g sideways to see if its folds fell properly,
and as she did so, she caught sight of the king on the couch behind her.
The carpet had so muffled the sound of his steps that he had slipped in
softly without being heard.

"You frightened me!" she said, with a cry of surprise, which was quickly
repressed.

"Were you thinking of me?" said the king.

"When do I not think of you?" she answered, sitting down beside him.

She took off his cap and cloak, passing her hands through his hair
as though she combed it with her fingers. Charles let her do as she
pleased, but made no answer. Surprised at this, Marie knelt down to
study the pale face of her royal master, and then saw the signs of a
dreadful weariness and a more consummate melancholy than any she had yet
consoled. She repressed her tears and kept silence, that she might
not irritate by mistaken words the sorrow which, as yet, she did not
understand. In this she did as tender women do under like circumstances.
She kissed that forehead, seamed with untimely wrinkles, and those
livid cheeks, trying to convey to the worn-out soul the freshness of
hers,--pouring her spirit into the sweet caresses which met with no
response. Presently she raised her head to the level of the king's,
clasping him softly in her arms; then she lay still, her face hidden on
that suffering breast, watching for the opportune moment to question his
dejected mind.

"My Charlot," she said at last, "will you not tell your poor, distressed
Marie the troubles that cloud that precious brow, and whiten those
beautiful red lips?"

"Except Charlemagne," he said in a hollow voice, "all the kings of
France named Charles have ended miserably."

"Pooh!" she said, "look at Charles VIII."

"That poor prince!" exclaimed the king. "In the flower of his age he
struck his head against a low door at the chateau of Amboise, which he
was having decorated, and died in horrible agony. It was his death which
gave the crown to our family."

"Charles VII. reconquered his kingdom."

"Darling, he died" (the king lowered his voice) "of hunger; for he
feared being poisoned by the dauphin, who had already caused the death
of his beautiful Agnes. The father feared his son; to-day the son dreads
his mother!"

"Why drag up the past?" she said hastily, remembering the dreadful life
of Charles VI.

"Ah! sweetest, kings have no need to go to sorcerers to discover
their coming fate; they need only turn to history. I am at th