"And now you know, for the first time, that she loves you?" added the king, dryly. "But the emperor—are you not presuming overmuch that he will give his consent? Or think you"—with fine irony—"that marriages of state are made in Heaven?"
"It was once my privilege, Sire, so to serve the emperor, as his Majesty thought, that he bade me ask of him what I would, when I would. Heretofore have I had nothing to ask; now, everything."
Some of the asperity faded from Francis' glance. The situation appealed to his strong penchant for merry plaisanterie. Besides—such was his overweening pride—to hear a woman confess she cared for another dampened his own ardor, instead of stimulating it. "None but himself could be his parallel;" the royal lover could brook no rival. Had she merely desired to marry the former fool—the Countess of Châteaubriant had had a husband—but to love him!
After all, she was but an audacious slip of a girl; a dark-browed, bold gipsy; by nature, intended for the motley—yes, the Duchesse d'Etampes was right. Then, he liked not her parentage; she was a constant reminder of one who had been like to make vacant the throne of France, and to destroy, root and branch, the proud house of Orleans. Moreover, whispered avarice, he would save the castle for himself; a stately and right royal possession. He had, indeed, been over-generous in proffering it. Love, said reason, was unstable, flitting; woman, a will-o'-the-wisp; but a castle—its noble solidity would endure. At the same time, policy admonished the king that the duke was a subject of his good brother, the emperor, and a rich, powerful noble withal. So with such grace as he could command Francis greeted one whom he preferred to regard as an ally rather than an enemy.
"Truly, my Lord," he said not discourteously, masking in a courtly manner his personal dislike for him whose sharp criticism he once had felt in Fools' hall, "a nimble-witted jester was lost when you resumed the dignity of your position. But," he added cautiously, as a sudden thought moved him, "this lady has appeared somewhat unexpectedly; the house of Friedwald is not an inconsequential one."
"What mean you, Sire?" asked the young man, as the king paused.
Francis studied him shrewdly. "Why," he replied at length, hesitatingly, "there is that controversy of the Constable of Dubrois; certain lands and a castle, long since rightly confiscated."
"Your Majesty, there is another castle, and lands to spare, in a distant country," returned the duke quickly. "These will suffice."
"As you will," said the king in a livelier tone. "For the future, command our good offices—since you have made us sponsor of your fortunes."
With which well-covered confession of his own defeat, Francis strode away. As he turned, however, he caught the smile of the Duchesse d'Etampes and crossed to her graciously.