree, and within its shade.

"If you are willing to appear as slaves," said I to the men at my feet, "you may do so. As for me, I am an American prince, and so I shall remain."

When the King saw that I stood while the others knelt, he began to look on me as something nearer equal with himself. The Smith, catching the situation, turned to me and began to prostrate himself before me. The Bo's'n, seeing the motions of the Smith, imitated him. I waved my hand grandly, and walked to the lower step of the dais and asked for a seat.

Meanwhile I placed my foot upon the necks of the Bo's'n and the Smith alternately, who edged along after me and knelt humbly before me.

Just then a man came hurrying into the King's presence and prostrated himself before Christophe. Then he arose and looked inquiringly at the black monarch, as if to ask what was required of him, whether his head was to pay the forfeit for some transgression of which he was not conscious. It seemed that his tongue was the member required, and only that it should wag a little, for this was the court interpreter. The man turned to me and asked in fairly good English who I was and where I had come from.

"I represent," said I, "all there is of royal blood in my country. I am the son of our ruler." When this was repeated to Christophe, he spread his great lips in a hideous grin and asked what I supposed he cared for that.

"Tell the King," said I, "that I belong to a country a thousand times as large as this little Haiti and Santo Domingo put together. We have great battle ships; we have subdued that immense country, England. What do you suppose they will do with you if you dare to harm a hair of my head?"

"For Heaven's sake, speak him fair!" groaned the Bo's'n.

"He may not harm a hair of your head," said the Smith, "but the bloodthirsty old wretch won't care a hang if he chops ours off in the next half hour."

I looked downward to where the two men knelt, their heads bent to the floor in abject terror. I could not but laugh to see them.

"You have placed yourself in that ridiculous position," said I. "Now you will have to bear the consequences."

The King now asked if there was anything I could do to prove the truth of my statement. The old devil had a cunning leer, and I wondered what this might mean. I answered that if hating the French and English was not enough (I felt the Smith wriggle under my foot as I said this), "I know of little else to recommend me unless it is my knowledge of magic."

"How that fellow's lying!" murmured the Smith. But, I added, that I was unaccustomed to being without clothes and a bath, and when those were supplied to me I could better collect my thoughts. The King looked astounded at this remarkable speech, and well he might. I doubt if any one had ever spoken with such frankness to Christophe since he was a little slave on the plantations of St. Kitts. He roared something to some guards standing near, and they approached me with much more respect than they had manifested at first, and motioned me with polite, if not servile bows along the terrace. I saw that the attitude which I had assumed had raised me at once in the estimation of the King, and I decided to preserve it. I left the Smith and the Bo's'n still kneeling, not knowing if they dare rise. I felt certain that I had all that I could do to take care of myself for the present, and that whatever I gained in respect from this black villain they would share as a part of my retinue.

I was led from the terrace along a veranda toward the back of the palace. Here I came upon a lovely flower garden, where singing birds swung above my head, and lakes reflected the leafy branches and the splendid cups of colour which overshadowed them. The bath was situated some distance back in this garden, and here I disported myself with such luxurious joy as no one can imagine who has not been a wanderer in the heated tropics away from fresh water. When I had bathed, I found clean towels lying on a stool at the door of the little rancho. The water, I should have said, ran through a sort of stone trough. There was a roof overhead, with jalousies to screen one from the sun and from too curious eyes; but, as Nature's dress was at that time the most popular one to be found, it excited no interest. When I was ready to resume my clothes, I found a clean white costume awaiting me, and, robed in this, I felt once more that I was in my right mind, and the peer of any king that ever came out of Dahomey. I was now led back to the terrace where the King was still conducting business before he set out to ride among his sugar plantations, to see that his people toiled, constantly and sufficiently enough, to keep his revenues up to the proper figure. Upon my return I went close to the throne, regardless of the suggestion of my guard by nudges that I keep a little farther away from the august presence. The King turned upon me with almost a smile. I was certainly altered for the better. I assumed a very proud air, and looked around inquiringly for a chair. My guard, thinking that he knew my requirements, ran back into the crowd, and from the mass of hot and dishevelled prisoners he brought forth the Smith and the Bo's'n. He made them resume their humble attitudes at my feet. The Bo's'n was quaking with fear. The men both knelt before me and placed their necks submissively under my foot.

"Hot isn't no word for it," said the Smith.

"I didn't ship for this," said the trembling Bo's'n.

"You may get a worse billet than this if you don't do as I tell you," said I hurriedly. "You must treat me as a great prince, and then perhaps I can help you. Heaven knows I don't care to rest my foot on your neck!--it's most uncomfortable." The men subsided without a murmur, and I took the open cane chair that was brought me, with a contemptuous look at its humble proportions.

