ing as a man speaks who is
moved in his depths. "Simple in his faith, simple in his reverence for
the best as he understands it, simple in his simpleness of heart: a lad
so loyal that he can see no disloyalty in others. God bless him for a
good lad. He came here a boy, but Amboise has made a man of
him--Amboise and you together." It was Francois Villon's second birth
over again, but in different words. "Mademoiselle, it will be my
charge to commend him to the King."

"For God's sake, no!" she burst out. "Leave him the man he is,
Monsieur d'Argenton, leave him his simplicity of faith. Commend him to
the King? I would rather he ploughed the fields for bread than served
your King. Here he is. Good-bye, Monsieur d'Argenton, may you find
all well at Valmy; good night, Monsieur La Mothe, we shall meet again
in the morning, or is it already the new day?" and with a smiling
curtsy to each she was gone. To Stephen La Mothe it seemed a cold good
night after all that had come and gone between them that day, the
misunderstood question in her work-room, the shadow of death in the
Burnt Mill, and, above all, their nearness as he had stood behind her
chair. But she had her purpose. She might spare Philip de Commines,
she might even forgive him, but she would not touch his hand in
friendship.

In silence Commines returned to his room, La Mothe following; in
silence made himself ready for the road; in silence they both went
together to the great gate and passed without. Perhaps it was that
each felt the need of quiet to adjust his thoughts. But once the heavy
door, bolted and studded with iron, had clanged behind them, and the
stars were clear overhead, Commines linked his arm with La Mothe's,
drawing him close with the affectionate equality and confidence of the
old days when they were father and son, brother and brother, friend and
friend in one. Let their union in blood be what it may, it is the most
perfect relationship man and man can know, and differs from the
sweeter, more tender relationship of man and woman in that nothing is
sought, nothing granted.

"Stephen, lad, we have been at odds, you and I, and it has hurt us
both, but that's over. I think we were both to blame. Perhaps I have
grown old, and so forgot that youth must have its day; perhaps you
could not understand my duty to the King, or how, when a man is ridden
by a dominant purpose, he must go straight forward and make or break a
way to the end.