"Come, don't put on that solemn face of yours! Give me the life of
that young man."

"Is it yours already?"

"Sire," she said, "I am pure and virtuous. You are jesting at--"

"Then," said Louis XI., interrupting her, "as I am not to know the
truth, I think Tristan had better clear it up."

Marie turned pale, but she made a violent effort and cried out:--

"Sire, I assure you, you will regret all this. The so-called thief
stole nothing. If you will grant me his pardon, I will tell you
everything, even though you may punish me."

"Ho, ho! this is getting serious," cried the king, shoving up his cap.
"Speak out, my daughter."

"Well," she said, in a low voice, putting her lips to her father's
ear, "he was in my room all night."

"He could be there, and yet rob Cornelius. Two robberies!"

"I have your blood in my veins, and I was not born to love a
scoundrel. That young seigneur is the nephew of the captain-general of
your archers."

"Well, well!" cried the king; "you are hard to confess."