ords to assure the king that
his commands should be faithfully obeyed.

'Of that I am sure,' he answered with the utmost kindness. 'Where I not,
and sure, too, from what I am told of your gallantry when my cousin took
Brouage, that you are a man of deeds rather than words, I should not be
here with the proposition I am going to lay before you. It is this. I
can give you no hope of public employment, M. de Marsac, but I can offer
you an adventure if adventures be to your taste--as dangerous and as
thankless as any Amadis ever undertook.'

'As thankless, sire?' I stammered, doubting if I had heard aright, the
expression was so strange.

'As thankless,' he answered, his keen eyes seeming to read my soul.
'I am frank with you, you see, sir,' he continued, carelessly. 'I can
suggest this adventure--it is for the good of the State--I can do no
more. The King of Navarre cannot appear in it, nor can he protect you.
Succeed or fail in it, you stead alone. The only promise I make is,
that if it ever be safe for me to acknowledge the act, I will reward the
doer.'

He paused, and for a few moments I stared at him in sheer amazement.
What did he mean? Were he and the other real figures, or was I dreaming?

'Do you understand?' he asked at length, with a touch of impatience.

'Yes, sire, I think I do,' I murmured, very certain in truth and reality
that I did not.

'What do you say, then--yes or no?' he rejoined. 'Will you undertake the
adventure, or would you hear more before you make up your mind?'

I hesitated. Had I been a younger man by ten years I should doubtless
have cried assent there and then, having been all my life ready enough
to embark on such enterprises as offered a chance of distinction. But
something in the strangeness of the king's preface, although I had it in
my heart to die for him, gave me check, and I answered, with an air of
great humility, 'You will think me but a poor courtier now, sire, yet
he is a fool who jumps into a ditch without measuring the depth. I would
fain, if I may say it without disrespect, hear all that you can tell
me.'

'Then I fear,' he answered quickly, 'if you would have more light on the
matter, my friend, you must get another candle.'

I started, he spoke so abruptly; but perceiving that the candle had
indeed burned down to the socket, I rose, with many apologies, and
fetched another from the cupboard. It did not occur to me at the moment,
though it did later, that the king