“Why do you not go too, sir?” cried Bourbon, fiercely, to Warthy, finding that the latter remained.
“His majesty's injunctions to me were——”
“Leave me,” interrupted Bourbon.
“I cannot disobey the king,” cried the pertinacious Warthy.
But his remonstrances were cut short by Pomperant and the others, who forced him out of the room.
“Will no one deliver me from this plague?” exclaimed the Constable, springing from his couch.
“We will,” replied several voices.
“Be advised by me, cousin, and do him no mischief, endure—but bear it. By skilful management, aided by your physicians, you may lead this spy to give such reports to the king as may cause him to set out for Italy without you. Hitherto, as you know, I have strenuously opposed the plot, but my opinion is now changed. I would have it succeed. Be prudent, cousin, and our wrongs shall be avenged.”
“I will follow your counsel,” rejoined Bourbon. “But do you intend to obey the king's order, and proceed to Lyons?”
“'Tis needful I should do so,” replied Saint-Vallier. “My first business must be to deliver Diane. It is idle to hope for aid from her base-souled husband; but I will talk to him. Be content to play the sick man a little longer, cousin. It is of the last importance to your cause that the king should set out for Italy without you.”