I always thought Monsieur a great man, but now I knew it.
The king, leaving his companion to close the door, was across the room
in three strides.
"I am come to look after you, St. Quentin," he cried, laughing. "I
cannot have my council broken up by pretty grisettes. The precedent is
dangerous."
With the liveliest curiosity and amusement he surveyed the top of
mademoiselle's bent head, and Monsieur's puzzled, troubled countenance.
"This is no grisette, Sire," Monsieur answered, "but a very high-born
demoiselle indeed--cousin to my Lord Mayenne."
Astonishment flashed over the king's mobile face; his manner changed in
an instant to one of utmost deference.
"Rise, mademoiselle," he begged, as if her appearance were the most
natural and desirable thing in the world. "I could wish it were my good
adversary Mayenne himself who was come to treat with us; but be assured
his cousin shall lack no courtesy."
She swayed lightly to her feet, raising her face to the king's. Into his
countenance, which mirrored his emotions like a glass, came a quick
delight at the sight of her. The colour waxed and waned in her cheeks;
her breath fluttered uncertainly; her eyes, anxious, eager, searched his
face.
"I cry your Majesty's good pardon," she faltered. "I had urgent business
with M. de St. Quentin--I did not guess he was with your Majesty--"
"The king's business is glad to step aside for yours, mademoiselle.
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