"Count Bouille got his banker to take it; so that there will be no lack of the sinews of war."
"I thank you, my lord count," said the sovereign. "I should like to know the name of the faithful servitor who perhaps lessened his cash by giving the sum to Bouille."
"He is rich and consequently there was no merit in what he did. The only condition he put in doing the act was to have his name kept back."
"Still you know him?"
"Yes, I know who it is."
"Then, Lord Charny," said the monarch with the hearty dignity which he sometimes showed, as he took a ring off his finger, "here is a jewel very dear to me. I took it off the finger of my dying father when his hand was chill in death. Its value is therefore that which I attach to it; it has no other; but for a soul which understands me, it will be more precious than the finest diamond. Repeat to the faithful servitor what I say, my lord, and give him this gem from me."
Charny's bosom heaved as he dropped on one knee to receive the ring from the royal hand.
At this juncture the door opened. The King turned sharply, for a door to open thus was worse than infraction of etiquette; it was an insult only to be excused by great necessity.
It was the Queen, pale and holding a paper. She let it drop with a cry of astonishment at seeing Count Charny at the feet of her consort. The noble rose and saluted the lady, who faltered:
"Charny here, in the King's rooms, in the Tuileries!" And she said to herself: "Without my knowing it!"