"But surely there is no plot—a son against a father: a father who loves him," added La Mothe, remembering the contents of his saddle-bags.
"I wish the plot was as doubtful as the love; we might then have stayed comfortably in Valmy," answered Commines cynically, and La Mothe's eyes twinkled as he thought how much better he had read the King in his single hour than Commines had in all his ten years of intimacy. "The woman," he went on, "must be Ursula de Vesc, and if so you can spend your hour or two's walk from Château-Renaud to Amboise adding a verse to your love song."
"Why not a new song all for herself!" replied La Mothe, the twinkle broadening to a laugh, "or had I better wait till I see her? She would never forgive me if the adored dimple was in the right cheek instead of the left, or the sweet eyes of my song grey instead of blue. Which are they, Uncle?"
"I never knew the colour of any woman's eyes but one," answered Commines; and La Mothe knew by the softened voice that he spoke of Suzanne. "And when a woman has taught you the colour of her eyes may you see that in them which will make black or blue or grey the one colour in the world for you. As to Ursula de Vesc, she detests me much as I detest that offscouring from the dregs of brazen Paris who will meet you at the Chien Noir. But there is Château-Renaud, where you will find something better for your age and more to your liking than women's eyes."
"Dinner! and I twenty-four!"
"Eighteen, Stephen, eighteen, not a day older, and be thankful for the heart of a boy."
"Why not be thankful for the heart of a girl!" retorted La Mothe. "Pray the Saints, as the King would say, that Ursula de Vesc is as pretty as her name."
Partly that his men might be free from the restraint of his presence, and partly because he did not wish to advertise his visit to Amboise more broadly than necessary, Commines ordered their meal to be served in a private room. It was to the front, with two small windows overlooking the roadway. These were open, and as the stamping of hoofs and jingling of bridle-chains came through them Commines bade La Mothe see who were without.
"But do not show yourself. Between Valmy and Amboise every man is a friend or an enemy, with fewer friends the further Valmy is left behind."
"A priest, with three of an escort," said La Mothe, "King's men, I am sure. Some of your own have gone out to meet them. Shall I go down to make sure?"