"Chicot!"

"Well! let me hear whom you have seen come."

"No one."

"Yet some one has come."

"Of those whom I named?"

"Not exactly, but nearly."

"Who?"

"A woman."

"My sister Margot?"

"No; the Duchesse de Montpensier."

"She! at Paris?"

"Mon Dieu! yes."

"Well, if she be; I do not fear women."

"True; but she comes as the avant courier to announce the arrival of her
brother."

"Of M. de Guise?"

"Yes."

"And do you think that embarrasses me? Give me ink and paper."

"What for? To sign an order for M. de Guise to remain at Nancy?"

"Exactly; the idea must be good, since you had it also."

"Execrable, on the contrary."

"Why?"

"As soon as he receives it he will know he is wanted at Paris, and he
will come."

The king grew angry. "If you only returned to talk like this," said he,
"you had better have stayed away."

"What would you have? Phantoms never flatter. But be reasonable; why do
you think M. de Guise remains at Nancy?"

"To organize an army."

"Well; and for what purpose does he destine this army?"

"Ah, Chicot! you fatigue me with all these questions."

"You will sleep better after it. He destines this army--"

"To attack the Huguenots in the north--"

"Or rather, to thwart your brother of Anjou, who has called himself Duke
of Brabant, and wishes to build himself a throne in Flanders, for which
he solicits your aid--"

"Which I never sent."

"To the great joy of the Duc de Guise. Well, if you were to feign to
send this aid--if they only went half way--"

"Ah! yes, I understand; M. de Guise would not leave the frontier."

"And the promise of Madame de Montpensier that her brother would be here
in a week--"

"Would be broken."

"You see, then?"

"So far, good; but in the south--"

"Ah, yes; the Bearnais--"

"Do you know what he is at?"

"No."

"He claims the towns which were his wife's dowry," said the king.

"Insolent! to claim what belongs to him."

"Cahors, for example; as if it would be good policy to give up such a
town to an enemy."

"No; but it would be like an honest man."

"But to return to Flanders. I will send some one to my brother--but whom
can I trust? Oh! now I think of it, you shall go, Chicot."

"I, a dead man?"

"No; you shall go as Robert Briquet."

"As a bagman?"

"Do you refuse?"--"Certainly."

"You disobey me!"

"I owe you no obedience--"

Henri was about to reply, when the door opened and the Duc de Joyeuse
was