e
Comte, without glancing at me, said to the drawer, "Take care of my
serving-man," I knew my stomach was safe.

That was the most I thought of then, I do confess, for, except for my
sausage, I had not tasted food since morning. The barber came and
bandaged M. le Comte and put him straight to bed, and I was left free to
fall on the ample victuals set before me, and was so comfortable and
happy that the Rue Coupejarrets seemed like an evil dream. Since that
day I have been an easy mark for beggars if they could but manage to
look starved.

Presently came a servant to say that my bed was spread in M. le Comte's
room, and up-stairs ran I with an utterly happy heart, for I saw by this
token that I was forgiven. Indeed, no sooner had I got fairly inside
the door than my master raised himself on his sound elbow and called
out:

"Ah, Felix, do you bear me malice for an ungrateful churl?"

"I bear malice?" I cried, flushing. "Monsieur is mocking me. I know
monsieur cannot love me, since I attempted his life. Yet my wish is to
be allowed to serve him so faithfully that he can forget it."

"Nay," he said; "I have forgotten it. And it was freely forgiven from
the moment I saw Lucas at my cousin's side."

"For the second time," I said, "monsieur saved my life." And I dropped
on my knees beside the bed to kiss his hand. But he snatched it away
from me and flung his arm around my neck and kissed my cheek.

"Felix," he cried, "but for you my hands would be red with my father's
blood. You rescued him from death and me from worse. If I have any
shreds of honour left 'tis you have saved them to me."

"Monsieur," I stammered, "I did naught. I am your servant till I die."

"You deserve a better master. What am I? Lucas's puppet! Lucas's fool!"

"Monsieur, it was not Lucas alone. It was a plot. You know what he
said--"

"Aye," he cried with bitter vehemence. "I shall remember for some time
what he said. They would not kill me to make my cousin Valere duke! He
was a man. But I--nom de dieu, I was not worth the killing."

"It is the League's scheming, monsieur."

"Oh, that does not need the saying. Secretaries don't plot against
dukedoms on their own account. Some high man is behind Lucas--I dare
swear his Grace of Mayenne himself. It is no secret now where Monsieur
stands. Yet the king's party grows so strong and the mob so cheers
Monsieur, the League dare not strike openly. So they put a spy in the
house to choose time and w