"His Majesty the King of France."

There was a peculiar thrill running through the great chamber, and then a heavy bang as Henry in his astonishment gave vent to his feelings in a truly English way, for he brought down his clenched fist upon the table with a thud which made the silver flagons leap, and one, the tallest on the table, thin and weak with age, missed its footing and came down upon its side, seeming to bleed the rich red wine in a little pool.

The next moment, with bandaged head erect and flashing eyes, Francis appeared in the doorway, resting upon Leoni's arm, Saint Simon slightly behind on the other side ready to support his master should he want his help.

But none was needed. Francis stood for a few moments gazing towards the upper table where the King was standing, and his quick clear glance took in the position in a moment, for he had seen Denis standing a little to Henry's left.

Then with a quick movement Francis thrust back Leoni's arm and walked proudly up towards Henry's chair bowing slightly once to right and left as he swept with disdainful eye the now silent throng.

Then, to use the good old grandmotherly term, a pin might have been heard to drop, as Francis pressed forward till close up to where Henry stood, and before the English monarch could recover from his surprise his visitor had laid his hands lightly upon his shoulders and kissed his cheeks.

It was all done in the most courtly way, and only as one of the grandest gentlemen in Europe could at such a time have given the salute, while its reception was as marked and English as it was the reverse of friendly. For the King was so utterly taken aback by this change in the state of affairs that for a few moments he could not speak. When he did find words they were of the gruffest and most matter-of-fact that an Englishman could vent.

"So then," he cried, "you have come back?"

"Yes, my brother," replied Francis, and his voice sounded musical and soft, as the gesture he made was graceful and easy. "I, the King of France, have come back to you, my brother of England, to ask your pardon for my mad folly and grave mistake. See here," he continued, after a slight pause, and he once more looked round the tables at the glittering courtiers, while he held out fully in the light the scintillating ruby that had attracted him to the English sh.o.r.es. "I am no believer in magic or the dark art, but there must be something strange and fateful in this stone, magnetic perhaps, but he what it will, it led me here, knowing as I did the history of its loss; and now I have brought it back to its rightful owner, to its proper resting-place. It is yours, my brother of England, won in the far back past on the battlefield. I for the moment have held it once again in this right hand. Sire, I return it now, asking once more your forgiveness of the past, your renewed hospitality to a sick man for the night."

He ceased speaking, as Henry made a s.n.a.t.c.h and caught the jewel from his hand, when, light as the action was, it was sufficient to make his now exhausted visitor stagger. He would have fallen but for the King's strong arm, which saved him, and helped him to the seat Henry had just vacated.

"Quick, here!" he shouted. "Wine for my brother of France!"

There was a quick movement, but Henry's hand was the first to s.n.a.t.c.h one of the silver flagons from the table and hold it to the fainting King's lips, as he drank with avidity, uttered a sigh, and then rose with a smile.

"Am I a prisoner?" he said.

"No," cried Henry in his deepest tones--"my brother and my guest."

As he spoke he caught Francis by the hand and half supported him on his right, as he turned now to the excited lookers-on.

"My lords and gentlemen," he thundered out, "are we to be out-distanced in chivalry and generosity by the King of France? No!" he almost roared, as he turned to Francis. "Sire," he cried, "it was to win back that stone to the Crown of France that you risked your life and liberty, coming almost unarmed to my Court and bearing it away. I, Sire, can but admire your daring and the gallantry with which you carried out your quest to its successful end. And, Sire, I honour far more the gallant act of chivalry, that bravery which forced you back to my Court to make this honourable amend. Francis, my brother, I cannot take the gem. It is the jewel of France, and you shall bear it there. Keep it, Sire. It is yours."

CHAPTER FORTY EIGHT.

LEONI'S SECRET.

The festive days were few before Francis, now the honoured guest of Henry, left Windsor on his return to Fontainebleau, for he was still weak and suffering from his wound; but it was a pleasant time, especially to the King's esquires, after a little cloud had cleared away and the sun of two young lives once more was shining bright and clear.

