e
beast. Plague it, a bullet aimed too high or too low changes an entire
government. We have an example of this in our own family. When
Montgommery killed our father, Henry II., by accident--emotion,
perhaps--the blow placed our brother, Francois II., on the throne and
sent our father Henry to Saint Denis. So little is necessary for
Providence to effect much!"

The duke felt the perspiration running down his face at this attack, as
formidable as it was unforeseen.

It would have been impossible for the King to show more clearly that he
had surmised all. Veiling his anger under a jesting manner, Charles was
perhaps more terrible than as if he had let himself pour forth the lava
of hate which was consuming his heart; his vengeance seemed in
proportion to his rancor. As the one grew sharper, the other increased,
and for the first time D'Alencon felt remorse, or rather regret for
having meditated a crime which had not succeeded. He had sustained the
struggle as long as he could, but at this final blow he bent his head,
and Charles saw dawning in his eyes that devouring fire which in beings
of a tender nature ploughs the furrow from which spring tears.

But D'Alencon was one of those who weep only from anger. Charles fixed
on him his vulture gaze, watching the feelings which succeeded one
another across the face of the young man, and all those sensations
appeared to him as accurately, thanks to the deep study he had made of
his family as if the heart of the duke had been an open book.

He left him a moment, crushed, motionless, and mute; then in a voice
stamped with the firmness of hatred:

"Brother," said he, "we have declared to you our resolution; it is
immutable. You will go."

D'Alencon gave a start, but Charles did not appear to notice it, and
continued:

"I wish Navarre to be proud of having for king a brother of the King of
France. Gold, power, honor, all that belongs to your birth you shall
have, as your brother Henry had, and like him," he added, smiling, "you
will bless me from afar. But no matter, blessings know no distance."

"Sire"--

"Accept my decision, or rather, resign yourself. Once king, we shall
find a wife for you worthy of a son of France, and she, perhaps, may
bring you another throne."

"But," said the Duc d'Alencon, "your Majesty forgets your good friend
Henry."

"Henry! but I told you that he did not want the throne of Navarre! I
told you he had abdicated in favor of you! Henry is a