“Of such consequence, do you mean?”
“Well, maybe I have not used the right word, but then I am only a poor smith, and you are the master smith for the master of France. I say,” he went on in another tone, “it can’t be always funny to have a king for a ‘prentice, eh?”
“Why not?”
“Plain enough. You cannot eternally be wearing gloves to say to the mate on your bench: ‘Chuck us the hammer or pass the retail file along.'”
“Certainly not.”
“I suppose you have to say: ‘Please your gracious Majesty, don’t hold the drill askew.'”
“Why, that is just the charm with him, d’ye see, for he is a plain-dealer at heart. Once in the forge, when he has the anvil to the fore, and the leathern apron tied on, none would ever take him for the Son of St. Louis, as he is called.”
“Indeed you are right, it is astonishing how much he is like the next man.”
“And yet these perking courtiers are a long time seeing that.”
“It would be nothing if those close around him found that out,” said the stranger, “but those who are at a distance are beginning to get an idea of it.”