Our asides had not been noticed, for just here some prisoners were brought to the King for judgment, and every one was turning to see them approach. Among them I discovered the Skipper. So soon as I caught sight of him I bounded from my chair and ran and embraced him most affectionately. The Skipper was very slightly clothed, and looked extremely uncomfortable.

"What are you doing, Jones?" he said. "Don't make me ridiculous."

"You'll feel much more ridiculous," said I, "if they take you out and shoot you, or if they copy the French method."

"What's that?" asked the Skipper, with a trembling voice, apparently oblivious that the court had stopped business and was gazing at us.

"Why, kneeling before a trench with fifty other fellows, and being shot with such good aim that they don't have to put you in your grave, only have to shovel the earth in. Now, you're my Uncle----"

"What bosh are you talking! I am in no way related----"

"Very well, then, take your own course. I wanted to do what I can----"

"I'll be anything if they'll take this infernal chain off my wrist; it blisters like hot coals."

I turned to the interpreter and told him that, with the King's permission, I should like the chains removed from my uncle's arms--that he was the brother of the ruler of our country, who was my father. "We are not very far from your little island," said I. "It will not take my father many days to come here in one of his powerful war ships to carry us home." My look and tone seemed to convey much more than my words, as I intended that they should. The interpreter translated my speech to the King. He looked at me curiously for a moment, and then ordered the chains removed from the Skipper's wrists.

The Skipper, now that his worst trouble was removed, began to clamour for even greater comforts.

He looked about him critically, the condescension of his manner contrasting curiously with the scantiness of his apparel.

"If the old beggar has another throne handy," said he, "I'll take it."

These words were repeated to the King at my demand, with much halting and fear of consequences by the interpreter. I have always thought that Christophe had experienced so much of servility, which is the most tiresome thing in the world, from his sycophants, that he was glad to hear some straightforward talk. Possibly he felt that men who spoke so fearlessly and openly were even greater than they had declared themselves to be. Whatever his reasons, he spoke hurriedly to the interpreter, and he in turn to a servant. A chair was brought at once. I kicked the Smith and the Bo's'n out of the way with all the hauteur that I could express in my manner. They bowed low and withdrew with smiling faces, but I noticed a glitter in the eyes of the Bo's'n that was not to be lightly overlooked.

"We have disturbed the gracious King long enough," said I, with my politest bow. "We will not interrupt again." Wondering somewhat that we were not hurried to the citadel, or that our heads did not pay the forfeit at once, I saw the King settle down to the pursuance of his business matters.

The next prisoner was a fine-looking young fellow, tall and straight, of much prouder appearance than any one there.

"Have you finished the crown that I gave you to make?" asked Christophe.

The prisoner, who had fallen upon his face, partly because he was pushed there by the guard, replied:

"I have not, my Lord King. The time given me was too short."

"Away with him to La Ferriere! Bind him upon the parapet until nightfall, and when the sun sets behind the citadel cut the cords and let him fall into the abyss. Thus he will have a day to think over his failure and what success might have done for him. Bring in the next prisoner!"

The condemned man fell upon his face on the ground as if lifeless, and was dragged away.

The next person to step forward was a woman of about forty years. She trembled in every limb, and threw herself upon the hard stone slabs, sobbing, crying, and praying for mercy. So it seemed to me, though I could judge only by her tears and her attitude of supplication.

"Have you finished the robe that I commanded for the Queen?" asked Christophe, in no gentle tones.

"A little time! A little time, I pray thee, most noble King!"

The interpreter was whispering the translation of these words in my ear.

"You have had a month! To the dungeons with her!" said the King.

The next prisoner who came forward was a middle-aged man. He shook as if with a palsy, but concealed his fear as well as possible. He knelt before the throne.

"Can you duplicate my ring?" asked Christophe.

"I think that I can with a little more time, great King," said the man. "I am working day and night. But if the King will not let me have the sacred symbol, how shall I duplicate it?"

The words caused something to snap within my ear. I looked up anxiously. The King was glaring at the man with eyes of fire. He had thrust his hand into the very face of the prisoner, and on his great thumb I perceived for the first time a circle of grotesque make. It held a common likeness to the sacred symbol which Cynthia had found. The moment that I caught a glimpse of the twisted serpent body I felt that I was safe. It was the very duplicate of the serpent ring that I had in my possession.

Christophe held the circle up to the multitude.

"It is the ring that my favourite gave to me," he said, "my favourite Mauresco, before he disappeared forever."

"That Mauresco fellow seemed to be a fascinating sort of chap," said the Smith, who had edged near me, in an undertone. "I understand all he says, but I think it is better to keep that fact quiet."

"I have already given you time enough," said the King. "Remove the prisoner! Throw him at once off the Grand Boucan!"

