There was another order, followed by a close fusillade-like sound of the butts of halberds planted upon the floor. Then a few moments' silence, and as the lad strained his eyes in the direction of the doors, that farthest was suddenly flung open and the outer chamber was filled with light which emphasised the gloom of the inner, where, fully alive to his position, Denis lay still, closing his eyes and pressing his face farther into the pillow, as a stern voice shouted as if in warning, for all to hear: "His Majesty the King!" CHAPTER FORTY TWO. IN THE GLOOMY GALLERY. Leoni was the moving spirit of the adventure of what he felt to be another daring attempt to escape; for Francis, under the influence of the medicament that he had administered, was like a puppet in his hands; while Saint Simon, big, manly, and strong, ready to draw and attack any who should bar their way, spoke no word, but followed his leader's every gesture watchfully, suggesting nothing, doing nothing save that exactly which he was told. As they stood outside the door and began to move along the corridor, the place looked so lonely and the task so ridiculously easy, that the scheming, subtle doctor's heart smote him with a feeling of remorse. It seemed to be so cruel, so cowardly, to escape and leave that brave lad, who was ready to sacrifice his life in his master's service, alone there with his despair, waiting for the discovery that would probably end with his death. "Pish!" said Leoni to himself. "What is the boy to me? Nothing more than a pawn upon the chessboard of life, one of the pieces I am using for the sake of France--France, my country, for which I have ventured this. For what is this gay butterfly? King? Yes, the King upon the chessboard, whom it is my fate to move; and where I place him, there he stays. It is I, I in my calm, grave, unobtrusive way, who am the real King of France--now nearly at the pinnacle of my ambition, or shall be when I have achieved these last moves. And yet I am not happy. It jars upon me cruelly that I should have to leave this boy. Pooh! Absurd! I will not think about him," he muttered; and then with a silent mocking laugh, "And yet what is he? Only, as I say, a pawn, which the necessities of the position force me to sacrifice." These thoughts flashed like lightning through his brain, as, grasping the King's arm with one hand, he waved the other in the air as if in the act of casting all these thoughts behind him. But he winced the more, for the thought of Denis alone there in the King's chamber clung to him and seemed to press him down.