to his bedside; and “I feel myself,” said he, “the most unlucky man in the world not to be able to serve the king; but if I were to be obstinate, the doctors who are attending me would not answer for my life, and I am even worse than the doctors think.  I shall never be in a condition to do the king service any more.  I am going back to my native air, and, if I recover a day’s health, I will go to the king.”  “The king will be terribly put out,” said Warthy; and he returned to Lyons to report these remarks of the real or pretended invalid.  While he was away, the constable received from England and Spain news which made him enter actively upon his preparations; he heard at the same time that the king was having troops marched towards Bourbonness so as to lay violent hands on him if he did not obey; he, therefore, decided to go and place himself in security in his strong castle of Chantelle, where he could await the movements of his allies; he mounted his horse, did six leagues at one stretch, and did not draw bridle until he had entered Chantelle.  Warthy speedily came and rejoined him.  He found the constable sitting on his bed, dressed like an invalid and with his head enveloped in a night-cap.  “M. de Warthy,” said Bourbon, “you bring your spurs pretty close after mine.”  “My lord,” was the reply, “you have better ones than I thought.”  “Think you,” said Bourbon, “that I did not well, having but a finger’s breadth of life, to put it as far out of the way as I could to avoid the king’s fury?” “The king,” said Warthy, “was never furious towards any man; far less would he be so in your case.”  “Nay, nay,” rejoined the constable, “I know that the grand master and Marshal de Chabannes set out from Lyons with the archers of the guard and four or five thousand lanzknechts to seize me; and that is what made me come to this house whilst biding my time until the king shall be pleased to hear me.”  He demanded that the troops sent against him should be ordered to halt till the morrow, promising not to stir from Chantelle without a vindication of himself.  “Whither would you go, my lord?” said Warthy:  “if you wished to leave the kingdom, you could not; the king has provided against that everywhere.”

“Nay,” said Bourbon, “I have no wish to leave the kingdom; I have friends and servants there.”  Warthy went away from Chantelle in company with the Bishop of Autun, Chiverny, who was one of the constable’s most trusted friends, and who was bearer to the king of a letter which ran thus:  “Provided it please the king to restore to him his possessions, my lord of Bourbon promises to serve him well and heartily, in all places and at all times at which it shall seem good to him.  In witness whereof, he has signed these presents, and begs the king to be pleased to pardon those towards whom he is ill disposed on account of this business.  CHARLES.”  In writing this letter the constable had no other object than to gain a little time, for, on bidding good by to the Bishop of Autun, he said