I arose. "Stop!" said I, "if it please your Majesty. I come of a family who deal in magic. To make a ring like that is simple work. I will promise to make you one if you will in turn deign to pardon the prisoners who have offended you."

When the interpreter had repeated my speech to Christophe, he turned on me with an incredulous air.

"That offer has been often made," he said, "but no one has ever performed it. Mauresco, my prime minister, my counsellor, the Grand Papaloi of the North, had given me a ring, but I have lost it. The one that he wore he carried away. I am wearing a poor imitation. It was cunningly artificed by skilful hands. Can you reproduce it?"

I felt the cold snake ring dangling against my bosom as I spoke. Christophe gazed at me with curiosity.

"Say to the King," said I, "that a bargain must be made. If I succeed in pleasing him with the symbol that I shall make, he in turn must promise to send me with my friends to the coast, where a ship will come for us to take us back to our good and great country."

The King thought a moment. He smiled his diabolical smile. He nodded his head several times and spoke to the interpreter.

"Tell him," he said, "that I am quite willing to make the promise. They have all failed me, but the Grand Boucan never fails me."

"I shall not fail," said I.

I asked leave to take the symbol in my hands. The King beckoned me to approach. When I was close to the dais he held out the ring to me, but he did not give it into my hand. I looked at it with much curiosity.

"May I take the circle in my hand?" I asked the interpreter. The interpreter in turn asked the King. Christophe hesitated; then he gave a reluctant nod. I took the great ring from the hand of the King. I examined it curiously, and shook my head with a contemptuous air. The workmanship was crude. It did not compare in any way with the circle that thumped against my bosom. I gave the King's ring back to him with a smile of superiority.

"How is it possible," asked I of the interpreter, "that a great monarch like King Henry the First is willing to wear a thing of such unskilled workmanship?"

A look of almost mortification overspread the face of the King as these words were translated to him.

"Explain!" said he to the interpreter.

"The King's favourite, Mauresco," said the interpreter, "presented the King with a ring. It was a wonderful circle of magic. Its properties were supernatural. Mauresco had brought it from the far East. Its design was that of the serpent and the goat's head, much as you see it here in the imitation. While Mauresco was here he wore a poor imitation of the symbol, something like the one which the King wears on his thumb to-day. The original ring was all-powerful. The King carried all before him. When he wore that sacred circle he was victorious in battle. The tribes of the island flocked to his standard, his generals were faithful. But one day Mauresco was missing and the sacred circle of magic had changed to what you see it."

Finding that Christophe's fortunes were on the wane, he deserted him, thought I. Got tired of black royalty, and went to join the pirates. Took the original and left the poor copy to console the King. Ah! Mauresco, had I known that you were so clever a villain, perhaps I might have spared your life just for admiration of you! Perhaps I, too, would have come under your ban, and have been your willing servant like the rest of them. So you took the original, did you, Mr. Grand Papaloi Mauresco, and you dropped it on the seashore, and some one whom I know found it? And the symbol has supernatural or magic properties, has it? Very well, then! It is I who possess that original. Now we will see what this magic symbol will do for me and for her who found it. The King sat looking inquiringly at me.

"I can reproduce the ring," said I. "Not this parody on the original, but one so near the original that the King shall not know them apart." I returned to my seat without further explanation.

"Are there any more prisoners to come before me?" shouted Christophe.

But just here I heard feminine voices, and along the terrace I saw advancing three women. I saw that one was white, the other two of darker hue. They were all three dressed in flowing robes of white, and looked as cool as possible compared with the people surrounding the throne. At a little distance behind the three came several women who appeared like serving maids. I wondered who this white maiden could be. Her fair skin shone out in contrast to that of the dark women with whom she walked. The two girls had entwined their arms around the white girl, but it seemed to me that the latter shrank somewhat from their caresses. A few steps nearer they came, and all at once I discovered that the white girl was Cynthia. Somehow I had never thought of her in anything but that old blue dungaree dress. As they approached I saw that she was as well clad as the maidens with whom she walked, only that the two girls wore quantities of jewellery, but Cynthia wore only the fine flowing robe, cool and spotless. I looked for Lacelle, but I did not see her. Just here, as we were watching their approach, there came an interruption. I heard from overhead a strange but familiar voice. I arose at once and approached Cynthia. The voice had given me an idea. I bowed low before her, and as I did so I contrived to whisper:

"Did you hear that voice? Turn it to use, I will give you the key." And then as I raised my head there came again the words, "There's no fool like an old fool." I glanced upward to the low roof, and there sat Solomon in all his glory. "Damn the Britishers!" said Solomon. I now took Cynthia by the hand and approached the throne.

"Your Majesty," said I, "let me present to you my sister, who has been through all the trials and troubles that have overtaken us. She is an adept in the sort of magic that we know in our northern home. She is a peculiar favourite with birds and animals." I might have added, "With the greatest brutes of all, men," but I desisted.

