irst
time. "No truth except that the Dauphin has said unwise things at
times and I also. To that I confess."

"You confess because you cannot deny," answered Commines, "and had
Hugues not tampered with Saxe the truth might never have been known
until all France stood aghast at the tragedy. That Hugues is dead
matters nothing. His death does not affect the issue. He would have
denied it had he lived. But now we know without a doubt that you and
he, and that unhappy boy, the Dauphin--Villon, who is that fumbling at
the latch? Let no one in, and bid whoever knocks begone whence he
came."

But instead of obeying Villon flung the door wide. The Dauphin was on
the threshold, half dressed, his shoes unbuckled, his laces awry, his
face cadaverous in its pallor. He had been crying, and the traces of
the unwiped tears lined his cheeks. Underneath the dull eyes, duller
than common, were livid hollows, and he shook from head to foot in a
nervous terror.

"Hugues," he said, his voice a-quaver. "How am I to do without Hugues?
He always slept at my door, and now I have no one--no one at all.
Ursula, what has happened? What are they saying to you?"

Mechanically obedient to the dominant power of custom rather than to
any conscious will, Ursula de Vesc had risen at the boy's entrance.
But the strain of an enforced calmness is greater than that of any
passionate outburst, and only the support of the table kept her on her
feet. Against this she leaned, her open hand flat upon it.

"Monseigneur--Charles--oh! why did you come just now?" Her voice broke
as it had not broken when confronting Saxe or braving the bitter
denunciation Commines had poured upon her. But the boy's presence
fretted her realization to the quick. It was not she alone before
whose feet the gulf had opened so suddenly. "Go back to your room.
Some one will take Hugues' place,--good, brave, loyal Hugues."

"Sleep in peace, Monseigneur," said La Mothe, "I will take Hugues'
place to-night."

But Commines thought he saw his way to end a scene which had grown
embarrassing, and at the same time take the first step along a path
which could have but one end.

"There is no need for that. One of my men will guard the Dauphin."

"Your man? A man from Valmy sleep at my door? Thank you, Monseigneur
d'Argenton, but I do not wish to sleep so soundly as that."

"And yet you wished your father to sleep sound?"

"My quarrel with my father is between the Ki