"I have ten arquebuses in this room," replied Charles IX., "with which I can hit a crown-piece at a hundred and fifty paces—will you try one?"
"Most willingly, sire!" cried Maurevel, with the greatest joy, going in the direction of one which was standing in a corner of the room. It was the one which that day had been brought to the King.
"No, not that one," said the King, "not that one; I reserve that for myself. Some day I am going to have a grand hunt and then I hope to use it. Take any other you like."
Maurevel took one down from a trophy.
"And who is this enemy, sire?" asked the assassin.
"How should I know," replied Charles, withering the wretch with his contemptuous look.
"I must ask M. de Guise, then," faltered Maurevel.
The King shrugged his shoulders.
"Do not ask," said he; "for M. de Guise will not answer. Do people generally answer such questions? Those that do not wish to be hanged must guess them."
"But how shall I know him?"