The naivete amazed while it amused Mayenne.

“Possibly not, but you will consent to it.  You will ride out of my court, when we have finished some necessary signing of papers, straight to the St. Denis gate.  And you will pledge me your honour to make no attempt hereafter to enter so long as the city is mine.”

Mayenne was smiling broadly, Monsieur frowning.  He relished the condition little.  He was enjoying himself much in Paris, his dangers, his successes, his biting his thumb at the power of the League.  To be killed at his post was nothing, but to be bundled away from it to inglorious safety, that stuck in his gorge.  For a moment he actually hesitated.  Then he began to laugh at his own hesitation.

“Well, ma foi! what do I expect?  To walk, a rabbit, into the lion’s den and make my own terms to Leo?  I am happy to accept yours, M. de Mayenne, especially since, do I refuse, you will none the less pack me off.”

“You mistake, St. Quentin.  You are welcome to spend the rest of your days with me.”

“In the Bastille?”

“Or in the League.”

“The former is preferable.”

“You may count yourself thrice fortunate, then, that a third alternative is given you.”

“It needs not the reminder.  You have treated me as a prince indeed.  Be assured the St. Quentins will not forget.”

“Every one forgets.”

“Perhaps.  But when you need our good offices we shall not have had time to forget.”

“Pardieu, St. Quentin, you have good courage to tell me to my head my course is run!”

“My dear Mayenne, none punishes the maunderings of the court jester.”

Monsieur laughed out with a gay gusto; after a moment Mayenne laughed too.  My duke cried quickly, rising and walking the length of the table to his host: 

“You have dealt with me munificently, Mayenne.  You have kept back but one thing I want.  That is yourself.  You know you must come over to us sooner or later.  Come now!”

The other did not flame out at Monsieur, but answered coldly: 

“I have no taste to be Navarre’s vassal.”

“Better his than Spain’s.”

Mayenne shrugged his shoulders, his face at its stolidest.

“Well, I am no astrologer to read the future.”

Monsieur laid an emphatic hand on his host’s shoulder.

“But I read it, my friend.  I see a French land under a French king, a Catholic and a gallant fellow, faithful to old friends, friendly to old foes.  I see the dear land at peace at last, the looms humming, the mills clacking, wheat growing thick on the battle-fields.”

Mayenne looked up with a grim smile.

“I have still a field or two to water for that wheat.  My compliments to your new master, St. Quentin; you may tell him from me that when I submit, I submit.  When I have made my surrender, from that hour forth am I his hound to lick his hand, to guard and obey him.  Till then, let him beware of my teeth!  While I have one pikeman to my back, one sou in my pouch, I fight my cause.”