"I think a mineral poison."

"Can you ascertain to a certainty whether or no he has been poisoned?"

"Yes, on opening and examining the stomach."

66

Open it, then, as I wish to be assured on the point."

"I must call some one to assist me."

"I will assist you," said Charles; "and if he has been poisoned, what symptoms shall we find?"

"Red blotches and herborizations in the stomach."

René, with one stroke of the scalpel, opened the hound's body, whilst Charles, with one knee on the ground, lighted him with clenched and convulsive hand.

See, sire," said René-" see, here are certain marks; here are the red blotches I mentioned, and these veins, turgid with blood, like the roots of certain plants, are what I meant by herborizations. I find here every symptom I anticipated." "And the dog is assuredly poisoned?" "Unquestionably, sire."

"With mineral poison?"

"According to every appearance."

"And what would be a man's symptoms, who by accident had swallowed such poison?"

"Great pains in the head, a feeling of burning in the stomach, as if he had swallowed hot coals, pains in the bowels, and vomiting."

"Would he be thirsty?" asked Charles.

"Parchingly thirsty."

""Tis so, then-'tis so, then," muttered the king; and aloud he asked-" What is the antidote to administer to a man who had swallowed the same substance as my dog?" René reflected an instant.

"There are many mineral poisons," he replied; "and I should like to know precisely which your majesty means. Has your majesty any idea of the mode in which the poison was conveyed to the dog?"

"Yes," said Charles; "he has eaten the leaf of a book." "The leaf of a book?"

"Here it is," was Charles's answer, taking the huntingbook from the shelf where he had placed it, and handing it to René, who gave a start of surprise, which did not escape the king.

"He has eaten a leaf of this book?" stammered René. "Yes, this one;" and Charles pointed out the torn leaf. "Allow me to tear out another, sire."

"Do so."

René tore out a leaf, held it in the wax candle, and when it caught light, a strong smell of garlick diffused itself through the apartment.

"He has been poisoned with a preparation of arsenic," he said.

"You are sure?"

"As if I had prepared it myself."

"And the antidote?"

René shook his head.

"What!" said Charles, in a hoarse voice, "do you know no remedy?"

"The best and most efficacious is white of eggs beaten in milk; but

"But what?"

"It must be instantly administered; if not"If not

-?"

"It is a subtle poison, sire," replied René.

"Yet it does not kill at once," said Charles.

"No, but it kills surely: no matter as to the length of time the person is in dying, though sometimes that may be reduced to a calculation."

Charles leaned on the marble table.

66

Now," said he, touching René on the shoulder-" you know this book?"

"I, sire!" replied René, turning pale.

66

66

Yes, you; for you betrayed yourself as you looked at it."
Sire, I swear to you-

"Listen to me, René, and listen attentively. You poisoned the queen of Navarre with gloves: you poisoned the prince de Porcian with the smoke of a lamp: you tried to poison M. de Condé with a scented apple. René, I will have your flesh torn off your bones, shred by shred with red hot pincers, if you do not tell me to whom this book belongs."

The Florentine saw that he must not trifle with Charles's anger, and resolved to reply with audacity.

"And if I tell the truth, sire, who will guarantee me from not being more cruelly tortured than if I hold my tongue?" "I will."

"Will you give me your royal word?"

"On my honour as a gentleman, your life shall be spared," said the king.

"Then this book belongs to me."

"To you?" replied Charles, starting, and gazing on him with bewildered eye.

"Yes, to me.

"And how did it leave your hands?”

"Her majesty the queen-mother took it from my house." "The queen-mother?" exclaimed Charles.

"Yes."

"And with what intention?"

"With the intention, as I believe, of having it sent to the king of Navarre, who had inquired of the duke d'Alençon for a book of this description to study hawking from."

"Ah!" said Charles, "and is that it? I understand it all. This book, indeed, was in Harry's chamber. There is a destiny, and I submit to it."

