his mistake. His sword has proved duller than his hopes. He
has encountered the Chevalier in his turn, and in his turn has bit the
dust. Francois de Guise pierced him through and through one day last
week near the Porte St. Antoine."

"Holy Virgin!" exclaimed Louis in an agitated voice; "do you mean that
he is dead?"

"Dead, like his father," was the unmoved reply.

"And her Majesty the Queen-Regent was no sooner informed of the fact
than she commanded M. de Bassompierre to arrest the Chevalier."

"I will not permit it!" cried the young King vehemently. "I love
Francois de Guise; he is one of my firmest friends; he shall not be
imprisoned."

"Calm yourself, Sire," said De Luynes with a significant smile; "Madame
la Regente was soon appeased, and so little does she resent the crime of
M. de Guise that she has this morning condescended to cause inquiries to
be made after his health."

"Right, right," murmured Louis; "and yet it is a bad precedent, and a
dangerous example to the lesser nobles. I hate this spilling of blood.
The Princes are too bold. Upon what will they next venture?"

"Nay, it requires no sphynx to solve that problem, my gracious master,"
said the favourite, toying with his plumed cap; "they will endeavour to
effect the exile of Concini and his dark-browed wife: your good subjects
have no love for foreigners, and believe that you, their sovereign,
would find no want of faithful and devoted servitors among themselves.
Then Jeannin, Sire, and Sillery are obnoxious to them; and they trust,
with your good help, to be ere long freed from all these incubi."

"Luynes," said Louis in a tone of weariness, "I hate to hear you talk
upon such subjects. I have more than enough of them from others. Is De
Guise recovering from his wound? for he must also have suffered in the
fray, or the Queen-mother would not have sought tidings of him."

"Fear not for him, Sire," said the favourite; "he will be quite able to
keep the saddle when M. de Conde heads an army to snatch the crown of
our fair France from your own brow."

"Stay, sir!" exclaimed the young King with sudden dignity. "Have _you_
also forgotten that I am the son of Henri IV?"

"May your Majesty never forget it more than I do," said De Luynes, with
an audacity before which the eye of Louis sank; "but believe me that the
fact will avail you little until you have purged the nation of the
foreign fungus which is corroding the root of your authority."

"Al