“The great sum of one hundred thousand pounds!” demanded Charles, contemptuously.  “Does your master consider one hundred thousand pounds a great sum to pay for so great a city as Dunkirk?”

“It is a great sum to pay, your Majesty,” returned the Abbe, with meekness in his manner, but boldness in his words, “when it is considered that the king of France might have the city of Dunkirk for the mere taking, did he not love your Majesty.”

“Might have it for the mere taking, say you?” cried Charles, with a flash of imitation fire.  “Odds fish, man!  What do you suppose we should be doing while he was taking it?”

“Sending ships across the Channel at a great cost in money and life to your people, your Majesty,” coolly, though meekly, answered the Abbe.

“Of that my people will not complain,” answered Charles, still burning a pinch of red powder.  “Their blood and their gold will be given gladly to defend my possessions abroad.  My people are brave and do not fear death for the sake of their king, I would have you to know, Sir Abbe.”

“Noble praise, your Majesty, and beautiful in the mouth of a king who stands ready to march at the head of his own army, and to help fight the good fight of his own cause,” returned the Abbe, bowing with deep humility.

“Sir, your words are bold and are in no way mitigated by your humble mien!” exclaimed the king.  “If you have no other offer to make, the audience will end, at least for the present.”

“May I crave one moment more?” asked the Abbe.

“Yes, but be brief,” returned the king.

“My instructions, your Majesty, are to leave London not later than sunrise on the day after making my king’s offer.  That will be to-morrow morning, when I shall hasten back to Paris, whence no other messenger will come.  Twenty thousand troops are now within three hours’ march of Dunkirk.  Your Majesty’s ships cannot reach the city in time to save it.  I beg to say that I have delivered the entire message intrusted to me by my august master, and therefore crave your royal permission to withdraw.”

The king lifted his right hand in assent, and the Abbe moved backward, bowing himself from the room.  De Grammont, who had come with him, met him at the door, and immediately they went to the count’s house.  When they were gone, the king dismissed all save his counsellors, and I being at liberty to leave, hastened to her Grace’s anteroom.  As I passed the door, my hat in my hand, I bowed to Frances, who was watching me intently.  She smiled, glanced significantly toward my hat, nodded her head to let me know that she understood, and I passed by, glad that she had the courage which I so sadly lacked.

Evidently Frances lost no time in doing her part with the king, for two hours later a page came to me in the Wardrobe, saying that the king wished to see me immediately.  I made all possible haste, and when I entered the king’s closet, he said:—­