“Mr. Mallock,” said he—­(for he had known me well enough in France)—­“His Majesty told you this himself?”

“Yes, sir,” said I, “not a quarter of an hour ago.”

“Then the Duke is our only chance,” he said.

He said no more till we came to the great antechamber by the King’s bedroom.  It was half full of people; but the Duke was nowhere to be seen.  I waited by the door as M. Barillon went forward and spoke to someone.  Then he came back to me.

“The Duke is with the Queen,” he said.  “We must go to him there.”

It was enough to send a man mad so to seek person after person in such a simple matter as this.  Why in God’s name, I wondered, might not even a King die in what religion he liked, without all this plotting and conspiring?  Was I never to be free from these things?

At the door to the Queen’s apartments M. Barillon turned to me.

“You had best wait here, sir,” he said.  “I will speak with the Duke privately first.”

He was admitted instantly so soon as he knocked; and went through leaving me in a little gallery.

* * * * *

Of all that went through my mind as I walked up and down, with a page watching me from the door, I can give no account at all.  Again one half of my attention was fixed, though with out any coherency, on the business I was at; the other half observed the carpet under my feet, the cabinets along the wall, and the pictures.  It was not near as splendid as were the rooms I had left so short a while ago.

I had not to wait long.  There was a sudden talking of voices beyond the door that the Ambassador had just passed through; and I heard the Duke’s tones very plain.  Then the page stiffened to attention, the door was flung open suddenly, and the Duke came out alone at a great pace, leaving the door open behind him.  He never saw me at all.  The page darted after him, and the two disappeared together round the corner in the direction of the King’s rooms.  As soon as they were gone, M. Barillon came out and beckoned to me; and together we went up and down the gallery.

“You are perfectly right, sir,” he said.  “His Royal Highness shewed great sorrow for not leaving thought of it.  He is gone instantly to His Majesty.”

“He will fetch a priest?”

“He will speak to His Majesty first.  He will find out, at least, what he thinks.”

“But, good God!” said I.  “His Majesty hath told me himself what he wishes.”

“You must let His Royal Highness do it in his own way,” he said.  “He must not be pushed.  But I think you have done the trick, Mr. Mallock.”

“How is Her Majesty?” I asked abruptly.

“The physicians have been at her too,” he said dryly.  “She had a fainting-fit just now in His Majesty’s presence; and they have been blooding her.”

“What priest can be got?” I asked next.

He made a gesture towards the chamber he had just come out of.