"No, sire, a certainty, a plot, which my foolish scruples alone prevented my revealing to you before."
"A plot?" said Charles, "well, let us hear about it."
"Sire," said François, "while your Majesty hawks near the river in the plain of Vesinet the King of Navarre will escape to the forest of Saint Germain, where a troop of friends will be waiting to flee with him."
"Ah, I knew it," said Charles, "another calumny against my poor Henry! When will you be through with him?"
"Your Majesty need not wait long at least to find out whether or not what I have just had the honor of telling you is a calumny."
"How so?"
"Because this evening our brother-in-law will be gone."
Charles rose.
"Listen," said he, "I will try for the last time to believe you; but I warn you, both you and your mother, that it will be the last time."
Then raising his voice: