nking----"

"Then, Philip, tell him something of what I have told you. The
danger----" The King again shook in the air the crumpled despatch
which had never been exposed, never left his grasp for an instant.
"The danger to me--to France--to you, above all to you who vouch for
him. He owes you everything as you owe me, perhaps he will understand
as you do?"

"But, sire," said Commines again, striving hard to keep his voice
unemotional, "while you spoke I have been thinking. I fear Stephen La
Mothe is too young, too inexperienced, for so grave a mission."

"And are there two in Valmy you can trust with your life? Too young?
No! To be young is to be generous, to be young is to dream dreams.
The generosity of his youth will repay you all he thinks he owes, and
will not count the cost: the dreams will see the glory of serving
France. Age brings caution, Philip; age brings too much of the
weighing of consequence; and at Amboise a little incaution will be
good, incaution of himself, you understand. He owes you everything;
let him get it into his head that you are the gainer by his
incaution--as you will be, Philip, as you will be, and he too. There!
That is settled. Send him to me to-morrow. Move the brazier nearer to
me, then go. Nearer yet; within reach of my hand. There! that will
do."

But filled by a fear he dared not show Commines still lingered. Across
the gulf of the past years came the voice of the dear, dead woman, the
voice of the lost love of his youth, lost while youth was generous,
while youth dreamed dreams and loved passionate. It was the sweetest
voice he had ever known; sweet in itself because of itself, caressing,
gentle, sweeter still because passionate love had throbbed through it.
"Watch over him, Philip, for my sake," it said, and she had died
comforted by his promises, died trusting him. And now---- But while
he hesitated, willing but afraid to dare, Louis bestirred himself.
Resting one arm upon the table he pushed himself half upright with the
other hand, and so, half poised, pointed forward at the door. A blotch
of crimson showed upon the cheek-bones and the dull eyes glowed.

"God's name, man! did you not hear me? Do you serve me or the Dauphin?
Which? Go! go! go!"

This time Commines obeyed, and obeyed in silence. The King's question
was not one which called for an answer; or rather he understood that
Amboise must give the answer, give it emphatically and without a
quibb