and as he passed the door of the queen-mother’s apartments, signified his desire to pay his respects and have a few words with her.  Catherine was indisposed, and could not receive him.  Some vexation, it is said, appeared in Guise’s face, but he said not a word.  On entering the council-chamber he felt cold, asked to have some fire lighted, and gave orders to his secretary, Pericard, the only attendant admitted with him, to go and fetch the silver-gilt shell he was in the habit of carrying about him with damsons or other preserves to eat of a morning.  Pericard was some time gone; Guise was in a hurry, and, “Be kind enough,” he said to M. de Morfontaines, “to send word to M. de Saint-Prix [first groom of the chamber to Henry III.], that I beg him to let me have a few damsons or a little preserve of roses, or some trifle of the king’s.”  Four Brignolles plums were brought him; and he ate one.  His uneasiness continued; the eye close to his scar became moist; according to M. de Thou, he bled at the nose.  He felt in his pocket for a handkerchief to use, but could not find one.  “My people,” said he, “have not given me my necessaries this morning:  there is great excuse for them; they were too much hurried.”  At his request, Saint-Prix had a handkerchief brought to him.  Pericard passed his bonbon-box to him, as the guards would not let him enter again.  The duke took a few plums from it, threw the rest on the table, saying, “Gentlemen, who will have any?” and rose up hurriedly upon seeing the secretary of state Revol, who came in and said to him, “Sir, the king wants you; he is in his old cabinet.”

As soon as he knew that the Duke of Guise had arrived, and whilst these little incidents were occurring in the council-chamber, Henry III. had in fact given orders to his secretary Revol to go on his behalf and summon the duke.  But Nambu, usher to the council, faithful to his instructions, had refused to let anybody, even the king’s secretary, enter the hall.  Revol, of a timid disposition, and impressed, it is said, with the sinister importance of his commission, returned to the cabinet with a very troubled air.  The king, in his turn, was troubled, fearing lest his project had been discovered.  “What is the matter, Revol?” said he; “what is it?  How pale you are!  You will spoil all.  Rub your cheeks; rub your cheeks.”  “There is nothing wrong, sir:  only M. de Nambu would not let me in without your Majesty’s express command.”  Revol entered the council-chamber and discharged his commission.  The Duke of Guise pulled up his cloak as if to wrap himself well in it, took his hat, gloves, and his sweetmeat-box, and went out of the room, saying, “Adieu, gentlemen,” with a gravity free from any appearance of mistrust.  He crossed the king’s chamber contiguous to the council-hall, courteously saluted, as he passed, Loignac and his comrades, whom he found drawn up, and who, returning him a frigid obeisance, followed him as if to show him respect.  On arriving at the