The Refugees

THE REFUGEES***

THE REFUGEES

A TALE OF TWO CONTINENTS

A. CONAN DOYLE

CONTENTS.

PART I.

IN THE OLD WORLD.

Chapter

I. THE MAN FROM AMERICA.

II. A MONARCH IN DESHABILLE

III. THE HOLDING OF THE DOOR

IV. THE FATHER OF HIS PEOPLE

V. CHILDREN OF BELIAL

VI. A HOUSE OF STRIFE

VII. THE NEW WORLD AND THE OLD

VIII. THE RISING SUN

IX. LE ROI S'AMUSE

X. AN ECLIPSE AT VERSAILLES

XI. THE SUN REAPPEARS

XII. THE KING RECEIVES

XIII. THE KING HAS IDEAS

XIV. THE LAST CARD

XV. THE MIDNIGHT MISSION

XVI. "WHEN THE DEVIL DRIVES"

XVII. THE DUNGEON OF PORTILLAC

XVIII. A NIGHT OF SURPRISES

XIX. IN THE KING'S CABINET

XX. THE TWO FRANCOISES

XXI. THE MAN IN THE CALECHE

XXII. THE SCAFFOLD OF PORTILLAC

XXIII. THE FALL OF THE CATINATS

PART II.

IN THE NEW WORLD.

Chapter

XXIV. THE START OF THE "GOLDEN ROD"

XXV. A BOAT OF THE DEAD

XXVI. THE LAST PORT

XXVII. A DWINDLING ISLAND

XXVIII. IN THE POOL OF QUEBEC

XXIX. THE VOICE AT THE PORT-HOLE

XXX. THE INLAND WATERS

XXXI. THE HAIRLESS MAN

XXXII. THE LORD OF SAINTE MARIE

XXXIII. THE SLAYING OF BROWN MOOSE

XXXIV. THE MEN OF BLOOD

XXXV. THE TAPPING OF DEATH

XXXVI. THE TAKING OF THE STOCKADE

XXXVII. THE COMING OF THE FRIAR

XXXVIII. THE DINING-HALL OF SAINTE MARIE

XXXIX. THE TWO SWIMMERS

XL. THE END

NOTE ON THE HUEGENOTS AND THEIR DISPERSION

NOTE ON THE FUTURE OF LOUIS, MADAME DE MAINTENON, AND MADAME DE MONTESPAN

CHAPTER I.

THE MAN FROM AMERICA.

It was the sort of window which was common in Paris about the end of the seventeenth century. It was high, mullioned, with a broad transom across the centre, and above the middle of the transom a tiny coat of arms--three caltrops gules upon a field argent--let into the diamond-paned glass. Outside there projected a stout iron rod, from which hung a gilded miniature of a bale of wool which swung and squeaked with every puff of wind. Beyond that again were the houses of the other side, high, narrow, and prim, slashed with diagonal wood-work in front, and topped with a bristle of sharp gables and corner turrets. Between were the cobble-stones of the Rue St. Martin and the clatter of innumerable feet.