The firm grasp of the Jesuit upon his arm checked his murderous purpose.
"Stop!" whispered Garnet sternly, "wouldst ruin the cause which thou hast sworn to befriend? Draw your cloaks about your faces and leave the King to me."
Ere they could recover from their astonishment he had ridden forward to the spot where James sat bewildered, noting not the presence of those behind him.
At the sound of hoofs he turned quickly, laying a trembling hand upon the hilt of a hunting knife which hung at his belt. The demeanor of the approaching stranger gave him courage. Garnet did not remove from his head the plumed hat, as was befitting the presence of royalty, but there was in his face a kindliness which proclaimed his errand a peaceful one.
"Good sir," said he, speaking in French, "thy manner shows some bewilderment, and, may be, the blasts of the horn which reached me were tokens of it."
James trembled violently, for at heart he was an arrant coward, and the being met by a stranger, alone, close to nightfall and in the forest, filled him with the greatest terror. The words of the other somewhat reassured him.
"Brave gentleman!" cried he, still grasping the handle of the knife, "thou art a man of honor, and by thy speech a Frenchman, therefore thou wilt aid me."
"Thou hast spoken truly," replied the Jesuit. "Hast lost thy way?"
Relieved of apprehension for his personal safety, the King gave vent to his ill temper.
"That I have," cried he, striking his knee angrily, "and in the King's own forest. There are those who shall pay dearly, who shall rue this hour," he continued passionately. "'Twas a plot to humiliate me."