ore he could have read
three lines he sank back in his chair with a cry, and so fierce was his
face that Saint-Pierre and Leslie, at the end of the gallery,
instinctively drew apart, each suspicious of the other. The King's
wrath was like lightning, swift to fall, and where it fell there was
the danger of sudden destruction to those near.

So he sat for a full minute, his brows drawn, his thin lips narrowed to
a line, his head sunk between his shoulders, then with a sigh audible
to the length of the gallery he again bent above the paper, resting his
weight on both arms, as if utterly weary both in body and spirit.

This time the pause was while he might have read the page slowly twice
over, weighing its sense word by word, and when at length he raised his
head all passion had gone from him; he was a sorrowful old man, weary
and worn and grey.

"Commines!" he said harshly, "send me Commines," and sat back, the
paper crumpled lengthwise in his hand.

But he did not sit for long. Rising, he paced up the gallery, his head
bent, his iron-shod stick striking the flags with a clang as he leaned
upon it at every second step, the crumpled paper still caught in his
hand. At the door he paused, looking up sideways.

"Commines? Where is Commines? Head of God! is there no one to bring
me Commines?"

"We have sent for him, sire."

"Sent for him? Why is he not here when I need him? I am the
worse-served king in Christendom. No one takes thought, no one cares,
no one---- Who is on guard? Leslie? Ah! Leslie cares, with Leslie I
am safe: yes, yes, with Leslie I am safe," and once more he turned
away, the iron ringing from the pavement as before. Suspicion breeds
suspicion, and it would never do to vex Leslie's blunt loyalty with any
seeming distrust. Besides, it was true, he could trust Leslie. It was
not the same trust as he had in Commines; Leslie would watch over him,
would guard him at all costs, but Commines would obey and ask no
questions.

Three times he had walked the length of the gallery, always with
growing impatience, and three times turned before he heard the sound of
whispering at the door, and the ring of rapid feet followed him. But
he gave no sign, and went on his way as if he had heard nothing. He
recognized the footfall, but preferred that Commines should reach him
as remotely from the door as possible.

"Sire!"

"Ah!" Louis turned with a start. "You have come at last! At last!
There wa