feet. 'All this, my
son,' said King Henry, 'you shall correct at your discretion. Humours,
vapours, qualms, fantasies--pouf! You can blow them away with a kiss.
Have you tried it? No? Too cold? Nay, but you should.' And so on, and so
on. That day, none too soon, the French ambassadors arrived, and
Richard saw the Count of Saint-Pol among them.

He had never liked the Count of Saint-Pol; or perhaps it would be truer
to say that he disliked him more than ordinary. But he belonged to, had
even a tinge of, Jehane; some of her secret fragrance hung about him, he
walked in some ray of her glory. It seemed to Richard, bothered, sick,
fretted, a little disconcerted as he was now, that the Count of
Saint-Pol had an air which none other of this people had. He greeted him
therefore with more than usual affability, very much to Saint-Pol's
concern. Richard observed this, and suddenly remembered that he was
doing the man what the man must certainly believe to be a cruel wrong.
'_Mort de Dieu!_ What am I about?' his heart cried. 'I ought to be
ashamed to look this fellow in the face, and here I am making a brother
of him.'

'Saint-Pol,' he said immediately, 'I should like to speak with you. I
owe you that.'

'Your Grace's servant,' said Eudo, with a stiff reverence, 'when and
where you will.'

'Follow me,' said Richard, 'as soon as you have done with all this
foppery.'

In about an hour's time he was obeyed. After his fashion he took a
straight plunge.

'Saint-Pol,' he said, 'I think you know where my heart is, whether here
or elsewhere. I desire you to understand that in this case I am acting
against my own will and judgment.'

The frankness of this lordly creature was unmistakable, even to
Saint-Pol.

'Hey, sire--,' he began spluttering, honesty in arms with rage. Richard
took him up.

'If you doubt that, as you have my leave to do, I am ready to convince
you. I will ride with you wherever you choose, and place myself at your
discretion. Subject to this, mind you, that the award is final. Once
more I will do it. Will you abide by that? Will you come with me?'

Saint-Pol cursed his fate. Here he was, tied to the French girl.

'My lord,' he said, 'I cannot obey you. My duty is to take Madame to
Paris. That is my master's command.'

'Well,' said Richard, 'then I shall go alone. Once more I shall go. I am
sick to death of this business.'

'My lord Richard,' cried Saint-Pol, 'I am no man to command you. Yet I
say, Go.