twitch. Presently--I have said that the light was failing, so
that it was not in my imagination only that the court was sombre
--the King held his ball. "My friend, your man is not well," he
said, turning to me.

"It is nothing, sire; the honour you do him makes him nervous," I
answered. "Play up, sirrah," I continued; "you make too good a
courtier."

Mademoiselle d'Entragues clapped her hands and laughed at the
hit; and I saw Diego glare at her with an indescribable look, in
which hatred and despair and a horror of reproach were so nicely
mingled with something as exceptional as his position, that the
whole baffled words. Doubtless the gibes and laughter he heard,
the trifling that went on round him, the very game in which he
was engaged, and from which he dared not draw back, seemed in his
eyes the most appalling mockery; but ignorant who were in the
secret, unable to guess how his diabolical plot had been
discovered, uncertain even whether the whole were not a concerted
piece, he went on playing his part mechanically; with starting
eyes and labouring chest, and lips that, twitching and working,
lost colour each minute. At length he missed a stroke, and
staggering leaned against the wall, his-face livid and ghastly.
The King took the alarm at that, and cried out that something was
wrong. Those who were sitting rose. I nodded to Maignan to go
to the man.

"It is a fit," I said. "He is subject to them, and doubtless the
excitement--but I am sorry that it has spoiled your Majesty's
game.