as befitted a man who, if he was a valet,
was at least the king of valets, by being the valet of the king. Close
by the door stood a line of footmen, resplendent in their powdered wigs,
red plush coats, and silver shoulder knots.

"Is the officer of the oven here?" asked Bontems.

"Yes, sir," replied a functionary who bore in front of him an enamelled
tray heaped with pine shavings.

"The opener of the shutters?"

"Here, sir."

"The remover of the taper?"

"Here, sir."

"Be ready for the word." He turned the handle once more, and slipped
into the darkened room.

It was a large square apartment, with two high windows upon the further
side, curtained across with priceless velvet hangings. Through the
chinks the morning sun shot a few little gleams, which widened as they
crossed the room to break in bright blurs of light upon the
primrose-tinted wall. A large arm-chair stood by the side of the
burnt-out fire, shadowed over by the huge marble mantel-piece, the back
of which was carried up twining and curving into a thousand arabesque
and armorial devices until it blended with the richly painted ceiling.
In one corner a narrow couch with a rug thrown across it showed where
the faithful Bontems had spent the night.

In the very centre of the chamber there stood a large four-post bed,
with curtains of Gobelin tapestry looped back from the pillow. A square
of polished rails surrounded it, leaving a space some five feet in width
all round between the enclosure and the bedside. Within this enclosure,
or _ruelle_, stood a small round table, covered over with a white
napkin, upon which lay a silver platter and an enamelled cup, the one
containing a little Frontiniac wine and water, the other bearing three
slices of the breast of a chicken, in case the king should hunger during
the night.

As Bontems passed noiselessly across the room, his feet sinking into the
moss-like carpet, there was the heavy close smell of sleep in the air,
and he could near the long thin breathing of the sleeper. He passed
through the opening in the rails, and stood, watch in hand, waiting for
the exact instant when the iron routine of the court demanded that the
monarch should be roused. Beneath him, from under the costly green
coverlet of Oriental silk, half buried in the fluffy Valenciennes lace
which edged the pillow, there protruded a round black bristle of
close-cropped hair, with the profile of a curving nose and petulant lip
outl