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D'RI AND I said he, "and I am in great trouble, for I have not written to France of their peril. Dieu! I hoped they would be soon released. They are well and now we have good news. Eh bien, we hope to see them soon. But of that Thérèse shall tell you. And you have had a terrible time on Lake Erie?"

He had read of the battle, but wanted my view of it. I told the story of the Lawrence and Perry; of what D'ri and I had hoped to do, and of what had been done to us. My account of D'ri—his droll comment, his valor, his misfortune—touched and tickled the count. He laughed, he clapped his hands, he shed tears of enthusiasm; then he rang a bell,

"The M'sieur D'ri—bring him here," said he to a servant.

D'ri came soon with a worried look, his trousers caught on his boot-tops, an old felt hat in his hand. Somehow he and his hat were as king and coronal in their mutual fitness; if he lost one, he swapped for another of about the same shade and shape. His brows were lifted, his eyes wide with watchful timidity. The count had opened a leather case and taken out