About noon—­we had not long risen from dinner—­a man arrived bearing news that, to our heated imaginations, was startling indeed.  A great meeting was taking place at the Hotel de Guise, where our bitterest enemies had assembled.  The spy brought a list of the names, and as he recounted them one by one our feeling of uneasiness deepened.

“’Tis a plot against us,” said one, “with Guise at the head, and Anjou secretly favouring it.”

“Are we to wait to be killed like sheep?” demanded Felix.  “Have we not swords of our own?  Shall we keep them in their scabbards?  Out upon us for timid hares!  We deserve to die, if we have not the courage to strike a blow in our own defence!”

“What can we do?” asked Carnaton, who had just come from the sick-room.  “The Admiral is helpless, and Henry of Navarre is being closely watched.  We have no leaders, and it would be folly for us to break the peace.”

“Let us wait,” laughed Felix mockingly, “till this dog of a Guise has murdered us all!  Then, perhaps, it will be time to strike.”

“The king has pledged his word to protect us,” said La Bonne; “let us ask him to send a guard for our chief.”

“A guard for Coligny!” cried Felix in a bitter tone; “a guard for Coligny, and a thousand Huguenot gentlemen in Paris!  Let us summon our comrades and guard our chief with our own lives!”

We spoke angrily, and many sharp words passed between us, the more fiery of the speakers upholding Felix, the cooler and wiser ones supporting La Bonne, and finally it was agreed to despatch a messenger to the king.

“When the troops arrive,” said Felix, “we will give them our weapons to take care of for us!”

I did not hold altogether with my hot-headed comrade, but when in the course of an hour or two the king’s soldiers marched into the street I began to think we had committed a serious blunder.  There were fifty of them, and at their head marched Cosseins, the Admiral’s determined enemy.

“Faith!” exclaimed Felix, as the soldiers posted themselves in two houses close at hand, “I have heard that Charles loves a practical joke, but this must be one of the grimmest that even he has played!”

“He could have bettered it,” said Yolet, our beloved chief’s trusty esquire, “only by sending Guise himself!”

Presently a man, threading his way through the crowd in front of the courtyard, ran up to Carnaton, and whispered something in his ear.

“More bad news?” said I, noticing his look of surprise.

“I fear it is not good at any rate,” he replied slowly.  “Charles has sent for Guise to the Louvre.”

“Guise at the Louvre!” cried Felix, “and we stay here with our arms folded!  Now this is downright madness!”

“It may be,” suggested La Bonne mildly, “that the king wishes to give him orders not to break the peace.”

“It seems to me,” said Felix, “that we might employ our time better than in inventing excuses for our enemies.  This visit to the Louvre means that Charles has gone over to the side of Anjou and Guise.”