aps bring me tidings of the
admiral."

"Without fail--Well, Phoebe, what is it?"

"Phoebe!" said the queen mother, impatiently.

"Call her, madame," said the Bearnais, "for she will not allow me to go
out."

The queen mother rose, took the little greyhound by the collar, and held
her while Henry left the apartment, with his features as calm and
smiling as if he did not feel in his heart that his life was in imminent
peril.

Behind him the little dog, set free by Catharine de Medicis, rushed to
try and overtake him, but the door was closed, and Phoebe could only
put her long nose under the tapestry and give a long and mournful howl.

"Now, Charlotte," said Catharine to Madame de Sauve, "go and find
Messieurs de Guise and Tavannes, who are in my oratory, and return with
them; then remain with the Duchess of Lorraine, who has the vapors."

CHAPTER VII.

THE NIGHT OF THE 24TH OF AUGUST, 1572.

When La Mole and Coconnas had finished their supper--and it was meagre
enough, for the fowls of _La Belle Etoile_ had their pin feathers singed
only on the sign--Coconnas whirled his chair around on one leg,
stretched out his feet, leaned one elbow on the table, and drinking a
last glass of wine, said:

"Do you mean to go to bed instantly, Monsieur de la Mole?"

"_Ma foi!_ I am very much inclined, for it is possible that I may be
called up in the night."

"And I, too," said Coconnas; "but it appears to me that, under the
circumstances, instead of going to bed and making those wait who are to
come to us, we should do better to call for cards and play a game. They
would then find us quite ready."

"I would willingly accept your proposal, sir, but I have very little
money for play. I have scarce a hundred gold crowns in my valise, for my
whole treasure. I rely on that with which to make my fortune!"

"A hundred gold crowns!" cried Coconnas, "and you complain? By Heaven! I
have but six!"

"Why," replied La Mole, "I saw you draw from your pocket a purse which
appeared not only full, but I should say bloated."

"Ah," said Coconnas, "that is to defray an old debt which I am compelled
to pay to an old friend of my father, whom I suspect to be, like
yourself, somewhat of a Huguenot. Yes, there are here a hundred rose
nobles," he added, slapping his pocket, "but these hundred rose nobles
belong to Maitre Mercandon. My personal patrimony, as I tell you, is
limited to six crowns."

"How, then, can you play?"

"Why