He recovered himself, it is true, almost immediately; and turning his back to us? continued to talk to the persons round him on such trifling subjects as commonly engaged him. He carried on this conversation in a very free way, studiously ignoring our presence; but it was plain he remained aware of it, and even that he was uneasy under the cold and severe gaze which the Marquis, who seemed in nowise affrighted by his reception, bent upon him. I, for my part, had no longer any confidence. Nay, I came near to regretting that I had persevered in an attempt so useless. The warrant which awaited me at the gates seemed less formidable than his Majesty’s growing displeasure; which I saw I was incurring by remaining where I was. It needed not the insolent glance of Marshal Retz, who lounged smiling by the king’s hand, or the laughter of a couple of pages who stood at the head of the chamber, to deprive me of my last hope; while some things which might have cheered me--the uneasiness of some about the king, and the disquietude which underlay Marshal Retz’s manner--escaped my notice altogether. What I did see clearly was that the king’s embarrassment was fast changing to anger. The paint which reddened his cheeks prevented tiny alteration in his colour being visible, but his frown and the nervous manner in which he kept taking off and putting on his jewelled cap betrayed him. At length, signing to one of his companions to follow, he moved a little aside to a window, whence, after a few moments, the gentleman came to us. ‘M. de Rambouillet,’ he said, speaking coldly and formally, ‘his Majesty is displeased by this gentleman’s presence, and requires him to withdraw forthwith.’ ‘His Majesty’s word is law,’ my patron answered, bowing low, and speaking in a clear voice audible throughout; the chamber, ‘but the matter which brings this gentleman here is of the utmost importance, and touches his Majesty’s person.’ M. de Retz laughed jeeringly. The other courtiers looked grave. The king shrugged his shoulders with a peevish gesture, but after a moment’s hesitation, during which he looked first at Retz and then at M. de Rambouillet, he signed to the Marquis to approach. ‘Why have you brought him here?’ he muttered sharply, looking askance at me. ‘He should have been bestowed according to my orders.’ ‘He has information for your Majesty’s private ear,’ Rambouillet answered. And he looked so meaningly at the king that Henry, I think, remembered on a sudden his compact with Rosny, and my part in it; for he started with the air of a man suddenly awakened. ‘To prevent that information reaching you, sire,’ my patron continued, ‘his enemies have practised on your Majesty’s well-known sense of justice.’ ‘Oh, but stay, stay!’ the king cried, hitching forward the scanty cloak he wore, which barely came down to his waist. ‘The man has killed a priest! He has killed a priest, man!’ He repeated with confidence, as if he had now got hold of the right argument.