"The child was a mere baby, not yet a year old. I concluded that for the present it would be best to leave him in America, the land that his kingly ancestor had chosen to adopt. In Jean Mettot's name I leased the same Durant farmhouse that belonged to his father and that one day would be his own, sent the Mettots there with their infant charge, and instructed them to bring up the boy in ignorance of his real ancestry, until such time as I should deem it best to come over to America and take charge of his affairs. They have worthily fulfilled that charge, having kept me constantly informed of his growth and progress.
"In truth, I never supposed the interval would be so long before I should find it possible to come here. One matter after another,--my health chiefly,--has delayed me from year to year, though I have planned the trip more times than I care to count. During this past year, however, the news sent by our friends the Mettots proved somewhat disturbing to me. In order to explain this, I must now disclose to you my plans for 'Louis Charles Durant.' They are, as you will see, far from any schemes to restore the Bourbon monarchy in France. That would be in direct opposition to the wishes of the dead dauphin. No, I wished him to learn of his wonderful ancestry secretly, and only as something to be proud of. I wished him to grow up as my own son, and, when the time was ripe, I would legally adopt him. At first there were several obstacles in the way, but these have lately been removed. In my own heart, however, he would never be my son, but the _king_ who should rightfully have ruled over me. I wished him to study statecraft and become a great political light--a French statesman--and perhaps some day make a great name in the world. He should be a king of men in deed and act, if he could not be in name and right. These were my ambitions for him. I felt that he _must_ fall in with them."
The three listeners stirred uneasily, and the catbird in the tree above them uttered its odd, mournful cry. Monsieur paused a few seconds to gaze out over the blue heat-haze on the river. Then he went on:
"It was, therefore, disturbing tidings that I began to receive from Jean Mettot. At first his reports had been satisfactory in every respect. The boy was upright, manly, and entirely lovable in nature. Up to his tenth or twelfth year he had developed no traits that would seem in opposition to my plans for him. But of late my news of him had been very unwelcome to me. To begin with, he openly avowed that he cared nothing for France or French history and traditions. He was American to the core, and he actually boasted of it. This was not surprising, however, considering the fact that he had been born and brought up in this land. I promised myself that this difficulty would be easily overcome later. But there was something that troubled me more.
