t care had been taken to exclude these, he was supplied with one
from the King's own wardrobe by St. Prix, the King's _valet de chambre_.
Then he asked for comfits to stop his cold, but all that could be found
within the castle was only a paper of prunes of Brignolles, with which
Guise had to content himself, instead of the Smyrna raisins and rose
conserves of Savoy which he asked for.

He chatted indifferently with one and another while the routine of the
council unrolled itself monotonously.

"I think brother Henry might have let us sleep in our beds, if this be
all," he said. "What is the use of bringing us here at this hour, to
pronounce on the fate of rascals who have done no worse than hold a few
Huguenots to ransom? Wait a while, and we will give the Huguenots
something that will put ransoming them out of the question!"

The Cardinal smiled at his brother shrewdly.

"Aye," he murmured, "but we will have the ransoms also. For, you know,
the earth belongeth to the Lord, and He has given it to the chosen of
His Church."

A hand touched the Duke's shoulder; a voice murmured in his ear. A soft
voice--a voice that trembled. It was that of Revol, the King's
secretary, whom at first De Nambre, one of the Forty-Five on guard at
the door, would not permit to pass. Whereupon the King popped his head
out of the closet to give the necessary order, and seeing the young man
pale, he called out, "Revol, what's the matter with you? Revol, you are
as white as paper, man! Rub your cheeks, Revol. Else you will spoil
all!"

Henry III. always liked handsome young men about him, and certainly the
messenger of death never came in a prettier form to any than when young
Revol tapped the Duke of Guise on the shoulder as he sat by the council
board.

The chief of the League rose and, courteous to the last, he bowed
graciously to the Cardinal Vendome, to whom he had not yet had the
opportunity of speaking that day. He threw his cloak carefully over one
arm, and in the other hand he took his silver comfit-box (for he ever
loved sweet things) containing the prunes of Brignolles. He entered into
the little narrow passage. De Nambre shut the door behind him. The tiger
was in the fox's trap.

Vaguely Guise saw stern faces about him, but as was usual with him, he
paid no particular heed, only saluting them as he had done the shouting
spice-merchants' 'prentices and general varletage of Paris, which
followed everywhere on his heels.

Th