Had he come from the
King, I could have understood it more easily.

"Her Majesty desires to know, your excellency, whether you have seen
anything of Mademoiselle D'Oyley."

"I?"

"Yes, M. le Duc."

"No, certainly not. How should I?" I replied.

"And she is not here?" the man persisted.

"No!" I answered, angrily. "God bless the Queen, I know nothing of
her. I am sitting at meat, and--"

The man interrupted me with protestations of regret, and, hastening to
express himself thoroughly satisfied, retired with a crestfallen air.
I wondered what the message meant, and what had come over the Queen,
and whither the girl had gone. But as I made it a rule throughout my
term of office to avoid, as far as possible, all participation in
bed-chamber intrigues, I wasted little time on the matter, but
returning to my dinner, took up the conversation where I had left it.
Before I rose, however, La Trape came to me and again interrupted me.
He announced that a messenger from his Majesty was waiting in the hall.

I went out, thinking it very probable that Henry had sent me a present;
though it was his more usual custom on this day to honour me with a
visit, and declare his generous intentions by word of mouth, when we
had both retired to my library and the door was closed. Still, on one
or two occasions he had sent me a horse from his stables, a brace of
Indian fowl, a melon or the like, as a foretaste; and this I supposed
to be the errand on which the man had come.

His first words disabused me. "May it please your excellency," he
said, very civilly, "the King desires to be remembered to you as usual,
and would learn whether you know anything of Mademoiselle D'Oyley."

"Of whom?" I cried, astonished.

"Of Mademoiselle D'Oyley, her Majesty's maid of honour."

"Not I, i'faith!" I said, drily. "I am no squire of dames, to say
nothing of maids!"

"But his Majesty--"

"If he has sent that message," I replied, "has yet something to
learn--that I do not interest myself in maids of honour or such
frailties."

The man smiled. "I do not think," he began, "that it was his Majesty--"

"Sent the message?" I said. "No, but the Queen, I suppose."

On this he gave me to understand, in the sly, secretive manner such men
affect, that it was so. I asked him then what all this ferment was
about. "Has Mademoiselle D'Oyley disappeared?" I said, peevishly.

"Yes, your excellency. She was with the Queen at eight o'cloc