Read "Shrewsbury" by Stanley J. Weyman online for free on Textopian. Full text with search, annotations, highlights, and AI-powered reading aids.
The odd and unexpected glimpse of generosity which the King had allowed to escape him, in his interview with the Duke, somewhat lessened the fears I must otherwise have entertained at that moment. To which must be added that I am one of those who, when violence and physical danger are not in question, retain a fair mastery of their minds. Nevertheless, I am free to confess that as I went forward, I wished myself anywhere else in the world, and would have sacrificed half my remaining economies to be seated, pen in hand, and obscurely safe, in Mr. Brome's room.
But the thing took a turn which relieved me when I least expected it. As I approached, the chagrin in the King's face gave place to a look of surprise; and that again, but more slowly, to one of intelligence. "Ah! _Je me trompais! _" he muttered rapidly. "What did you say his name was?"