one, and the wrinkles upon his face were
those of age, not laughter.

CHAPTER XXXII

LA MOTHE FULFILS HIS COMMISSION

Partly to divert the boy from his grief at Hugues' death, but partly
also as an outlet for her new-found lightness of heart, Ursula de Vesc
would have turned what Villon insisted on calling a presentation into a
playful ceremonial. Gorgeously attired, the Grand Turk, seated on a
divan of shawls and cushions, would receive the envoy of the Sultan of
Africa bringing presents from his master. It would be just such a play
of make-believe as the boy loved. But when La Mothe proposed to
present the offering in the name of the King of the Genie her zest
waned, and a little alloy seemed mixed with the pure gold of the day.
That would remind him of Valmy and spoil all his pleasure, she
declared. There must be nothing of Valmy in the night's amusement.

So only she, Father John, and the dogs were present in the Dauphin's
private apartment, study and playroom in one, when La Mothe and Villon
entered. As is almost always the case, the room reflected many of the
characteristics of its owner, and in its ordered disorder, its hints of
studies, its litter of wooden swords and broken dog-whips, might be
seen the boy who was almost man in gravity and yet still a child in a
child's love of toys. Rising as the two were announced, his effort at
dignity was sorely marred by the eager curiosity with which he eyed the
linen bundle carried by La Mothe.

"So you are leaving Amboise, Monsieur La Mothe, and we will have no
more games together."

"When I return, Monseigneur."

"And I hope that will be soon, though I don't know why you are going.
But, then, I never quite knew why you came at all."

"Nor I until to-day, but the reason is the very best in the world,"
answered La Mothe, and the boy, following his glance, caught the
significance of the colour warming Ursula de Vesc's cheeks.

"So you have made up your quarrel, you two?"

"Never to quarrel again, Monseigneur."

"I hope so, but I don't believe it. Two people can't live together
without quarrelling. Even I quarrel with Ursula at times. Monsieur La
Mothe, will you please call me Charles, as she does? it is my wish."

"Monseigneur, you are very good."

"Not Monseigneur any more, then, and don't forget. It's all I have to
give. Father John, who never saved my life or did anything for me,
calls me Charles, so why not you who saved my life twice?