"
He raised his eyes and smiled. "Ah! You turn prophet? Well, for
how long, then? Come, man."
"I should think five years--"
"Five years be it. Say no more."
He wrote on for a few moments; then he raised the sandbox and
sprinkled the document.
"Tiens!" he cried, as he dusted it and held it out to me. "There
is my warrant for the disposal of Monsieur le Vicomte Leon de
Lavedan. He is to go into banishment for five years, but his
estates shall suffer no sequestration, and at the end of that
period he may return and enjoy them - we hope with better loyalty
than in the past. Get them to execute that warrant at once, and
see that the Vicomte starts to-day under escort for Spain. It will
also be your warrant to Mademoiselle de Lavedan, and will afford
proof to her that your mission has been successful."
"Sire!" I cried. And in my gratitude I could say no more, but I
sank on my knee before him and raised his hand to my lips.
"There," said he in a fatherly voice. "Go now, and be happy."
As I rose, he suddenly put up his hand.
"Ma foi, I had all but forgotten, so much has Monsieur de Lavedan's
fate preoccupied us." He picked up another paper from his table,
and tossed it to me. It was my note of hand to Chatellerault for
my Picardy estates.
"Chatellerault died this morning," the King pursued. "He had been
asking to see you, but when he was told that you had left Toulouse,
he dictated a long confession of his misdeeds, which he sent to me
together with this note of yours.
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