"Sire, one word—and one only," continued the duke, shuddering in spite of himself at the sound of that laugh, which had nothing human in it,—"one signal, and all is ready. I have the Swiss and eleven hundred gentlemen; I have the light horse and the citizens; your Majesty has your guards, your friends, the Catholic nobility. We are twenty to one."
"Well, then, cousin, since you are so strong, why the devil do you come to fill my ears with all this? Act without me—act"—
And the King turned again to his dogs.
Then the portière was raised, and Catharine reappeared.
"All goes well," she said to the duke; "urge him, and he will yield."
And the portière fell on Catharine, without Charles IX. seeing, or at least appearing to see her.
"But yet," continued De Guise, "I must know if, in acting as I desire, I shall act agreeably to your Majesty's views."
"Really, cousin Henry, you put the knife to my throat! But I shall live. By Heaven! am I not the king?"
"No, not yet, sire; but, if you will, you shall be so to-morrow."
"Ah—what!" continued Charles, "you would kill the King of Navarre, the Prince de Condé—in my Louvre—ah!"