"What does he mean?" said the shorter of the young men.
"What matter, Monseigneur!" replied the other. "Does he not promise us unbounded success? I little thought myself, when I accompanied you hither, that my belief in this astrology would grow up so rapidly. Long live the dark science, and the black old gentleman who professes
it, when they lighten our path so brilliantly!"
"Let us breathe a little at our ease, until he returns," said he who appeared the more important personage of the two; and throwing himself into a chair, and removing his mask, he discovered the pale face of a young man, who might have been said to possess some beauty, in spite of the irregularity of his features, had not the expression of that face been marred by a pinched and peevish look of weakness and indecision.
His companion followed his example in removing his mask, and the face thus revealed formed a striking contrast to that of the other young man. His complexion was of a clear pale brown, relieved by a flush of animated colour; his brow was fair and noble; his features were finely but not too strongly chiselled. A small dark mustache curled boldly upwards above a beautifully traced and smiling mouth, the character of which was at once resolute and gay, and strangely at variance with the expression of the dark grey eyes, which was more that of tenderness and melancholy. He remained standing before the other personage, with one hand on his hip, in an attitude at once full of ease and deference.
"Did I not right, then, to counsel you as I have done in this matter, my lord duke," he said to the other young man, "since the astrologer, in whom you have all confidence, promises us so unbounded a success: and you give full credence to the announcement of the stars?"
"Yes—yes, Philip," answered the Duke, reclining back in his chair, and rubbing his hands with a sort of internal satisfaction.
"Then let us act at once," continued the young man called Philip. "The King cannot live many days—perhaps not many hours. There is no time to be lost. Henry of Anjou, your elder brother, is far away; the crown of Poland weighs upon his brow. You are present. The troops have been taught to love you. The Huguenot party have confidence in you. The pretensions of Henry of Navarre to the regency must give way before yours. All parties will combine to look upon you as the heir of Charles; and now the very heavens, the very stars above, seem to conspire to make you that which I would you should be. Your fortune, then, is in your own hands."
"Yes. So it is!" replied the Duke.
"Assemble, then, all those attached to your service or your person!"