Her voice had the fullest conviction in it. It was no leap in the dark, no idle prophecy. Too well did she know the man downstairs with whom she had had to deal. The King shook his head and smiled bitterly. There was no banishing the melancholy indifference from his voice. He was bored by the whole affair, and he was such a wilful fellow, that he would not stir a finger to save his own life if he had not the inclination. He was tired and depressed and sick of heart. At this moment it suited him better to be the prey of melancholy and to give rein to his sad fancies. He preferred to utilise those misfortunes which made him so irresistible in the eyes of all, particularly those of women. It might have been that the extreme beauty of this compassionate lady was working upon him to his own undoing. For certainly, now that the wilful young King found himself in her presence, the desire uppermost in his mind was to stay in it. His life hung on a thread, and with it the hopes of thousands of his countrymen and the destinies of nations; but because a beautiful woman had pitied him, for the nonce he preferred to sit still and bask in her tears. To-morrow the mercury might rise. He might then find the energy to save his neck, or to attempt to do so; but to-day his inclination was far otherwise. He was disposed to give the rein to his adorable melancholy; and to wrap his cold spirit warmly in a woman’s sorrow. The woman, cut to the heart by the young man’s wanton disregard of his sacred duty, had, with the instinct that often is with those that possess a singular potency, divined one factor of it. Her heart stood still. The horror of the thought almost overcame her. That she, in her own person, should be the unconscious and unwilling means of her King’s destruction! Unhappy, wayward youth, that his blood should be upon her head! The thought was impossible to endure. “Sire,” she said wildly, “thou canst not have considered of all thy dalliance means. The last person a king can think of is himself. His responsibilities are more than personal. Sire, you must indeed go. Consider the destiny of your race, consider your friends.” The young King’s eyes sparkled at the noble passion of her countenance. He had never seen a face so glorious. However, it did but confirm the satisfaction he took from his present case. He was more than content. To-morrow would be soon enough to begin his irksome toils again. He loved to hear the throbbing tones of the woman; he loved to gaze upon her face. The passionate tenderness that suffused her was like a great and aged wine, that lulled his blood and warmed it, and made it sweeter in the veins. Languid and indifferent as he was, sparks were kindled in his eyes, and they were there for all to see. The woman saw them. She shuddered, even as the prayer was on her lips. They seemed to stop the beatings of her heart.