r Stephen.
"Consider, Sire, you who are so just, is it the boy's fault that we
failed to discover what does not exist? Remember, Saxe lied, lied
throughout, and has always lied." He paused, but if he expected to
draw some further comment from the King, he failed. Louis lay silent,
his face void of expression, and Commines went on: "That cruel jest the
Provost-Marshal played upon us all cut me to the heart. Sire, Sire,
how could you permit it? All night long I have ridden from Amboise in
despair and bitter grief, despair for France hopelessly bereaved of so
good and true a friend, so great a King. The awful shock----"

"There, there, no more of that," said Louis harshly. The reminder of
the grim, inevitable certainty which had lately been so significantly
near was more than he could bear. With an effort he struggled on his
elbow, pushing himself upright. "See! it was all a jest. I am
strong--stronger than for years. Coictier says so; but he says, too,
that I should rest, so I will lie back again. Yes, yes, a jest--and
yet not all a jest." From under his drooped lids he looked up at
Commines, watching him narrowly in the grey light. "Charles, what did
Charles say? Charles, who is so loving and loyal. Laughed and thanked
God--eh, Philip?"

"No, Sire, no. For the moment he seemed struck dumb, as we all were.
True grief is silent. When sorrow is at its sorest, words do not come
easily, and never have I seen so bitter a sorrow as the Dauphin's last
night." Which was true, for Hugues, who had loved him, lay dead. And
Hugues' death gave Commines another inspiration, which, because of the
end in view, he seized upon without a scruple. "But when at last words
came they were worthy of him, worthy of his loyalty both as son and
subject. 'I would be Dauphin again,' said he, 'if I could but bring
him back.'"

Twisting himself round upon his pillows Louis caught Commines by the
arm with a greater strength than had seemed possible in one so frail,
caught him and held him, and if the hand shook, it was not from
weakness.

"He said that? Charles said that? Who prompted him?"

"No one, Sire. He spoke his own thought frankly, and every word he
said came from his heart."

"Philip, as God lives, is that true?"

"As God lives," said Commines deliberately, "these were the Dauphin's
very words, and he spoke them from his heart. No one prompted him, no
one led him; they were his own thoughts, his only."

With