within the year--dies damned. Honour? Honour is a
net with too wide a mesh to hold men's oaths. Dare you swear?"

Lifting the relic to his lips La Mothe kissed it reverently, while
Louis, his lungs still fighting for breath, witched him narrowly.

"Sire, I meant nothing, nothing but----"

"But that you were a fool. Only a fool sells--the lion's skin--while
the lion--is alive." His voice strengthened as if the thought
stimulated him like a cordial. "And the lion is alive--alive! I must
finish, I must finish," he went on more querulously. "Yes, a fool, but
fools are commonly honest. You may be a faithful servant, but you are
a bad courtier, Monsieur La Mothe."

"But, sire, have you not more need of the one than of the other?"

"Of the servant than the courtier? Aye, aye, that is well said, very
well said. You are less a fool than I thought. But I must finish or
Coictier, my doctor--he thinks me less strong than I am--will be
scolding me. Take these," and he pushed the coat of mail away from him
impatiently, as if vexed that he had been betrayed into such a display
of feeling. "Remember that I have never seen them, never, never. You
promise me that? You swear that?"

"I swear it, sire, solemnly."

"And you will return to Valmy--to me, in silence?"

"I promise, sire."

"Swear, boy, swear."

"I swear it, solemnly."

"There!" And again he pushed the mail from him, his delicate fingers
touching the mask delicately. "Give them from yourself. All things
have their price, and the price of a child's confidence is to serve its
pleasures. But, young sir, remember this too, remember it, I say, my
son is the Dauphin of France and that which is for a prince's use, even
in play, is for his use only. Let no one else have commerce with
these."

"Be sure, sire, I reverence the prince too deeply----"

"Aye, aye: you can go. Words cost even less than honour. Give me
proofs, Stephen La Mothe, proofs, and trust to the justice of the
King," which shows how right Commines was when he said that the justice
of the King had many sides.

And so, with his deepest bow and his heart full of many emotions, La
Mothe left his master's presence, and the cross-bow in the shadows
beyond the door on the right was lowered for the first time in more
than half an hour. For what he was to trust the justice of the King he
was no more clear in the confusion of the moment than what his mission
to Amboise was. But of one th