It was towards the evening of the day succeeding the events of the last chapter, when Denis caught sight from one of the windows of the King's gallery of Carrbroke walking in the gardens below, looking moody and strange, while all at once, as if conscious that he was being watched, he glanced up at the window and caught sight of Denis looking out ready to wave his hand.

The English lad frowned, turned his back, and began walking away, while, stung to the heart by his reception, the blood flushed in the French lad's face, and drawing back from the window he ran along the gallery, to descend into the court, reach the garden, and make his way to that portion of the pleasaunce where he had seen his English friend. It was some time before he could find him, but at last he came suddenly upon him in a secluded portion nearly surrounded by a grey stone wall covered with growing plants.

"Ah, there you are at last!" cried Denis.

Carrbroke turned upon him angrily and clapped his hand to his sword.

"You have come to fight?" he cried. "Well, it is death here to draw.

Come out into the park, and I'll show you how I act towards a thief."

"A thief!" flashed out Denis, imitating his companion's action. "This is cowardly from you. But no, I will not quarrel. You do not know."

"Not know! Do I not know that in my confidence and belief in our French guest, whom my father had honoured, I foolishly trusted you with the secret of the King's private way--and for what? To help you and your friends to steal."

"No," said Denis gravely; "you don't know that, for it is not true. I did tell Leoni--"

"Ugh!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Carrbroke. "That man's horrid eyes!"

"Yes," said Denis, with a peculiar smile; "that man's horrid eyes-- thoughtlessly, I suppose, of the secret way, when I believed my duty called; perhaps you would have done the same. But I had nothing to do with the taking of the gem. Pah! I hated it all through, but as the King's esquire I had to fulfil my duty to my master. Believe me, I did not help to take the jewel. I felt that I would rather have died. Will you not believe me, Carrbroke?" And he held out his hand.

"I feel I cannot," cried Carrbroke.

"Does it take a king to forgive?" said Denis, with a smile. "To say those words, I forgive you, when there is nothing to forgive?"

"Oh," cried Carrbroke hoa.r.s.ely, and he looked sharply round to see if they were observed, before s.n.a.t.c.hing and tightly grasping Denis's extended hands.

A few minutes later the two lads were walking together arms on shoulders, in full sunshine of their young nature, that light seeming to be at the zenith, while the ruddy orange sun itself finishing its daily rounds was slowly sinking in the west.

"Hah!" cried Denis. "I am glad we are friends again. I know it looked black against me, and--"

"Oh, don't!" said Carrbroke. "I thought we'd agreed that all that was buried, never to be dug up again. But look here, we must have it now; there is one thing I want to know."

"What?" said Denis, with a peculiar mirthful look in his eyes.

"It is very horrible," continued Carrbroke. "I did not mean to ask you, but I feel I must. Of course your Leoni believed he was doing right for the sake of France, and to serve his master, but I never understood where he managed to hide the ruby. Do you know?"

"I did not know till yesterday."

"Ah, did he tell you then?--But no, I will not ask you to break his confidence."

"It is not to break his confidence, for he did not tell me," replied Denis. "I learned it from Saint Simon, for he saw it on the boat."

"Saw the ruby in the boat?" cried Carrbroke. "Why, how did it get there?"

Denis was silent for a moment or two, and then whispered something, with a peculiar smile upon his lips as he placed them near his companion's ear.

"What!" cried Carrbroke, starting back and staring in wonderment at his companion. "He hid it there? Then that accounts for his peculiar fixed look."

"Yes. He was fencing when a young man, and his adversary's rapier point completely destroyed his left eye."

"Ah!" whispered Carrbroke, beneath his breath. "I see. Then the eye is false--made, you say, of gold, enamelled to look exactly like the other, a little hollow globe."

"Yes; an _etui_, we may call it now, but never meant to conceal that gem."

"Horrid!" cried Carrbroke.

"Yes," said Denis quietly; "but believe it if you can."

"Oh," cried Carrbroke, "I believe; but if he had liked it could never have been found."