There was peace, summer, perfume, in the moonlit air and Karyl smiled
ironically as he reflected that even the bodyguard so carefully selected
by Von Ritz might at any moment enter the place and raise the shout of
"Long live King Louis!"
Leaning over the parapet, he could see one of his fantastically
uniformed soldiery pacing back and forth before a sentry-box, his musket
jauntily shouldered, and a bayonet glinting at his belt. Karyl stood
looking, and his lips curled skeptically as he wondered whether the man
would repel or admit assassins.
Somewhat wearily the King turned and leaned on the stone coping of the
outer wall. He was at one end where a shadow cloaked him, but he lighted
a cigarette and the match that flared up threw an orange-red light on
his face, showing eyes which were lusterless. For a few moments he held
the match in his hollowed palms, coaxing its blaze in the breeze. Before
it had burned out there came a sharp report and Karyl heard the spat of
flattening lead on the masonry at his back. The echo rattled along the
rocky side of the hill. One of the sentry-boxes had answered his unasked
question of loyalty.
He waited. There was no rush of feet. No medley of anxiously inquiring
voices. Others had heard the report, of course, yet no one hastened to
inquire and investigate. The King, pacing farther back where his
silhouette was less clearly defined, laughed again, very bitterly.
Finally Von Ritz came. "It seems that we can rely on no one," he said.
"The Palace Guard had been picked from the few in whom I still believed.
I had hoped there was a trustworthy remnant."
"One of them has just tried a shot at me with one of my own muskets."
The King spoke impersonally as though the matter bore only on the
psychic question of trusting men. "The spot is there on the wall." Then
he added with bitter whimsicality: "It seems to me, Colonel, that we
have either very poor marksmen in our service, or else we supply them
with very poor rifles."
For a moment Von Ritz almost smiled. "I was passing the point as he
touched the trigger, Your Majesty," he replied with calmness. "I will
personally vouch for his future harmlessness."
The lighted door, at the same moment, framed the figure of an aide.
"Your Majesty," he said with a bow, "Monsieur Jusseret prays a brief
audience."
Karyl turned to Von Ritz, his brows arching interrogation. In answer the
Colonel wheeled and addressed the officer, who waited statuesquely: "His
Majesty will not receive Monsieur Jusseret. Any matters of interest to
France will receive His Majesty's attention when they reach him through
France's properly accredited ambassador."