Briquet could not hear a word, but he thought that he did not make much impression on his audience, for one shrugged his shoulders, and another turned his back.  But at last they approached, seized his hand, and threw up their hats in the air.  But though Briquet could not hear, we must inform our readers of what passed.

First, Cruce, Marteau, and Bussy had complained of the inaction of the Duc de Guise.

Marteau was spokesman, and said, “M. de Mayneville, you come on the part of M. le Duc de Guise, and we accept you as his ambassador; but the presence of the duke himself is indispensable.  After the death of his glorious father, he, when only eighteen years of age, made all good Frenchmen join this project of the Union, and enrolled us under this banner.  We have risked our lives, and sacrificed our fortunes, for the triumph of this sacred cause, according to our oaths, and yet, in spite of our sacrifices, nothing progresses—­nothing is decided.  Take care, M. de Mayneville, Paris will grow tired, and then what will you do?”

This speech was applauded by all the leaguers.

M. de Mayneville replied, “Gentlemen, if nothing is decided, it is because nothing is ripe.  Consider our situation; M. le Duc and his brother the cardinal are at Nancy—­the one is organizing an army to keep in check the Huguenots of Flanders, whom M. d’Anjou wishes to oppose to us, the other is expediting courier after courier to the clergy of France and to the pope, to induce them to adopt the Union.  The Duc de Gruise knows, what you do not, that the old alliance between the Duc d’Anjou and the Bearnais is ready to be renewed, and he wishes, before coming to Paris, to be in a position to crush both heresy and usurpation.”

“They are everywhere where they are not wanted,” said Bussy.  “Where is Madame de Montpensier, for instance?”

“She entered Paris this morning.”

“No one has seen her.”

“Yes, monsieur.”

“Who was it?”

“Salcede.”

“Oh! oh!” cried all.

“But where is she?” cried Bussy.  “Has she disappeared? how did you know she was here?”

“Because I accompanied her to the Porte St. Antoine.”

“I heard that they had shut the gates.”

“Yes, they had.”

“Then, how did she pass.”

“In her own fashion.  Something took place at the gates of Paris this morning, gentlemen, of which you appear to be ignorant.  The orders were to open only to those who brought a card of admission—­signed by whom I know not.  Immediately before us five or six men, some of whom were poorly clothed, passed with these cards, before our eyes.  Now, who were those men?  What were the cards?  Reply, gentlemen of Paris, who promised to learn everything concerning your city.”

Thus Mayneville, from the accused, became the accuser, which is the great art of an orator.

“Cards and exceptional admissions!” cried Nicholas Poulain, “what can that mean?”