The young prince gave a lightning glance which was almost at once lost under cover of indifference.
"Every Italian oracle is apt to flatter," said Henry; "but he who flatters lies. Are there not those who have predicted that I would command armies? I!" He burst out laughing. But an observer less occupied with himself than Réné would have noticed and realized the effort of this laugh.
"Sire," said Réné, coldly, "the horoscope tells better than that."
"Does it foretell that at the head of one of these armies I shall win battles?"
"Better than that, sire."
"Well," said Henry; "you will see that I shall be conqueror!"
"Sire, you shall be king."
"Well! Ventre saint gris!" exclaimed Henry, repressing a violent beating of his heart; "am I not that already?"
"Sire, my friend knows what he promises; not only will you be king, but you will reign."
"In that case," said Henry, in the same mocking tone, "your friend must have ten crowns of gold, must he not, Réné? for such a prophecy is very ambitious, especially in times like these. Well, Réné, as I am not rich, I will give your friend five now and five more when the prophecy is fulfilled."