your complaint to him, and he will
decide upon it. More," he continued, raising his hand for silence
as Boisrose, starting forward, would have appealed to him, "I will
introduce you to him now. This is the Baron de Rosny."

The old soldier glared at me for a moment with starting eyeballs, and a
dreadful despair seemed to settle on his face. He threw himself on his
knees before the king.

"Then, sire," said he, in a heartrending voice, "am I ruined! My six
children must starve, and my young wife die by the roadside!"

"That," answered the king, gravely, "must be for the Baron de Rosny to
decide. I leave you to your audience."

He made a sign to the others, and, followed by them, walked slowly
along the terrace; the while Boisrose, who had risen to his feet, stood
looking after him like one demented, shaking, and muttering that it was
a cruel jest, and that he had bled for the king, and the king made sport
of him.

Presently I touched him on the arm.

"Come, have you nothing to say to me, M. de Boisrose?" I asked, quietly.
"You are a brave soldier, and have done France service; why then need
you fear? The Baron de Rosny is one man, the king's minister is another.
It is the latter who speaks to you now. The office of lieutenant-general
of the ordnance in Normandy is empty. It is worth twelve thousand livres
by the year. I appoint you to it."

He answered that I mocked him, and that he was going mad, so that it was
long before I could persuade him that I was in earnest. When I at last
succeeded, his gratitude knew no bounds, and he thanked me again and
again with the tears running down his face.

"What I have done for you," I said, modestly, "is the reward of your
bravery. I ask only that you will not another time think that they who
rule kingdoms are as those gay popinjays yonder."

In a transport of delight he reiterated his offers of service, and,
feeling sure that I had now gained him completely, I asked him on a
sudden where he had seen Louis d'Entragues before. In two words the
truth came out. He had observed him on the previous day in conference at
the forest inn with the three bullies whom I had remarked there. I
was not surprised at this; D'Entragues's near kinship to the Count of
Auvergne, and the mingled feelings with which I knew that the family
regarded Henry, preparing me to expect treachery in that quarter.
Moreover, the nature of the ambush was proof that its author resided
in the neighbourhood an