ll kill me in open day, here in the street, as
they killed Minard. But if you send me to court on your affairs, perhaps
I can justify myself equally well to both sides. Either I shall succeed
without having run any danger at all, and shall then win a fine position
in the party; or, if the danger turns out very great, I shall be there
simply on your business."

The father rose as if his chair was of red-hot iron.

"Wife," he said, "leave us; and watch that we are left quite alone,
Christophe and I."

When Mademoiselle Lecamus had left them the furrier took his son by a
button and led him to the corner of the room which made the angle of the
bridge.

"Christophe," he said, whispering in his ear as he had done when he
mentioned the name of the Prince of Conde, "be a Huguenot, if you have
that vice; but be so cautiously, in the depths of your soul, and not
in a way to be pointed at as a heretic throughout the quarter. What you
have just confessed to me shows that the leaders have confidence in you.
What are you going to do for them at court?"

"I cannot tell you that," replied Christophe; "for I do not know
myself."

"Hum! hum!" muttered the old man, looking at his son, "the scamp means
to hoodwink his father; he'll go far. You are not going to court," he
went on in a low tone, "to carry remittances to Messieurs de Guise or
to the little king our master, or to the little Queen Marie. All those
hearts are Catholic; but I would take my oath the Italian woman has some
spite against the Scotch girl and against the Lorrains. I know her. She
has a desperate desire to put her hand into the dough. The late king
was so afraid of her that he did as the jewellers do, he cut diamond
by diamond, he pitted one woman against another. That caused Queen
Catherine's hatred to the poor Duchesse de Valentinois, from whom she
took the beautiful chateau of Chenonceaux. If it hadn't been for the
Connetable, the duchess might have been strangled. Back, back, my son;
don't put yourself in the hands of that Italian, who has no passion
except in her brain; and that's a bad kind of woman! Yes, what they are
sending you to do at court may give you a very bad headache," cried the
father, seeing that Christophe was about to reply. "My son, I have plans
for your future which you will not upset by making yourself useful to
Queen Catherine; but, heavens and earth! don't risk your head. Messieurs
de Guise would cut it off as easily as the Burgundian c