loss to you of two hundred per cent, and it is not your habit to place so high a figure on She was about to say,

"your love," but she checked herself just as the words were on the tip of her tongue.

“On what?" asked the constable.

"On your money," said the duchess.

At this moment the king entered.

"Oh, sire," cried Diane, rushing towards him, "you have come, then! It is well, for I was on the point of sending for Our dear constable has arrived, as you see, as young and you. as proud as Mars still."

"Yes," said the king, employing the mythological language of the time, "and his first visit has been to Venus; I do not say: To every lord his due honor; but to all beauty its due royalty.'- Your hand, my dear constable."

"Mordieu! sire," said Montmorency, crossly, and with a scowl on his face, "I do not know whether I ought to give you my hand."

"Indeed! and why so?" asked the king, smiling.

"Well," answered the constable, scowling more and more, "it looks as if you had somewhat forgotten me yonder."

"Forgotten you, my dear constable ?" cried the king, placed on the defensive, though he had such very good reasons for taking the offensive.

"Oh, I know!

in your ears!"

M. de Guise has been sounding his trumpet

"Faith!" retorted Henri, who could not refrain from responding by a home thrust to the feint of Montmorency, "you can hardly prevent a conqueror from sounding his trumpet." "Sire," returned Montmorency, rising like a fighting cock on his spurs, "some defeats are as illustrious as victories !" "Yes," said the king, "but hardly as profitable, you must admit."

"Hardly as profitable, hardly as profitable," snarled the constable; "very true! But war is a game in which the ablest may lose the stakes: the king, your father, knew something about that!"

Henri blushed slightly.

"And as to the city of Saint-Quentin," continued the constable, "it seems to me that if it has surrendered

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"In the first place," interrupted Henri, "the city of SaintQuentin has not surrendered; the city of Saint-Quentin has

been taken, and taken after a heroic defense, as you know! The city of Saint-Quentin has saved France, which

Henri hesitated.

"Yes, finish; which the battle of Saint-Laurent had destroyed is not that what you were about to say? That is what you mean, is it not? Yes, yes; get yourself bruised and wounded and imprisoned for the sake of a king, and then see what a sweet compliment the king will pay you in return for all!"

"No, my dear constable," said Henri, whom a look of Diane had reduced to repentance, -"no, I do not say so; quite the contrary. I only said that Saint-Quentin has made an admirable defense."

“Ah, indeed! for all that, your Majesty has nicely treated its defender!"

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Coligny? What could I do more, my dear constable, than pay his ransom as well as yours?"

"Let us not talk of that, sire. Just as if I was thinking of the ransom of Coligny! no, I am referring to the imprisonment of Dandelot.”

“Ah! excuse me, my dear constable,” returned the king; "but M. Dandelot is a heretic!"

"As if we were not all affected in that way, more or less. Perhaps, sire, you presume to think you may go to Paradise yourself?"

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Why not?"

"Stuff! you will go there in the same fashion as old Marshal Strozzi, who died a renegade. Ask your friend M. de Vieilleville what were his last words."

"What were they?"

"They were, I deny God; my holiday is over!' And when M. de Guise replied, 'Take care, marshal! you are about to appear in the presence of Him whom you deny!'- All right!' answered the dying man, snapping his fingers; I shall be to-day where all who have died for the last six thousand years are!' - Well, sire, why do you not have his body disinterred and burned on the Grève? You have a stronger reason for doing so than in ordinary cases. This man died for you; the others have only been wounded."

"Constable," said the king, "you are unjust!"

"Unjust? Pshaw! where is M. Dandelot, then? Inspecting the cavalry, as his duty enjoins, or resting in his château

after that amous siege of Saint-Quentin, during which, as you acknowledge yourself, he has wrought miracles? No! he is in prison in the château of Melun; and why? Because he has told you frankly his opinion about the Mass! Oh, mordieu! sire, I don't know what keeps me from turning Huguenot and offering my sword to M. de Condé!"

"Constable!"

"And when I think that my poor dear Dandelot probably owes his imprisonment to M. de Guise

"Constable, I swear to you that neither of the Guises had anything at all to do with the matter."

"What! you mean to tell me that this is not a plot of your damned cardinal?"

"Constable, you desire one thing, do you not?" said the king, eluding the question.

"What?

"It is the release of M. Dandelot, is it not, in honor of your return, and to show how much we rejoice at having you here again?

