smothered in their germ
all attempts at sedition, thus rendering herself essential to the
well-being and security of the kingdom; and he accordingly felt all the
importance of the present crisis.

Under this impression, after listening attentively to the narrative of
his informant, he hastened to the apartment of the King, who was still
engaged in the cares of his morning toilet; and no contrast could have
been more striking than the simple costume of the young sovereign and
the elaborate dress of his favourite. The pourpoint of Louis was of deep
crimson velvet, slashed with satin of the same colour, and totally
without ornament, a simplicity which marked his own observance of the
sumptuary edict that he had lately issued; whereas De Luynes, with an
arrogant disregard of the royal proclamation, was attired in a vest of
pale blue, richly embroidered with gold and relieved by a short mantle
of amaranth, clasped by a rich jewel similar to that which attached the
snowy plume to his black velvet cap.

As the cap was doffed, however, and the long feather swept the
tapestried floor, Louis forgot to chide this ostentatious defiance of
his will, and with a smile motioned his splendid courtier to a seat.

"You come like a bridegroom from the wedding feast, Albert," he said
cheerfully; "and you surely bring me a message of good import, or your
garb belies you. Has De Brantes announced the speedy arrival of my
sparrow-hawks?"

"Of one only, Sire; the smaller of the two died under his training."

"Ah!" exclaimed the King, with great petulance; "it is always so.
Whatever is destined to give me pleasure fails when I am the most eager
to possess it."

"And yet," interposed De Luynes gaily, "never, in so far as I can judge,
did fortune show herself more favourable to your Majesty."

"What mean you?" asked Louis, roused for an instant from his usual
apathy.

"Oh! it is a long tale, and a strange one," said the favourite. "You may
remember, Sire, the quarrel that arose between the old Baron de Luz and
the Chevalier de Guise, and which grew out of the cabal against Concini.
You cannot have forgotten, moreover, that the Baron was killed. Well,
his son Antoine de Luz, impatient for a vengeance which was too tardy
according to the principle of his filial chivalry, took, as it seems,
the affair into his own hands, and flattered himself that where his
father had failed he should come forth victorious. Poor boy! he has paid
dearly for