<< Oh, sire, you mistake; I covet that title-a title to which no one has such right as I have. Henry is only your brother by marriage; I am your brother by blood and in heart, and I entreat you, sire, keep me near you.”

"No, no, François," replied Charles, "it would be wrong." "How, sire?"

"For a thousand reasons."

66

But, sire, have you a more faithful companion than I am ? From my childhood I have never quitted your majesty."

"I know it well-I know it well; and sometimes I have wished you further off."

"What means your majesty?"

"Oh, nothing-nothing; I know—I know. Ah! what glorious hunting you will have there, François-I shall envy you! Do you know they chase the bear in the mountains there as we do the boar here. You'll send us all such splendid skins; you know they hunt there with the poniard-wait for the animal, excite and irritate him: he goes towards the hunter, and four paces off he rises on his hind legs; then they plunge the steel into his heart, as Henry did the wild boar at our last hunt. You know it is dangerous work; but you are brave, François; and the danger would be real pleasure to you."

Ah! your majesty increases my trouble, for I shall no more hunt with you."

"Corboeuf! so much the better," said the king, "it does not suit either of us to hunt together

"What means your majesty?"

"To hunt with me causes you such pleasure and creates in you so much emotion, that you who are skill personified— you, who with any arquebuse can bring down a magpie at a hundred paces-with a weapon of which you are such a perfect master, failed at twenty paces to hit a wild boar and broke the leg of my best horse! Mort diable! François, that makes one reflect, you must know!"

"Oh, sire, think of my emotion," said d'Alençon, livid with agitation.

"Yes," replied Charles; "I guess what the emotion might be, and so I say, François, it is best for us to hunt at a distance from each other, for fear of such emotions. You might,

you know, in another emotion, kill the horseman instead of the horse-the king instead of the animal! When Montgomery killed our father Henry II., by accident-emotion, perhaps the blow placed our brother François II. on the throne, and sent our father Henry to Saint-Denys; a little in this way can do so much."

The duke felt the perspiration pour down his brow at this unexpected attack.

The king had surmised all, and veiling his anger under a jesting tone, was perhaps more terrible than if he had outpoured his lava of hate in its fullest wrath; his revenge was proportioned to his rancour. In proportion as the one was sharpened, the other increased; and, for the first time, Alençon felt remorse, or rather regret, for having meditated a crime that had not succeeded.

He had sustained the struggle as long as he could, but at this last blow he bowed his head.

Charles fixed on him his vulture gaze, and watched closely every feeling that displayed itself in the young duke's countenance, as if he perused an open book.

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"Brother," said the king, we have declared our resolution-that resolution is immutable. You will go."

D'Alençon started; but Charles did not appear to observe it, and continued—“ I wish that Navarre should be proud of having at its head a brother of the king of France. Gold, power, honour-you will have all that belongs to your birth, as your brother Henry had; and, like him," he added, with a smile, you will bless me when afar off-thank Heaven, blessings know no distance!"

66

"Sire- ""

"Accept, or rather resign yourself.

Once a king, we

shall find for you a wife worthy of a son of France, who may —who knows?—bring you another throne."

"But," observed the duke d'Alençon, "your majesty forgets your good friend Henry."

"Henry!-why I told you he does not desire the throne of Navarre; he has abandoned it. Henry is a jovial fellow, and not a pale-face like you; he likes to amuse himself, and laugh at his ease, and not weary himself as we are compelled to do, who wear crowns upon our heads."

Your majesty then desires me to occupy myself

39

By no means.

Do not in any way disturb yourself, I will arrange everything myself.. Say not a word to any one and I will take upon myself to give publicity to everything. François, good day.”

There was no reply. The duke bowed and left the apart ment, with rage devouring his heart.

He was most desirous to find Henry and talk with him of all that had passed; but he could only find Catherine, for Henry avoided, whilst his brother sought him.

The duke seeing Catherine, endeavoured to swallow his griefs and tried to smile.

Well, madame," he said, "do you know the great news?" "I know that there is an idea of making a king of you, sir."

"It is a great kindness on the part of my brother, madame; and I am inclined to think that a portion of my gratitude is due to you; although, I confess, that at bottom it gives me pain thus to despoil the king of Navarre."

