Barbara, still supporting the King's head, looked up at me.
"What will become of us?" she asked.
"At least we shan't be married in Calais," I answered with a grim smile.
"No," she murmured, and bent again over the King.
Now his eyes were wide-opened, and I fixed mine on them. I saw the return of consciousness and intelligence; the quick glance that fell on me, on the oars, on the pistol in my hand, witnessed to it. Then he raised himself on his elbow, Barbara drawing quickly away, and so rested an instant, regarding me still. He drew himself up into a sitting posture, and seemed as though he would rise to his feet. I raised the pistol and pointed it at him.
"No higher, if you please," said I. "It's a matter of danger to walk about in so small a boat, and you came near to upsetting us before."
He turned his head and saw Barbara, then gazed round on the sea. No sail was to be seen, and the fog still screened the boat in impenetrable solitude. The sight brought to his mind a conviction of what his plight was. Yet no dismay nor fear showed in his face. He sat there, regarding me with an earnest curiosity. At last he spoke.
"You were deluding me all the time?" he asked.
"Even so," said I, with an inclination of my head.