be set free from the slavery of answering another's beck and call,--to
be something more than my attendant and friend----"

"Sir, more than your friend I have never desired to be!" said Sir
Roger, simply.

The King extended his hand with impulsive quickness, and Sir Roger as
he clasped it, bent low and touched it with his lips. There was no
parasitical homage in the act, for De Launay loved his sovereign with a
love little known at courts; loyally, faithfully, and without a
particle of self-seeking. He had long recognized the nobility, truth
and courage which graced and tempered the disposition of the master he
served, and knew him to be one, if not the only, monarch in the world
likely to confer some lasting benefit on his people by his reign.

"I tell you," pursued the King, "that there is something in the mortal
composition of every man which is beyond mortality, something which
clamours to be heard, and seen, and proved. We may call it conscience,
intellect, spirit or soul, and attribute its existence, to God, as a
spark of the Divine Essence, but whatever it is, it is in every one of
us; and there comes a moment in life when it must flame out, or be
quenched forever. That moment has come to me, Roger,--that something in
me must have its way!"

"Your Majesty no doubt desires the impossible!"--said Sir Roger with a
smile, "All men do,--even kings!"

"'Even kings!'" echoed the monarch--"You may well say 'even' kings!
What are kings? Simply the most wronged and miserable men on earth! I
do not myself put in a special claim for pity. My realm is small, and