e had said, the Pearl of France to him, and it seemed absurd
to imagine that she might not be so to all the world.

"United Europe, with Francis and the Emperor Charles for once combined
could not force me to marry where I did not love. I failed to
understand this when I left Scotland, but I have grown in wisdom since
then."

"Who is she?" asked the constable, with eager interest.

"Hark ye, Talbot," said the king, lowering his voice and placing an
arm affectionately over the shoulder of the other. "You shall be my
guide. Who is the Lady Madeleine of this court?"

"The Lady Madeleine? There are several."

"No, there is but one, the youngest, the most beautiful, the most
witty, the most charming. Who is she?"

The constable wrinkled his brows in thought.

"That must be Madeleine de Montmorency. She is the youngest of her
name, and is by many accounted beautiful. I never heard that she was
esteemed witty until your majesty said so. Rather reserved and proud.
Is that the lady?"

"Proud, yes. Reserved--um, yes, that is, perhaps not when she meets a
man who knows enough to appreciate her. However, I shall speedily
solve the riddle, and must remember that you do not see the lady
through a lover's eyes. But I will not further keep you. A change of
costume may prove to your advantage, and I doubt not an untroubled
night's sleep will further it."

"Your majesty overwhelms me with kindness," murmured the young lover,
warmly grasping the hand extended to him. "Have I your permission to
tell Mary of Vendome?"

"You have my permission to tell her anything, but you will bring her
no news, for I am now on my way to see her."

The king gaily marched on, his head held high, a man not to be denied,
and as he passed along all bowed at his coming, for everyone in the
court admired him. There was something unexpectedly French in the dash
of this young Scotchman. He strode across the court and up the steps
which led into the Palais Vendome. The duchess herself met him with a
hard smile on her thin lips.

"Madam," he said bruskly, "I would see your daughter alone."

The grim duchesse hesitated.

"Mary is so shy," she said at last.

But the king interrupted her.

"I have a cure for that. Shyness flees in my presence. I would see
your daughter alone, madam; send her to me."

There being no remedy when a king commands, the lady made the best of
a dubious proceeding.

James was pacing up and down the splendid drawing-room