From that I remember that I learned nothing, though it greatly annoyed me.  But there was one present who did—­the king.  He laid his hand on my shoulder, gripping it with a force that I read as a command to be silent.

“Where,” he said to the man, “do you keep the King and Sully and Epernon, my friend?”

“The King and Sully—­with the lordship’s leave,” said the man quickly, with a frightened glance at me—­“are in the kennels at the back of the house, but it is not safe to go near them.  The King is raving mad, and—­and the other dog is sickening.  Epernon we had to kill a month back.  He brought the disease here, and I have had such losses through him as have nearly ruined me, please your lordship.”

“Get up—­get up, man!” cried the king, and tearing off his mask he stamped up and down the room, so torn by paroxysms of laughter that he choked himself when again and again he attempted to speak.

I too now saw the mistake, but I could not at first see it in the same light.  Commanding myself as well as I could, I ordered one of the Swiss to fetch in the innkeeper, but to admit no one else.

The knave fell on his knees as soon as he saw me, his cheeks shaking like a jelly.

“Mercy, mercy!” was all he could say.

“You have dared to play with me?” I whispered.

“You bade me joke,” he sobbed, “you bade me.”

I was about to say that it would be his last joke in this world—­for my anger was fully aroused—­when the king intervened.

“Nay,” he said, laying his hand softly on my shoulder.  “It has been the most glorious jest.  I would not have missed it for a kingdom.  I command you, Sully, to forgive him.”

Thereupon his majesty strictly charged the three that they should not on peril of their lives mention the circumstances to anyone.  Nor to the best of my belief did they do so, being so shrewdly scared when they recognized the king that I verily think they never afterwards so much as spoke of the affair to one another.  My master further gave me on his own part his most gracious promise that he would not disclose the matter even to Madame de Verneuil or the queen, and upon these representations he induced me freely to forgive the innkeeper.  So ended this conspiracy, on the diverting details of which I may seem to have dwelt longer than I should; but alas! in twenty-one years of power I investigated many, and this one only can I regard with satisfaction.  The rest were so many warnings and predictions of the fate which, despite all my care and fidelity, was in store for the great and good master I served.

Robert Louis Stevenson

The Pavilion on the Links

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