all the gifts in its
treasure-house. But, as he said of his question, the time had not yet
come, so he changed the blunt directness to the more oblique "Not to
France alone," and was rewarded by seeing the serious wistfulness shift
into a gay smile, as she curtsied mockingly with a "Merci, monsieur!"
very different from the same words of the previous night. Then she
added, as the dogs, following her lighter mood, sprung upon her anew:

"Here I have two of them already, but certainly they give one little
peace. Have they been formally introduced? This is Diane, who will be
a mighty huntress in her day. This we call Lui-meme because," she
paused, flashing a mischievous glance at La Mothe, "well, just because
his temper is not very good. He is a bully and uses his teeth on poor
Charlot, who is the weakest of the three and the one we love best. But
Charlot has one bad habit, he is very inquisitive, and it will get you
into trouble some day, Charlot dear": whereat Charlot cocked his ears
and looked wise.

Later that afternoon Charles spoke his thanks for himself, and said
them with the dignity of a Dauphin of France struggling through the shy
manners of a self-conscious schoolboy. But interpenetrating both
dignity and self-conscious diffidence there was a frankness which told
La Mothe that Ursula de Vesc's influence was already at work. The cold
distaste had already disappeared, nor was there any suggestion of a
compelled gratitude. Commines and La Follette had not returned from
their hawking, and only Father John and the girl were with the Dauphin.

He had been conversing with the priest, but broke off abruptly when La
Mothe was announced.

"Monsieur," he said, his hand stretched out as he went hastily to meet
him, "there are some services hard to repay. No, I don't mean
services, services is not the word. Services are for servants and I
don't mean that, but perhaps you understand? And perhaps, too, some
day you will teach me to ride as well as you do?"

"There is little to teach," answered La Mothe. "And as I told Hugues,
it is Grey Roland who should be thanked."

"What the heir cannot do, being as yet a child," said the priest, "the
grateful father can and surely will." Then he laid his hand on the
Dauphin's shoulder. "Were you greatly afraid, my son? At such a time,
with death so near, fear would not shame a man, much less a boy."

"When Bertrand swerved I was afraid just for a moment, for I did n