at least Raincy,
who sees that the League holds the King in a cleft stick. My good man,
he dare not--this Henry of the Fox's Heart. I have the clergy, the
Church, the people, most of the lords. The Parliament itself is filled
with our people. Blois, all except the Chateau, is crammed with our men,
as a bladder is with lard!"

"Ah, except the Chateau," groaned Raincy; "but that is the point. You
are going to the Chateau, and the Fox is cunning--he has teeth as well
as another!"

"But he dares not trap the lion, Raincy," laughed Guise. "Why, you are
as bad as Madame de Noirmoutier, who made me promise to ride off to-day
like a whipped cur--I, the Guise. There, no more, Raincy! I tell you I
will dethrone the King. Then I will beat the Bearnais and take him about
the land as a show in a cage, for he will be the only Huguenot left in
all the realm of France. Then you, Raincy, shall be my grand almoner. Be
my little one now! Quick, give me twelve golden crowns--that my purse,
when I go among my foes, be not like that of my cousin of Navarre!"

As the major-domo went to seek the gold, Guise stretched his feet out to
the blaze and, with a smile on his face, hummed the chorus of the
Leaguers' marching-song.

"I would I were a little less _balafre_ on such a cold morning,"
grumbled the Duke; "scars honourable are all very well, but--give me a
handkerchief, Raincy. That arquebusier at Chateau Thierry fetched me a
villain thwack on the cheek-bone, and on cold days one eye still weeps
in sympathy with my misfortunes!"

"Ah, my good lord," said Raincy, "pray that before sundown this day many
an eye in France may not have cause to weep!"

"Silence there, old croaker," cried the Duke; "my sword--my cloak! What,
have you so forgot your business in prating of France, that you will not
even do your office? Carry these things downstairs! A villain's day!--a
dog's day! The cold the wolf-packs bring when they come down to harry
the villages! Hold the stirrup, Raincy! Steady, lass! Wey there! Thou
lovest not standing in the rain, eh? Wish me luck, Raincy. I carry the
hope of France, you know--King Henry of Guise, and the throats of the
Protestant dogs all cut--sleep on that sentiment, good Raincy."

And Raincy watched the Duke ride away towards the Castle of Blois. The
last echo of his master's voice came back to him on the gusty December
wind:

"_The Guises are good men, good men,
The Cardinal, and Henry, and Mayenne, Mayen