"What do you say about this marriage which is being arranged for me?" the prince asked suddenly, one night, as they were sitting by a huge fire in the forest.
"It ought to be a great thing for the Reformed religion, if it is agreeable to your highness," Francois said cautiously.
"A politic answer, Monsieur de Laville.
"What say you, Philip?"
"It is a matter too deep for me to venture an opinion," Philip said. "There is doubtless much to be said, on both sides. For example--you are a fisherman, prince?"
"Only moderately so, Philip; but what has that to do with it?"
"I would say, sir, that when a fisherman hooks an exceedingly large fish, it is just possible that, instead of landing it, the fish may pull him into the water."
The prince laughed.
"You have hit it exactly, Monsieur Philip. That is just the way I look at it. Marguerite of Valois is, indeed, a very big fish compared with the Prince of Bearn; and it is not only she who would pull, but there are others, and even bigger fish, who would pull with her. My good mother has fears that, if I once tasted the gaieties of the court of France, I should be ruined, body and soul.
"Now I have rather an inclination for the said gaieties, and that prospect does not terrify me as it does her. But there are things which alarm me, more than gaieties. There is the king who, except when he occasionally gets into a rage, and takes his own course, is but a tool in the hands of Catharine de Medici. There is Anjou, who made a jest of the dead body of my uncle Conde. There are Lorraine and the Guises, there are the priests, and there is the turbulent mob of Paris. It seems to me that, instead of being the fisherman, I should be like a very small fish, enclosed in a very strong net."