“I waited, breathless,” said Professor Park, with his own tremendous solemnity of manner; “I awaited the tribute of that grateful man.  At what price did he value his soul?  I anticipated a contribution for the seminary which it would be a privilege to offer.  At what rate did my converted hearer price his soul?—­Hundreds?  Thousands?  Tens of thousands?  With indescribable dignity the man handed to me—­a five-dollar bill!”

THE WAGER OF THE MARQUIS DE MEROSAILLES.

BY ANTHONY HOPE,

AUTHOR OF “THE PRISONER OF ZENDA,” “THE DOLLY DIALOGUES,” ETC.

In the year 1634, as spring came, there arrived at Strelsau a French nobleman, of high rank and great possessions, and endowed with many accomplishments.  He came to visit Prince Rudolf, whose acquaintance he had made while the prince was at Paris in the course of his travels.  King Henry received Monsieur de Merosailles—­for such was his name—­most graciously, and sent a guard of honor to conduct him to the Castle of Zenda, where the prince was then staying in company with his sister Osra.  There the marquis on his arrival was greeted with much joy by Prince Rudolf, who found his sojourn in the country somewhat irksome, and was glad of the society of a friend with whom he could talk and sport and play at cards.  All these things he did with Monsieur de Merosailles, and a great friendship arose between the young men, so that they spoke very freely to one another at all times, and most of all when they had drunk their wine and sat together in the evening in Prince Rudolf’s chamber that looked across the moat toward the gardens; for the new chateau that now stands on the site of these gardens was not then built.  And one night Monsieur de Merosailles made bold to ask the prince how it fell out that his sister the princess, a lady of such great beauty, seemed sad, and showed no pleasure in the society of any gentleman, but treated all alike with coldness and disdain.  Prince Rudolf, laughing, answered that girls were strange creatures, and that he had ceased to trouble his head about them—­of his heart he said nothing—­and he finished by exclaiming, “On my honor, I doubt if she so much as knows you are here, for she has not looked at you once since your arrival!” And he smiled maliciously, for he knew that the marquis was not accustomed to be neglected by ladies, and would take it ill that even a princess should be unconscious of his presence.  In this he calculated rightly, for Monsieur de Merosailles was greatly vexed, and, twisting his glass in his fingers, he said: 

“If she were not a princess, and your sister, sir, I would engage to make her look at me.”

“I am not hurt by her looking at you,” rejoined the prince; for that evening he was very merry.  “A look is no great thing.”

And the marquis being also very merry, and knowing that Rudolf had less regard for his dignity than a prince should have, threw out carelessly: