the victory was mine, but he
robbed me of my triumph, and he, submitting, seemed to put terms on me
who held him at my mercy. It is all a trick, no doubt; they get it in
childhood, as (I mean no harm by my comparisons) the beggar's child
learns to whine or the thief's to pick. Yet it is pretty. I wish I had
it.

"In truth," said he with a smile that had not a trace of wryness, "I
have chosen my means ill for this one time, though they say that I
choose well. Well, God rules the world."

"By deputy, sir," said I.

"And deputies don't do His will always? Come, Mr Dale, for this hour you
hold the post and fill it well. Wear this for my sake"; and he handed
across to me a dagger with a handle richly wrought and studded with
precious stones.

I bowed low; yet I kept my finger on the trigger.

"Man, I give you my word, though not in words," said he, and I, rebuked,
set my weapon back in its place. "Alas, for a sad moment!" he cried. "I
must bid farewell to Mistress Barbara. Yet (this he added, turning to
her) life is long, madame, and has many changes. I pray you may never
need friends, but should you, there is one ready so long as Louis is
King of France. Call on him by the token of his ring and count him your
humble servant." With this he stripped his finger of a fine brilliant,
and, sinking on his knee in the boat, took her hand very delicately,
and, having set the ring on her finger, kissed her hand, sighed lightly
yet gallantly, and rose with his eyes set on the ship.

"Row me to her," he commanded me, shortly but not uncivilly; and I, who
held his life in my hands, sat down obediently and bent to my oars. In
faith, I wish I had that air, it's worth a fortune to a man!

Soon we came to the side of the ship. Over it looked the face of
Colbert, amazed that I had stolen his King, and the face of Thomas Lie,
indignant that I had made free with his boat; by them were two or three
of the crew agape with wonder. King Louis paid no respect to their
feelings and stayed their exclamations with a gesture of his hand. He
turned to me, saying in low tones and with a smile,

"You must make your own terms with my brother, sir. It has been hard
fighting between us, and I am in no mood for generosity."

I did not know what to answer him, but I stammered:

"I ask nothing but that your Majesty should remember me as an honest
man."

"And a brave gentleman," he added gravely, with a slight inclination of
his head. Then he turn