at the idea of the aristocrat suing for blood-money against
his sovereign, of the man they feared showing himself to be only a
common blackmailer. It delighted them to find a prince royal sunk
lower than themselves, this man who has treated them like curs--like
the curs they are," she broke out suddenly--"like the curs they are!"

She rose and laughed uneasily as though at her own vehemence.

"I am tired," she said, avoiding the King's eyes; "the trip has tired
me. If you will excuse me, I will go to my rooms--through your
hall-way, if I may."

"Most certainly," said the King. "I trust you will be rested by
dinner-time. Au revoir, my fair ambassadrice."

The woman nodded and smiled back at him brightly, and Louis continued
to look after her as she disappeared down the corridor. He rubbed the
back of his fingers across his lips, and thoughtfully examined his
finger-nails.

"I wonder," he said, after a pause, looking up at Barrat. The Baron
raised his eyebrows with a glance of polite interrogation.

"I wonder if Kalonay dared to make love to her on the way down."

The Baron's face became as expressionless as a death-mask, and he
shrugged his shoulders in protest.

"--Or did she make love to Kalonay?" the King insisted, laughing
gently. "I wonder now. I do not care to know, but I wonder."

According to tradition the Kalonay family was an older one than that of
the House of Artois, and its name had always been the one next in
importance to that of the reigning house. The history of Messina
showed that different members of the Kalonay family had fought and died
for different kings of Artois, and had enjoyed their favor and shared
their reverses with equal dignity, and that they had stood like a
rampart when the kingdom was invaded by the levelling doctrines of
Republicanism and equality. And though the Kalonays were men of
stouter stuff than their cousins of Artois, they had never tried to
usurp their place, but had set an example to the humblest shepherd of
unfailing loyalty and good-will to the King and his lady. The Prince
Kalonay, who had accompanied the Dominican monk to Messina, was the
last of his race, and when Louis IV. had been driven off the island, he
had followed his sovereign into exile as a matter of course, and with
his customary good-humor. His estates, in consequence of this step,
had been taken up by the Republic, and Kalonay had accepted the loss
philosophically as the price one pays