tine apparently made an effort to
collect all his strength, and then turned towards Henry.

CHAPTER XXII.

"SIRE, YOU SHALL BE KING."

"Sire," said Rene to Henry, "I have come to speak of something which has
been on my mind for some time."

"Perfumery?" said Henry, smiling.

"Well, yes, sire,--perfumery," replied Rene, with a singular nod of
acquiescence.

"Speak, I am listening to you. This is a subject which has always
interested me deeply."

Rene looked at Henry to try, in spite of his words, to read the
impenetrable thought; but seeing that it was perfectly impossible, he
continued:

"One of my friends, sire, has just arrived from Florence. This friend is
greatly interested in astrology."

"Yes," interrupted Henry, "I know that it is a passion with
Florentines."

"In company with the foremost students of the world he has read the
horoscopes of the chief gentlemen of Europe."

"Ah! ah!" exclaimed Henry.

"And as the house of Bourbon is at the head of the highest, descended as
it is from the Count of Clermont, the fifth son of Saint Louis, your
majesty must know that your horoscope has not been overlooked."

Henry listened still more attentively.

"Do you remember this horoscope?" said the King of Navarre, with a smile
which he strove to render indifferent.

"Oh!" replied Rene, shaking his head, "your horoscope is not one to be
forgotten."

"Indeed!" said Henry, ironically.

"Yes, sire; according to this horoscope your majesty is to have a most
brilliant destiny."

The young prince gave a lightning glance which was almost at once lost
under cover of indifference.

"Every Italian oracle is apt to flatter," said Henry; "but he who
flatters lies. Are there not those who have predicted that I would
command armies? I!" He burst out laughing. But an observer less occupied
with himself than Rene would have noticed and realized the effort of
this laugh.

"Sire," said Rene, coldly, "the horoscope tells better than that."

"Does it foretell that at the head of one of these armies I shall win
battles?"

"Better than that, sire."

"Well," said Henry; "you will see that I shall be conqueror!"

"Sire, you shall be king."

"Well! _Ventre saint gris_!" exclaimed Henry, repressing a violent
beating of his heart; "am I not that already?"

"Sire, my friend knows what he promises; not only will you be king, but
you will reign."

"In that case," said Henry, in the same mocking tone, "your fri