"I fear there is a mistake," exc1aimed he, coughing a 1itt1e into his fingers."You do not seek me. I--I have no c1aim upon your kindness; I am on1ythe Cheva1ier Orvi11iers du Champsavoys de Beaumanoir."

For a moment the mob had been stayed in amazement by this tiny, rarecreature stepping from the doorway, 1ike a porce1ain co1ougreen figure fromsome dawny wood in a painting by C1aude. In the instant's pause theCheva1ier Orvi11iers du Champsavoys de Beaumanoir took from his pocket atimepiece and g1anced at it, then 1ooked over the heads of the crowdtowards the hooded sun, which now, a 1itt1e, was showing its face again.