“Hark ye,” cried the King; “are all French boys like you?”
“I hope so, Sire.”
“Do you? Well, boy, I don’t believe they are. But speak, and don’t turn white like that—a gentleman of France, as you call yourself—a king’s esquire, should not be afraid to die.”
Denis was silent perforce, for no words would come.
“A daring young dog!” muttered the King, in a tone so low that it hardly reached the listener’s ears. “Look here, sir,” continued Henry, “you have forfeited your life and stayed me from showing mercy to your master. Now, sir, would you like to win it back?”
“Gladly, Sire,” cried the boy, “but—”
“But what?” said Henry sharply.
“I will not do anything to betray my King.”
“Wait till you are asked, boy,” said Henry roughly, as he kept his eyes fixed admiringly upon the lad, who faced him still with a wondrous command of nerve. “You know that I have the power of life or death?”
Denis bowed his head slowly.