“But M. de Guise must draw up the agreement.”
“It is already drawn-here it is;” and Monsoreau drew a paper from his pocket: it was a full adhesion to the scheme. The duke read it though, growing more and more pale as he did so.
“Here is the pen, monseigneur.”
“Then I must sign?”
“If you wish to do so; no one forces you.”
“Yes, they do, since they menace me with assassination.”
“I do not menace you, monseigneur—I only warn you.”
“Give me the pen.”
And, snatching it eagerly, he signed the paper. Monsoreau watched him with an eye full of hatred and hope, and no sooner had the duke finished than, exclaiming “Ah!” he seized the paper, buttoned it into his doublet, and wrapped his cloak over it.
François looked at him with astonishment, for a flash of ferocious joy played over his face.