“The only thing I find heavy, monsieur, is the disgrace into which I seem likely to fall; not my fortune, which my refusal to obey you renders, I know, very precarious; but, no matter; I do what I ought to do, and no one, excepting the king, shall see this letter, but the person to whom it is addressed.”

“De Loignac,” cried D’Epernon, “place M. de Carmainges in arrest at once.”

“It is certain that will prevent me from delivering the letter for a time, but once I come out—­”

“If you never do come out?”

“I shall come out, monsieur; unless you have me assassinated.  Yes, I shall come out, the walls are less strong than my will, and then—­”

“Well?”

“I will speak to the king.”

“To prison with him, and take away the letter,” cried D’Epernon, beside himself with rage.

“No one shall touch it,” cried Ernanton, starting back and drawing from his breast the tablet of M. de Mayenne, “for I will break it to pieces, since I can save it in no other way; M. de Mayenne will approve my conduct, and the king will pardon me.”

The young man was about to execute his threat, when a touch arrested his arm.  He turned and saw the king, who, coming down the staircase behind them, had heard the end of the discussion.

“What is the matter, gentlemen?” said he.

“Sire,” cried D’Epernon, furiously, “this man, one of your Forty-five Guardsmen, of which he shall soon cease to form part, being sent by me to watch M. de Mayenne, in Paris, followed him to Orleans, and received from him a letter for Madame de Montpensier.”

“You have received this letter?” asked the king of Ernanton.

“Yes, sire, but M. d’Epernon does not tell you under what circumstances.”

“Well, where is this letter?”

“That is just the cause of the quarrel, sire.  M. de Carmainges resolutely refuses to give it to me, and determines to carry it to its address.”

Carmainges bent one knee before the king.  “Sire,” said he, “I am a poor gentleman, but a man of honor.  I saved the life of your messenger, who was about to be assassinated by M. de Mayenne and six of his followers, for I arrived just in time to turn the fortune of the combat.”

“And M. de Mayenne?”

“Was dangerously wounded.”

“Well, after?”

“Your messenger, sire, who seemed to have a particular hatred of M. de Mayenne—­”

The king smiled.

“Wished to kill his enemy; perhaps he had the right, but I thought that in my presence, whose sword belongs to your majesty, this vengeance became a political assassination, and—­”

“Go on, monsieur.”

“I saved the life of M. de Mayenne, as I had saved that of your messenger.”

D’Epernon shrugged his shoulders with a scornful smile.

“Go on,” said the king.

“M. de Mayenne, reduced to one companion, for the four others were killed, did not wish to separate from him, and, ignorant that I belonged to your majesty, confided to me a letter to his sister.  I have this letter, sire, and here it is; I offer it to your majesty who has the right to dispose of it and of me.  My honor is dear to me, sire, but I place it fearlessly in your hands.”