On each side of the archway were drawn up a guard of honour of les Gardes Françaises, in their white hoquetons laced with gold, powdered wigs, little hats looped on three sides and surmounted with plumes of feathers, and having the white banner of Bourbon displayed. The porters unclosed the heavy folding-doors, and a merry troop of huntsmen in green galloped forth, with their dogs barking and straining in the leashes, as the blasts of the shrill horns were poured to the morning wind, and roused their English blood. The heavy drawbridge clanked into its place across the grass-grown moat—the planks resounded to iron hoofs—the French guard presented arms—the oriflamme of St. Denis was lowered—the drums beat a march—and James VII., raising his plumed hat, sallied forth at the head of his train, and advanced along the spacious and magnificent terrace. The Earl of Dunbarton rode by his side; and as they caracoled along the level terrace, by the margin of the beautiful Seine, a body of soldiers in French uniform was seen in front, drawn up in steady array, with their fixed bayonets shining in the morning sun. They presented arms as the King approached, upon which he immediately reined up, and raised his hat.
"My Lord Dunbarton," said he, "what troops are these?"
"They are your Majesty's most faithful subjects and devoted followers," replied Dunbarton in a faltering voice. "Yesterday they were Scottish gentlemen of coat-armour and bearers of your Majesty's commission—to-day they are but poor privates in the army of Louis of France."
"My God!" said the King; "and, in the levity of the chase, am I so oblivious of the misfortunes of those unhappy gentlemen?"
Instantly leaping from his horse with a heart that swelled by its emotions, he approached them and raised his hat.
Every heart was full in that silent line before him, and every eye glistened. Walter Fenton, who now for the first time beheld that King for whom he had suffered so much, felt his bosom glow with the most intense loyalty and ardour,—a gush of sentiment that would have enabled him to hail with joy the terrors of a scaffold or the dangers of a battle-field.
"Gentlemen," said the King, "bitter though my own misfortunes be, yours lie nearer my heart, which is grieved, beyond what language can express, to behold so many men of valour and worth, from being the officers of my Scottish army, reduced by their loyalty to the station of private soldiers. Nothing but this more than Spartan devotion on the part of the few, but gallant and leal, makes my life worth preserving. Deeply, deeply indeed is my heart impressed with the sense of all you have undergone for my sake; and if it should ever please the blessed God"—(removing his hat)—"to restore me to the throne of my fathers, your sufferings, your services, and your devotion shall not be forgotten—never, oh, never! The prince my son, he shares your northern blood. Oh, may he likewise inherit your spirit of bravery and truth!
"At your own desire, gentlemen, you are now going on a long and perilous march, far distant from me, to encounter privation, danger, and death. To the utmost of my small means, I have provided you with money, shoes, and stockings. Heaven knoweth how great are my own necessities. I can no more.....
"Fear God—love one another, and you will ever find me your parent, if I cannot be your King."
The eyes of James VII. were full of tears, and a long pause ensued.