Daylight turned to the pearly light of evening, and that again to dusk, but she still sat waiting in the shadow.

Sometimes as a step passed in the corridor she would glance expectantly towards the door, and the light of welcome would spring up in her gray eyes, only to die away again into disappointment.

At last, however, there came a quick sharp tread, crisp and authoritative, which brought her to her feet with flushed cheeks and her heart beating wildly.

The door opened, and she saw outlined against the gray light of the outer passage the erect and graceful figure of the king.
"Sire! One instant, and mademoiselle will light the lamp." "Do not call her." He entered and closed the door behind him.
"Francoise, the dusk is welcome to me, because it screens me from the reproaches which must lie in your glance, even if your tongue be too kindly to speak them." "Reproaches, sire! God forbid that I should utter them!" "When I last left you, Francoise, it was with a good resolution in my mind.

I tried to carry it out, and I failed--I failed.