"Well said, per Bacco! as these drunken dogs of cardinals say. And do you be quite easy in your mind, Gabriel, for François de Lorraine, Duc de Guise, will spare no warmth to serve you in love or in hatred; for one or the other of these passions is at work in us, is it not, my master?"
"Both, perhaps, Monseigneur."
"Ah! so? And when your heart is so full, how can you resist letting it overflow into the heart of a friend?"
"Alas, Monseigneur, because I scarcely know whom I love, and have no idea at all whom I hate!"
"Indeed! Just suppose, then, Gabriel, since your enemies are to be mine henceforth,—just suppose that old rake Montmorency should happen to be among them!"
"It may very well be so, Monseigneur; and if my suspicions have any foundation—But we must not bother about my affairs at this crisis; it is with you and your far-reaching plans that we have to do. How can I be of service to you, Monseigneur?"
"In the first place, read me this letter from my brother, the Cardinal de Lorraine, Gabriel."
Gabriel broke the seal and unfolded the letter, and after having cast a glance at it, handed it back to the duke, saying, as he did so,—
"Pardon, Monseigneur, but this letter is written in peculiar characters, and I cannot read it."
"Ah!" said the duke, "was it Jean Panquet's courier who brought it, then? It must be a confidential communication, I see,—a grated letter, so to speak. Wait a moment, Gabriel!"