“I wish you to be perfectly welcome at my Court, Comte; and now you would like to retire to your rooms to rid yourselves of your travel-stains. Later on I look to meet you at my board.”
Francis bowed in turn, and drew back, seeing that the audience was at an end, and half turning saw that Denis had approached.
“Yes, boy?” he said.
“The horses, Comte,” whispered Denis.
“Ah, to be sure! They must not be left there.” And he turned, to catch the King’s eye fixed on him searchingly.
“Yes, Comte,” he said; “you were about to speak?”
“It is nothing, Sire,” replied Francis. “My esquire reminded me that our steeds were at the hostelry, and—”
“Ah, you love horses!” cried the King. “So do I, and the hunt as well. My stables are at your service, and my Master of the Horse will see that they are well bestowed. Once more, sir, the favourite of my brother Francis is welcome here. I look to see you again to-night.”