Valmy--in a sense they were Valmy itself. Midway across this ante-room
Tristan paused and struck La Mothe lightly on the arm with a gesture
that seemed part contempt.

"A word of advice, young man, from one who knows. Be frank, say
little, answer promptly: do what the King bids you and be thankful."

"Is that a threat?" La Mothe answered the tone of half-truculent
command rather than the words.

"A threat? No! The King and I do not threaten, we fulfil."

"The King and you?"

"I have said so, do you want it proved?" Drawing back the curtains
very quietly Tristan stood a moment blocking the doorway before
motioning to La Mothe to follow him. He knew his master, and wished to
make certain that the stage picture was set before the audience was
admitted.

The room was even more brilliantly lit than any they had passed
through, and yet with such a skilful distribution of the light that the
further end was completely shadowed. It was the effect of an
artificial alcove. There, where the grey thickened, sat the King, or
rather there he lay propped high upon a couch, pillows behind him and
pillows at either side to support and comfort his weakness. A peaked,
close-fitting cap of crimson silk, laced with gold embroidery, covered
his head down to the very roots of the ears, while a long, wide-sleeved
robe of the same colour, furred at the neck, and draped to give an
appearance of breadth of chest, swathed him to the feet. So shadowed,
and with a reflected glow flushing the thin face, it would have needed
a shrewder suspicion than that of country-bred Stephen La Mothe to
detect how low the flame of life burned in the frail vessel of clay.

In front of the couch a low table, hardly higher than the couch itself,
was placed within reach of the King's hand: behind all--the draping, as
it were, of the alcove--hung arras of blue cloth interwoven with golden
fleurs-de-lis, a fitting and picturesque background to the tableau. To
the left were windows, fast shuttered, to the right a closed door.

Drawing La Mothe to the front Tristan turned on his heel and re-entered
the ante-room in silence, dropping the curtains behind him. There had
been no formal announcement, no word spoken, but as the curtain fell
the King stirred upon his pillows and La Mothe was conscious of a
scrutiny which slowly swept him from head to foot. But the protection
of the peaked cap was insufficient. Lifting his hand Louis shaded his
eyes yet fu