'The King!'
'Why not, mon ami? With the first streak of light I went to see a friend who shall be nameless, but is a power in the land. An hour later I was at the Louvre and at his Majesty's bedside. Henry was in high good humour. He had won nine thousand crowns last night from the invincible Portuguese, de Pimental. Almost as great a victory as Arques, he said. I related the whole of the circumstances without mentioning your name, and, pledging my word that d'Ayen would be about by this afternoon, begged for a pardon.'
'But the King of course asked for my name.'
'Of course he did, and, in reply, I said I would bring you in person to the Louvre this afternoon: then by good chance Sully himself came in. His lands of Muret march with mine, and Monseigneur is my very good friend. The King began to put him the case, to which Sully listened without a movement, except an occasional glance at a roll of documents in his hand, and when Henry finished said, with a smile—
"'A trifle, sire, that may well be left to M. de Villeroi; perhaps, however, sire, your Majesty might agree to de Belin's petition. There is a spice of mystery about it, which even interests me. I have, however, brought these papers on the Gabelle."
"'Diable! Salty, but hardly a relish—let it be as you wish, Belin; and now for my salt without any soup." I took the hint, as may be imagined, and went straight back to Villeroi, and the matter being now in the hands of the King, he will of course take no action.'
'You have been goodness itself.'
'My dear fellow, let that rest! All that you have to do now is to come with me this afternoon, put your case to the King, and I lay a hundred crowns to a tester you hear no more—of the little affair of last night.'
As he said this, looking me full in the face, with a peculiar stress on the last words of his speech, a sudden light came upon me. Sully's lands marched with those of de Belin. They were friends. Sully did not, for reasons of his own, wish it known that he took an interest in my mission, and the rest was easy to guess.
'Pardieu! That little thrust through the sword arm of M. le Baron is, after all, not so unlucky—eh! Belin? At least, for our very good lord of Muret and Villebon.'