"Oh! you sly little girl, haven't you any confidence in me?"
"Then, sire, set the young nobleman at liberty."
"So! he is a nobleman, is he?" cried the king. "Then he is not an apprentice?"
"He is certainly innocent," she said.
"I don't see it so," said the king, coldly. "I am the law and justice of my kingdom, and I must punish evil-doers."
"Come, don't put on that solemn face of yours! Give me the life of that young man."
"Is it yours already?"
"Sire," she said, "I am pure and virtuous. You are jesting at--"
"Then," said Louis XI., interrupting her, "as I am not to know the truth, I think Tristan had better clear it up."
Marie turned pale, but she made a violent effort and cried out:--
"Sire, I assure you, you will regret all this. The so-called thief stole nothing. If you will grant me his pardon, I will tell you everything, even though you may punish me."
"Ho, ho! this is getting serious," cried the king, shoving up his cap.
"Speak out, my daughter."
"Well," she said, in a low voice, putting her lips to her father's ear, "he was in my room all night."
"He could be there, and yet rob Cornelius. Two robberies!"
"I have your blood in my veins, and I was not born to love a scoundrel. That young seigneur is the nephew of the captain-general of your archers."
"Well, well!" cried the king; "you are hard to confess."
With the words the king pushed his daughter from his knee, and hurried to the door of the room, but softly on tiptoe, making no noise. For the last moment or two, the light from a window in the adjoining hall, shining through a space below the door, had shown him the shadow of a listener's foot projected on the floor of his chamber. He opened the door abruptly, and surprised the Comte de Saint-Vallier eavesdropping.
"Pasques-Dieu!" he cried; "here's an audacity that deserves the axe."
"Sire," replied Saint-Vallier, haughtily, "I would prefer an axe at my throat to the ornament of marriage on my head."
"You may have both," said Louis XI. "None of you are safe from such infirmities, messieurs. Go into the farther hall. Conyngham," continued the king, addressing the captain of the guard, "you are asleep! Where is Monsieur de Bridore? Why do you let me be approached in this way? Pasques-Dieu! the lowest burgher in Tours is better served than I am."
After scolding thus, Louis re-entered his room; but he took care to draw the tapestried curtain, which made a second door, intended more to stifle the words of the king than the whistling of the harsh north wind.
"So, my daughter," he said, liking to play with her as a cat plays with a mouse, "Georges d'Estouteville was your lover last night?"
"Oh, no, sire!"
"No! Ah! by Saint-Carpion, he deserves to die. Did the scamp not think my daughter beautiful?"
"Oh! that is not it," she said. "He kissed my feet and hands with an ardor that might have touched the most virtuous of women. He loves me truly in all honor."
"Do you take me for Saint-Louis, and suppose I should believe such nonsense? A young fellow, made like him, to have risked his life just to kiss your little slippers or your sleeves! Tell that to others."
"But, sire, it is true. And he came for another purpose."
Having said these words, Marie felt that she had risked the life of her husband, for Louis instantly demanded:
"What purpose?"
The adventure amused him immensely. But he did not expect the strange confidences his daughter now made to him after stipulating for the pardon of her husband.
"Ho, ho, Monsieur de Saint-Vallier! So you dare to shed the royal blood!" cried the king, his eyes lighting with anger.
At this moment the bell of Plessis sounded the hour of the king's dinner. Leaning on the arm of his daughter, Louis XI. appeared with contracted brows on the threshold of his chamber, and found all his servitors in waiting. He cast an ambiguous look on the Comte de Saint-
Vallier, thinking of the sentence he meant to pronounce upon him. The deep silence which reigned was presently broken by the steps of Tristan l'Hermite as he mounted the grand staircase. The grand provost entered the hall, and, advancing toward the king, said:--
"Sire, the affair is settled."
"What! is it all over?" said the king.
"Our man is in the hands of the monks. He confessed the theft after a touch of the 'question.'"
The countess gave a sign, and turned pale; she could not speak, but looked at the king. That look was observed by Saint-Vallier, who muttered in a low tone: "I am betrayed; that thief is an acquaintance of my wife."
"Silence!" cried the king. "Some one is here who will wear out my patience. Go at once and put a stop to the execution," he continued, addressing the grand provost. "You will answer with your own body for that of the criminal, my friend. This affair must be better sifted, and I reserve to myself the doing of it. Set the prisoner at liberty provisionally; I can always recover him; these robbers have retreats they frequent, lairs where they lurk. Let Cornelius know that I shall be at his house to-night to begin the inquiry myself. Monsieur de Saint-Vallier," said the king, looking fixedly at the count, "I know about you. All your blood could not pay for one drop of mine; do you hear me? By our Lady of Clery! you have committed crimes of lese- majesty. Did I give you such a pretty wife to make her pale and weakly? Go back to your own house, and make your preparations for a long journey."
The king stopped at these words from a habit of cruelty; then he added:--
"You will leave to-night to attend to my affairs with the government of Venice. You need be under no anxiety about your wife; I shall take charge of her at Plessis; she will certainly be safe here. Henceforth I shall watch over her with greater care than I have done since I married her to you."
Hearing these words, Marie silently pressed her father's arm as if to thank him for his mercy and goodness. As for Louis XI., he was laughing to himself in his sleeve.