I had never seen the old warrior so angry. He was playing a part for which he had no liking. It was not in his nature to stand quietly by while his sovereign was insulted; his fingers strayed nervously towards the hilt of his sword; he would have leaped for joy had his Queen sent him permission to charge headlong at the rabble. But he realised, as we did, that the safety of the Royal Family depended more on tact than on brute courage, and he had just agreed to Raoul's proposal when a note was handed him from the Palace.
"Parbleu!" he exclaimed savagely, having mastered its contents, "this goes against the grain, but the Queen's commands must be obeyed. Here is an order, monsieur, to admit a part of the canaille into the Palace! Perhaps, monsieur, you will select the sturdiest of your ruffians for the honour."
Raoul did not resent the insult, though his face burned like fire, but facing the angry people he spoke to them boldly.
"Citizens," cried he, in a clear ringing voice, "I have a message for you from Her Majesty. I have told you the King is in bed and asleep, but you are not satisfied. That you may be quite sure, the Queen-Mother desires that a deputation shall visit the royal apartments. Will you be content with the report of your own friends?"
"Yes, yes," shouted the mob; "let us see the King!"
"One word more," continued Raoul sternly, when the hubbub had subsided. "I am, as you are aware, for the Duke of Orleans, and he, mind you, is loyal to the crown."
"So are we! Vive le roi!"
"And I will run my sword through the first man who insults the Queen-Mother by word or look."
I was proud of Raoul at that moment, and Belloc gripped his hand, saying heartily, "Forgive my rough words, Beauchamp; you are made of the right stuff after all!"
Directly the door was opened the mob pressed forward, and I called mockingly to Peleton to come inside the Palace, but that worthy, having finished his work, slunk away.