During these words, Maurevel slowly rose, like a man whose life is saved.
"In your critical situation it would be a very important thing to gain my cousin De Guise's favor. So I am going to tell you what he said to me last night."
Maurevel drew nearer.
"'Imagine, sire,' said he to me, 'that every morning, at ten o'clock, my deadliest enemy passes down the Rue Saint Germain l'Auxerrois, on his return from the Louvre. I see him from a barred window in the room of my old preceptor, the Canon Pierre Piles, and I pray the devil to open the earth and swallow him in its abysses.' Now, Maître Maurevel," continued the King, "perhaps if you were the devil, or if for an instant you should take his place, that would perhaps please my cousin De Guise."
Maurevel's infernal smile came back to his lips, though they were still bloodless with terror, and he stammered out these words:
"But, sire, I cannot make the earth open."
"Yet you made it open wide enough for the worthy De Mouy, if I remember correctly. After this you will tell me how with a pistol—have you not that pistol still?"
"Forgive me, sire, I am a still better marksman with an arquebuse than a pistol," replied Maurevel, now quite reassured.
"Pistol or arquebuse makes no difference," said the King; "I am sure my cousin De Guise will not cavil over the choice of methods."
"But," said Maurevel, "I must have a weapon I can rely on, as, perhaps, I shall have to fire from a long distance."