lf in the attempt," replied the
prince.

At the end of the dinner, which was gloomy enough, Queen Mary had the
cruel boldness to turn the conversation openly upon the trial of the
noblemen on the charge of being seized with arms in their hands, and to
speak of the necessity of making a great public show of their execution.

"Madame," said Francois II., "is it not enough for the king of France to
know that so much brave blood is to flow? Must he make a triumph of it?"

"No, sire; but an example," replied Catherine.

"It was the custom of your father and your grandfather to be present at
the burning of heretics," said Mary Stuart.

"The kings who reigned before me did as they thought best, and I choose
to do as I please," said the little king.

"Philip the Second," remarked Catherine, "who is certainly a great king,
lately postponed an _auto da fe_ until he could return from the Low
Countries to Valladolid."

"What do you think, cousin?" said the king to Prince de Conde.

"Sire, you cannot avoid it, and the papal nuncio and all the ambassadors
should be present. I shall go willingly, as these ladies take part in
the fete."

Thus the Prince de Conde, at a glance from Catherine de' Medici, bravely
chose his course.

* * * * *

At the moment when the Prince de Conde was entering the chateau
d'Amboise, Lecamus, the furrier of the two queens, was also arriving
from Paris, brought to Amboise by the anxiety into which the news of the
tumult had thrown both his family and that of Lallier. When the old man
presented himself at the gate of the chateau, the captain of the guard,
on hearing that he was the queens' furrier, said:--

"My good man, if you want to be hanged you have only to set foot in this
courtyard."

Hearing these words, the father, in despair, sat down on a stone at a
little distance and waited until some retainer of the two queens or some
servant-woman might pass who would give him news of his son. But he sat
there all day without seeing any one whom he knew, and was forced
at last to go down into the town, where he found, not without some
difficulty, a lodging in a hostelry on the public square where the
executions took place. He was obliged to pay a pound a day to obtain
a room with a window looking on the square. The next day he had the
courage to watch, from his window, the execution of all the abettors of
the rebellion who were condemned to be broken on the wheel or