Charles was standing up, whistling a hunting-song.
As he entered, the Duc d'Alençon caught from the glassy eye of the King one of those bitter looks of hatred which he knew so well.
"Your Majesty has sent for me," said he. "Here I am; what does your Majesty desire?"
"I desire to tell you, my good brother, that as a reward for the great friendship you bear me I have decided to-day to do for you the thing you most want."
"For me?"
"Yes, for you. Think what for some time you have been dreaming of, without daring to ask it of me, and I will give it to you."
"Sire," said François, "I swear to you that I desire nothing but the continued good health of the King."
"In that case you will be glad to know, D'Alençon, that the indisposition I experienced at the time the Poles arrived has passed by. Thanks to Henriot, I escaped a furious wild boar, which would have ripped me open, and I am so well that I do not envy the most healthy man in my kingdom. Without being an unkind brother you can, therefore, ask for something besides the continuation of my health, which is excellent."
"I want nothing, sire."
"Yes, yes, François," said Charles, impatiently, "you desire the crown of Navarre, since you have had an understanding with Henriot and De Mouy,—with the first, that he would abdicate; with the second, that he would give it to you. Well! Henriot renounces it! De Mouy has told me of your wish, and this crown for which you are ambitious"—