"Good-day, monsieur," said the little King, crimson with rage.
As he went through the great hall, the Prince was stopped by the two captains of the Guards. When the officer of the French Guard stepped forward, the Prince took a letter out of the breast of his doublet and said, in the presence of all the Court:
"Can you read me this, Monsieur de Maillé-Brézé?"
"With pleasure," said the French captain:—
"'Cousin, come in all security; I give you my royal word that you may. If you need a safe conduct, these presents will serve you.'"
"And signed——?" said the bold and mischievous hunchback.
"Signed 'François,'" said Maillé.
"Nay, nay," replied the Prince, "it is signed 'Your good cousin and friend, François!'—Gentlemen," he went on, turning to the Scotch Guard, "I will follow you to the prison whither you are to escort me by the King's orders. There is enough noble spirit in this room to understand that."
The utter silence that reigned in the room might have enlightened the Guises, but silence is the last thing that princes listen to.
"Monseigneur," said the Cardinal de Tournon, who was following the Prince, "since the day at Amboise you have taken steps in opposition to royal authority at Lyons and at Mouvans in Dauphiné—things of which the King knew nothing when he addressed you in those terms."