“True!” exclaimed the king, astonished by a motion of the child which seemed the very miniature of a gesture of his own.

“Ah, the pretty flower!” cried the mother.  “Never shall he leave us! He will never cause me grief.”

The king frolicked with his son; he tossed him in his arms, and kissed him passionately, talking the foolish, unmeaning talk, the pretty, baby language invented by nurses and mothers.  His voice grew child-like.  At last his forehead cleared, joy returned to his saddened face, and then, as Marie saw that he had forgotten his troubles, she laid her head upon his shoulder and whispered in his ear:—­

“Won’t you tell me, Charlot, why you have made me keep murderers in my house?  Who are these men, and what do you mean to do with them?  In short, I want to know what you were doing on the roofs.  I hope there was no woman in the business?”

“Then you love me as much as ever!” cried the king, meeting the clear, interrogatory glance that women know so well how to cast upon occasion.

“You doubted me,” she replied, as a tear shone on her beautiful eyelashes.

“There are women in my adventure,” said the king; “but they are sorceresses.  How far had I told you?”

“You were on the roofs near by—­what street was it?”

“Rue Saint-Honore, sweetest,” said the king, who seemed to have recovered himself.  Collecting this thoughts, he began to explain to his mistress what had happened, as if to prepare her for a scene that was presently to take place in her presence.

“As I was passing through the street last night on a frolic,” he said, “I chanced to see a bright light from the dormer window of the house occupied by Rene, my mother’s glover and perfumer, and once yours.  I have strong doubts about that man and what goes on in his house.  If I am poisoned, the drug will come from there.”

“I shall dismiss him to-morrow.”

“Ah! so you kept him after I had given him up?” cried the king.  “I thought my life was safe with you,” he added gloomily; “but no doubt death is following me even here.”

“But, my dearest, I have only just returned from Dauphine with our dauphin,” she said, smiling, “and Rene has supplied me with nothing since the death of the Queen of Navarre.  Go on; you climbed to the roof of Rene’s house?”

IV

THE KING’S TALE

“Yes,” returned the king.  “In a second I was there, followed by Tavannes, and then we clambered to a spot where I could see without being seen the interior of that devil’s kitchen, in which I beheld extraordinary things which inspired me to take certain measures.  Did you ever notice the end of the roof of that cursed perfumer?  The windows toward the street are always closed and dark, except the last, from which can be seen the hotel de Soissons and the observatory which my mother built for that astrologer, Cosmo Ruggiero.  Under the