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Updated: June 28, 2025
"As you will, but Hugues is dead and cannot defend himself," and the defiance passed as, with a sigh, the girl sank wearily into her chair, felt La Mothe's hand where it rested upon the back, and leaned hastily forward, then settled slowly into her place again. As for Stephen La Mothe, the beating of his heart quickened, but he stood unmoved. The touch comforted them both.
"Princes have need of masks lest the world should see they are nothing but common flesh and blood like the rest of us." Slipping her hand into La Mothe's arm Ursula de Vesc drew him to the door, followed by Villon, and the three stood watching the Dauphin half dragging Father John down the passage in his eagerness to show Blaise his treasure.
Guy de Molembrais was alive a week before we left Valmy. Saxe has lied, lied, lied. Do you see it, Uncle? I knew he lied. Oh, you hound! you hound! And you had a letter from Valmy this afternoon? That accounts " "Hush, Monsieur La Mothe, hush." Rising from her chair Ursula de Vesc almost put her hand over La Mothe's mouth in her efforts to silence him.
La Mothe, Charlot is no respecter of the rights of princes." "Charlot! You mischievous dog!" Stooping to rescue the mask, Ursula de Vesc caught the puppy with both hands to drag him towards her; but at the first touch she let him slip from her hold and drew back, startled, looking up into La Mothe's face as he bent over her. The plump little body relaxed heavily, sluggishly on its side.
But now she doubted, and as she watched La Mothe's careless play with the dogs the doubt grew.
Brushing past Ursula de Vesc he ranged himself by La Mothe's side, his coat-of-mail an undulating pool of light as when the moon shines on a falling wave pitted by the wind. "Monsieur from Valmy, Mademoiselle de Vesc is right. You may tell my father that Monsieur La Mothe has twice saved my life and that all Amboise knows it.
"I wish the plot was as doubtful as the love; we might then have stayed comfortably in Valmy," answered Commines cynically, and La Mothe's eyes twinkled as he thought how much better he had read the King in his single hour than Commines had in all his ten years of intimacy.
"Thanks, Jean," he said patronizingly, nodding towards the room he had left as he spoke. "Close the door behind me, my good fellow: both my hands are full." Then raising the candle, he turned and scrutinized La Mothe with a curiosity as great as La Mothe's own and much more frankly evident. And he was worth studying, as a rare specimen is studied in the difficulty of classification.
Commines spoke under his breath as his fingers closed on La Mothe's arm with a grip which left its mark. "How long was he listening? What did he hear? You fool, you fool, you may have ruined yourself and me, and me. And why has he left us together? He has some reason for it some end to serve: his own or the King's.
She was Ursula de Vesc, and that was enough, Ursula de Vesc, the woman of a single hour of life, and yet the one sweet woman in the world. "A lover's arms ought to be her riding-chair," said Villon, following La Mothe's gaze. "No, there is no offence meant," he added, as Stephen's face reddened with the beginnings of umbrage.
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