which overtook his co-religionists. The duke,
who considered himself under obligations for life to Ambroise Pare, had
lately caused him to be appointed chief-surgeon to the king.

"What is it, monseigneur?" said Ambroise. "Is the king ill? I think it
likely."

"Likely? Why?"

"The queen is too pretty," replied the surgeon.

"Ah!" exclaimed the duke in astonishment. "However, that is not the
matter now," he added after a pause. "Ambroise, I want you to see a
friend of yours." So saying he drew him to the door of the council-room,
and showed him Christophe.

"Ha! true, monseigneur," cried the surgeon, extending his hand to the
young furrier. "How is your father, my lad?"

"Very well, Maitre Ambroise," replied Christophe.

"What are you doing at court?" asked the surgeon. "It is not your
business to carry parcels; your father intends you for the law. Do you
want the protection of these two great princes to make you a solicitor?"

"Indeed I do!" said Christophe; "but I am here only in the interests of
my father; and if you could intercede for us, please do so," he added
in a piteous tone; "and ask the Grand Master for an order to pay certain
sums that are due to my father, for he is at his wit's end just now for
money."

The cardinal and the duke glanced at each other and seemed satisfied.

"Now leave us," said the duke to the surgeon, making him a sign. "And
you my friend," turning to Christophe; "do your errand quickly and
return to Paris. My secretary will give you a pass, for it is not safe,
_mordieu_, to be travelling on the high-roads!"

Neither of the brothers formed the slightest suspicion of the grave
importance of Christophe's errand, convinced, as they now were, that he
was really the son of the good Catholic Lecamus, the court furrier, sent
to collect payment for their wares.

"Take him close to the door of the queen's chamber; she will probably
ask for him soon," said the cardinal to the surgeon, motioning to
Christophe.

While the son of the furrier was undergoing this brief examination in
the council-chamber, the king, leaving the queen in company with her
mother-in-law, had passed into his dressing-room, which was entered
through another small room next to the chamber.

Standing in the wide recess of an immense window, Catherine looked at
the gardens, her mind a prey to painful thoughts. She saw that in all
probability one of the greatest captains of the age would be foisted
that very day i