is heart
sank within him.

"But what thinks the Duke of Guise?" said the King, suddenly, turning to
that veteran nobleman, who was now his chief adviser, occupying the
place that Anne de Montmorenci had so long filled.

The Duke had been standing silently by during the interview, regarding
La Pommeraye with a meditative air.

"Methinks, sire," he answered, "that there is much wisdom in what the
young man urges. Already we have cast too much good treasure away in
these vain enterprises; and now that Spain needs our utmost attention,
we can spare neither men nor money for schemes of foreign colonisation."

"You hear, M. La Pommeraye," said Francis, "what the Duke says; but we
had hoped to fill our coffers with the riches of Canada."

"May it please your Majesty," said Charles, "there are no riches there,
save a few furs and fish. These might serve to give a St Malo or
Rochelle merchant enough wealth to retire on, and provide for his
daughters, but would not go very far towards fitting out a battalion. I
had had great hopes of the enterprise, but the experiences of last
winter have taught me that nothing is to be gained by our struggles to
colonise the barren North. The noble fellows who are wasting their lives
in that sterile land, with only murderers and robbers as companions,
would be far better in France, protecting her shores from foreign
invasion."

"There is truth in what you say," answered the King, after a moment's
pause. "We are much in need of De Roberval. The Picards worship the
'Little King of Vimeu,' and if he does not return, we fear we shall get
but scant funds and few troops from the sturdy men of his province. But
what is it that you would have?"

"A ship, Sire," promptly replied La Pommeraye, "manned and provisioned
for a voyage to Canada, and permission to Cartier to return in it, and
recall Roberval to France."

"_Parbleu!_" said the King, "a modest request! Well, we will consider
the matter, and see what course it will be best to take."

"But, Sire," said Charles, his distress and anxiety getting the better
of his diplomacy, "the winter draws near, and unless we start at once we
shall not be able to reach Charlesbourg Royal till spring."

As he finished speaking, the Duke of Guise, who had been conversing
aside with some one near him during the last few sentences, turned to
the King.

"May it please you, Sire," said he, "this mad nephew of mine is desirous
of a favour at your hands. It s