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"By our holy father the Pope, who granted me this favor. To send this box to Rome and back, cost me twenty horses and four men."
"Are they sharp?"
"Doubtless; but their great merit is that they are blessed."
"Yes, I know that; but still I should like to be sure they are sharp."
"Pagan!"
"Let us talk of something else."
"Well, be quick."
"You want to sleep?"
"No, to pray."
"In that case we will talk. Have you sent for M. d'Anjou?"
"Yes, he is waiting below."
"What are you going to do with him?"
"Throw him into the Bastile."
"That is very wise: only choose a dungeon that is deep and safe--such for example, as those which were occupied by the Constable de St. Paul, or Armagnac."
"Oh! be easy."
"I know where they sell good black velvet, my son."
"Chicot! he is my brother."
"Ah! true; the family mourning is violet. Shall you speak to him?"
"Yes, certainly, if only to show him that his plots are discovered."
"Hum!"
"Do you disapprove?"
"In your place I should cut short the conversation, and double the imprisonment."
"Let them bring here the Duc d'Anjou," said the king.
A minute after the duke entered, very pale and disarmed. Crillon followed him.
"Where did you find him?" asked the king.
"Sire, his highness was not at home, but I took possession of his hotel in the king's name, and soon after he returned, and we arrested him without resistance."
"That is fortunate." Then, turning to the prince, he said, "Where were you, monsieur?"
"Wherever I was, sire, be sure it was on your business."
"I doubt it."
Francois bowed.
"Come, tell me where you were while your accomplices were being arrested."
"My accomplices!"
"Yes; your accomplices."
"Sire, your majesty is making some mistake."
"Oh! this time you shall not escape me; your measure of crime is full."
"Sire, be moderate; there is certainly some one who slanders me to you."
"Wretch! you shall die of hunger in a cell of the Bastile!"
"I bow to your orders, whatever they may be."
"Hypocrite! But where were you?"
"Sire, I was serving your majesty, and working for the glory and tranquillity of your reign."
"Really! your audacity is great."
"Bah!" said Chicot, "tell us about it, my prince; it must be curious."
"Sire, I would tell your majesty, had you treated me as a brother, but as you have treated me as a criminal, I will let the event speak for itself."
Then, bowing profoundly to the king, he turned to Crillon and the other officers, and said, "Now, which of you gentlemen will conduct the first prince of the blood to the Bastile?"
Chicot had been reflecting, and a thought struck him.
"Ah!" murmured he, "I believe I guess now why M. d'Epernon had so much blood on his feet and so little in his cheeks."
CHAPTER XCIV.
THE MORNING OF THE COMBAT.
