“You did well, prince,” remarked Saint-Vallier, who had entered the chamber by the same door that had admitted his daughter. “If you had seized the king, your own doom would have been certain.”
“Who would have pronounced the sentence?” remarked Pomperant, sternly. “I repeat, it is not too late to secure the king. Your highness has but to say the word, and it shall be done.”
“Ay, we are ready to execute your highness's orders, be they what they may,” added the others.
“Are you all mad?” exclaimed Saint-Vallier. “Know you not that the archers of the royal guard are in the court of the château?—that the Duke de Longueville has four troops of light horse drawn up outside the gates?—that the town is invested by two thousand lansquenets, under the command of the Grand-Master? Any such attempt must end in discomfiture.”
“We can carry off the king before his capture is discovered,” said Pomperant.
“Impossible!” cried Saint-Vallier.
“You are lukewarm in the cause, cousin,” said Bourbon. “Perhaps you may feel differently when I inform you that his majesty designs to take your daughter, the Comtesse de Maulévrier, with him to Lyons.”
“Ha!” exclaimed Saint-Vallier, as if struck by a sharp pang. “Rather than this should be, I would consent to his capture.”
“Who is mad now, M. le Comte?” remarked Pom-perant. “Will you entrust the beautiful Diane to this profligate monarch?”
“No, I would sooner see her perish,” rejoined Saint-Vallier. “I will agree to any plan.”