"Yes, Sire, and I am your faithful servant, always ready to advise."

"Then why do you not speak out? I know you of old. You are keeping something back. What does this mean? Have you some suspicion about this man? Hah! I have it! You believe him to be a spy sent by Francis to learn all he can about my Court--about my realm! Man, man, you do not believe that this French King is plotting something to rob me farther of the possessions gained by my ancestors in the past?"

"No, Sire, no; but I am troubled in my mind," said Hurst, speaking in a low anxious tone.

"Out with it, then! What is your suspicion? What is it you know?"

"I know nothing, Sire," replied Hurst; "but I am troubled, in my grave anxiety for my master's weal, as to the real motives of this Comte's visit."

"Hah!"

"And I doubt, Sire, as to his being the Comte de la Seine."

"What!" cried the King. "Some impostor! Hurst! This is an insult to my guest, as n.o.ble and accomplished a gentleman as ever entered our Court--one whom I already look upon as my friend. Speak, man! What is it you think--that he is some cheat?"

"Cheat, Sire? No; but I believe him to be far higher in station than he says."

"Hah! Higher? How could he be higher?"

"Some prince, Sire, of royal blood."

"Bah!" cried the King contemptuously. "Fool! Dreamer! And at a time like this, when the horses are waiting and my guest doubtless ready, waiting till I join him! Always like this, Hurst, thinking out some wild diplomatic folly to cast like a stumbling-block in my way when I am upon pleasure bent. It is but little rest I get from cares of state, and you grudge me even that. Bah! I will hear no more.--Stop!" cried the King, after turning away. "See that there is a better banquet to-night, something more done to honour my French brother's emissary; more music and dancing, too. There, that is enough." And, hot and fuming, the King strode from the chamber, leaving his chamberlain standing alone, thoughtful and heavy.

Shortly afterwards there came through the open window the trampling of horses, eager voices, dominating all the loud, bluff, hearty voice of the King, followed by the sharper, rather metallic tones of the Comte, and then the merry laughter and e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.ns of the ladies who had joined the cavalcade. Then silence once again.

"Perhaps I am wrong," said the chamberlain thoughtfully; "and too much zeal may prove my ruin, for mine is a dangerous post and I fear that I have gone too far. I don't know, though. The suspicion seems to grow.

We shall see, though; we shall see."

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT.

AND OPENS THE KING'S EYES.

The chamberlain had worthily carried out his master's orders, and the scene in connection with the supper that night was brighter than ever; but the King did not seem satisfied. His heavy face looked gloomy, and Francis banteringly asked him if he was too much wearied by the hunt that day, receiving a grave nod in reply.

Later on Francis, who was excited and annoyed by the dullness of his host, made an excuse to leave him and join the dance, but only to find his progress stayed by Leoni, who led him aside to make some communication--one which made his master frown and whisper back angrily.

But Leoni spoke again, and Denis, who was near, saw the King make a deprecating gesture with his hands, and then hurry off to enter the _salon_ where the dancing was going on.

Denis stood watching Leoni, who stood looking thoughtfully after his master.

"I thought so," said the boy to himself, for as he watched Leoni he saw the doctor turn slowly and with his peculiar fixed look sweep the well-filled room till his eye rested upon the young esquire.

The next moment he had raised his finger to his lips, gazing at him fixedly for some moments, before turning and moving towards the door, when Denis heaved a deep sigh and looked round in vain in search of Saint Simon; but he was nowhere near, and the boy slowly followed Leoni, whom he found waiting for him just outside the door.

Meanwhile Hurst, upon seeing the Comte's departure, drew near to where Henry sat moody and alone, the various gentlemen in attendance, knowing their master's ways, having drawn back a little, to enter into a forced conversation, waiting for the King's next move.

They had not long to wait, for he suddenly looked round till his eyes rested upon the chamberlain, when he rose, to lay his hand upon his counsellor's shoulder and walk out with him towards the now deserted corridor, into which the strains of music from the ballroom floated again and again.

"There, Hurst," he cried, as soon as they were alone, and they paced together slowly towards the end, "what am I to say to you?"

"Sire?"

"If I were not in a good humour I should be disposed to punish you by the loss of my favour for spoiling what ought to have been a joyous day."

"Sire, I am deeply grieved. You must credit me with anxiety in my duty towards your Majesty."

"Yes, yes, I do," cried the King impatiently. "But your suspicions have been absurd, and have made me behave almost rudely to my brother's amba.s.sador, as n.o.ble a gentleman as I ever met. Zounds, man! Is a king's life always to be made bitter by his people's dreams of plots?

Your suspicions are all folly. He a prince of France! Absurd!"

The chamberlain walked on in silence, and stopped short where the corridor opened out into a well-lit chamber whose walls were hung with portraits.

"Well," said the King, "what now?"

"Would your Majesty step here into this alcove?" said the chamberlain, after a quick glance around to see that they were alone.

"What now?" cried the King angrily.

The chamberlain made no reply, but still stepped forward to the far side of the chamber, where he took a candle from one of the sconces on the wall to hold it up above his head in front of a large full-length canvas, the work of some great master, whose brush had so vividly delineated the features of his subject that the portrait seemed to gaze fixedly down at the King, while a faint smile just flickered upon its lips.

"Does your Majesty know those features?" said the chamberlain. "Who is that?"

"What!" cried the King, in startled tones. "Philippe de Valois."

"Yes, Sire; and my suspicion grows stronger every hour."

"Hah!" cried the King. "But no: impossible! And yet the same eyes; that same careless, half mocking smile. Hurst, there is something in this. The features are similar."

"Yes, Sire. It is a strong family resemblance."

"But who could it be, and why should he come here? To play the spy; for it could mean nothing else. What sinister plots and plans can there be behind all this? But you were thinking. You know something more?"

"I know no more than your Majesty. I only suspect."

"Suspect! Suspicion! I hate the very sounds of the words, and all the black clouds that hang around them. A family resemblance? Then who could this man be?"

The chamberlain was silent.

"Man," whispered the King hoa.r.s.ely, "you are my servant. Don't thwart me now. If you value your place here--more, your life--speak out!"

The chamberlain returned the candle to the sconce, and then said slowly:

"Your servant's life is at your service, Sire. I am not sure, but I tell you honestly that which I believe. This gentleman is wearing a disguise, and comes here under an a.s.sumed name, and from my soul I believe he is--"

"Who?" whispered the King, grasping him fiercely by the arm.

"Francis, King of France."

"Hah!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the King hoa.r.s.ely, and with his face taking a fierce expression mingled with anger, surprise, and triumph. "And what has brought him here? If you are right. Hurst--mind, I say, if you are right--But you had never seen this man before, and it may be only a resemblance."