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to his château of Chantelle, instructing them to put that fortress at once into a state of complete defence.

      “I shall be there myself in a few days,” he said to Saint-Saphorin. “Moulins, I find, is quite untenable.”

      This state of repose was not of long continuance. Warthy, who had been provided with relays of the fleetest horses, was back again in an incredibly short time, and Bourbon, to his infinite annoyance, was obliged to resume his couch. He received the spy in a very ill humour, but Warthy did not appear to heed his displeasure.

      “Highness,” he said, “the king is much offended. He will not believe you are so ill as you represent. And he commands you, on your allegiance, to join him without delay.”

      “That is wholly impossible, sir,” interposed Jean de l’Hôpital. “The Lord Constable is far too ill to travel. I fear you have not explained fully his dangerous condition to the king.”

      “I have reported all I have seen,” replied Warthy. “But his majesty will take no more excuses.”

      “Excuses, sir!” cried Bourbon, fiercely. “Dare you insinuate – ”

      “I but repeat the king’s message to your highness,” replied Warthy. “His majesty, as I have said, is highly offended, and declares he will no longer be trifled with. He peremptorily orders you to join him at Lyons without delay. If you fail to do so – ” And he hesitated to proceed.

      “Well, sir – what if I fail?” demanded Bourbon, slightly raising himself, and fixing a stern glance on the messenger, “His majesty will send the Grand-Master and Marshal de Chabannes with three thousand lansquenets to fetch you,” rejoined Warthy.

      “Mort-Dieu! am I to be told this?” cried Bourbon.

      And he would have sprung from the couch, if the two physicians had not thrown themselves upon him, and held him forcibly down.

      “You will betray yourself if you give way thus,” whispered Jean do l’Hôpital. “I pray your highness to be calm.”

      Yielding to the advice, the Constable controlled himself by a great effort.

      There was a pause, during which the spy remained intently watching the Constable.

      “What answer shall I return to his majesty?” asked Warthy, at length.

      “Say I will come,” replied Bourbon.

      “Highness, it is not possible that you can travel,” said Jean de l’Hôpital. “His majesty cannot desire your death.”

      “It would seem as though he did,” rejoined Bourbon. “But, be the consequences what they may, I will set out to-morrow. Tell his majesty so,” he added to Warthy. “When do you return to Lyons?”

      “Within an hour,” was the reply. “I am charged to come back instantly, and, as I have relays of horses, I shall not be long on the road. His majesty will be well content with your highness’s determination.”

      And, with a profound bow, he quitted the room.

      “May the devil go with him!” exclaimed Bourbon, as he sprang from his couch. “If I detain this spy,” he thought, “the king will execute his threat, and send the Grand-Master and Chabannes to take me. Here, in this château, I can offer no resistance, but in Chantelle I may stand a siege, and hold up till I can obtain reinforcements. I must proceed thither without delay.”

      As soon as Warthy had departed, a conference was held between Bourbon and his followers, in which it was agreed on all hands that it would not be safe to remain longer at Moulins, and it was therefore decided to remove to Chantelle, a fortress in Auvergne, which the Constable considered impregnable. This decision being arrived at, preparations for departure were made with all possible despatch.

      Determining to take with him all his treasure and valuables, Bourbon emptied his coffers, and caused their contents, amounting to more than thirty thousand golden crowns of the sun, to be sewn up in stout leathern bags. In like manner his jewels and other valuables were removed from their caskets, and packed up in valises. Could he have done so, he would have carried off his silver drinking-vessels and plate as well. These preparations made, the majority of the conspirators, escorted by a troop of three hundred men-at-arms, fully equipped, quitted the chateau at nightfall, and proceeded towards Auvergne. The bags containing the gold pieces were entrusted to veteran soldiers. The young seigneurs took charge of the jewels.

      Bourbon’s object being to gain time, he did not accompany the troop, but tarried till the following morning, when, pretending that he was about to join the king at Lyons, he entered his litter, and attended by his physicians, and by a small escort commanded by Pomperant, proceeded along the beautiful valley of the Allier towards La Palisse, where he rested for the night.

      Next day he continued his journey across a hilly tract of country to a small town, all the time keeping close within his litter. On the third day he reached Changy, and here his physicians gave out that the journey had seriously aggravated his malady, and that it was utterly impossible for him to proceed farther at present. Bourbon’s design was to wait at Changy till he could obtain intelligence of the king’s movements from secret agents whom he had despatched for the purpose to Lyons.

      Before these messengers could return, Warthy made his appearance at Changy, and, being informed of the Constable’s increased illness, to which he attached little credence, sought an interview with him, This was granted without difficulty, and the spy found the duke in bed, with his physicians in attendance upon him.

      “You see, sir,” he remarked to Warthy, “I have made every effort to comply with his majesty’s commands, but my strength has entirely failed me. However, I feel somewhat better to-day, and to-morrow I hope to reach Roanne. I pray you return to the king, and tell him how you have found me.”

      “My orders are not to quit your highness,” rejoined Warthy; “and if I return without you, I am persuaded his majesty will put his threats into execution, and order your immediate arrest.”

      “His majesty will act as he deems best. I must decline further discourse with you,” said Bourbon, turning from him.

      Warthy felt almost certain he was duped by the Constable and his physicians, but as some doubts still lingered in his mind, he determined to return to Lyons, where he arrived early next morning. From the report given him by the spy, François felt convinced of the Constable’s duplicity.

      “He is playing me false,” he said. “But I will baffle his schemes. Return to him at once, and do not leave him again. If any further difficulties arise, despatch messengers to me, and I will send the Grand-Marshal and the Marshal de Chabannes to seize him.”

      IX. CHANTELLE

      The indefatigable Warthy departed on his mission. On arriving at Changy his worst suspicions were verified. The sick man and his attendants were no longer there. But instead of pursuing his route towards Lyons, as he had promised, the Constable had turned back towards Moulins.

      Despatching a messenger to the king with this information, Warthy rode on to La Palisse, and thence to Varennes, where, it appeared, the Constable had laid aside all disguise, and, abandoning his litter, had mounted a charger, and ridden off with his suite to the Château de la Chantelle, in Auvergne. Disregarding the risk he might incur in following him, Warthy despatched a second messenger to the king, and started in pursuit. He was only a few hours behind the Constable, and being well mounted, hoped to overtake him before he arrived at Chantelle.

      Speeding across the wide plain of the Allier, skirted on the east by the mountains of Forez, he soon reached the small town of Saint-Pourçain, where he obtained a fresh horse, and ascertained, at the same time, that the Constable and his attendants were only two or three leagues in advance of him. From Saint-Pourçain he entered the vale of the Sioule, and, pursuing his course by the side of the river, soon found himself among the mountains of Auvergne.

      The region he had now gained was highly picturesque, but Warthy noted little of its beauties, being engrossed by the thought of the dangerous errand on which he was bent. But, though fully aware of the risk he incurred, Warthy did not shrink from it.

      After

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