st be saved.'

King Philip scratched his head. 'Who is in the dark if not I? I will
deal with you presently, Mortain. But you, Madame,' he turned hotly on
the lady, 'you must be plainer. What is your zeal for the King of
England? He is your cousin, and might have been your husband.' Alois
flinched, but Philip went roughly on. 'Do you owe him thanks that he is
not? Is this what spurs you?'

She looked doubtfully. 'I owe him honour, Philip,' she said slowly. 'He
is a great king.'

'Great king, great king!' Philip broke out; 'pest! and great rascal.
There is no truth in him, no bottom, no thanks, no esteem. He counts me
as nothing.'

'To him,' said Alois, 'you are nothing.'

'Madame,' said Philip, 'I am King of France, your brother and lord. He
is my vassal; owes fealty and breaks it, signs treaties and levies war;
hectors me and laughs, kills my servants and laughs. He is my cousin,
but I am his suzerain. I do not choose to be mocked. There will be no
rest for this kingdom while he is in it.' He stopped, then turned to the
shaking man. 'As for you, Count of Mortain, I must have an explanation.
My sister loves her enemies: it is a Christian virtue. I have not found
it one of yours. You, perhaps, fear your enemies, even caged. Is this
your thought? You have made yourself snug in Aquitaine, Count; you are
not unknown in Anjou, I think. Do you begin to wish that you might be?
Are you, by chance, a little oversnug? I candidly say that I prefer you
for my neighbour in those parts. I can deal with you. Do me the
obedience to speak.'

'Sire,' said the Count, spreading out his hands, 'Madame Alois has
turned me. I am a sinner, but I can restore. My brother is my lord, a
clement prince--'

'Pish!' said King Philip, and gave him his back.

'Madame, go to bed,' he said to his sister. 'I shall pay dear for it,
but I will not oppose my cousin's ransom. Be content with that.' Alois
slipped out. Then he turned upon John like a flash of flame.

'Now, Mortain,' he said, 'what proof is there of that old business of my
sister's?'

John showed him a scared eye--the milky eye of a drowned man. 'Ah, God,
sire, there is none at all--none--none!' He had no breath. Philip raised
his voice.

'Look to yourself; I shall not help you. Leave my lands, go where you
will, hide, bury your head, drown yourself. If I spoke what lies
bottomed in my heart I should kill you with mere words. But there is
worse for you in store. There will be war