"But I must pass," cried the boy, turning upon him with a fierce air of authority. "I am the Duke of Guise's page, and bring him his handkerchief, which he forgot. Make way, saucy archer, or I will teach you to whom you speak."
"Listen to the insolence of these Guisards," said the man. "But their day is over. Stand back, fool, or I'll knock you down with my partisan."
The boy laid his hand upon his dagger, still striving to push forward; and the man, without further words, struck him a blow over the head with the staff of his halbert, which laid him prostrate upon the ground. For a moment he seemed stunned, but then, starting up, he turned away, and went down the stairs, bursting into tears ere he reached the bottom, not with the pain of the blow he had received, but with the bitter conviction that the last effort had failed, and the fate of Guise was sealed.
In the meantime the Duke of Guise entered the council-room, carrying in his hand the petition of the guards. Every one rose at his approach; and as the greater part of those present were personally friendly towards him, he went round and spoke to them with his usual grace and suavity, and then laying the petition on the table, approached the fire, saying, "It is awfully cold this morning! Has not his Majesty yet appeared?"
"Not yet," replied the Cardinal de Guise, "though we expected him before, for he sent down to hasten our coming. But what is the matter with your Highness? there is blood trickling over your mustachio."
"The cold has made my nose bleed twice this morning," replied the Duke, and putting his hand in his pocket he said, "My people have been negligent; they have forgotten to give me a handkerchief. St Prix," he continued, turning his head to one of the King's valets-de-chambre, who stood on the inside of the door communicating with the King's apartments. "I wish you would send to my rooms for a handkerchief. You will find some of my people at the door."
"There are plenty, my Lord, belonging to the King," replied St. Prix, "in this little cabinet:" and crossing the hall of the council, he took one out and gave it to the Duke, who thanked him graciously, and still sitting by the fire fell into a deep fit of thought. Suddenly, however, he turned pale; his eyes assumed the same expression as they had done the night before, when he had fancied he saw a figure in the room with him, and taking a small silver bonbonnière from his pocket, he opened it, as if seeking for something that it usually contained, saying at the same time, "I feel very faint!--My people have neglected every thing," he added, "this morning."
Several members of the council gathered round him, and St. Prix, the valet, brought him from the cabinet where the handkerchief had been found, some of the dried plums of Brignolles, which were then held as a restorative. The Duke took one of them and ate it, and placed the others in the bonbonnière. After a little, his colour returned, and he said, "I am better now. How strange these attacks are, and how fortunate that one never feels them on occasions of battle or danger!"
A moment or two after, he took a turn or two up and down the room, and seemed perfectly recovered; and as he was about to resume his seat, the door of the passage leading to the King's chamber was opened, and the Secretary of State, Revol, entered, saying, "Monseigneur, his Majesty wishes to speak a word with your Highness before the business of the council commences. You will find him in the old cabinet to the left."
Revol was as pale as death. But the Duke of Guise took not the slightest notice; and, passing through the door, which St. Prix held open for him and closed after him, he advanced towards the chamber of the King.