In the meantime the King played on, taking no notice of anyone, his beaked nose dropping lower towards his chin as he lost one rouleau after another to Bassompierre. '_Ventre St. Gris!_' he exclaimed at last, 'was ever such luck; at this rate I shall not have a shirt to my back in half an hour.' 'If the Marshal were only here,' said Sully, 'we could start off at once. Sire, instead of risking any more. I see de Belin has brought our guide.' 'Yes; where is Biron? I am sick of this;' and the King, who was a bad loser, rose from his seat impatiently, at the same time forgetting to hand over the last rouleau of pistoles he had lost to Bassompierre, and thrusting them back into his pocket with an absent gesture. As if in answer to his question the door opened, admitting the slight figure and handsome face of de Gie. 'Where is the Marshal? Where is Biron?' asked ten voices in a breath. 'Yes, M. de Gie,' put in the King; 'where is Biron?' 'Sire, the Marshal is indisposed. He has begged me to present his excuses and to say he is too ill to come to-night;' and as he spoke I saw de Gie's jewelled fingers trembling, and his cheek had lost all colour. 'This is sorry news to spoil a gay evening,' said the King; and the Master-General, pulling a comfit box from his vest pocket, toyed with it in his hand as he followed, 'Biron must be ill, indeed, to stay away. Sire. What does your Majesty think? Shall we begin our rambles by calling on Monseigneur?' 'The very thing, Grand-Master; we will start at once.' 'But, Sire, the Marshal is too ill to see anyone--even your Majesty,' said de Gie desperately, and with whitening lips. I thought I heard de Vitry mutter 'Traitor' under his thick moustache, but the Guardsman parried my glance with an unconcerned look. There was a silence of a half-minute at de Gie's speech, and the King reddened to the forehead. 'If it is as you say, M. le Vicompte, I know the Marshal too well not to feel sure that there are two persons whom he would see were he dying--which God forbid--and one of these two is his King. Grand-Master, we will go, but--and his voice took a tone of sharp command, and his eyes rested first on de Gie, and then on the figure of a tall cavalier, at whose throat flashed the jewel of the St. Esprit--'but I must first ask M. de Vitry to do his duty.' As for me I was dumb with astonishment, and half the faces around me were filled with amaze. Then de Vitry's voice broke the stillness: 'My lord of Epernon, your sword--and you too, M. le Vicompte.' The duke slipped off his rapier with a sarcastic smile and handed the weapon to the Captain of the Guard; but we could hear the clicking of the buckles as de Gie's trembling fingers tried in vain to unclasp his belt. So agitated was he that de Vitry had to assist him in his task before it was accomplished. The King spoke again in the same grating tones: