ch a report never, never."

"But Tristan's master might. You don't think so? Forgive me if I am
suspicious, but can you wonder, you of all men? In Amboise we have
learned to doubt everything, even the friends who are ready to die for
us," and, with a sudden impulse, as natural and gracious as it was
touching, she held out her hand to La Mothe, a wistful, kindly
tenderness, deeper than the emotion of gratitude, moistening her eyes.
Very gravely he stooped and kissed it with a "Thank God, mademoiselle!"
To say more was unnecessary, for in the three words he said everything.
It was the formal wiping out of the day's misunderstanding, the
knitting together of life-threads torn apart, and where there is such a
knitting the union is firmer, closer, stronger, more indissoluble than
before the rent. "Monsieur d'Argenton," she went on, the voice a
little tremulous and yet with a clearer ring, "once before, when the
King doubted the loyalty of Paris, did he not spread abroad such a
rumour that he might test the spirit of the people?"

"Yes, but there was a deep policy in that."

"And is there no deep policy now! Is it for a shallow reason you have
spent two weeks in Amboise, or that Jean Saxe has coined his lies with
such carefulness of detail? May we hear Tristan's letter?"

For a moment Commines hesitated. He had regained his full
self-control, and it was with a growing surprise that La Mothe heard
him debate the situation with Ursula de Vesc as with an equal. But not
only was he impressed in spite of his prejudice against her, but he was
too shrewd a politician to put aside any suggestion which commended
itself to his reason just because he despised its source. And the girl
was right. If there had been a deep policy in setting afloat the Paris
rumour, there was a yet deeper policy now, a policy more subtle,
darker, and pregnant with tragedy. Belief in the King's death might
well loosen the tongues of those who had plotted against him, and their
unguarded triumph furnish the very confirmation which had been vainly
sought in Amboise these ten days. While he hesitated Ursula de Vesc
urged her point afresh.

"Monsieur d'Argenton, in the Dauphin's name I might claim to see the
letter, I might even demand and compel it as a right; but there will be
no need for that?"

"No need at all," he answered. "This is the letter. As you see, it is
very short:

"'MONSIEUR,--A great misfortune has overtaken us, the greate