FullReads

“Then what may I eat?” asked the king, humbly.

“Salt mackerel. Otherwise, you have so much bile in motion that you may die on All-Souls’ Day.”

“To-day!” cried the king in terror.

“Compose yourself, sire,” replied Coyctier. “I am here. Try not to fret your mind; find some way to amuse yourself.”

“Ah!” said the king, “my daughter Marie used to succeed in that difficult business.”

As he spoke, Imbert de Bastarnay, sire of Montresor and Bridore, rapped softly on the royal door. On receiving the king’s permission he entered and announced the Comte and Comtesse de Saint-Vallier. Louis XI. made a sign. Marie appeared, followed by her old husband, who allowed her to pass in first.

“Good-day, my children,” said the king.

“Sire,” replied his daughter in a low voice, as she embraced him, “I want to speak to you in secret.”

Louis XI. appeared not to have heard her. He turned to the door and called out in a hollow voice, “Hola, Dufou!”

Dufou, seigneur of Montbazon and grand cup-bearer of France, entered in haste.

“Go to the maitre d’hotel, and tell him I must have salt mackerel for dinner. And go to Madame de Beaujeu, and let her know that I wish to dine alone to-day. Do you know, madame,” continued the king, pretending to be slightly angry, “that you neglect me? It is almost three years since I have seen you. Come, come here, my pretty,” he added, sitting down and holding out his arms to her. “How thin you have grown! Why have you let her grow so thin?” said the king, roughly, addressing the Comte de Poitiers.

The jealous husband cast so frightened a look at his wife that she almost pitied him.

“Happiness, sire!” he stammered.

“Ah! you love each other too much,–is that it?” said the king, holding his daughter between his knees. “I did right to call you Mary-full-of-grace. Coyctier, leave us! Now, then, what do you want of me?” he said to his daughter the moment the doctor had gone. “After sending me your–“

In this danger, Marie boldly put her hand on the king’s lips and said in his ear,–

“I always thought you cautious and penetrating.”

“Saint-Vallier,” said the king, laughing, “I think that Bridore has something to say to you.”

The count left the room; but he made a gesture with his shoulders well known to his wife, who could guess the thoughts of the jealous man, and knew she must forestall his cruel designs.

“Tell me, my child, how do you think I am,–hey? Do I seem changed to you?”

“Sire, do you want me to tell you the real truth, or would you rather I deceived you?”

“No,” he said, in a low voice, “I want to know truly what to expect.”

“In that case, I think you look very ill to-day; but you will not let my truthfulness injure the success of my cause, will you?”

“What is your cause?” asked the king, frowning and passing a hand across his forehead.

“Ah, sire,” she replied, “the young man you have had arrested for robbing your silversmith Cornelius, and who is now in the hands of the grand provost, is innocent of the robbery.”

“How do you know that?” asked the king. Marie lowered her head and blushed.

“I need not ask if there is love in this business,” said the king, raising his daughter’s head gently and stroking her chin. “If you don’t confess every morning, my daughter, you will go to hell.”

“Cannot you oblige me without forcing me to tell my secret thoughts?”

“Where would be the pleasure?” cried the king, seeing only an amusement in this affair.

“Ah! do you want your pleasure to cost me grief?”

“Oh! you sly little girl, haven’t you any confidence in me?”

“Then, sire, set the young nobleman at liberty.”

“So! he is a nobleman, is he?” cried the king. “Then he is not an apprentice?”

“He is certainly innocent,” she said.

“I don’t see it so,” said the king, coldly. “I am the law and justice of my kingdom, and I must punish evil-doers.”