Custer weekly chronicle. [volume] (Custer City, S.D.) 1890-1931, 1903-01-31

Are you going to let him think he is
king, sire?" he asked.
A queer smile wrinkled the kings
malign face.
Not quite" he said. when he
wakes, he is tc be assured that ne Is
the count OF Montcorbier and grand
constable of France. His antics may
amuse me, his lucky star may serve
me, and his winning tongue may help
to avenge me on a certain rowaro
maid, who disdained me. Send me
here Olivier"
Tristan bowed gravely and turned
on his heel. In his heart he was IN
clined to a kind of contempt Tor .le
monarch's humors. When there was
n chance of hanging a man, 1t seemed
TO him a waste of time to play the fool
I'm this fashion. The cat and mouse
1t, NO never Tristan's way. He
was ever for the dogs way with the
rat.
Louis resumed his restless walk with
his hands folded behind him ana ms
| head thrust forward as If he were
scanning the ground for some lost OBJ
ject. His mind was busy revolving
many thoughts He knew very well
how p]recarious his position was, now
unpopular he was with his people, now
strong were the forces that the duke
Of Burgundy had arrayed against him,
how little he could count upon the al
legiance OF the people of Paris II once
the enemy were able to put a loot
within the walls Of the capital city. lie
was very ambitious, he was very con-
hdent, he was very brave, and yet he
felt that ambition, confidence ana
courage were not enough at That crlsls
to give his throne support. Ihe super
stitious side of his nature turned rest
lessly to the unknown ana ms spirit
iiyed into crystals or scared among
the spinning planets, struggling Tor
occult enlightenment. To the super
stitious, trifes are the giants or des-
uny. and the kings e~scapade Of the
previous evening had taken a firm hoid
on his fancy. The picturesque black
guard who had mouthed 50 CALAMITY
his desire to reign over France ana
save her would in any case have tickled
the kings taste for the eccentric, but
when the encounter with the poet came
uron the heels of the kings strange
dream and was followed by the vague
demonstrations of the s~tar-gaZer, the
business doomed majestic In his eyes.
He had always before his mind the
memory of the radiant, sanity maiden
who had come like q messenger from
heaven to help his father when his
, rather's fortunes seemed to be In the
very dust, and it was in all seriousness
that he permitted himself TO hope and
almost to believe that some such succor
might be vOuchsafed him from the ran
sastic rhymester who had so lately
hectored him in the FirCone tavern,
AS the king lifted his eyes a fairer form
that that of Villon's was impressed up
On his consciousness and yet the sight
only served to strengthen the current
IF the kings thoughts.
A very beautiful girl, tall, stately
lmperious, was coming down n OF
he roseways with her arms full of the
great crimson blossoms. II the klne
had been a scholar In the learning Of
the Greeks he would have compared
he girl to some one Of the glorious
roddesses of the Hellenic Pantheon
AS 1t was, he was merely aware in 6
fierce way that the girl was very beau
tiful, that her beauty appealed to him
very keenly, and stirred in him n keer
sense of resentment at his slighteo
homage. This girl, whom Thibaut
TAussigny wanted to marry, this CIR
whom the king coveted, this girl whom
the mac poet worshippcd, what par
would she play in the fantastic comedy
which was gradually shaping itself II
the distorted mind Of Louis? Rather
Inc de Vaucelles saw the king, anC
dropped him a stately courtesy.
where are you going, girl?" Louis
asked.
She answered quietly, ITO her ma
jesty, sire, who babe me gather roses.
"Give me one" said the king, an
then as the girl handed him one OF tn
longest and reddest Of her splendi'
cargo, the king lightly swaying tn
nower, brushed the girls flower fac
with it and surveyed her mockingly.
you are a pretty child" he said
You might have had a kings love
Well, well, you were a fool. Does no
ThIbaut d'Aussigny WOO your"
He processes to love me, sire, an,
profess to hate him.
lie was sorely wounded last nigh
in a tavern scuf11e."
The girl gave a little cry of disap
pOintment.
only wounded, sire?"
The king laughed heartily.
Your solicitude is adorable. BE o
cheer. He may recover And we haV
clapped hands on his assassin. II
shall pay the penalty"
Katherine drew n little nearer to tn
king. Her eyes were very eager, an
there was eagerness in the tones O
her voice.
Sire, / bear this man no malice 70
hurting Thibaut d'Aussigny."
You are clemenCy itself. 1t woul
never do to have a woman on tn
throne. But to hurt a great lord is t
hurt the whole body polite. He sha
swing for it,"
The girl frowned slightly.
This man should not die. sire. Thi