“Excellent,” said the King, and he glanced at the document endorsed with the royal signature—“François, R.”—at which he smiled with self-satisfaction. “Now nothing more remains to be done.”
The King looked fixedly at his servant, and then laid his hand on the latter’s arm.
“It is good,” he said. “What you have done is well done. Leoni, with mind and sword you have served me well, and that France which we both love with loyalty and faith. And now—now that we are nearing our journey’s end, you hold it still to be the truth that Henry guards jealously in his possession this jewel, which in his hands is an agent for the downfall of France?”
“I hold it to be true, sir,” said Leoni solemnly, and he laid his hand on a little golden crucifix which lay on the table before him. “I hold it to be true, and that the old ambition which brought the English hordes to our country is kept alive by the influence of that jewel. He will serve France well who reclaims it and restores it to its rightful place—your crown, Sire.” And the speaker dropped on one knee, but the King motioned him to rise.
“Not now,” he said; “not now.” And then, as his royal master appeared to be lost in thought, Leoni went on; “Never, sir, would I have brought this matter to your notice, deeply though it concerns the welfare of France, had I not been convinced.”
“And why so?”
“Because, sir, I knew your nature—reckless, valiant, ready to risk all, ay, even your life, when the interests of your country are involved.”
“And rightly so. It is as a Valois should act, as a Valois will act to the end.”
“Yes, sir; and yet I dreaded at first to speak, for I foresaw something of what would happen, since to those who study deeply a vision of the future is vouchsafed at times, and I realised even then what might be your resolve—namely, to undertake the perilous quest yourself.”
“It was for France.”