“Which I never sent.”

“To the great joy of the Duc de Guise.  Well, if you were to feign to send this aid—­if they only went half way—­”

“Ah! yes, I understand; M. de Guise would not leave the frontier.”

“And the promise of Madame de Montpensier that her brother would be here in a week—­”

“Would be broken.”

“You see, then?”

“So far, good; but in the south—­”

“Ah, yes; the Bearnais—­”

“Do you know what he is at?”

“No.”

“He claims the towns which were his wife’s dowry,” said the king.

“Insolent! to claim what belongs to him.”

“Cahors, for example; as if it would be good policy to give up such a town to an enemy.”

“No; but it would be like an honest man.”

“But to return to Flanders.  I will send some one to my brother—­but whom can I trust?  Oh! now I think of it, you shall go, Chicot.”

“I, a dead man?”

“No; you shall go as Robert Briquet.”

“As a bagman?”

“Do you refuse?”—­“Certainly.”

“You disobey me!”

“I owe you no obedience—­”

Henri was about to reply, when the door opened and the Duc de Joyeuse was announced.

“Ah! there is your man,” said Chicot; “who could make a better ambassador?”

Chicot then buried himself in the great chair, so as to be quite invisible in the dim light.  M. de Joyeuse did not see him.  The king uttered a cry of joy on seeing his favorite, and held out his hand.

“Sit down, Joyeuse, my child,” said he; “how late you are.”

“Your majesty is very good,” answered Joyeuse, approaching the bed, on which he sat down.

CHAPTER XV.

The difficulty of finding A good ambassador.

Chicot was hidden in his great chair, and Joyeuse was half lying on the foot of the bed in which the king was bolstered up, when the conversation commenced.

“Well, Joyeuse,” said Henri, “have you well wandered about the town?”

“Yes, sire,” replied the duke, carelessly.

“How quickly you disappeared from the Place de Greve.”

“Sire, to speak frankly, I do not like to see men suffer.”

“Tender heart.”

“No; egotistical heart, rather; then sufferings act on my nerves.”

“You know what passed?”

“Ma foi! no.”

“Salcede denied all.”

“Ah!”

“You bear it very indifferently, Joyeuse.”

“I confess I do not attach much importance to it; besides, I was certain he would deny everything.”

“But since he confessed before the judges—­”

“All the more reason that he should deny it afterward.  The confession put the Guises on their guard, and they were at work while your majesty remained quiet.”

“What! you foresee such things, and do not warn me?”