"You are very fond of Harry, then, my son, it appears." "Why, yes, for some time we have been closely allied." "Do you suppose that he loves you as much as you love him?"

"I hope so, madame."

"Are there brothers, then, amongst kings?" she asked, with a singular smile.

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Oh, we were neither of us kings when our alliance began.” "Yes; but things are changed now; who can say that you will not both be kings?"

Catherine saw, by the start and sudden colour of the duke, that the shaft had hit the mark.

"He? Harry, king? and of what kingdom?”

"The most glorious in Christendom, my son."

"Ah!" said d'Alençon, growing very pale, "what mean you?"

"What a good mother should say to a son-what you have thought of more than once, François."

“I?” said the duke, "I have thought of nothing, madame; I swear to you!"

"I believe you; for your friend, your brother Henry, as you call him, is, under his apparent frankness, a very clever and wily person, who keeps his secrets better than you do

yours, François. For instance, did he ever tell you that de Mouy was his man of business?"

And Catherine looked at François as though she would read his very heart; but dissimulation was François' forte, and he bore her gaze unshrinkingly.

"De Mouy!" said he, with surprise, and as if he uttered the name for the first time.

"Yes, the huguenot de Mouy de Saint-Phale; he who nearly killed de Maurevel, and who is intriguing and raising an army to support your brother Henry against your family."

Catherine, unaware that François knew as much on this matter as herself, rose at these words, and would have gone out majestically, but François retained her.

66 Mother," he said, "another word, if you please. How can Henry, with his feeble resources, carry on any war to disquiet my family?"

"Child," said the queen, smiling, "know he is supported by more than thirty thousand men, who, the day he says the word, will appear as suddenly as if they sprang forth from the ground; and these thirty thousand men are huguenots, remember; in other words, the bravest soldiers in the world; and then, he has a protector you have not been able, or have not chosen to conciliate."

"Who is that?"

"He has the king,—the king, who loves him, pushes him on: the king, who, from jealousy against your brother of Poland, and from spite against you, seeks a successor out of his family."

"The king! Do you think so, mother?"

"Do you not see how he takes to Harry, his dear Harry?" Yes, madame-yes.”

"And how he is repaid in return! for this very Harry, forgetting how his brother-in-law would have shot him on Saint Bartholomew's day, grovels to the very earth like a dog, and licks the hand which has beaten him."

"Yes," said François, "Henry is very humble with my brother Charles; and the king, always rallying him as to his ignorance, he has began to study hawking. It was only yesterday he asked me if I had not some books on that sport." "Well," said Catherine, "well, and what reply did you

make him?"

"That I would look in my library.".

Good, good!" answered Catherine; "he must have that book. I will give him one in your name. Will you, d'Alençon, obey me blindly in all I desire you to do with regard to Henry, who loves you not, whatever you may think.”

Alençon smiled, and replied, "I will, mother."

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'Well, then, on the morning of the next hunt come here and seek for the book; I will give it you, and you shall carry it to the detested Henry."

"Leave the rest to Providence or chance."

François bowed in acquiescence, and left his mother's chamber.

Meantime, Marguerite received through la Mole a letter from de Mouy, addressed to the king of Navarre. As in politics the two illustrious allies had no secrets, she opened the missive, and read it; and then going quickly and silently along the secret passage, went into the king of Navarre's antechamber, no longer guarded, since Orthon's disappearance. This circumstance had greatly disquieted Henry, who felt assured the poor boy had fallen a victim to some machination of the queen-mother.

Any other than Henry would have kept silence; but Henry calculated cleverly, and saw his silence would betray him; and thus he sought and inquired for Orthon everywhere, even in the presence of the king and the queenmother, and of every one, down to the sentinel at the wicket of the Louvre; but every inquiry was vain.

The antechamber was thus empty; Henry declaring he would not replace him until he knew for certain that he had disappeared for ever.

Henry turned round as the queen entered.

"Yes," replied Marguerite; "read quickly!" and she handed the open letter to him.

It contained these lines:

"SIRE-The moment has arrived for putting our plan of flight into execution.

"In five or six days there will be hawking on the banks of the Seine, from Saint-Germain's to Maisons, all along the forest.