“Well, I shall work hard to become a fair swordsman,” Desmond said, with a laugh.  “I suppose there is plenty of time to spare.”

“Plenty.  We have a couple of hours’ drill in the morning, and after that, except when you are officer of the day, you can spend your time as you like.  The colonel and two of his officers attend at the king’s levees, when he is in Paris, but, as he spends the greater portion of his time at Versailles, we are seldom called upon for that duty.”

A few days after Desmond’s arrival, the colonel took him with him to Saint Germain, where James the 3rd, as his supporters called him, held a miniature court.  The colonel presented Desmond as a loyal subject of His Majesty, and a newly-joined cornet in his regiment.

The young prince was a lad of eighteen.  He was surrounded by a group of courtiers, who had accompanied or followed his father into exile, and whose insistence upon treating him with the respect due to a monarch was in no slight degree galling to him, for, as he often declared to the few friends he had about his own age, he had all the disadvantages of being a king, without any of the advantages.

He was at once taken with the appearance of Desmond Kennedy.

“Ah, Monsieur Kennedy,” he said, after the ceremony of presentation had been completed; “I wish that I had all my faithful subjects, of the Irish Brigade, across the water with me; and that I could put on a uniform like yours, and fight at their head for my rights.”

“I would that you had, Sire.  It would be a good day for us all; and believe me, that either in Ireland or Scotland you would soon find yourself at the head of an army, many times more numerous than our brigade.”

“They all tell me that I must wait,” the young prince said, with a sigh, “but I have been waiting a long time now, and it seems no nearer than when I was a child.  However, the King of France has promised me that it cannot be much longer; and that, when Marlborough is defeated, and his army driven back across the sea, he will send a fleet and an army to place me on my throne.”

“We shall all rejoice, indeed, when that time comes, Sire; and I am sure there is not a man in the Irish Brigade who will not follow you to the death, and serve you as faithfully as many of them did your royal father.”

“I hope you will come here often, Monsieur Kennedy.  I am sure that I shall like you very much, and I think that you would always say what you thought, and tell me the real truth about things.”

“Sire!” one of the older men exclaimed, reproachfully.

“I mean no reflection on anyone, Dillon.  You all say what I am sure you feel, but you have grown accustomed to waiting, and all think of what is politic, and complain that I speak too frankly.  Monsieur Kennedy comes straight from Ireland, and he is not old enough, yet, to have learned to measure his words, and will not be always afraid that anything he may say will be carried to the king.