ignity,
despite bed-gown and slippers and the nightcap covering his high, bald
crown, made no presence of misunderstanding him.

"Of you and the Princesse de Conde, you mean, sire?" quoth he, and
gravely he shook his head. "It is a matter that has filled me with
apprehension, for I foresee from it far greater trouble than from any
former attachment of yours."

"So they have convinced you, too, Grand-Master?" Henry's tone was almost
sorrowful. "Yet I swear that all is greatly exaggerated. It is the work
of that dog Concini. Ventre St. Gris! If he has no respect for me, at
least he might consider how he slanders a child of such grace and wit
and beauty, a lady of her high birth and noble lineage."

There was a dangerous quiver of emotion in his voice that was not missed
by the keen ears of Sully. Henry moved from the window, and flung into a
chair.

"Concini works to enrage the Queen against me, and to drive her to
take violent resolutions which might give colour to their pernicious
designs."

"Sire!" It was a cry of protest from Sully.

Henry laughed grimly at his minister's incredulity, and plucked forth
the letter from Vaucelas.

"Read that."

Sully read, and, aghast at what the letter told him, ejaculated: "They
must be mad!"

"Oh, no," said the King. "They are not mad. They are most wickedly sane,
which is why their designs fill me with apprehension. What do you infer,
Grand-Master, from such deliberate plots against resolutions from which
they know that nothing can turn me while I have life?"

"What can I infer?" quoth Sully, aghast.

"In acting thus--in daring to act thus," the King expounded, "they
proceed as if they knew that I can have but a short time to live."

"Sire!"

"What else? They plan events which cannot take place until I am dead."

Sully stared at his master for a long moment, in stupefied silence, his
loyal Huguenot soul refusing to discount by flattery the truth that he
perceived.

"Sire," he said at last, bowing his fine head, "you must take your
measures."

"Ay, but against whom? Who are these that Vaucelas says he dare not
name? Can you suggest another than..." He paused, shrinking in horror
from completing the utterance of his thought. Then, with an abrupt
gesture, he went on, "... than the Queen herself?"

Sully quietly placed the letter on the table, and sat down. He took his
chin in his hand and looked squarely across at Henry.

"Sire, you have brought this upon yours