"Boy," whispered Leoni ecstatically, "you are the deliverer of France! Hah!" he added, in tones full of regret. "And you will not be with us! The river--yes. They would never dream that we escaped that way. Quick, then. There is not a moment to be lost. You will not flinch?" "I? No!" whispered Denis proudly. "Quick, then! The darkness is the best disguise." And leading the way into the sleeping chamber, he busied himself with torn-up linen and scarf, preparing the semblance of bandages, while Denis unbuckled his sword-belt and hurriedly threw off his doublet. A few minutes sufficed for the skilful hands of Leoni to strap and bandage the gallant lad's features, leaving him standing on one side of the bed while he went to the other to draw back the coverlet. In obedience to the thought that flashed through his brain the lad bent quickly forward, caught at the King's hand and raised it eagerly to his lips, half rousing him, to mutter in his sleep, while Leoni took out and unscrewed his little flask and applied it to the King's lips. "Drink this, sir," he said, and in strict obedience to his medical attendant, the sick man drank till the vessel was withdrawn. "Ah!" exclaimed Francis wearily. "I am not well, Leoni. We pay dearly for our adventure. But we will hunt to-morrow at Fontainebleau. Is it not so? Call the Master of the Chase." "You may do so, sir. But you feel stronger now?" "Yes, yes." "Then come, sir." And Leoni snatched the cloak which Denis had thrown on a chair and wrapped it round the King. "We will start at once, sir." "Yes," said Francis, "we will start at once--at once." And he leaned heavily on Leoni's arm, while the latter drew the heavily plumed hat which the boy handed him lower over the King's features. Denis accompanied them to the door. "Farewell," he said. Leoni turned and gazed at him, and for a second the saturnine expression faded and a look of tenderness came over his features. "Until we meet again," he whispered. Then the door closed and the lad stood wondering whether the plan would succeed, whether the King would on the morrow be far on his way to the sea. The next minute he was in the inner chamber by a mirror, smiling at himself, before plunging into the King's place, turning on his side, and drawing the coverlet right up to his ears. CHAPTER FORTY ONE. A VISITOR FOR A PATIENT. The time up to the closing of the chamber door had been one of wild excitement. There was the disguise, and then the scene of preparing Francis for another flight, his helplessness, and the calm, unresisting way in which he had yielded himself to Leoni's hands. Then came the departure, the farewell of Leoni, whom at times he seemed to shrink from with dislike, almost with dread, but only to feel himself won back again, attracted by the doctor's manner and his manifest liking for his young companion.