XIV
HIS MAJESTY—DIES TO-MORROW!
THE King's ambition and pride had quivered under the threat of a cruel blow; the charge against Lepage wounded him hardly less deeply. He regarded his body-servant with the trustful affection which grows on an indolent man in course of years—of countless days of consulting, trusting, relying on one ever present, ever ready, always trustworthy. Lepage had been with him nearly thirty years; there was hardly a secret of the King's manhood which he had not known and kept. At last had he turned traitor?
Stenovics had failed to allow for this human side of the matter; how much more alone the revelation would make the King feel, how much more exposed and helpless—just, moreover, when sickness made his invaluable servant more indispensable still. A forlorn dignity filled the King's simple question: "Is it true, Lepage?"
Lepage's impassivity vanished. He, too, was deeply moved. The sense of guilt was on him—of guilt against his master; it drove him on, beyond itself, to a fierce rage against those who had goaded him into his disobedience, whose action and plans had made his disobedience right. For right now he believed and felt it; his talks with Zerkovitch had crystallized his suspicions into confident certainty.
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