"The Service! Always the Service!" Judith cried.
"It is the King's Service," the King replied.
"I know! I would not have it otherwise, even if I could," Judith murmured. "I am glad, and proud, that you have been very busy; that they have given you—promotion; that you serve—the King! And, tonight, you are wearing his colours?"
As she spoke, she put out her hand, and deftly rearranged the long ribbons of the red, white, and blue rosette, which the audacious Doris had pinned to his coat, earlier in the night.
"And, tonight, I am wearing his colours," the King replied. "When the storm, that they say is coming, really breaks, the King will need all his friends."
With a quick, abrupt movement, which seemed to indicate a sudden change of mood, Judith laid her hands on his shoulders, and turned him a little to the right, so that the moonlight fell full upon his face.
"Yes. You have changed. Your—promotion—has made a difference," she murmured. "You speak gravely. You look older. You are more serious. And there are little lines, and wrinkles, and a frown there, that was never there before."
The King drew in his breath sharply.
The light pressure of Judith's hands on his shoulders, and the sudden acute sense of her nearness which it brought him, disturbed him strangely.
This was a mistake. This was dangerous. And it was unlike Judith. It was not Judith's way.