“Much,” replied Agrippa, gravely. “This is a critical hour with you, prince—the most critical hour of your existence, since it forms the turning-point of your career. According as you now act, so will your future destiny be influenced. Comply with certain propositions which will be made you, and which will in no respect affect your honour, and your position will be assured, and you will be elevated to almost supreme power. Decline them—”
“What then?” demanded Bourbon, fixing his dark eyes searchingly upon the astrologer.
“Decline them, I repeat,” pursued Agrippa, “and you will incur great perils—very great perils—but you will baffle the schemes of your enemies, and obtain brilliant successes.”
“You promise this, doctor?” cried Bourbon, eagerly.
“The stars promise it you, prince, not I,” returned Agrippa. “But I have more to tell, if you have courage to hear it,” he added, gravely.
“Say on!—let me know all,” cried Bourbon.
“You will not long enjoy your triumph. You will meet a warrior's death before the walls of a great city.”
“The very death I covet,” said the Constable. “Take this, doctor,” he added, detaching a gem from his doublet, and giving it him. “Your prognostication decides me.”
“A word more and I have done,” said Agrippa, lowering his tone. “You will gain friends as powerful as those you will lose. There are other monarchs who can better appreciate your noble qualities than the King of France.”
Bourbon looked at the astrologer, as if he would fain question him further, but the latter signified by a glance that he had nothing more to impart, and the Constable left him and followed the chamberlain, who led him across the vestibule towards the doors of the grand gallery, before which ushers and a guard of halberdiers were stationed.