"And the penitents him, Sir. Faith, these Holy Churches run queer cargoes past his officers—or so they say;" and with another bow to the King, and one of equal courtesy to me, he turned away and mingled in the crowd that walked to and fro.
The King sat some while silent, lazily pulling the dog's coat with his fingers. Then he looked up at me.
"Wild talk, Mr Dale," said he, "yet perhaps not all without a meaning."
"There's meaning enough, Sir. It's not that I miss."
"No, but perhaps you do. I have made many bargains; you don't praise all of them?"
"It's not for me to judge the King's actions."
"I wish every man were as charitable, or as dutiful. But—shall I empty my basket? You know of some of my bargains. The basket is not emptied yet."
I looked full in his face; he did not avoid my regard, but sat there smiling in a bitter amusement.
"You are the man of reservations," said he. "I remember them. Be at peace and hold your place. For listen to me, Mr Dale."