“No,” said the King angrily. “Why, man, when the gems were missed, the theft would be laid at my door. I would sooner march my people across English ground and take them honestly by force.”
“That could not be done, Sire. Leave that to me. Your messenger must go, and carry out his ambassage by guile.”
“And who is to be the man?” asked the King.
“I!” cried Denis, springing forward, to sink upon one knee before Francis, and so suddenly as to rouse the dog, which leaped towards him, barking furiously.
“You, my boy!” cried the King.
“No, Sire,” cried Saint Simon excitedly, following Denis’s example, to spring to the King’s feet. “I will go. It is work for a man grown, not for a puny boy.”
“Ha, ha, ha!” laughed the King merrily. “Quiet, Tonnerre! Quiet!” For the great hound, roused by the excitement, was filling the chamber with his deep-toned bay, his eyes glaring redly, and his glistening white fangs bared, as he gazed in his master’s face as if asking for orders as to whom he should seize by the throat and pin.
“Down, sir!” cried the King again. “Quiet! There, Leoni, was I not right in letting these boys share our confidence? Who says that Francis of Valois has not followers in whom he can trust?”
“Not I, Sire,” said the doctor grimly; “but this is no work for them.”
“Not for Denis here,” cried Saint Simon excitedly, “but, your Majesty, for me. I would strike, and strike now. Mine be the task to do or die!”