“The Comte de Pommereuil greatly desires to have you give one of your celebrated representations at his chateau, where guests of high rank are sojourning at this moment, and I have come to ascertain whether it will be possible for you to do so.  The distance is not very considerable, only a few leagues.  The comte, my master, is a very great and generous seignior, who is prepared to reward your illustrious company munificently for their trouble, and will do everything in his power to make them comfortable while they are under his roof.”

“I will gladly do all that I can to please your noble master,” the tyrant replied, “though it will be a little difficult for us to leave Paris at present, just in the height of the season; even if it be only for a short absence.”

“Three days would suffice for this expedition,” said the venerable major-domo persuasively; “one for the journey, the second for the representation, and the third for the return to Paris.  There is a capital theatre at the chateau, furnished with everything that is requisite, so that you need not be encumbered with much luggage—­nothing beyond your costumes.  Here is a purse containing a hundred pistoles that the Comte de Pommereuil charged me to put into your hands, to defray the expenses of the journey.  You will receive as much more before you return, and there will be handsome presents for the actresses forthcoming, of valuable jewels, as souvenirs of the occasion.”

After a momentary hesitation, the tyrant accepted the well-filled purse tendered to him, and, with a gesture of acquiescence, put it into his pocket.

“I am to understand then that you accept, and I may tell my master that you will give a representation at the chateau, as he desires?”

“Yes, I place myself and my company at his disposition,” Herode said, smilingly.  “And now let me know what day you want us to go, and which of our pieces your master prefers.”

“Thursday is the day my master designated; as for selecting the play, that he leaves to your own good taste and discretion.”

“Very well; and now you have only to give me directions as to the road we must take to reach the chateau.  Be as explicit as you can, I pray you, so that there may be no danger of our going astray.”

The agent of the Comte de Pommereuil accordingly gave the most minute and exact directions possible, but ended by saying, “Never mind, you need not burden your memory with all these troublesome details!  I will send you a lackey to serve as guide.”

Matters being thus satisfactorily arranged, the charming old major-domo took leave of Herode, who accompanied him down the stairs and across the court to the outer door of the hotel, and departed, looking back to exchange a last polite sign of farewell ere he turned the corner of the street.  If the honest tyrant could have seen him as he walked briskly away, the moment he was safely out of sight, he would have been astonished at the way the broad, stooping shoulders straightened themselves up, and at the rapid, vigorous step that succeeded to the slow, rather infirm gait of his venerable visitor—­but these things our worthy Herode neither saw nor suspected.