to-day,
Mademoiselle told him----"

"More proof," said Commines. "She and Jean Saxe are in collusion."

"Collusion to kidnap the Dauphin? Mademoiselle de Vesc and Jean Saxe
in league against the boy? Uncle, you are mad and your proof proves
too much. If all the world were one Jean Saxe I would believe Ursula
de Vesc's No! against him."

"Good boy," repeated Villon, speaking, as it were, to the world at
large. "The very first time I saw him I said he was the image of
myself. Monsieur d'Argenton, what is Jean Saxe's story?"

"That by Mademoiselle de Vesc's directions Hugues sounded him on behalf
of the Dauphin, but vaguely at first. There was great discontent, said
Hugues, and greater fear. The death of de Molembrais, guaranteed
though he was by a safe-conduct, had set France asking who was secure
if once the King had determined on his destruction. Even loyalty was
no safeguard. In the King's sick suspicion his most faithful servants
might be the first to suffer. Not a day passed but there was a
hanging, and de Molembrais was a warning to both high and low. For a
man to keep his own life at all cost was no murder."

"True," said Villon. "_Toute beste garde sa pel_! Yes, monsieur?"

"That was the gist of it; vague as you see, but significant. Then, two
days ago, Hugues spoke a second time, urging Saxe to a decision. If
the Dauphin were king, all France would breathe freely, all France
would say, Thank God! The generous nature of the boy was well known.
There would be rewards. Mademoiselle de Vesc had authorized him to
promise----"

But La Mothe could control himself no longer. Through Commines'
indictment, coldly, almost phlegmatically delivered, he stood
motionless and silent, his hands clenched, every muscle tense with
restraint. It was the fighting attitude, the attitude of a man who
waits in the dark for a blow he knows not whence, but a blow which will
surely come. Now the restraint snapped.

"Villon, for God's sake, do you believe this lie?"

It was an exceeding bitter cry, and the pain of it pierced through even
Commines' armour of calmness. But Villon, though he shivered a little,
only shook his head. His face, dimly seen, was full of a grave concern.

"Some one has spoken to Saxe," he said. "Hugues or another. I know
Saxe well, he has not brains enough to imagine so great a truth."

"A truth!" cried Commines, catching at the phrase he waited for.
"Stephen, Stephen, all along