It was all done in the most courtly way, and only as one of the grandest gentlemen in Europe could at such a time have given the salute, while its reception was as marked and English as it was the reverse of friendly. For the King was so utterly taken aback by this change in the state of affairs that for a few moments he could not speak. When he did find words they were of the gruffest and most matter-of-fact that an Englishman could vent.
“So then,” he cried, “you have come back?”
“Yes, my brother,” replied Francis, and his voice sounded musical and soft, as the gesture he made was graceful and easy. “I, the King of France, have come back to you, my brother of England, to ask your pardon for my mad folly and grave mistake. See here,” he continued, after a slight pause, and he once more looked round the tables at the glittering courtiers, while he held out fully in the light the scintillating ruby that had attracted him to the English shores. “I am no believer in magic or the dark art, but there must be something strange and fateful in this stone, magnetic perhaps, but he what it will, it led me here, knowing as I did the history of its loss; and now I have brought it back to its rightful owner, to its proper resting-place. It is yours, my brother of England, won in the far back past on the battlefield. I for the moment have held it once again in this right hand. Sire, I return it now, asking once more your forgiveness of the past, your renewed hospitality to a sick man for the night.”
He ceased speaking, as Henry made a snatch and caught the jewel from his hand, when, light as the action was, it was sufficient to make his now exhausted visitor stagger. He would have fallen but for the King’s strong arm, which saved him, and helped him to the seat Henry had just vacated.
“Quick, here!” he shouted. “Wine for my brother of France!”
There was a quick movement, but Henry’s hand was the first to snatch one of the silver flagons from the table and hold it to the fainting King’s lips, as he drank with avidity, uttered a sigh, and then rose with a smile.
“Am I a prisoner?” he said.
“No,” cried Henry in his deepest tones—“my brother and my guest.”
As he spoke he caught Francis by the hand and half supported him on his right, as he turned now to the excited lookers-on.
“My lords and gentlemen,” he thundered out, “are we to be out-distanced in chivalry and generosity by the King of France? No!” he almost roared, as he turned to Francis. “Sire,” he cried, “it was to win back that stone to the Crown of France that you risked your life and liberty, coming almost unarmed to my Court and bearing it away. I, Sire, can but admire your daring and the gallantry with which you carried out your quest to its successful end. And, Sire, I honour far more the gallant act of chivalry, that bravery which forced you back to my Court to make this honourable amend. Francis, my brother, I cannot take the gem. It is the jewel of France, and you shall bear it there. Keep it, Sire. It is yours.”