The King's Esquires; Or, The Jewel of FranceFenn, George Manville
History
The King's Esquires; Or, The Jewel of France
Fenn, George Manville
France -- History -- Francis I, 1515-1547 -- Fiction
At this moment the King was passing along the centre of the gallery
devoted to the priceless treasures of his collection, to which Carrbroke
had so proudly directed the young French visitor's attention, when his
foot came suddenly in contact with something which he sent flying along
the polished oaken boards, the object making a musical metallic sound.
"What's that?" cried the King sharply; and the chamberlain started
forward into the gloom close beneath one of the windows, to pick up
after a moment's search what proved on being held up to the light to be
a beautiful little golden cup covered with such _repousse_ work as would
most likely have been placed there by some Italian artist of the
Benvenuto Cellini type.
A faint cry of wonder escaped the chamberlain's lips.
"A golden cup!" exclaimed the King, as he leaned over to gaze at the
little object. "How comes that there? Why, Hurst, that little _tazza_
should be in the big cabinet yonder, where the French jewel lies.
Quick! Here."
The King turned sharply and hurried back to the centre of the gallery
where the great cabinet stood, to find it on the two sides he examined
perfectly intact; but the other two sides of the big ornamental piece of
furniture fell to the chamberlain's examination, and he was so startled
by the discovery he made that he remained silent and stood there with
his lips compressed.
"Nothing here, Hurst," cried the King, in less excited tones. "It must
have been my fancy; it cannot be the cup I mean. You see nothing?"
"Will your Majesty look here?" said the chamberlain gravely.
"Hah!" cried the King, and he joined his follower on the other side, to
utter an ejaculation full of the rage he felt, for dim as the gallery
was, light enough came through the window opposite to which the cabinet
stood to show that one of the doors had been wrenched open; some of the
drawers within were half unclosed, while several little objects that had
evidently been dropped in haste were upon the floor.
"Robbery! Pillage!" cried the King angrily. "They must have been
disturbed in their act of plunder, whoever it was, and--and--hah!" he
raged out, as he snatched up a case that was lying open. "Look here,
Hurst; this tells the tale. Do you know it?"
"No, Sire."
"You see it is empty."
"Yes, Sire."
"I could gage my life that within the last hour it held that fateful gem
won by the Kings of England, the jewel from the French crown. Now, man,
who is the robber? Speak!"
"Ah!" half whispered the chamberlain. "Your Majesty is right. This
disappearance is accounted for at once. It must have been--"
"The Comte de la Seine!" raged out the King. "Stolen not only from my
own palace, but out of my own private apartments, where I am supposed to
be guarded night and day. Hurst," he continued grimly. "I am afraid
some one is going to die on account of this. But the robbers cannot
have gone far. They must be somewhere about."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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