“Rise,” said Henry. “You are on duty here?”
“Yes, Sire.”
“Has anyone passed?”
“No, Sire.”
“You are certain?”
“Quite certain, Sire.”
“Good. Come, Hurst!” And the two proceeded on their way, turning the corner of the long gallery, passing from gloom to silvery light, and again into the dusk, as they walked beneath the windows, while at the angle the lustrous splendour was shed through red glass, falling brilliantly on the King’s plumed hat, his sword and royal star, as the pair disappeared.
Carrbroke turned and looked after the retreating figures.
“I wish,” he murmured, “that his Majesty had ordered me to follow him.” And he stood gazing in the direction the King and chamberlain had taken, till growing weary, he stepped aside into the shadow, where he could half seat himself, half lean against the end of a great settee. “How I do hate this guard work of a night! Yes, and there’s the music still going on. I just heard one strain. All bright and gay yonder, and here all dark and dull. But it’s an honour, I suppose, to be on the watch over the ways to his Majesty’s private apartments, and have him come and find me here. It means promotion some day, such private service as this. I wonder where French Denis is? Dancing with the prettiest girl he can find, I’ll be bound. Oh dear, how dreary it is! And I feel as if I could lie down and go to sleep.”
Then with a start he was fully on the alert, ready to step out into such light as was shed through the window near.