he seemed very grave. During the journey he
had been in a deep study, not addressing a word to any one, concerned
neither with conspiracy nor conspirators. It was evident that he was
occupied with his illness; a malady so sudden, so strange, so severe,
some of the symptoms of which had been noticed in his brother Francois
II. a short time before his death.

So the order to admit no one whomsoever to his rooms, except Maitre
Pare, caused no surprise. It was well known that the prince was a
misanthrope. Charles entered his sleeping-room, seated himself in a
folding-chair, and leaned his head against the cushions. Then reflecting
that Maitre Ambroise Pare might not be at home, and that there might be
some delay before he saw him, he decided to employ the intervening time.

He clapped his hands, thus summoning a guard.

"Say to the King of Navarre that I wish to speak with him," said
Charles.

The man bowed and withdrew.

Just then Charles's head fell back, a great weight seemed to oppress
him; his ideas grew confused; it was as if a sort of bloody vapor were
floating before his eyes; his mouth was dry, although he had already
swallowed a whole carafe of water.

While he was in this drowsy state the door opened and Henry appeared.
Monsieur de Nancey had followed him, but stopped in the antechamber.

The King of Navarre waited until the door was closed. Then he advanced.

"Sire," said he, "you sent for me; I am here."

The King started at the voice and mechanically extended his hand.

"Sire," said Henry, letting his arms hang at his side, "your Majesty
forgets that I am no longer your brother but your prisoner."

"Ah! that is true," said Charles. "Thank you for having reminded me of
it. Moreover, it seems to me that when we last spoke together you
promised to answer frankly what I might ask you."

"I am ready to keep my word, sire. Ask your questions."

The King poured some cold water into his hand and applied it to his
forehead.

"Tell me, Henry, how much truth is there in the accusation brought
against you by the Duc d'Alencon?"

"Only a little. It was Monsieur d'Alencon who was to have fled, and I
who was to have accompanied him."

"And why should you have gone with him? Are you dissatisfied with me,
Henry?"

"No, sire; on the contrary, I have only praise for your majesty; and
God, who reads our hearts, knows how deeply I love my brother and my
King."

"It seems to me," said Charles, "that it is not