"You would not treat your brother thus?" cried the duke.

"Not my brother, but my mortal enemy. Not my brother, but the Duc D'Anjou, who went all through Paris with M. de Guise, who tries to hide from me a letter from one of his accomplices, the Lorraine princes."

"This time," said the duke, "your police are wrong."

"I tell you I saw on the seal the three merlets of Lorraine. Give it to me, mordieu! or----"

Henri advanced towards his brother and laid his hand on his shoulder.

Francois had no sooner felt the touch of his hand than, falling on his knees, he cried out, "Help! help! my brother is going to kill me."

These words, uttered in an accent of profound terror, startled the king and mitigated his rage. The idea pa.s.sed quickly through his mind that in their family, as by a curse, brother had always a.s.sa.s.sinated brother.

"No, my brother," said he, "you are wrong; I do not wish to hurt you, but you cannot contend with me. I am the master, and if you did not know it before, you know it now."

"Yes, my brother, I acknowledge it."

"Very well, then give me that letter; the king orders it."

The duke let it fall, and the king picked it up, but without reading it put it in his pocket-book.

"Is that all?" said the duke, with his sinister glance.

"No, monsieur, you must keep your room until my suspicions with respect to you are completely dissipated. The room is commodious, and not much like a prison; stay here. You will have good company--at least, outside the door, for this night these four gentlemen will guard you; to-morrow they will be relieved by a guard of Swiss."

"But, my friends--cannot I see them?"

"Who do you call your friends?"

"M. de Monsoreau, M. de Ribeirac, M. Antragues, and M. de Bussy."

"Oh, yes, he, of course."

"Has he had the misfortune to displease your majesty?"

"Yes."

"When, sire?"

"Always, but particularly to-night."

"To-night! what did he do?"

"Insulted me in the streets of Paris."

"You?"

"My followers, which is the same thing."

"Bussy! you have been deceived, sire."

"I know what I say."

"Sire, M. de Bussy has not been out of his hotel for two days.

He is at home, ill in bed, burning with fever."

The king turned to Schomberg, who said, "If he had fever, at all events he had it in the Rue Coquilliere."

"Who told you he was there?" said the duke.

"I saw him."

"You saw Bussy out of doors?"

"Yes, looking well and happy, and accompanied by his ordinary follower, that Remy."

"Then I do not understand it; I saw him in bed myself; he must have deceived me."

"It is well; he will be punished with the rest," said the king.

"If M. de Bussy went out alone after refusing to go out with me----"

"You hear, gentlemen, what my brother says. But we will talk of him another time; now I recommend my brother to your care; you will have the honor of serving as guard to a prince of the blood."

"Oh! sire," said Quelus, "be satisfied; we know what we owe to M. le Duc."

"It is well; adieu, gentlemen."

"Sire," cried the duke, "am I really a prisoner, are my friends not to visit me, and am I not to go out?" And the idea of the next day presented itself to his mind, when his presence would be so necessary to M. de Guise. "Sire," cried he again, "let me at least remain near your majesty; it is my place, and I can be as well guarded there as elsewhere. Sire, grant me this favor."

The king was about to yield to this request and say, "Yes," when his attention was attracted to the door, where a long body, with its arms, its head, and everything that it could move, was making signs to him to say "No." It was Chicot.

"No," said Henri to his brother; "you are very well here, and here you must stay."

"Sire----"

"It is my pleasure, and that is enough," said the king, haughtily.

"I said I was the real King of France," murmured Chicot.

CHAPTER XLVI.

HOW CHICOT PAID A VISIT TO BUSSY, AND WHAT FOLLOWED.

The next morning, about nine, Bussy was eating his breakfast, and talking with Remy over the events of the previous day.

"Remy," said he, "did you not think you had seen somewhere that gentleman whom they were dipping in a vat in the Rue Coquilliere?"