ainst his person, when the door
of his chamber opened and Chicot, the king's fool, formerly a dependent
of his own, entered the room.

"They told me you were in disgrace," said the prince.

"You'd never believe how virtuous the court has become since the death
of Henri II."

"But the king loves a laugh."

"Which king,--Francois II., or Francois de Lorraine?"

"You are not afraid of the duke, if you talk in that way!"

"He wouldn't punish me for it, monseigneur," replied Chicot, laughing.

"To what do I owe the honor of this visit?"

"Hey! Isn't it due to you on your return? I bring you my cap and bells."

"Can I go out?"

"Try."

"Suppose I do go out, what then?"

"I should say that you had won the game by playing against the rules."

"Chicot, you alarm me. Are you sent here by some one who takes an
interest in me?"

"Yes," said Chicot, nodding. He came nearer to the prince, and made him
understand that they were being watched and overheard.

"What have you to say to me?" asked the Prince de Conde, in a low voice.

"Boldness alone can pull you out of this scrape; the message comes from
the queen-mother," replied the fool, slipping his words into the ear of
the prince.

"Tell those who sent you," replied Conde, "that I should not have
entered this chateau if I had anything to reproach myself with, or to
fear."

"I rush to report that lofty answer!" cried the fool.

Two hours later, that is, about one o'clock in the afternoon, before the
king's dinner, the chancellor and Cardinal de Tournon came to fetch
the prince and present him to Francois II. in the great gallery of the
chateau of Amboise, where the councils were held. There, before the
whole court, Conde pretended surprise at the coldness with which the
little king received him, and asked the reason of it.

"You are accused, cousin," said the queen-mother, sternly, "of taking
part in the conspiracy of the Reformers; and you must prove yourself a
faithful subject and a good Catholic, if you do not desire to draw down
upon your house the anger of the king."

Hearing these words said, in the midst of the most profound silence, by
Catherine de' Medici, on whose right arm the king was leaning, the Duc
d'Orleans being on her left side, the Prince de Conde recoiled three
steps, laid his hand on his sword with a proud motion, and looked at all
the persons who surrounded him.

"Those who said that, madame," he cried in an angry voice, "lied in
the