"My father was of a great tribe--I would say a great house--in the country called France," he explained, with dignity.

"Oh, he was of a very great name indeed! His blood was--what do you call it ?--_blue_.

I am the son of my father: I am a Frenchman.

_Bien_! My father dies, having always kept me with him at Monacan-Town; and when they have laid him full length in the ground, Monsieur le Marquis calls me to him.

'Jean,' says he, and his voice is like the ice in the stream, 'Jean, you have ten years, and your father--may _le bon Dieu_ pardon his sins!--has left his wishes regarding you and money for your maintenance.