"Bah! Time bends the stiffest neck. Tell me this: for what do the learned doctors sit in council at Mantes?"
"Oh," said I, bewildered, "you tell me news, Maître Jacques."
"If Henry of Navarre be not a Catholic before the month is out, spit me on my own jack," he answered, eying me rather keenly as he added:
"It should be welcome news to you."
Welcome was it; it made plain the reason Monsieur's change of base. Yet it was my duty to be discreet.
"I am glad to hear of any heretic coming to the faith," I said.
"Pshaw!" he cried. "To the devil with pretences! 'Tis an open secret that your patron has gone over to Navarre."
"I know naught of it."
"Well, pardieu! my Lord Mayenne does, then. If when he came to Paris M. de St. Quentin counted that the League would not know his parleyings, he was a fool."
"His parleyings?" I echoed feebly.