Nevers was the first to answer.
“There is no other way,” he said stiffly, “but that which Her Majesty advises. The danger is grave. If it is to be averted, action must be prompt and effective.”
Tavannes clasped his hands behind him and said much the same, as did presently the Chancellor.
Twisting and untwisting his chaplet of beads about his long fingers, his eyes averted, the King heard each in turn. Then he looked up. His glance, deliberately ignoring Guise, settled upon the Duke of Retz, who held aloof.
“And you, Monsieur le Marechal, what is your counsel?”
Retz drew himself up, as if bracing himself to meet opposing forces. He was a little pale, but quite composed.
“If there is a man whom I should hate,” he said, “it is this Gaspard de Coligny, who has defamed me and all my family by the foul accusations he has put abroad. But I will not,” he added firmly, “take vengeance upon my enemies at the expense of my king and master. I cannot counsel a course so disastrous to Your Majesty and the whole kingdom. Did we act as we have been advised, Sire, can you doubt that we should be taxed—and rightly taxed in view of the treaty that has been signed—with perfidy and disloyalty?”
Dead silence followed that bombshell of opposition, coming from a quarter whence it was least expected. For Catherine and Anjou had confidently counted upon the Duke's hatred of Coligny to ensure his support of their designs.
A little colour crept into the pale cheeks of the King. His glance kindled out of its sullenness. He was as one who sees sudden hope amid despair.
“That is the truth,” he said. “Messieurs, and you, madame my mother, you have heard the truth. How do you like it?”