d quiet
as usual. Charles IX. fretted, bit his nails, and whipped his two
favorite dogs. The latter were covered with cuirasses of mail, so that
the snout of the wild boar should not harm them, and that they might be
able to encounter the terrible animal with impunity. A small scutcheon
with the arms of France had been stitched on their breasts similar to
those on the breasts of the pages, who, more than once, had envied the
privileges of these happy favorites.

"Pay attention, Charles," said Catharine, "no one but you and I knows as
yet of the expected arrival of these Polonais. But, God forgive me, the
King of Navarre acts as if he knew. In spite of his abjuration, which I
always mistrust, he is in communication with the Huguenots. Have you
noticed how often he has gone out the past few days? He has money, too,
he who has never had any. He buys horses, arms, and on rainy days he
practises fencing from morning until night."

"Well, my God, mother!" exclaimed Charles IX., impatiently, "do you
think he intends to kill me, or my brother D'Anjou? In that case he will
need a few more lessons, for yesterday I counted eleven buttonholes with
my foil on his doublet, which, however, had only six. And as to my
brother D'Anjou, you know that he fences as well if not better than I
do; at least so people say."

"Listen, Charles," continued Catharine, "and do not treat lightly what
your mother tells you. The ambassadors will arrive; well, you will see!
As soon as they are in Paris, Henry will do all he can to gain their
attention. He is insinuating, he is crafty; without mentioning his wife
who seconds him, I know not why, and will chat with them, and talk
Latin, Greek, Hungarian, and I know not what, to them! Oh, I tell you,
Charles,--and you know that I am not mistaken,--I tell you that there is
something on foot."

Just then the clock struck and Charles IX. stopped listening to his
mother to count the strokes.

"Good heavens! seven o'clock!" he exclaimed, "one hour before we get
off, that will make it eight; one hour to reach the meeting-place, and
to start again--we shall not be able to begin hunting before nine
o'clock. Really, mother, you make me lose a great deal of time! Down,
Risquetout! great Heavens! down, I say, you brigand!"

And a vigorous blow of the bloody whip on the mastiff's back brought a
howl of real pain from the poor beast, thoroughly astonished at
receiving punishment in exchange for a caress.

"Char