Yet he hung a last moment over his companion, his hateful breath stirring her hair.
"Our pleasure is cut short too soon, Mademoiselle," he said, in the tone, and with the look, she loathed.

"But for a few hours only.

We shall meet to-morrow.

Or, it may be--earlier." She did not answer, and "Tavannes!" the King repeated with violence.
"Tavannes! Mordieu!" his Majesty continued, looking round furiously.
"Will no one fetch him?
Sacre nom, am I King, or a dog of a--" "I come, sire!" the Count cried hastily.

For Charles, King of France, Ninth of the name, was none of the most patient; and scarce another in the Court would have ventured to keep him waiting so long.