At this moment, Charles was seized with a cough so dry and violent as to agonize him, and bring on a fresh attack of pain in the stomach; he uttered two or three stifled groans, and fell into a chair.

"What ails you, sire?" asked René, alarmed.

"Nothing," said Charles, "except great thirst. Give me something to drink.”

René poured out a glass of water, and presented it to Charles, who swallowed it at a draught.

"Now," said he, taking a pen, and dropping it into the ink-" write in this book."

"What shall I write?"

"What I dictate:

"This book on hawking was given by me to the queenmother, Catherine de Medicis.-RENE.""

The Florentine wrote and signed as he was commanded. "You promised my life should be saved," said René. "And on my part I will keep my word."

66

"But," said René, as to the queen-mother?"

"Oh," replied Charles, "that I have nothing to do with. If you are attacked, defend yourself."

Sire, may I quit France when I find my life menaced?" "I will reply to that in fifteen days hence; in the meantime--"

And Charles frowningly placed his finger on his livid lips. "Rely on me, sire," said René, who, too happy to escape so well, bowed and left the room.

Behind him the nurse appeared at her chamber door. "What is the matter, my Charlot?" she inquired.

Nurse, I have been walking in the dew, and it has given me cold."

"You look very pale, Charlot."

"And feel very weak. Give me your arm, nurse, and help me to bed:" and leaning on her, Charles went to his chamber.

Now," said Charles, "I will put myself to bed." "And if maître Ambroise Paré comes?"

"You must tell him I am better, and do not want him." "But, meanwhile, what will you take?"

66

Oh, a very simple medicine,-whites of eggs beaten in milk. By the way, nurse, poor Actæon is dead; to-morrow morning have him buried in a corner of the garden of the Louvre; he was one of my best friends, and I will raise a tomb over him, if I have time."

CHAPTER LIV. ·

VINCENNES.

ACCORDING to the order given by Charles IX., Henry was the same evening conducted to Vincennes, that famous castle of which only a fragment now remains, but colossal enough to give an idea of its past grandeur.

At the postern of the prison they stopped. M. de Nancey alighted from his horse, opened the gate closed with a padlock, and respectfully invited the king to follow him.

1

Henry obeyed without a word of reply. Every abode seemed to him more safe than the Louvre, and ten doors closing on him at the same time, were between him and Catherine de Medicis.

The royal prisoner crossed the drawbridge between two soldiers, passed the three doors on the ground-floor and the three doors at the foot of the staircase, and then, still preceded by M. de Nancey, went up one flight of stairs. Arrived there, captain de Nancey requested the king to follow him through a kind of corridor, at the extremity of which was a very large and gloomy chamber.

Henry looked around him with considerable disquietude. "Where are we?" he inquired.

"In the chamber of torture, monseigneur."

Ah, ah!" replied the king, looking at it attentively.

There was something of everything in this apartment: pitchers and trestles for the torture by water; wedges and mallets for the question of the boot; moreover, there were stone benches for the unhappy wretches who awaited the question, nearly all round the chamber; and above these seats, and to the seats themselves, and at the foot of these seats, were iron rings, morticed into the walls with no symmetry but that of the torturing art.

"Ah, ah!" said Henry, "is this the way to my apartment?"

"Yes, monseigneur, and here it is," said a figure in the dark, who approached and then became distinguishable.

Henry thought he recognised the voice, and advancing towards the individual, said:

"Ah, is it you, Beaulieu? And what the devil do you do here?"

"Sire, I have been nominated governor of the fortress of Vincennes."

Well, my dear sir, your debut does you honour; a king for a prisoner is no bad commencement.'

دو

"Pardon me, sire, but before I received you I had already received two gentlemen."

"Who may they be? Ah, your pardon! Perhaps I commit an indiscretion?"

"Monseigneur, I have not been bound to secrecy. They are M. de la Mole and M. de Coconnas."