“Well said,” replied the Regent.  “D’Estouteville,” said she, turning towards the page, “I give thee command of a company of archers.  But for the future do not throw things out of the window.”

Then she, delighted with de Beaune, offered him her hand, and led him most gallantly into her room, where they conversed freely together while supper was being prepared.  There the Sieur Jacques did not fail to exhibit his talents, justify his father, and raise himself in the estimation of the lady, who, as is well known, was like a father in disposition, and did everything at random.  Jacques de Beaune thought to himself that it would be rather difficult for him to remain all night with the Regent.  Such matters are not so easily arranged as the amours of cats, who have always a convenient refuge upon the housetops for their moments of dalliance.  So he rejoiced that he was known to the Regent without being compelled to fulfil his rash promise, since for this to be carried out it was necessary that the servants and others should be out of the way, and her reputation safe.  Nevertheless, suspecting the powers of intrigue of the good lady, at times he would ask himself if he were equal to the task.  But beneath the surface of conversation, the same thing was in the mind of the Regent, who had already managed affairs quite as difficult, and she began most cleverly to arrange the means.  She sent for one of her secretaries, an adept in all arts necessary for the perfect government of a kingdom, and ordered him to give her secretly a false message during the supper.  Then came the repast, which the lady did not touch, since her heart had swollen like a sponge, and so diminished her stomach, for she kept thinking of this handsome and desirable man, having no appetite save for him.  Jacques did not fail to make a good meal for many reasons.  The messenger came, madame began to storm, and to knit her brows after the manner of the late king, and to say, “Is there never to be peace in this land?  Pasques Dieu! can we not have one quiet evening?” Then she rose and strode about the room.  “Ho there!  My horse!  Where is Monsieur de Vieilleville, my squire?  Ah, he is in Picardy.  D’Estouteville, you will rejoin me with my household at the Chateau d’Amboise....”  And looking at Jacques, she said, “You shall be my squire, Sieur de Beaune.  You wish to serve the state.  The occasion is a good one.  Pasques Dieu! come!  There are rebels to subdue, and faithful knights are needed.”

In less time than an old beggar would have taken to say thank you, the horses were bridled, saddled, and ready.  Madame was on her mare, and the Tourainian at her side, galloping at full speed to her castle at Amboise, followed by the men-at-arms.  To be brief and come to the facts without further commentary, the De Beaune was lodged not twenty yards from Madame, far from prying eyes.  The courtiers and the household, much astonished, ran about inquiring from what quarter