“Did any one ever think I was afraid? Besides, it was not the Angevins.”
“Who was it then? it must have been my brother’s friends.”
“Your brother has no friends.”
“But who was it then?”
“Your enemy.”
“What enemy?”
“O! my son, you know you have never had but one; yours, mine, your brother Charles’s; always the same.”
“Henri of Navarre, you mean?”
“Yes, Henri of Navarre.”
“He is not at Paris.”