"Mille diables!" cried the constable, "I should think I desire it! It is not only my desire; it is my will!"

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My cousin," objected the king, with a smile, "you know the king himself says, 'It is our will!""

"Well, then, sire," said Diane, "say: "It is our will that our good servant Dandelot be set at liberty, in order that he may be present at the marriage of our well-beloved daughter Diane de Castro to François de Montmorency, Comte de Damville.'

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"Yes," said the constable, still grumbling; "if, nevertheless, this marriage takes place

"And why should it not take place?" asked Diane. "Do you consider the couple too poor to set up housekeeping?"

"Oh! if it is only that," said the king, always enchanted at getting out of a difficulty by the expenditure of money, "we'll find a hundred thousand crowns for them somewhere in the treasury chest of our domains."

"That is not the question, by any manner of means!" said the constable. "Mille diables! who is talking here of money? I have my doubts about the marriage for quite a different reason."

"And for what, pray?" asked the king.

"Well, because the marriage is disagreeable to your good friends, the Guises."

"In truth, constable, you are fighting against phantoms."

Against phantoms! And what reason brings Duc François de Guise to Paris except to oppose a marriage that may add new luster to my house, although, for that matter," added Montmorency, insolently, "Madame de Castro is but a bastard." The king bit his lips; Diane blushed; but Henri, not wishing to appear to notice the last phrase, said :

"In the first place, my dear constable, you are mistaken: M. de Guise is not in Paris."

"Where is he, then?"

"In the camp at Compiègne."

"And you mean to tell me you have not given him leave of absence?"

"Leave of absence for what?”

"To come to Paris!"

"I have not given M. de Guise any leave.”

"Then, sire, M. de Guise has come to Paris without leave, that's all."

"You are mad, constable! M. de Guise knows too well what he owes to me to quit the camp without my permission.' "The fact is, sire, that the duke owes you much, Owes you a very great deal, indeed; but he has forgotten what he owed you.

"But are you quite sure, constable," said Diane, also launching her dart," that M. de Guise has committed — I don't quite know how to term it what name is given to a breach of discipline?—has committed this impropriety?"

"Excuse me," said Montmorency; "I saw him."
"When?" asked the king.

"A few moments ago."

"Where?"

"At the gates of the Louvre. It was there we met."
"And pray how is it I have not seen him?"

"Because, instead of turning to the right, he went to the left, and instead of visiting the apartments of the king he visited those of the queen.

"You say M. de Guise is with the queen."

"Oh, don't let your Majesty be alarmed," said the constable; "I am willing to wager that he is not the only one with her, and that M. le Cardinal is a good third."

"Ah!” cried the king, "that is what we are about to see. Wait for me here, constable; I shall not be gone a moment."

The king left, furious, while Montmorency and Diane exchanged a look of vengeance, and Mary and François, who had heard nothing, a kiss of love.

Now this was why Henri II. had appeared on the threshold of Queen Catherine's apartment with gloomy face and wrinkled forehead.

The attitude of our three characters was entirely different, and gave a correct idea of the state of their minds.

Queen Catherine was near the private door, with her back against the tapestry, and her hand, which held the key, behind her; her face was somewhat pale; a thrill ran through her whole body, for ambition has its mysterious emotions that resemble those of love.

The cardinal, dressed in a costume half military, half ecclesiastical, was near a table covered with papers and trinkets; his closed hand rested firmly on the table, and served him as a support.

Duc François stood far away from both, facing the door; he looked like a champion holding the lists against all comers and ready to meet all blows. His costume was almost military, -the only parts of his armor wanting were the helmet and cuirass; with his long boots all covered with mud, with his great sword clinging to his side, like some inflexible and faithful friend, he had that aspect he knew so well how to assume on the field of battle when waves of enemies broke against the breast of his horse, as the tumultuous waves of ocean break against some sharp-pointed rock. Having uncovered in presence of the royal majesty, he held in his hand his felt hat shaded by a cherry-colored plume; but his lofty figure, straight and rigid as that of an oak, did not vary a particle from its upright posture before the king.

Henri was about to come in collision with that commanding dignity of demeanor which made a certain great lady of the period say that, when in presence of the Duc de Guise, all other gentlemen became common.

He stopped, as the pebble that strikes the wall stops, as the lead that strikes the iron.

"Ah! it is you, my cousin," said he. "I am astonished to find you here; I believed you were in command of the camp at Compiègne."