ofess the reformed religion. The others are too dissolute, and
scandalize me by their love affairs and their quarrels. Shall I speak
frankly to you?" continued Charles, redoubling in energy. "I mistrust
every one about me except my new friends. I suspect Tavannes's ambition.
Vieilleville cares only for good wine, and would betray his king for a
cask of Malvoisie; Montmorency thinks only of the chase, and spends all
his time among his dogs and falcons; the Comte de Retz is a Spaniard;
the De Guises are Lorraines. I think there are no true Frenchmen in
France, except myself, my brother-in-law of Navarre, and you; but I am
chained to the throne, and cannot command armies; it is as much as I can
do to hunt at my ease at Saint Germain or Rambouillet. My brother-in-law
of Navarre is too young and too inexperienced; besides, he seems to me
exactly like his father Antoine, ruined by women. There is but you, my
father, who can be called, at the same time, as brave as Caesar and as
wise as Plato; so that I scarcely know what to do--keep you near me, as
my adviser, or send you to the army, as its general. If you act as my
counsellor, who will command? If you command, who will be my
counsellor?"

"Sire," said Coligny, "we must conquer first, and then take counsel
after the victory."

"That is your advice--so be it; Monday you shall leave for Flanders, and
I for Amboise."

"Your Majesty leaves Paris, then?"

"Yes; I am weary of this confusion, and of these fetes. I am not a man
of action; I am a dreamer. I was not born to be a king; I was born to be
a poet. You shall form a council which shall govern while you are at
war, and provided my mother is not in it, all will go well. I have
already sent word to Ronsard to join me; and yonder, we two together,
far from all tumult, far from the world, far from evil men, under our
mighty trees on the banks of the river, with the murmur of brooks in
our ears, will talk about divine things, the only compensation which
there is in the world for the affairs of men. Wait! Hear these lines in
which I invite him to join me; I wrote them this morning."

Coligny smiled. Charles IX. rubbed his hand over his brow, yellow and
shining like ivory, and repeated in a kind of sing-song the following
couplets:

"Ronsard, I am full sure that if you see me not,
Your great King's voice by you will shortly be forgot.
But as a slight reminder--know I still persevere
In making skill of poesy m