essing of the Dauphin's back, and the hand
closed in upon the ribs. "Now," he cried, his voice cracked and
hoarse. "Now, Christ help us, now, now," and gripping the boy he
reined back as tightly as he dared, reined back to feel the slender boy
slip from the bay's back, hang helpless in the air an instant, then
fall sprawling across the saddle. On dashed the bay, and as Grey
Roland staggered in his halt the bank caved under the Arab's feet; he
too staggered, rearing back too late, then plunged head foremost
forward.

As, dropping the reins, La Mothe caught the Dauphin in both his arms to
raise him more fully upon the saddle, he was conscious for the first
time that they were followed. From behind there was a shout and the
noise of hoofs, and looking across his shoulder he saw Hugues mounted
on the roan riding recklessly. Beyond him the rest of the escort
tailed off almost to the city gate, with Ursula de Vesc framed by the
grey arch, her hand upon her breast, as it had been when La Mothe first
saw her, Love the Enemy, whom he so longed to make Love the more than
friend. "Win the girl and you win the boy," said Villon. But what if
he had won the boy, and winning him had won Ursula de Vesc, won her to
friendliness, won her to kindliness, won her to trust, won her to--and
Hugues thundered up breathlessly.

"Monseigneur?"

"Safe, unhurt, but I think he has fainted. Here," and lifting the lad
with little effort La Mothe leaned across to Hugues and won his heart
for ever by the act, "take him, you: he will be less fretted when he
comes to himself. The sooner he is in mademoiselle's care the better,
and I must spare Grey Roland."

"Monsieur, monsieur," stammered the valet, gathering the boy into his
arms as carefully as any tender woman, "how can we thank you--how can
we prove----"

"Thank Grey Roland," answered La Mothe, speaking more lightly than he
felt. "I did nothing but keep my stirrups."

"Nothing?" Hugues' eyes turned to the gapped bank and followed the
course of the river, void of any trace of the bay. "Then to save a
king for France is nothing. But you are right, monsieur; the sooner
the Dauphin is in Amboise the better."

"Was it for this you came to Amboise?" said Villon, as La Mothe, having
given Grey Roland his own time to return, halted at the inn door. The
crowd had been shaken off and the two were alone. "I doubt it myself,
and you should have heard Saxe curse: I give you my word it was