t that, and blacker grew the
scowl. He was not wont to bestow on me such looks as I now met in his
weary eyes, for Louis XIII had much affection for me.

"You know this lady?" he demanded sharply.

"Only by name, Your Majesty."

At that his brows went up in astonishment.

"Only by name? And you would wed her? But, Marcel, my friend, you are a
rich man one of the richest in France. You cannot be a fortune hunter."

"Sire," I answered, "Fame sings loudly the praises of this lady, her
beauty and her virtue--praises that lead me to opine she would make me
an excellent chatelaine. I am come to an age when it is well to wed;
indeed, Your Majesty has often told me so. And it seems to me that all
France does not hold a lady more desirable. Heaven send she will agree
to my suit!"

In that tired way of his that was so pathetic: "Do you love me a little,
Marcel?" he asked.

"Sire," I exclaimed, wondering whither all this was leading us, "need I
protest it?"

"No," he answered dryly; "you can prove it. Prove it by abandoning this
Languedoc quest. I have motives--sound motives, motives of political
import. I desire another wedding for Mademoiselle de Lavedan. I wish it
so, Bardelys, and I look to be obeyed."

For a moment temptation had me by the throat. Here was an unlooked-for
chance to shake from me a business which reflection was already
rendering odious. I had but to call together my friends of yesternight,
and with them the Comte de Chatellerault, and inform them that by the
King was I forbidden to go awooing Roxalanne de Lavedan. So should my
wager be dissolved. And then in a flash I saw how they would sneer
one and all, and how they would think that I had caught avidly at this
opportunity of freeing myself from an undertaking into which a boastful
mood had lured me. The fear of that swept aside my momentary hesitation.

"Sire," I answered, bending my head contritely, "I am desolated that
my inclinations should run counter to your wishes, but to your wonted
kindness and clemency I must look for forgiveness if these same
inclinations drive me so relentlessly that I may not now turn back."

He caught me viciously by the arm and looked sharply into my face.

"You defy me, Bardelys?" he asked, in a voice of anger.

"God forbid, Sire!" I answered quickly. "I do but pursue my destiny."

He took a turn in silence, like a man who is mastering himself before
he will speak. Many an eye, I knew, was upon us, and not a fe