tan? For the King,
who is dead? That is absurd. For the King, who is alive? for the
King, who dictates the letter that he may lay hold of some chance word
and torture it into God knows what vile use against the boy? Bear
witness, gentlemen, both of you, there was no such word. And what is
the ending of the letter? He commends you to the keeping of God!
Tristan, the hangman, commends Monsieur d'Argenton to the keeping of
God. There will be much need for His keeping if you make yourself
secure in Amboise while the King lives. Do you not smell the King's
unctuous, perverted religiosity in that sentence, Monsieur d'Argenton?
It is a snare, a snare for us all, and if I were you I would ride to
Valmy this very hour, though I foundered a dozen horses on the road.
Monsieur La Mothe, am I not right?"

"Entirely right," said La Mothe heartily. He might have gone further
and, following the precedent set by Adam in Eden, have said, "Eternally
right!" for what lover ever thought his mistress in the wrong? But
this time there was more than a lover's agreement. "Uncle, surely you
see that Mademoiselle de Vesc is right, right every way? If that
scoundrel has lied, then there is a trap set, but if it is the truth,
surely your place is at Valmy?"

"Why?" asked Commines, but as he spoke he read the letter afresh,
weighing each sentence separately. "Why not at Amboise?"

CHAPTER XXVI

COMMINES TAKES ADVICE

Respect kept La Mothe silent. How could he say bluntly, 'You owe
everything you possess in the world to the man who is dead--position,
title, office, wealth. Are these forgotten?' In his embarrassment he
glanced at Ursula de Vesc. Owing Commines neither respect nor
gratitude, she had no such scruple.

"Death is always terrible," she said softly, "or we make it terrible by
our own terrors, but there will be a new terror added if love and the
loyalty of gratitude die with the life. Is eaten bread so soon
forgotten, Monsieur d'Argenton?"

Almost abstractedly Commines looked up from the paper in his hand. If
he heard her, he gave no sign of having heard; certainly he showed no
resentment at the implied censure. His mind was busy balancing
prospects and possibilities. If Charles were king, Ursula de Vesc
would be a power behind the throne. If, as she said, Louis--and not
for the first time--played one of his grim jests full of a sinister
possibility, to remain at Amboise would be fatal both to himself and