The room was bare, the floor without carpet or covering.

Some of the woodwork lay about, unfinished and in pieces.

But the man--this man, needed no surroundings.
His keen pale face, his brilliant eyes, even his presence--though he was of no great height, and began already to stoop at the shoulders--were enough to awe the boldest.

I recalled, as I looked at him, a hundred tales of his iron will, his cold heart, his unerring craft.

He had humbled the King's brother, the splendid Duke of Orleans, in the dust.
He had curbed the Queen-mother.