“Oh!” groaned the young man, so despairingly that the King laughed merrily.
“Well, you’re not a bad fellow, Saint Simon, and I might get into some trouble and want the help of your sword as well as my own. Denis, boy, shall we take him with us?”
The lad flushed deeply at the “shall we?”
It was his moment of triumph. He was called upon to say yes or no, and he turned his eyes, which flashed with pride, upon his elder companion, who gazed at him imploringly, and generosity prevailed.
“Oh yes, Sire,” he cried. “He will be a splendid follower to have with us at such a time.”
“Then he shall come,” cried the King; and Saint Simon sprang forward to kiss his sovereign’s hand, while as he rose he turned his eyes upon Denis, and the boy react in them, as it were, the extinction of rivalry, for they seemed to say, I shall never forget this.
“Then that’s about all,” cried the King, with a sigh of mingled relief and content.
“Sire, may your servant speak?” said Leoni humbly.
“Yes. What is it?” was the impatient reply.
“You are going into a strange country to encounter many perils.”