“Ten thousand thanks, madam, for your cherished gift.” Saying which he thrust the slight web back into his doublet again.
“’Tis not a gift; render it to me at once, sir,” she demanded with feminine inconsistency. She extended her hand, but the king, instead of returning the article in dispute, grasped her fingers unawares and raised them to his lips. She drew away her hand with an expression of the utmost contempt, but nevertheless stood her ground, in spite of the evident anxiety to be elsewhere of the bevy behind her.
“Sir, you are unmannerly. No one has ever ventured to treat me thus.”
“Then I am delighted to be the first to introduce to you so amiable a custom. Unmannerly? Not so. We savages learn our manners from the charming land of France; and I have been told that in one or two instances, this country has known not only the fingers, but the lips to be kissed.”
“I implore you, sir, to desist and take your departure the way you came; further, I warn you that danger threatens.”
“I need no such warning, my lady. The danger has already encompassed me, and my heart shall never free itself from its presence, while remembrance of the lightning of those eyes abides with me.”
The girl laughed with a trace of nervousness, and the rich colour mounted to her cheek.
“Sir, you are learning your lesson well in France.”
“My lady, the lowest hind in my country could not do otherwise under such tutelage.”