He had glanced over his shoulder to point this out to his gentleman, but now he faced about in time to catch his recruit looking triste again.
"Mademoiselle," he said, "you are beautiful, grave; but, as you had the graciousness to show me just now, still more beautiful, smiling. Now we are going to arrange matters so that you will smile always. Will you tell me what is the trouble, my child?"
"Gladly, Sire," she answered, and dropped down a moment on her knees before him, to kiss his hand.
I marvelled that Mayenne and all his armies had been able to keep this man off his throne and in his saddle four long years. It was plain why his power grew stronger every day, why every hour brought him new allies from the ranks of the League. You had only to see him to adore him. Once get him into Paris, the struggle would be over. They would put up with no other for king.
"Sire," mademoiselle said with hesitancy, "I shall tire you with my story."
"I am greatly in dread of it," the king answered, ceremoniously placing her in a chair before seating himself to listen. Then, to give her a moment, I think, to collect herself, he turned to his companion:
"Here, Rosny, if you ache to be grubbing over your papers, do not let us delay you."
"I am in no haste, Sire," his gentleman answered, unmoving.
"Which is to say, you dare not leave me alone," the king laughed out. "I tell you, St. Quentin, if I am not dragooned into a staid, discreet, steady-paced monarch, 'twill be no lapse of Whip-King Rosny's. I am listening, mademoiselle."
She began at once, eager and unfaltering. All her confusion was gone. It had been well-nigh impossible to tell the story to M. de St. Quentin, impossible to tell it to this impassive M. de Rosny. But to the King of France and Navarre it was as easy to talk as to one's playfellow.