They made no demur at admitting us.  Monsieur went into the house, while I led the horses to the stables, where three or four grooms at once volunteered to rub them down, in eagerness to pump their guardian.  But before the fellows had had time to get much out of me came Jean Marchand, all unrecognizing, to summon me indoors.  I followed him in delight, partly for curiosity, partly because it had seemed to me when the doorway swallowed Monsieur that I might never see him more.  Jean ushered me into the well-remembered council-room, where Monsieur stood alone, surprised at the sight of me.

“A lackey came for me,” I said.  “Look, Monsieur, that’s where we shut up Lucas.”

I ceased hastily, for I knew the step in the corridor.

It was difficult to credit mademoiselle’s tale, to believe that Mayenne could ever be in a rage.  In he came, big and calm and smiling, whatever emotion he may have felt at Monsieur’s arrival not only buried, but with a flower-bed blooming over it.  He greeted his guest with all the courteous ease of an unruffled conscience and a kindly heart.  Not till his glance fell on me did he show any sign of discomposure.

“What, you!” he exclaimed brusquely.

“Your servant brought him hither,” Monsieur said for me.

“I understood that one of your gentlemen had come with you.  I sent for him, deeming his presence might conduce to your ease, M. de St. Quentin.”

“I am at my ease, M. de Mayenne,” my lord answered, with every appearance of truth.  “You may go, Felix.”

“No,” said Mayenne.  “Since he is here, he may stay.  He serves the purpose as well as another.”

He did not say what the purpose was, nor could I see for what he had kept me, unless as a sign to Monsieur that he meant to play fair.  I began to feel somewhat heartened.

“You have guessed, M. de Mayenne, my errand?”

“Certainly.  You have come to join the League.”

Monsieur laughed out.

“On the contrary, M. de Mayenne, I have come to persuade you to join the King.”

“That was a waste of horse-flesh.”

“My friend, you know as well as we do that before long you will come over.”

“I am not there yet, nor are my enemies scattered, nor is the League dead.”

“Dying, my lord.  It will get its coup de grace o’ Sunday, when the king goes to mass.”

“St. Quentin,” Mayenne made quiet answer, “when I am in such case that nothing remains to me but to fall on my sword or to kneel to Henry, be assured I shall kneel to Henry.  Till then I play my game.”

“Play it, then.  We have the patience to wait for you, monsieur.  Be assured, in your turn, that when you do come on your knees to his Majesty you will do well to have a friend or two at court.”

“Morbleu,” Mayenne cried, suddenly showing his teeth, “you will never go back to him if I choose to stop you!”

Monsieur raised his eyebrows at him, pained by the unsuavity.