"
The Little Chemist tried to speak, but could not. He stooped and kissed
Valmond's hand, as though he thought him still a prince, and not the
impostor which the British rifles had declared him. To the end, the
coterie would act according to the light of their own eyes.
"It is now but a step--to anything," repeated Valmond.
The Cure understood him at last. "The longest journey is short by the
light of the grave," he responded gently.
Presently the door opened, admitting the avocat. Valmond calmly met
Monsieur Garon's pained look, and courteously whispered his name.
"Your Excellency has been basely treated," said the avocat, his lip
trembling.
"On the contrary, well, dear monsieur," answered the ruined adventurer.
"Destiny plays us all. Think: I die the death of a soldier, and my
crusade was a soldier's vision of conquest. I have paid the price.
I have--"
He did not finish the sentence, but lay lost in thought. At last he
spoke in a low tone to the avocat, who quickly began writing at his
dictation.
The chief clause of the record was a legacy of ten thousand francs to
"my faithful Minister and constant friend, Monsieur Parpon;" another of
ten thousand to Madame Joan Degardy, "whose skill and care of me merits
more than I can requite;" twenty thousand to "the Church of St.
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