poken
as if addressed to him, then with an effort which racked his strength
the King roused himself. "Love! Service and gratitude! Words! empty
words! Kings hear them daily and find them lies. Because of these in
his mouth Guy de Molembrais was trusted as it may be Stephen La Mothe
will be trusted, and Molembrais is dead--dead in a traitor's grave.
Words? It is deeds France has need of, deeds--deeds. And you, young
sir, for whom my friend Philip vouched as for himself, are you more
faithful than Molembrais?"

"God helping me, sire."

"Um, um; have you need of God's help to be faithful?"

"I only meant----"

"There! there! obey orders and you will have help enough. You owe much
to Monsieur de Commines?"

"Everything, sire."

"Everything? Sit there," and Louis pointed to a low stool placed just
beyond the transverse angle of the bench-like table which fronted the
couch. "Everything! Love! Service! Gratitude! You are right! Take
these from life and there is not much left. And how will you repay the
everything you owe?"

"Love for love----"

"Um! A woman may have a word to say as to that! Well?"

"Service for service----"

"You are not your own. France claims you; never forget a man's first
service is to his country. The nation is the mother of us all. Well,
what next? Shall I tell you? Win his gratitude in return! Eh, Master
Stephen, how would that please you? Prove your love, show your
service, earn his gratitude, and these you will do to the uttermost by
serving the King and France."

"Sire, sire," cried La Mothe, shaken out of himself by the gust of
healthy emotion which seized him as the King's quiet voice grew in
strength and fullness till it seemed to vibrate with as generous a
passion as that which stirred the depths of the listener; "I am yours
to use body and soul."

"Body and soul," repeated Louis, his eyes fixed searchingly on La
Mothe's face. The lad's prompt response promised well, all that was
needed was to keep this enthusiasm of devotion keyed to the pitch of
action. "Body and soul! Be sure I shall not forget. But what you
promise in hot blood you will forget when your mood cools. No? Well,
Molembrais' mood cooled and he has been colder than his mood these
three days past. But you are different, you are of stronger, finer,
truer stuff, your love and service are for Commines as well as for
France, and so you will not forget. You understand? Monsieur de
Commi