er; apparently Charles
had forgotten that he had called. His head a little bent--he was tall
and had a natural stoop--the King seemed to be listening to a low but
continuous murmur of voices which proceeded from the door of his closet.
One voice frequently raised was beyond doubt a woman's; a foreign accent,
smooth and silky, marked another; a third, that from time to time broke
in, wilful and impetuous, was the voice of Monsieur, the King's brother,
Catherine de Medicis' favourite son. Tavannes, waiting respectfully two
paces behind the King, could catch little that was said; but Charles,
something more, it seemed, for on a sudden he laughed, a violent,
mirthless laugh. And he clapped Rambouillet on the shoulder.

"There!" he said, with one of his horrible oaths, "'tis settled! 'Tis
settled! Go, man, and take your orders! And you, M. de Retz," he
continued, in a tone of savage mockery, "go, my lord, and give them!"

"I, sire?" the Italian Marshal answered, in accents of deprecation. There
were times when the young King would show his impatience of the Italian
ring, the Retzs and Biragues, the Strozzis and Gondys, with whom his
mother surrounded him.

"Yes, you!" Charles answered. "You and my lady mother! And in God's
name answer for it at the day!" he continued vehemently. "You will have
it! You will not let me rest till you have it! Then have it, only see
to it, it be done thoroughly! There shall not be one left to cast it in
the King's teeth and cry, 'Et tu, Carole!' Swim, swim in blood if you
will," he continued, with growing wildness. "Oh, 'twill be a merry
night! And it's true so far, you may kill fleas all day, but burn the
coat, and there's an end. So burn it, burn it, and--" He broke off with
a start as he discovered Tavannes at his elbow. "God's death, man!" he
cried roughly, "who sent for you?"

"Your Majesty called me," Tavannes answered; while, partly urged by the
King's hand, and partly anxious to escape, the others slipped into the
closet and left them together.

"I sent for you? I called your brother, the Marshal!"

"He is within, sire," Tavannes answered, indicating the closet. "A
moment ago I heard his voice."

Charles passed his shaking hand across his eyes. "Is he?" he muttered.
"So he is! I heard it too. And--and a man cannot be in two places at
once!" Then, while his haggard gaze, passing by Tavannes, roved round
the Chamber, he laid his hand on Count Hannibal's brea