Sir Roger paused a moment, hesitating; then he said:
“If that is so—if that must be so,—then come with me!”
He led the way, and Zouche followed. Entering the King’s private library where the King himself sat at his writing-desk, Sir Roger announced the unexpected visitor, adding in a low tone that he came ‘from Lotys!’
The King started up, and threw down his pen.
“From Lotys!” he echoed, while through his mind there flew a sudden sweet hope that after all the star was willing to fall!—the flower was ready to be gathered!—and that the woman who had sent him away from her the day before, had a heart too full of love to remain obdurate to the pleadings of her kingly lover!—“Paul Zouche, with a message from Lotys? Let him come in!”
Whereupon Zouche, bidden to enter, did so, and stood in the Royal presence unabashed, but quite silent. An ominous presentiment crept coldly through the monarch’s warm veins, as he saw the dreary pain expressed on the features of the man, who had so persistently scorned him and his offered bounty,—and with a slight, but imperative sign, he dismissed Sir Roger de Launay, who retired reluctantly, full of forebodings.
“Now Zouche,” he said gently; “What do you seek of me? What is your message?”
Zouche looked full at him.
“As King,” he answered, “I seek nothing from you! As comrade”—and his accents faltered—“I would fain break bad news to you gently—I would spare you as much as possible—and give you time to face the blow,—for I know you loved her! Lotys——”
The monarch’s heart almost stood still. What was this hesitating tone—these great tears in Zouche’s eyes?