"He has not yet come."
"No more than yesterday. That political weathercock has turned from me. He is afraid to be injured, Doris. You must send to his house to ask after him."
"Yes, my lady; but the king is here."
"Very well; I am ready."
The Fifteenth Louis entered the room with a smile on his lips and his head upright. He was accompanied solely by a gentleman in black, who tried by a smile to counteract the baleful effect of thin, hard lips and severe gray eyes. It was Lieutenant of Police Sartines.
The waiting maid and a little negro boy were in the room; but they were not counted.
"Good-morning, countess," hailed the monarch; "how fresh we are looking to-day. Don't be afraid of Sartines; he is not going to talk business, I trust. Oh, how magnificent Zamore is looking!"
The blackamoor was appareled with the barbaric splendor in which Othello was attired at that period.
"Sire, he has a favor to crave of your Majesty."
"He seems to me very ambitious, after having been granted by you the greatest boon one can desire—being your slave, like myself."