“Ay,” sighed De Frontenac.  “You know that my fortunes have sunk as yours have risen.  I have been recalled, and De la Barre is in my place.  But there will be a storm there which such a man as he can never stand against.  With the Iroquois all dancing the scalp-dance, and Dongan behind them in New York to whoop them on, they will need me, and they will find me waiting when they send.  I will see the king now, and try if I cannot rouse him to play the great monarch there as well as here.  Had I but his power in my hands, I should change the world’s history.”

“Hush!  No treason to the captain of the guard,” cried De Catinat, laughing, while the stern old soldier strode past him into the king’s presence.

A gentleman very richly dressed in black and silver had come up during this short conversation, and advanced, as the door opened, with the assured air of a man whose rights are beyond dispute.  Captain de Catinat, however, took a quick step forward, and barred him off from the door.

“I am very sorry, Monsieur de Vivonne,” said he, “but you are forbidden the presence.”

“Forbidden the presence!  I?  You are mad!” He stepped back with gray face and staring eyes, one shaking hand half raised in protest,

“I assure you that it is his order.”

“But it is incredible.  It is a mistake.”

“Very possibly.”

“Then you will let me past.”

“My orders leave me no discretion.”

“If I could have one word with the king.”

“Unfortunately, monsieur, it is impossible.”

“Only one word.”

“It really does not rest with me, monsieur.”

The angry nobleman stamped his foot, and stared at the door as though he had some thoughts of forcing a passage.  Then turning on his heel, he hastened away down the corridor with the air of a man who has come to a decision.

“There, now,” grumbled De Catinat to himself, as he pulled at his thick dark moustache, “he is off to make some fresh mischief.  I’ll have his sister here presently, as like as not, and a pleasant little choice between breaking my orders and making an enemy of her for life.  I’d rather hold Fort Richelieu against the Iroquois than the king’s door against an angry woman.  By my faith, here is a lady, as I feared!  Ah, Heaven be praised! it is a friend, and not a foe.  Good-morning, Mademoiselle Nanon.”

“Good-morning, Captain de Catinat.”

The new-comer was a tall, graceful brunette, her fresh face and sparkling black eyes the brighter in contrast with her plain dress.

“I am on guard, you see.  I cannot talk with you.”

“I cannot remember having asked monsieur to talk with me.”

“Ah, but you must not pout in that pretty way, or else I cannot help talking to you,” whispered the captain.  “What is this in your hand, then?”

“A note from Madame de Maintenon to the king.  You will hand it to him, will you not?”