"Lilies!" I exclaimed.
"Fleur-de-lis," said my wife demurely.
"Oh!" said I, astonished, and opened the book.
"You have never before seen this book?" asked Lys, with a touch of
malice in her eyes.
"You know I haven't. Hello! what's this? Oho! So there should be a
_de_ before Trevec? Lys de Trevec? Then why in the world did the Purple
Emperor----"
"Dick!" cried Lys.
"All right," said I. "Shall I read about the Sieur de Trevec who
rode to Saladin's tent alone to seek for medicine for St. Louis? or
shall I read about--what is it? Oh, here it is, all down in black and
white--about the Marquis de Trevec who drowned himself before Alva's
eyes rather than surrender the banner of the fleur-de-lis to Spain?
It's all written here. But, dear, how about that soldier named Trevec
who was killed in the old fort on the cliff yonder?"
"He dropped the _de_, and the Trevecs since then have been
Republicans," said Lys--"all except me."
"That's quite right," said I; "it is time that we Republicans should
agree upon some feudal system. My dear, I drink to the king!" and I
raised my wine-glass and looked at Lys.
"To the king," said Lys, flushing. She smoothed out the tiny garment
on her knees; she touched the glass with her lips; her eyes were very
sweet. I drained the glass to the king.
After a silence I said: "I will tell the king stories. His Majesty
shall be amused."
"His Majesty," repeated Lys softly.
"Or hers," I laughed. "Who knows?"
"Who knows?" murmured Lys, with a gentle sigh.
"I know some stories about Jack the Giant-Killer," I announced. "Do
you, Lys?"
"I? No, not about a giant-killer, but I know all about the were-wolf,
and Jeanne-la-Flamme, and the Man in Purple Tatters, and--O dear me! I
know lots more."
"You are very wise," said I. "I shall teach his Majesty English."
"And I Breton," cried Lys jealously.
"I shall bring playthings to the king," said I--"big green lizards from
the gorse, little gray mullets to swim in glass globes, baby rabbits
from the forest of Kerselec----"
"And I," said Lys, "will bring the first primrose, the first branch of
aubepine, the first jonquil, to the king--my king."
"Our king," said I; and there was peace in Finistère.