CHAPTER III

FIGS OF THISTLES Here is a letter, sirs, out of a Cardinal's bag. His Eminence will not mind my setting it forth. I am a privileged person, like the King's jester. _Villa Narcisse, Dinard. August 3d._ _DEAR UNCLE JOHN,_ _It seems impossible that it is not yet one year since I wrote to tell you that I was in love with a footman. I remember writing so well. Just as in another year's time I shall remember writing this letter, which is to tell you--not that Anthony is dead, because you know that, or that…