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cried Saint-Vallier.

      “You are lukewarm in the cause, cousin,” said Bourbon. “Perhaps you may feel differently when I inform you that his majesty designs to take your daughter, the Comtesse de Maulévrier, with him to Lyons.”

      “Ha!” exclaimed Saint-Vallier, as if struck by a sharp pang. “Rather than this should be, I would consent to his capture.”

      “Who is mad now, M. le Comte?” remarked Pom-perant. “Will you entrust the beautiful Diane to this profligate monarch?”

      “No, I would sooner see her perish,” rejoined Saint-Vallier. “I will agree to any plan.”

      At this moment a warning exclamation was uttered by the physician who was stationed near the door.

      At the signal, Bourbon hastily resumed his gown, and flung himself upon the couch.

      Scarcely were these preparations completed, when Perot de Warthy and the Comte de Maulévrier entered. They both glanced suspiciously at the band of young seigneurs, who had withdrawn to the back of the chamber.

      Saint-Vallier alone remained standing near the couch on which Bourbon was extended.

      “What is your business with me, sir?” demanded the Constable of Warthy.

      “I am enjoined by his majesty to remain in constant attendance upon your highness,” replied the other, bowing.

      “This fellow troubles me,” muttered Bourbon; “I must get rid of him.”

      “Louis,” said Saint-Vallier to his son-in-law, “I am glad you have come hither. I was about to seek you. You must take back Diane to Normandy.”

      “I cannot comply with your request,” replied Maulévrier. “I return to the Château de Brézé forthwith.”

      “So much the better,” cried Saint-Vallier. “Diane must accompany you.”

      “Impossible,” replied Maulévrier. “She is gone with the Comtesse de Chateaubriand and the king to Lyons.”

      “Gone!” exclaimed Bourbon, starting up. “Has the king set out? I thought he meant to pass the night here?”

      “He has changed his mind, and has just quitted the château with his suite.”

      “And you have allowed Diane to accompany him?” demanded Saint-Vallier, with a look of agony.

      “Mort-Dieu! I could not prevent it,” replied Maulévrier – “even if I had the wish,” he added to himself.

      Saint-Vallier made no remark, but it was easy to perceive his anguish.

      Greatly excited by the unlooked-for intelligence, Bourbon could scarcely rest upon the couch.

      “I cannot comprehend why the king should depart so suddenly,” he said to Warthy. “Has he taken the troops with him?”

      “No,” replied the other. “He is only attended by the archers of the royal guard, and the young nobles forming his retinue. The Grand-Master and the Duke de Longueville are left behind with their men.”

      “For what purpose?” demanded Bourbon, sternly.

      “To keep guard upon the château and the town,” replied Warthy.

      Bourbon exchanged a glance with his followers, which did not pass unobserved by Warthy.

      “His majesty’s parting order,” remarked that vigilant personage, “was that no one – not even your highness – should be allowed to quit the château till to-morrow.”

      “Ha! By Saint Paul, it would seem we are prisoners, messeigneurs!” exclaimed the Constable, fiercely.

      An indignant response was made by his adherents.

      “No offence is intended to your highness by his majesty,” said Warthy. “It is a mere measure of precaution – nothing more.” Then, turning to Saint-Vallier, he added: “M. le Comte, it is the king’s pleasure that you proceed to Lyons to-morrow.”

      “I will go now!” cried Saint-Vallier.

      “That may not be,” replied the other. “As I have just said, no one must quit the château to-day, on any pretext whatever.”

      “The keys of the château have been entrusted to me,” said Maulévrier, “To-morrow I shall return them to the Seigneur des Ecures, your highness’s chamberlain. If you have aught to say to me,” he added to Saint-Vallier, “you will find me in the great hall.”

      So saying, he quitted the chamber.

      “Why do you not go too, sir?” cried Bourbon, fiercely, to Warthy, finding that the latter remained.

      “His majesty’s injunctions to me were – ”

      “Leave me,” interrupted Bourbon.

      “I cannot disobey the king,” cried the pertinacious Warthy.

      But his remonstrances were cut short by Pomperant and the others, who forced him out of the room.

      “Will no one deliver me from this plague?” exclaimed the Constable, springing from his couch.

      “We will,” replied several voices.

      “Be advised by me, cousin, and do him no mischief, endure – but bear it. By skilful management, aided by your physicians, you may lead this spy to give such reports to the king as may cause him to set out for Italy without you. Hitherto, as you know, I have strenuously opposed the plot, but my opinion is now changed. I would have it succeed. Be prudent, cousin, and our wrongs shall be avenged.”

      “I will follow your counsel,” rejoined Bourbon. “But do you intend to obey the king’s order, and proceed to Lyons?”

      “‘Tis needful I should do so,” replied Saint-Vallier. “My first business must be to deliver Diane. It is idle to hope for aid from her base-souled husband; but I will talk to him. Be content to play the sick man a little longer, cousin. It is of the last importance to your cause that the king should set out for Italy without you.”

      So saying, he left the room, and sought Maulévrier in the great hall. But he produced no impression on his cold-hearted son-in-law.

      VIII. HOW BOURBON QUITTED THE CHATEAU DE MOULINS,

      Next morning, Maulévrier delivered up the keys of the château to the chamberlain, and, without seeking any further interview with the Constable, set off for Normandy.

      By noon both the Grand-Master and the Duke de Longueville had quitted Moulins with their men, and were marching towards La Palisse. Saint-Vallier accompanied them. Warthy, however, remained, and Bourbon submitted to the annoyance of his frequent visits. If Jean de l’Hôpital could be believed, no improvement had taken place in the Constable’s health.

      Three days passed in this manner, but, on the morning of the fourth, Warthy made his appearance in a riding-dress, booted and spurred, and informed the Constable, who was lying on his couch as usual, and attended by his physicians, that he was about to set out for Lyons to make a report in person to the king.

      “Express my profound regrets to his majesty that I am not able to join him,” said Bourbon, secretly overjoyed by the anticipated departure of his tormentor, “As you yourself must have perceived, I am rather worse than better, and my physicians tell me – and indeed I myself perceive – that there is no prospect of immediate improvement, I would pray the king, therefore, not to wait for me longer, but to set out on his expedition.”

      “I will convey your highness’s message,” replied Warthy. “But I know the king will be grievously disappointed.”

      “My own disappointment is greater than his majesty’s can be, sir. I pray you assure him so,” rejoined Bourbon.

      A slightly incredulous smile passed over Warthy’s shrewd features at this observation. However, he made no remark, but, taking leave of the Constable, set out on his journey, mounted on a fleet steed, which soon carried him several leagues on his way.

      No sooner was Bourbon freed from

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