of such imprudence?"

"When he told you that your wife had gone to the Rue Cloche Percee, you
would not believe that either!"

"How was I to suppose, sire, that a daughter of France would thus
publicly risk her reputation?"

"When we besieged the house in the Rue Cloche Percee, and when I had a
silver bowl hurled at my shoulder, D'Anjou some orange marmalade on his
head, and De Guise a haunch of venison in the face, you saw two women
and two men, did you not?"

"I saw nothing, sire. Does not your Majesty remember that I was
questioning the janitor?"

"Yes, but, by Heaven, I saw"--

"Ah, if your Majesty saw anything, that is a different thing."

"I saw two men and two women. Well, I know now beyond a doubt that one
of the women was Margot, and that one of the men was Monsieur de la
Mole."

"Well," said Henry, "if Monsieur de la Mole was in the Rue Cloche
Percee, he was not here."

"No," said Charles, "he was not here. But never mind who was here; we
shall know this as soon as that imbecile of a Maurevel is able to speak
or write. The point is that Margot is deceiving you."

"Bah!" said Henry; "do not believe such nonsense."

"When I tell you that you are more than near-sighted, that you are
blind, the devil! will you believe me just once, stupid? I tell you that
Margot is deceiving you, and that this evening we are going to strangle
her lover."

Henry gave a start of surprise, and looked at his brother-in-law in
amazement.

"Confess, Henry, that at heart you are not sorry. Margot will cry out
like a thousand Niobes; but, faith! so much the worse. I do not want you
to be made a fool of. If Conde is deceived by the Duc d'Anjou, I will
wink; Conde is my enemy. But you are my brother; more than this, you are
my friend."

"But, sire"--

"And I do not want you to be annoyed, and made a fool of. You have been
a quintain long enough for all these popinjays who come from the
provinces to gather our crumbs, and court our women. Let them come, or
rather let them come again. By Heaven! you have been deceived,
Henriot,--that might happen to any one,--but I swear, you shall have
shining satisfaction, and to-morrow they shall say: In the name of a
thousand devils! it seems that King Charles loves his brother Henriot,
for last night he had Monsieur de la Mole's tongue pulled out in a most
amusing manner."

"Is this really decided on, sire?" asked Henry.

"Decided on, determined on, arranged. The coxcomb will have