CHAPTER XVII.

THE KING ATTENDS TO PRIVATE MATTERS.

Louis the King displayed the usual irresolution in dealing with Favras’

proposition, approved by the Queen, to make a rush out of the kingdom.

He reflected all the night and at breakfast called for Count Charny.

He was still at table when the officer walked in.

“Won’t you take breakfast with me, count?”

Charny was obliged to excuse himself from the honor as he had broken his

fast.

“I must ask you to wait a while as I never care to speak of important

matters while at meals and I have something to talk over with your

lordship. Let us speak of other matters for the moment. Of yourself, for

instance. I hear that you are badly lodged here; somewhere in the

garret, my lord, while the countess is lodging in Paris.”

“Sire, I am in a room of my own choice: the countess is dwelling in her

own house in Coq-Heron Street.”

“I must confess my ignorance; is it near the palace?”

“Tolerably, Sire.”

“What does this mean that after only three years of married life, you

have separate establishments?”

“Sire, I have no answer to make than that my lady wishes to live alone.

I have not had the pleasure of seeing her since your Majesty sent me for

news. That is, better than a week ago.”

The King understood grief more readily than melancholy and noticed the

difference in the tone.

“Count, there is some of your fault in this estrangement,” said the

monarch, with the familiarity of the family man, as he called himself.

“The man must be to blame when so charming a woman keeps aloof from him.

Do not tell me that this is none of my business: for a king can do a

great deal by speaking a word. You must treat the lady ungratefully, for

she loves you dearly--or did when Lady Taverney.”

“Sire, you know that one must not dispute with a king.”

“I do not know that the signs were visible to me alone; but this I know

very well that on that dreadful October night, when she came to join us,

she did not lose sight of you throughout, and her eyes expressed all her

soul’s anguish, so much so that I saw her make a movement to fling

herself between you and danger when the Bullseye Saloon door was beaten

down.”

Count Charny was not softened; he believed he had seen something of this

sort: but the details of his recent interview with his wife were too

distinct for him to have his opinion shaken.

“I was paying all the more attention to her,” went on Louis, “from the

Queen having said when you were sent to the City Hall while I was on my

journey to Paris, that she almost died of distress in your absence and

of joy at your return.”

“Sire,” replied Charny with a sad smile, “God had allowed those who are

born above us to receive in birth as a privilege of their rank, the gift

of seeing deeper into one’s heart than oneself can do; the King and the

Queen have perceived secrets unrevealed to me: but my limited vision

prevents me seeing the same. Therefore I beg to be employed on any

dangerous errand or one that would take me to a distance without

considering the great love of the Countess of Charny. Absence or danger

will be equally welcome, coming at least for my part.”

“Nevertheless, a week ago, you appeared wishful to stay in town when the

Queen desired to despatch you to Italy.”

“I deemed my brother adequate for the position and reserved myself for a

mission more difficult or dangerous.”

“Then count, this is the very time when I have a difficult task to

entrust to you, that with danger to you in the future, that I spoke of

the countess’s isolation and wished her to have a lady friend’s company

while I took away her husband.”

“I will write to the countess, yes, write: for from the way she last

received me, I ought in that manner acquaint her with my movements.”

“Say no more on this head; I will talk it over with the Queen during

your absence,” said Louis, rising. “Faith, the medical lights are right

to say that things look differently as you handle them before or after a

hearty meal. Come into my study, count; I feel in a mood to talk

straight out to you.”

Charny followed, thinking how much Majesty lost by this material side,

for which the proud Marie Antoinette was always carping at him.