"Mon Dieu! yes."
"Well, if she be; I do not fear women."
"True; but she comes as the avant courier to announce the arrival of her brother."
"Of M. de Guise?"
"Yes."
"And do you think that embarrasses me? Give me ink and paper."
"What for? To sign an order for M. de Guise to remain at Nancy?"
"Exactly; the idea must be good, since you had it also."
"Execrable, on the contrary."
"Why?"
"As soon as he receives it he will know he is wanted at Paris, and he will come."
The king grew angry. "If you only returned to talk like this," said he, "you had better have stayed away."
"What would you have? Phantoms never flatter. But be reasonable; why do you think M. de Guise remains at Nancy?"
"To organize an army."
"Well; and for what purpose does he destine this army?"
"Ah, Chicot! you fatigue me with all these questions."
"You will sleep better after it. He destines this army – "
"To attack the Huguenots in the north – "
"Or rather, to thwart your brother of Anjou, who has called himself Duke of Brabant, and wishes to build himself a throne in Flanders, for which he solicits your aid – "
"Which I never sent."
"To the great joy of the Duc de Guise. Well, if you were to feign to send this aid – if they only went half way – "
"Ah! yes, I understand; M. de Guise would not leave the frontier."
"And the promise of Madame de Montpensier that her brother would be here in a week – "
"Would be broken."
"You see, then?"
"So far, good; but in the south – "
"Ah, yes; the Béarnais – "
"Do you know what he is at?"
"No."
"He claims the towns which were his wife's dowry," said the king.
"Insolent! to claim what belongs to him."
"Cahors, for example; as if it would be good policy to give up such a town to an enemy."
"No; but it would be like an honest man."
"But to return to Flanders. I will send some one to my brother – but whom can I trust? Oh! now I think of it, you shall go, Chicot."
"I, a dead man?"
"No; you shall go as Robert Briquet."
"As a bagman?"
"Do you refuse?" – "Certainly."
"You disobey me!"
"I owe you no obedience – "
Henri was about to reply, when the door opened and the Duc de Joyeuse was announced.
"Ah! there is your man," said Chicot; "who could make a better ambassador?"
Chicot then buried himself in the great chair, so as to be quite invisible in the dim light. M. de Joyeuse did not see him. The king uttered a cry of joy on seeing his favorite, and held out his hand.
"Sit down, Joyeuse, my child," said he; "how late you are."
"Your majesty is very good," answered Joyeuse, approaching the bed, on which he sat down.
CHAPTER XV.
THE DIFFICULTY OF FINDING A GOOD AMBASSADOR
Chicot was hidden in his great chair, and Joyeuse was half lying on the foot of the bed in which the king was bolstered up, when the conversation commenced.
"Well, Joyeuse," said Henri, "have you well wandered about the town?"
"Yes, sire," replied the duke, carelessly.
"How quickly you disappeared from the Place de Greve."
"Sire, to speak frankly, I do not like to see men suffer."
"Tender heart."
"No; egotistical heart, rather; then sufferings act on my nerves."
"You know what passed?"
"Ma foi! no."
"Salcede denied all."
"Ah!"
"You bear it very indifferently, Joyeuse."
"I confess I do not attach much importance to it; besides, I was certain he would deny everything."
"But since he confessed before the judges – "
"All the more reason that he should deny it afterward. The confession put the Guises on their guard, and they were at work while your majesty remained quiet."
"What! you foresee such things, and do not warn me?"
"I am not a minister, to talk politics."
"Well, Joyeuse, I want your brother."
"He, like myself, is at your majesty's service."
"Then I may count on him?"
"Doubtless."
"I wish to send him on a little mission."
"Out of Paris?"
"Yes."
"In that case, it is impossible."
"How so?"
"Du Bouchage cannot go away just now."
The king looked astonished. "What do you mean?" said he.
"Sire," said Joyeuse quietly, "it is the simplest thing possible. Du Bouchage is in love, but he had carried on his negotiations badly, and everything was going wrong; the poor boy was growing thinner and thinner."
"Indeed," said the king, "I have remarked it."
"And he had become sad, mordieu! as if he had lived in your majesty's court."
A kind of grunt, proceeding from the corner of the room interrupted Joyeuse, who looked round astonished.
"It is nothing, Joyeuse," said the king, laughing, "only a dog asleep on the footstool. You say, then, that Du Bouchage grew sad? – "
"Sad as death, sire. It seems he has met with some woman of an extraordinary disposition. However, one sometimes succeeds as well with this sort of women as with others, if you only set the right way to work."
"You would not have been embarrassed, libertine!"
"You understand, sire, that no sooner had he made me his confidant, than I undertook to save him."
"So that – "
"So that already the cure commences."
"What, is he less in love?"
"No; but he has more hope of making her so. For the future, instead of sighing with the lady, we mean to amuse her in every possible way. To-night I stationed thirty Italian musicians under her balcony."
"Ah! ma foi! music would not have amused me when I was in love with Madame de Conde."
"No; but you were in love, sire; and she is as cold as an icicle."
"And you think music will melt her?"
"Diable! I do not say that she will come at once and throw herself into the arms of Du Bouchage, but she will be pleased at all this being done for herself alone. If she do not care for this, we shall have plays, enchantments, poetry – in fact, all the pleasures of the earth, so that, even if we do not bring gayety back to her, I hope we shall to Du Bouchage."
"Well, I hope so; but since it would be so trying to him to leave Paris, I hope you are not also, like him, the slave of some passion?"
"I never was more