Chapter Twenty Four.
Denis is sleepy.
His Majesty of England was in high good humour that night, since the preparations for the grand reception he had ordered in honour of the ambassador-like visitor from France had been carried out quite to his satisfaction.
There was show, there was music, and there was dancing going on, as he entered the salon from his private rooms and looked round searchingly before turning to speak to his stately chamberlain.
“Our visitor?” he said laconically.
“Fatigued, perhaps, with the journey, Sire. He has not yet arrived.”
The King frowned, and his chamberlain raised his eyebrows a little, half expecting to be taken to task for not having the visitor there.
“See that everything is done, Hurst, so that he may go back to my brother of France full of admiration of my Court. We must make him envious,” added the King, with a laugh.
At that moment there was a flourish of trumpets, and, escorted by two noblemen of the English Court, Francis, followed by his three gentleman attendants, advanced to meet the King.
Leoni watched his master narrowly as he followed his progress through the brilliant throng of courtiers towards the spot where Henry stood awaiting his coming, and there was but one thought animating his brain—the thought of whether Francis with his impetuous nature would not commit some act in this strangest of all episodes—King meeting King, and one ignorant of the other’s real identity—which would enlighten Henry and maybe bring disaster on them all.