conferences, and yet kept him himself
hidden and half a prisoner in the Castle. The secret was no secret to me
now.

"Against the Duke of Monmouth," said I sturdily, "and also, if need be,
against the King of France."

Barbara caught at my arm in alarm. I laughed, till I saw her finger
point warily over my shoulder. With a start I turned and saw a man
coming down the steps. In the dim light the bright Star gleamed on his
breast. He was M. Colbert de Croissy. He stood on the lowest step,
peering at us through the gloom.

"Who speaks of the King of France here?" he said suspiciously.

"I, Simon Dale, gentleman-in-waiting to the Duke of Monmouth, at your
Excellency's service," I answered, advancing towards him and making my
bow.

"What have you to say of my master?" he demanded.

For a moment I was at a loss; for although my heart was full of things
that I should have taken much pleasure in saying concerning His Majesty,
they were none of them acceptable to the ears of His Majesty's Envoy. I
stood, looking at Colbert, and my eyes fell on the Star that he wore. I
knew that I committed an imprudence, but for the life of me I could not
withstand the temptation. I made another bow, and, smiling easily,
answered M. Colbert.

"I was remarking, sir," said I, "that the compliment paid to you by the
King of England in bestowing on you the Star from His Majesty's own
breast, could not fail to cause much gratification to the King of
France."

He looked me hard in the eyes, but his eyes fell to the ground before
mine. I warrant he took nothing by his searching glance, and did well to
give up the conflict. Without a word, and with a stiff little bow, he
passed on his way to the hall. The moment he was gone, Barbara was by
me. Her face was alight with merriment.

"Oh, Simon, Simon!" she whispered reprovingly. "But I love you for it!"
And she was gone up the stairs like a flitting moonbeam.

Upon this, having my head full and to spare of many matters, and my
heart beating quick with more than one emotion, I thought my bed the
best and safest place for me, and repaired to it without delay.

"But I'll have some conversation with M. de Perrencourt to-morrow," said
I, as I turned on my pillow and sought to sleep.

CHAPTER XIII

THE MEED OF CURIOSITY

The next morning my exaltation had gone. I woke a prey to despondency
and sickness of soul. Not only did difficulty loom large, and failure
seem inevitable, but a dis