"For your acceptance, Monseigneur——"
"Charles, not Monseigneur," said Ursula softly. "You will be calling me mademoiselle next!"
"Hush, Ursula! I cannot hear what Monsieur La Mothe says if you keep chattering. For my acceptance, Monsieur La Mothe? Not many give me presents; but then, I don't think there is much love in the world."
"There is more love in the world than you think," said La Mothe, "and some day you will very reverently thank God for it, as I do. Some day, too, you will know that these are from the very heart of love itself."
"Yes, yes," said the boy, shifting impatiently in his chair as La Mothe, laying the package on the table, busied himself untying the knotted corners, "I know very well all you have done for me; but what have you there?"
"Wait, my son, wait; you will know all in good time." But when the Franciscan would have laid a restraining hand on the Dauphin's shoulder, Villon twitched him by the sleeve of his robe.
"Hush, man, hush! Had you never young blood in you? Why, I am like
Charlot the puppy, just itching to know what is inside."
"But it is not good for youth——"
"It is good for youth to be young," said Villon testily. "Ah, Monseigneur, I like that better than a frock with a cord that goes all round, and no offence to you, Father John."
Catching the coat-of-mail by the shoulder points, La Mothe shook it out and held it hanging with such a careful carelessness that the lamplight, picking out each separate link, fired its length and breadth into a dazzling glimmer of living silver flame shot through by the colder blue of hammered steel. With every cunning, unseen movement of the fingers a ripple from the throat rolled downward and out at the edges in a white fire of fairy jewel-work. Then with a jerk he caught it in his open hands, shaking them till it settled so compactly down that it lay entirely hidden in their cup.