"Not to keep me as a friend, but as a prisoner. Yes; does not your Majesty see that it is your friendship for me that is my ruin?"
"Would you prefer my hatred?"
"Your apparent hatred, sire. It will save me. As soon as they think I am in disgrace they will be less anxious for my death."
"Henriot," said Charles, "I know neither what you desire, nor what object you seek; but if your wishes do not succeed, and if your object is not accomplished, I shall be greatly surprised."
"I may, then, count on the severity of the King?"
"Yes."
"In that case I shall be less uneasy. Now what are your Majesty's commands?"
"Return to your apartments, Henriot, I am in pain. I will see my dogs and then go to bed."
"Sire," said Henry, "your Majesty ought to send for a physician. Your trouble is perhaps more serious than you imagine."
"I have sent for Maître Ambroise Paré, Henriot."