end was not yet. At length he asked me what explanation I had
given.

"The only explanation possible," I answered bluntly. "I had to
combat Madame's jealousy. I did it in the only way in which it
could be done: by stating that your niece loved your son, and by
imploring her good word on their behalf."

He sprang a pace from me with a cry of rage and astonishment.
"You did that?" he screamed.

"Softly, softly, M. de Perrot," I said, in a voice which brought
him somewhat to his senses. "Certainly I did. You bade me say
whatever was necessary, and I did so. No more. If you wish,
however," I added grimly, "to explain to Madame that--"

But with a wail of lamentation he rushed from me, and in a moment
was lost in the darkness; leaving me to smile at this odd
termination of an intrigue that, but for a lad's adroitness,
might have altered the fortunes not of M. de Perrot only but of
the King my master and of France.



II. THE TENNIS BALLS.

A few weeks before the death of the Duchess of Beaufort, on
Easter Eve, 1599, made so great a change in the relations of all
at Court that "Sourdis mourning" came to be a phrase for grief,
genuine because interested, an affair that might have had a