"I take it on false pretences," said I with a laugh, as I shook it. "For we came near to quarrelling, M. de Fontelles and I." "Ah, on what point?" "A nothing, sir." "Nay, but tell me." "Indeed I will not, if you'll pardon me." "Sir, I wish to know. I ins--I beg." A stare from me had stopped the "insist" when it was half-way through his lips. On my soul, he flushed! I tell my children sometimes how I made him flush; the thing was not done often. Yet his confusion was but momentary, and suddenly, I know not how, I in my turn became abashed with the cold stare of his eyes, and when he asked me my name, I answered baldly, with never a bow and never a flourish, "Simon Dale." "I have heard your name," said he gravely. Then he turned round and began looking at the sea again. Now, had he been wearing his own clothes (if I may so say) this conduct would have been appropriate enough; it would have been a dismissal and I should have passed on my way. But a man should be consistent in his disguises, and from M. de Perrencourt, gentleman-in-waiting, the behaviour was mighty uncivil. Yet my revenge must be indirect. "Is it true, sir," I asked, coming close to him, "that the King of France is yonder at Calais? So it's said." "I believe it to be true," answered M. de Perrencourt. "I wish he had come over," I cried. "I should love to see him, for they say he's a very proper man, although he's somewhat short." M. de Perrencourt did not turn his head, but again I saw his cheek flush. To speak of his low stature was, I had heard Monmouth say, to commit the most dire offence in King Louis' eyes. "Now, how tall is the King, sir?" I asked. "Is he tall as you, sir?" M. de Perrencourt was still silent. To tell the truth, I began to be a little uneasy; there were cells under the Castle, and I had need to be at large for the coming few days. "For," said I, "they tell such lies concerning princes." Now he turned towards me, saying, "There you're right, sir. The King of France, is of middle size, about my own height." For the life of me I could not resist it. I said nothing with my tongue, but for a moment I allowed my eyes to say, "But then you're short, sir." He understood, and for the third time he flushed. "I thought as much," said I, and with a bow I began to walk on. But, as ill-luck would have it, I was not to come clear off from my indiscretion. In a moment I should have been out of sight. But as I started I saw a gentleman pass the guard, who stood at the salute. It was the King; escape was impossible. He walked straight up to me, bowing carelessly in response to M. de Perrencourt's deferential inclination of his person. "How come you here, Mr Dale?" he asked abruptly. "The guard tells me that he informed you of my orders and that you insisted on passing." M. de Perrencourt felt that his turn was come; he stood there smiling. I found nothing to say; if I repeated my fiction of a message, the French gentleman, justly enraged, would betray me.