d the jester's misgivings when
they had ridden beneath the portcullis into the town for the first
time, recurred to him; also, the glad haste with which they had sped
away.

Memories of dangers, of the free and untrammeled character of their
wandering, that day-to-day intimacy, and night-to-night consciousness
of her presence haunted him. Her loyalty, her fine sense of
comradeship, her inherent tenderness, had been revealed to him. Still
he seemed to feel himself the jester, in the gathering of fools, and
she a _ministralissa_, with dark, deep eyes that baffled him.

The sound of voices near the window aroused him from this field of
speculation, voices that abruptly riveted his attention and held it:
the king's and Jacqueline's.

CHAPTER XXIX

THE FAVORITE IS REASSURED

The young man's brow drew dark; tumultuous thoughts filled his brain;
Caillette's words, Brusquet's rhymes, confirming his own conviction,
rankled in his mind. This king dared arrogate a law absolute unto
himself; its statutes, his own caprices; its canons, his own
pretensions? The duke remembered the young girl's outburst against the
monarch and a feeling of hatred arose in his breast; his hand
involuntarily sought his sword, the blade of Francis' implacable enemy.

"We have heard your story, my child, from our brother, the emperor,"
the king was saying, "and although your father rebelled against his
monarch, we harbor it not against the daughter."

"Sire," she answered, in a low tone, "I regret the emperor should have
acquainted you with this matter."

"You have no cause for fear," Francis replied, misinterpreting her
words. She offered no response, and the duke, moving into the light,
observed the king was regarding the young girl intently, his tall
figure conspicuous above the courtiers.

Flushed, Jacqueline looked down; the white-robed form, however, very
straight and erect; her hair, untrammeled with the extreme conventions
of the day; a single flower a spot of color amid its abundance. Even
the duchess--bejeweled, bedecked, tricked out--in her own mind had
pronounced the young girl beautiful, and there surely was no mistaking
the covert admiration of the monarch as his glance encompassed her.
Despite her assumed composure, it was obvious to the duke, however,
that only by a strong effort had she nerved herself to that evening's
task; the red hue on her cheeks, the brightness of her eyes, told of
the suppressed excitement he