only from his justice then I stand in no peril. But I, and
all who love the Dauphin, know well how the King's justice deals with
Amboise. Saxe, go on with your story your own way. No names were
mentioned that day? What then?"

"Hugues said the King's sickness made him peevish and suspicious, so
that he doubted even his own friends. No one was safe, neither high
nor low, and no one could tell who would follow the same road as
Monsieur de Molembrais, whose safe-conduct couldn't save him. 'Even
you, Saxe,' he said, 'faithful as you have been and true servant to the
King, not even you are safe, and you know a man's first duty is to
himself.'"

Francois Villon could not forgo the favourite tag of philosophy whereby
he had shaped his own career, "_Toute beste garde sa pel_! and that was
the first time, Saxe?"

"The first time," repeated Saxe. "I think that was all he said then,
monseigneur, or the gist of it, for he repeated it over and over again."

"Then come to the second. When was it?"

"Two days ago, monseigneur."

"Tell it your own way; or, stay a moment. Mademoiselle de Vesc," and
Commines turned to the girl, his face both grave and troubled, "help us
to be your friends, help us to save you from yourself before it is too
late. Much can be forgiven to a generous devotion however misplaced.
The King, I am sure, will see it in that light. I beg, I pray you,
pray you to speak before Saxe speaks. If not for your own sake, then
for the Dauphin's, for----" he paused, and, lifting his eyes, glanced
at Stephen La Mothe bolt upright within touch of her, "for the
happiness of a life help us to help you."

CHAPTER XXIV

A PROPHET WITHOUT HONOUR

At the appeal La Mothe's grip upon the chair grew more tense, and his
hand so shook that the whole chair was shaken as he felt the girl
stiffen against his knuckles. What his hopes were he did not dare
admit, though the foundations of his faith were never shaken. Better
even than the girl he understood how great was the issue Commines
played for in his effort to move her from her silence. Was it an
honest appeal or was it a trap? Would the love of a father accept a
hinted repentance, a veiled regret as sufficient? or did Commines,
astute and unscrupulous in his master's service, invite a contrition
that he might triumphantly declare, Here is proof? A single word
spoken in reversal of her afternoon's denial would justify---- But
swiftly as thought grew fr