"Luynes," said Louis in a tone of weariness, "I hate to hear you talk upon such subjects. I have more than enough of them from others. Is De Guise recovering from his wound? for he must also have suffered in the fray, or the Queen-mother would not have sought tidings of him."
"Fear not for him, Sire," said the favourite; "he will be quite able to keep the saddle when M. de Condé heads an army to snatch the crown of our fair France from your own brow."
"Stay, sir!" exclaimed the young King with sudden dignity. "Have you also forgotten that I am the son of Henri IV?"
"May your Majesty never forget it more than I do," said De Luynes, with an audacity before which the eye of Louis sank; "but believe me that the fact will avail you little until you have purged the nation of the foreign fungus which is corroding the root of your authority."
"Albert," murmured the weak young monarch, "in the name of Heaven, what would you ask?"
"To see you in reality the King of France, Sire."
"And for this purpose—"
"You must appease the Princes. They are weary of the despotic rule of the Queen-mother and of the influence of these Florentines."
"I dare not urge the Queen to banish them."
"Nor should you, Sire. It is for subjects to solicit, and for sovereigns to command. There is, moreover, a safer cure than exile for such an evil."