"It is not thanks I desire," she answered. "It is forgiveness."
"But how did you find my retreat," he asked quickly, to change the key.
"Devotion to your majesty is a cunning guide," she replied. "It was that which showed me the way."
"May I not know who were your allies?" he asked.
"Your majesty may know anything that I have to tell. You have only to command."
"Then I command; for, thanks to you, mademoiselle, I am still a King."
"It was Captain Pertinax," she said, looking up with a bright, happy glance at his words. "He consented to bring me hither, when I told him what my errand was. He followed your trail the day after you fled, but never opened his lips till I begged him for your sake. He is waiting above till I return."
"He shall not wait long," said the King, not a little touched by his new follower's fidelity, and feeling there was much in the world he had never known before. But he said no more; for now they emerged from the bushes, and came suddenly upon a beggar-girl standing in the meadow, a homely figure in shabby rags, with fingers stained with berry juice, and hair matted and unkempt, and a wan, vacant face. What had happened? Was this indeed the idol he had been gilding so long? Was she so suddenly changed, or were his eyes dazzled by the vision on which he had been gazing too long?
Penelophon it was, indeed, and quite unchanged. Mlle de Tricotrin knew her at once; and, while Kophetua stood stricken with a sickening sense of disillusionment, she went towards the wondering girl. On her finger was the King's signet ring, and Héloise recognised it immediately. So, with the air of resigned humility that was so telling in that queen of women, she knelt upon the grass and loyally kissed the beggar-maid's hand.
"I crave your majesty's pardon," she said, as she bent over the berry-stained fingers.