er cabinet, and pointed to an ink-stand, pen, parchment,
the seal, and a lighted candle.

The king took the parchment and read it through hastily.

"_Order, etc., etc., to arrest and conduct to the Bastille our brother
Henry of Navarre._"

"Good, that is done!" he exclaimed, signing hurriedly. "Adieu, mother."

He hastened from the room, followed by his dogs, greatly pleased to have
gotten rid of Catharine so easily.

Charles IX. had been waited for with impatience, and as his promptness
in hunting matters was well known, every one wondered at the delay. So
when he finally appeared, the hunters welcomed him by shouts of "Long
live the King!" the outriders by a flourish of trumpets, the horses by
neighing, the dogs by barking. All this noise and hubbub brought a flush
to his pale cheeks, his heart swelled, and for a moment Charles was
young and happy.

The King scarcely took the time to salute the brilliant company gathered
in the court-yard. He nodded to the Duc d'Alencon, waved his hand to his
sister Marguerite, passed Henry without apparently seeing him, and
sprang upon the fiery Barbary horse, which started off at once. But
after curvetting around three or four times, he realized what sort of a
rider he had to deal with and quieted down. The trumpets again sounded,
and the King left the Louvre followed by the Duc d'Alencon, the King of
Navarre, Marguerite, Madame de Nevers, Madame de Sauve, Tavannes, and
the principal courtiers.

It goes without saying that La Mole and Coconnas were of the number.

As to the Duc d'Anjou, he had been at the siege of La Rochelle for three
months.

While waiting for the King, Henry had spoken to his wife, who in
returning his greeting had whispered,

"The courier from Rome was admitted by Monsieur de Coconnas himself to
the chamber of the Duc d'Alencon a quarter of an hour before the
messenger from the Duc de Nevers saw the King."

"Then he knows all," said Henry.

"He must know all," replied Marguerite; "but keep your eyes on him and
see how, in spite of his usual dissimulation, his eyes shine."

"_Ventre saint gris!_" murmured the Bearnais. "I should think they
would; he hunts triple game to-day: France, Poland, and Navarre, without
counting the wild boar."

He bowed to his wife, returned to his place, and calling one of his
servants whose ancestors had been in the service of his father for more
than a century, and whom he employed as ordinary messenger in his love
a