'I see you have changed your livery with your old servant, chevalier,' said Palin, sipping at his wine, as the man went out, closing the door carefully and softly behind him.
'Not so. Jacques has merely gone away temporarily on some business of importance. In fact he left to-day, shortly before you came, and this man, or rather youth, has been lent to me by a friend.'
'And his name is Ravaillac?'
'Yes.'
'An uncommon name for a man of his class.'
'Perhaps—but these men assume all kinds of names. He is, however, better educated than the usual run of people in his position, and bears an excellent character, although he has been a Flagellant, from which complaint he has recovered.'
'Most of them do. And now, my good friend, let us dismiss Ravaillac and tell me how you progress.'
For a moment it was in me to tell him all, to say that I had abandoned a worthless cause, and that I could do no more as I was leaving France at once. Mechanically I stretched out my hand towards the tags of ribbon on the table, and my fingers closed over them. What was I to say? I could not answer Palin. Through the now darkening room I could see his earnest features turned towards me for reply, and behind it there moved in the shadow the dim outline of a fair face set in a mass of chestnut hair, and the violet light from its eyes seemed to burn through my veins. My tongue was stilled, and I could say nothing. At length he spoke again.
'Do I gather from your silence that you have failed?'
'No—not so—but little or nothing could be done, as the King has only just come, and then——' I stopped.