ie. I wrote to Varsovia myself,
my letter reached there, I am sure, and my brother will be watched. So,
in all probability, Henry, the throne will be vacant."

A second sound louder than the first was heard in the alcove.

"She is surely there," thought Henry, "and is listening."

Charles heard nothing.

"Now," he continued, "I am dying without male heir." Then he stopped. A
sweet thought seemed to light up his face, and, laying his hand on the
King of Navarre's shoulder:

"Alas!" said he, "do you remember, Henriot, the poor little boy I showed
you one evening sleeping in his silken cradle, watched over by an angel?
Alas! Henriot, they will kill him!"

"Oh, sire!" cried Henry, whose eyes filled with tears, "I swear to you
that I will watch over him all the days and nights of my life. Command
me, my King."

"Thanks, Henriot, thanks!" said Charles, with a show of feeling unusual
in him, but which the situation had roused, "I accept your promise. Do
not make him a king,--fortunately he was not born for a throne,--but
make him happy. I have left him an independent fortune. Let him inherit
his mother's nobility, that of the heart. Perhaps it would be better for
him if he were to enter the church. He would inspire less fear. Oh! it
seems to me that I should die, if not happy, at least calm, if I had the
kisses of the child and the sweet face of its mother to console me."

"Sire, could you not send for them?"

"Ah, poor wretches! They would never be allowed to leave the Louvre!
Such is the condition of kings, Henriot. They can neither live nor die
as they please. But since you promise I am more resigned."

Henry reflected.

"Yes, no doubt, my King. I have promised, but can I keep my word?"

"What do you mean?"

"Shall I not be persecuted, and threatened like him, even more than him?
For I am a man, and he is only a child."

"You are mistaken," said Charles; "after my death you shall be great and
powerful. Here is what will make you so."

And the King drew a parchment from under the pillow.

"See!" said he.

Henry glanced over the document sealed with the royal seal.

"The regency for me, sire!" said he, growing pale with joy.

"Yes, for you, until the return of the Duc d'Anjou, and as in all
probability the duke will never return it is not the regency only but
the throne that this gives you."

"The throne!" murmured Henry.

"Yes," said Charles, "you alone are worthy of it; you alone are capable
of go