Part 43 (2/2)

”Yes,” interrupted the Abbe. ”But come to the point! What did the king say?”

”He did not entirely accept the message of the stars,” returned Lilly.

”He does not seem to object to war. He says there is no time when it is as easy to raise money from the people as in times of war. I suggested that money in the nation's treasury was not in the privy purse, where the king most wants it. But he said it was only a short journey from the treasury to the privy purse, and--well, I agreed with him. If you want to convert a vain, stubborn fool to your way of thinking, don't let him know what your way is.”

”So the stars have failed?” asked the Abbe.

”No,” returned Lilly, ”they have put the king to thinking, but more, they have sowed the seeds of fear, a plant which grows rapidly in a coward's heart by night.”

”But not rapidly enough to suit our purposes, I fear,” returned the Abbe.

”Yes,” insisted Lilly. ”If the king's inclination can be changed, fear will sweep aside all other considerations in a moment, and he will accept the one hundred thousand pounds which you will offer to-morrow morning.

But in case the king does conclude to accept the French king's offer, the iron will at once take on a white heat, and--well, iron remains at white heat only a short time. You must be ready to act quickly when the proper moment comes, or London will spring between you and the king.”

”I shall be ready,” returned the Abbe. ”The king shall be inclined to our proposition before another day is past.”

”Shall I tell you what the stars predict concerning the signing of the treaty?” asked Lilly.

”Yes, yes,” I answered eagerly.

”I have found Venus in conjunction with--” began Lilly.

”Oh, d.a.m.n the stars!” cried the Abbe, most uncanonically. ”Tell me what you think about it!”

”The stars tell me that the treaty will be signed to-morrow night--that is, to-night, this being the early morning,” answered the Doctor, persistently maintaining his att.i.tude of stellar interpreter.

”Very well. Good night, Doctor,” said the Abbe. ”And may the shadow of your discretion never grow less.”

A moment later I conducted Lilly to the door, and when I returned to De Grammont, who had not spoken a word during the entire interview, he shrugged his shoulders and said:--

”Sacrament! What a wise man a fool may be! It is to admire!”

”I doubt if any man is beneficially wise unless he be in part a fool,”

said the Abbe, and I closed the symposium by remarking:--

”Folly tinctures wisdom with common sense, illumines it with imagination, and gives it everyday usefulness. But best of all, it helps a man to understand the motives of other fools who const.i.tute the bulk of mankind.”

”Ah, baron,” said De Grammont, yawning. ”It is all doubtless true. Who would have expected to find so much cynical wisdom in an Englishman? But let us to bed!”

Hamilton and I were up by five o'clock the next morning, in consultation.

He was for dropping the matter in so far as it involved Frances, but I insisted that while it was a disagreeable task for her, she was wise with a woman's wisdom, calm with a woman's calmness, and bold with a woman's boldness, which knows no equal when the motive springs from the heart rather than the head.

We discussed the matter in all its phases, and then I went to the palace to see Frances. When she arose, I was waiting to tell her that the Abbe would see the king at ten o'clock and to ask her to wait in the anteroom of the d.u.c.h.ess's parlor. If Charles accepted the French king's offer, I should pa.s.s by her wearing my hat, and she would know that her help would not be needed. If the king refused, I should carry my hat in my hand, and she could take her own course with Charles.

”Do you fear?” I asked, being myself very much afraid, for we were dealing with an absolute monarch, devoid of conscience, devoid of caution save when prompted by cowardice, but plenteously imbued with venom in his heart and all things evil in his soul.

”I fear?” cried Frances, tossing her head defiantly.

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