Chicot More than Ever King of France.

The gates of the Louvre were generally closed at twelve, but the king gave orders that they should be left open on this night till one. At a quarter to one Quelus came up.

“Sire,” said he, “the duke has come in.”

“What is Maugiron doing?”

“Watching that he does not go out again.”

“There is no danger.”

“Then ——”

“Let him go to bed quietly. Whom has he with him?”

“M. de Monsoreau and his ordinary gentlemen.”

“And M. de Bussy?”

“No; he is not there.”

“So much the better.”

“What are your orders, sire?”

“Tell Schomberg and D’Epernon to be quick, and let M. de Monsoreau know that I wish to speak to him.”

Five minutes after, Schomberg and D’Epernon entered; the former with only a slight blue tint left, which it would take several baths to eradicate, and the latter newly clothed. After them, M. de Monsoreau appeared. “The captain of the guards has just announced to me that your majesty did me the honor to send for me,” said he.

“Yes, monsieur; when I was out this evening, I saw the stars so brilliant, and the moon so clear, that I thought it would be splendid weather for the chase tomorrow; so, M. le Comte, set off at once for Vincennes, and get a stag turned out ready for me.”

“But, sire, I thought that tomorrow your majesty had given a rendezvous to Monsieur le Duc d’Anjou and M. de Guise, in order to name a chief for the League.”

“Well, monsieur?” said the king haughtily.

“Sire, there might not be time.”

“There is always time, monsieur, for those who know how to employ it; that is why I tell you to set off at once, so that you may have all ready for tomorrow morning at ten. Quelus, Schomberg, have the door of the Louvre opened for M. de Monsoreau, and have it closed behind him.”

The chief huntsman retired in astonishment. “It is a whim of the king’s,” said he to the young men.

“Yes.”

They watched him out, and then returned to the king.

“Now,” said Henri, “silence, and all four of you follow me.”

“Where are we going, sire?” said D’Epernon.

“Those who follow will see.”

The king took a lantern in his hand, and led the young men along the secret corridor, which led to his brother’s rooms. A valet-dechambre watched here; but before he had time to warn his master, Henri ordered him to be silent, and the young men pushed him into a room and locked the door.

Henri opened his brother’s door. Fran?ois had gone to bed full of dreams of ambition, which the events of the evening had nourished; he had heard his name exalted, and the king’s abused. Conducted by the Duc de Guise, he had seen the Parisians open everywhere for him and his gentlemen, while those of the king were insulted and hooted. Never since the commencement of his career had he been so popular, and consequently so hopeful. He had placed on the table a letter from M. de Guise, which had been brought to him by M. de Monsoreau. His surprise and terror were great when he saw the secret door open, and still more when he recognized the king. Henri signed to his companions to remain on the threshold, and advanced to the bed, frowning, but silent.

“Sire,” stammered the duke, “the honor that your majesty does me is so unlooked for ——”

“That it frightens you, does it not? But stay where you are, my brother; do not rise.”

“But, sire, only — permit me ——” and he drew towards him the letter of M. de Guise.

“You are reading?” asked the king.

“Yes, sire.”

“Something interesting to keep you awake at this time of night?”

“Oh, sire, nothing very important; the evening courier ——”

“Oh, yes, I understand — Courier of Venus; but no, I see I am wrong — they do not seal billet-doux with seals of that size.”

The duke hid the letter altogether.

“How discreet this dear Fran?ois is!” said the king, with a smile which frightened his brother. However, making an effort to recover himself, he said:

“Did your majesty wish to say anything particular to me?”

“What I have to say to you, monsieur, I wish to say before witnesses. Here, gentlemen,” continued he, turning to the four young men, “listen to us; I order you.”

“Sire,” said the duke, with a glance full of rage and hatred, “before insulting a man of my rank, you should have refused me the hospitality of the Louvre; in the Hotel d’Anjou, at least, I should have been free to reply to you.”

“Really, you forget, then, that wherever you are, you are my subject; that I am the king, and that every house is mine.”

“Sire, I am at the Louvre, at my mother’s.”

“And your mother is in my house. But to the point — give me that paper.”

“Which?”

“That which you were reading, which was on your table, and which you hid when I cam............