"You refuse the concession of land, Sir?" said Del Fortis, in a voice
that trembled with restrained passion.

"To satisfy those of my subjects who have appealed to me, I am
compelled to do so," replied the King.

"I pray your Majesty's pardon, but a portion of the land is held by
private persons who are prepared to sell to us----"

A quick anger flashed in the King's eyes.

"They shall sell to me if they sell at all,"--he said,--"I repeat,
Monsignor, the fact that the law-abiding people of the place have
sought their King's protection from priestly interference;--and,--by
Heaven!--they shall have it!"

There was a sudden silence. Sir Roger de Launay drew a sharp breath,--
his habitual languor of mind was completely dissipated, and he studied
the inscrutable face of Del Fortis with deepening suspicion and
disfavour. Not that there was the slightest sign of wrath or dismay on
the priest's well-disciplined countenance;--on the contrary, a chill
smile illumined it as he spoke his next words with a serious, if
somewhat forced composure.

"Your Majesty is, without doubt, all powerful in your own particular
domain of society and politics," he said--"But there is another Majesty
higher than yours,--that of the Church, before which dread and
infallible Tribunal even kings are brought to naught----"