Christophe smiled, as much at his favourite daughter as at what I had said. The dusky maidens approached and seated themselves on the steps of the throne and drew Cynthia down beside them. I mumbled a few words so low that the interpreter could not distinguish them.

"Thank God, you are safe!" said I. "Call the parrot, and pretend you never saw him before."

And then aloud:

"Let my sister try her power, your Majesty, on some animal here. A dog, perhaps, or a horse, or, oh!"--perceiving the parrot for the first time--"there is a strange bird. She may as well take him as an instance. Call the bird!" said I to Cynthia.

She readily comprehended me. She arose from the low seat and walked a little way out to the edge of the tree.

She held her fingers out to the bird and called in her peculiarly sweet cooing voice. Solomon looked at her for a moment with his head on one side, and then flew straight toward her: But that was not the worst of it. About six or eight other parrots flew down also from the roof, and not only Solomon but all of the number were calling and screaming raucously, "Damn the Britishers!" and "There's no fool like an old fool!" Solomon, who had flown straight to Cynthia, began to walk over her shoulder and climb up and down her dress, and, strange to say, the other birds, seeing the confidence with which Solomon accomplished his supposed introduction, followed suit, so that Cynthia had them billing and cooing in her ears, putting up their beaks to be kissed, calling, "Kiss me!" or declaring that there was no fool like an old fool, until the clamour was deafening. Cynthia was as much astonished as the rest of us, but she carried out my project with great cleverness. It is astonishing what Solomon had taught those birds while he had been among them. I laughed heartily to hear them say again and again, singly and in concert, "Damn the Britishers!" Even the King smiled.

"They are most kind to me," said Cynthia to me hurriedly; "only I'm sorry you said I was your sister."

"Why?" said I.

"Oh, I fear complications. The other would have been better, I think."

The King now arose and motioned us all away. When the Bo's'n passed me I saw that he had one of those sudden attacks which were unpleasant, ludicrous, but far from dangerous. He did look absurd with his cheek sticking out like a hickory nut, in fact, like two or three, and I could not help laughing. The King was angry at my laughing in his presence, and, to calm him, I was forced to ask him through the interpreter to recall the Bo's'n. As soon as his eyes fell upon the man he laughed harder than I had done. To see Christophe laugh was something worth living for. His great features twisted into a thousand contortions, and I felt that not only did he enjoy the absurdity of the spectacle, but that it was a real pleasure to him to see the sufferings of a fellow-creature. I was sorry for my part in this performance, but what else could I do.

"No matter, Bo's'n," said I cheerfully, "you'll laugh at this yourself some day."

"You'll laugh the other side of your mouth, sir," mumbled the Bo's'n angrily, looking so comical that I laughed afresh. This seemed to put Christophe in a very good humour. To find me willing to laugh at suffering seemed to argue well for me, and he regarded me with some faint expression of esteem.

"You ought to be satisfied if you are as well off as I can make you. There are a good many of us, but I intend that we shall share as much alike as your stupidity will allow," said I to the Bo's'n.

"You'll be sorry if you do," said the Bo's'n gloomily.

I found it difficult to understand him, he spoke so indistinctly, so I told him that I would send word to the King that I should like some remedy for my suffering servant. The Bo's'n gave a gloomy shake of the head.

"Very well, sir," he said threateningly, "you'll be sorry, Mr. Jones, sir. Now, I tell you, you'll be sorry! You've ruined one good plan, for Heaven's sake don't put your finger too deep into another pie, sir."

But as I retired from the terrace, and told him that I thought the King was disposed to treat us kindly unless we offended him in some way, I added, "I will try to get a change of clothes for each of you."

"Thank you," answered the Smith; "I shall be glad of some."

"Won't have 'em, Mr. Jones, sir!" said the Bo's'n. "Won't have 'em, don't ask it of me! Not on no account."

"What nonsense!" said I. "Of course, you will have them."

"No, sir, don't ask me, please. You'll be sorry if you do, sir."

"You're a lunatic!" said I. "You must be made comfortable. I shall do what I think best," and I followed my guard. I found that I was not to return to the cells below the terrace. I was taken to a garden at the back of the palace and lodged in a room looking out upon the mountain. Cynthia, with a lingering glance at me, had disappeared with the two daughters of Christophe, I knew not where.

I found myself in a plain sort of room, which contained little more than the furniture needed for absolute use; but when I discerned among the articles upon the table a primitive sort of arrangement for heating, a blow pipe, some small tools, and some bits of darkish ore, which had been rudely twisted into some semblance of the ring, I recognised the fact that I was in the room of that unhappy workman who had left it that morning never to return, and that this was the workshop where I was to try my hand at fashioning a ring like the one that the black King wore upon his thumb.