"Yes, king; and although you haven't, as I have, three lilies in your crest, you have one in your hand, which seems to me to be lovelier than any that ever blossomed in the brightest sunlight or upon the fairest field in all heraldry."
"This lily is not mine, Sire; it belongs to Madame d'Etampes, who commissioned my pupil Ascanio to make it; but as he could not finish it, and as I realized Madame d'Etampes's desire to have so rich a jewel in her possession, I set to work myself and finished it, wishing with all my heart to make it the symbol of the treaty of peace which we ratified the other day in your Majesty's presence."
"It is marvellously beautiful," said the king, putting out his hand to take it.
"Is it not, sire?" rejoined Benvenuto, withdrawing it as if without design, "and the young artist, whose chef-d'œuvre it is, certainly deserves to be magnificently rewarded."
"Such is my purpose," interposed the duchess; "I have in store for him a recompense which a king might envy him."
"But you know, madame, that the recompense to which you refer, splendid as it is, is not that upon which his heart is fixed. What would you have, madame? We artists are whimsical creatures, and often the thing which would, as you say, arouse a king's envy, is viewed by us with disdainful eye."
"Nevertheless," said Madame d'Etampes, as an angry flush overspread her face, "he must be content with what I have set apart for him; for I have already told you, Benvenuto, that I would accord him no other save at the last extremity."
"Very well, you may confide to me what his wishes are," said François to Benvenuto, once more putting out his hand for the lily, "and if it's not too difficult a matter, we will try to arrange it."
"Observe the jewel carefully, Sire," said Benvenuto, placing the stalk of the flower in the king's hand; "examine it in detail, and your Majesty will see that any compensation whatsoever must fall short of the value of such a masterpiece."
As he spoke, Benvenuto darted a keen glance at the duchess; but her self-control was so perfect, that not a muscle of her face moved as she saw the lily pass from the artist's hand to the king's.