“Ah!” said Leoni.
“You are doubtful?”
“I think, sir, that there may be difficulties in the way.” And the speaker glanced at the document before him.
“Difficulties for me! You are mad.”
“No, sir, only cautious. When you are in France, at Fontainebleau, at Compiegne, in Paris, no matter where, does his Majesty the King receive any errant English nobleman who may be abroad to study the world? I think not. Your minister would inquire into the traveller’s papers, and ask whence he came, and why.”
The King turned thoughtful in a moment, and the haughty look died away on his lips.
“By Saint Louis, I never thought of that! Leoni, you are wiser than I.”
Leoni gazed intently at the King, who winced; and Francis ended by putting his hand before his own eyes, as if the peculiar fixed stare annoyed him.
“I was arguing by analogy, sir. Is it likely that this English monarch will act differently from the first King in Christendom? I think not. Henry apes your Majesty. It is you, Sire, who lead, and whom other kings follow. Go in your proper person, and there is not a door in all this land, or in any other, which can be thrown open wide enough to admit you; but—”
“Leoni,” interrupted the King, “what are you writing?”