"Then Monseigneur," said I helplessly, "my quest is ended before it is well begun." But Monsieur de Commines shook his head. The sudden sternness that had flashed into his voice had passed away, and he was once more the friend and patron. "You go too fast. Never try to take all your ditches at one stride. Some tools are only used once and then flung aside, others of their kind being never far to seek. There are many Jan Meerts in the world. As I said before I say again, All is as the King wills. What is your plan? Except Monsieur de Beaujeu, the officers of state, and myself, the King sees no gentlemen. That is his humour. Are you very proud, Monsieur Hellewyl?" "Not too proud to serve--" "The King?" "Myself, Monseigneur," I retorted, for I had caught his meaning. He laughed and nodded. "Good, I see you have learned your lesson. There are times when a man must stoop that he may rise. That will suit the King's humour. I will be frank with you. He spends his time raising men up and casting them down again, that France may understand her master's life is still strong in him. He loves new faces, but soon tires or grows doubtful. There lies your opportunity. To have a gentleman of ten generations serve him as a servant will please him. Before he tires, or grows doubtful of your fidelity, your chance may come." "To move him to justice?" "No, no; I said you were very innocent. To earn your wages: Jan Meert's life in your hand, a new Solignac on the ashes of the old, your lost lands restored." "Large wages, Monseigneur," said I, drawing in a breath, and catching something of the spirit of hope throbbing high in his words, "almost too large to dream of receiving, except in a dream." "Pish! Now you are modest! When the King gives, he gives royally, only, remember this, large wages mean great service. If the pay is to be earned, the task will match the pay. Are you afraid?" "God helping me, Monseigneur, no!" "Just so," answered he, drily, "God helping you. It is a help most men need who wade in King's waters," and sat looking at me in deep thought. CHAPTER VIII THE DOORS OF THE LOUVRE ONLY OPEN INWARDS