"My
hire! my hire!" he hoarsely said. "Forty long years, my Father! And now
I will not let Thee go except Thou hear me, and grant me life and this
woman's love."
He turned, stark and black in the rearward splendor of the moon. _"As a
prince hast thou power with God,"_ he calmly said, _"and thou hast
prevailed._ For the King of kings was never obdurate, my dear, to them
that have deserved well of Him. So He will attend to my request, and
will get us out of this pickle somehow."
Even as he said this, Philippe the Handsome came into the room, and at
the heels of the French King were seven lords, armed cap-a-pie.
The French King was an odd man. Subtly smiling, he came forward through
the twilight, with soft, long strides, and he made no outcry at
recognition of his sister. "Take the woman away, Victor," he said,
disinterestedly, to de Montespan. Afterward he sat down beside the table
and remained silent for a while, intently regarding Sire Edward and the
tiny woman who clung to Sire Edward's arm; and in the flickering gloom
of the hut Philippe smiled as an artist may smile who gazes on the
perfected work and knows it to be adroit.
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