at him, pained by the unsuavity.

"Of course not, monsieur. I quite understood that when I entered the
gate. I shall never leave this house if you will otherwise."

"You will leave the house unharmed," Mayenne said curtly. "I shall not
treat you as your late master treated my brother."

"I thank your generosity, monsieur, and commend your good sense."

Mayenne looked for a moment as if he repented of both. Then he broke
into a laugh.

"One permits the insolences of the court jester."

Monsieur sprang up, his hand on his sword. But at once the quick flush
passed from his face, and he, too, laughed.

Mayenne sat as he was, in somewhat lowering silence. My duke made a
step nearer him, and spoke for the first time with perfect seriousness.

"My Lord Mayenne, it was no outrecuidance brought me here this morning.
There is the Bastille. There is the axe. I know that my course has been
offensive to you--your nephew proved me that. I know also that you do
not care to meddle with me openly. At least, you have not meddled.
Whether you will change your method--but I venture to believe not. I am
popular just now in Paris. I had more cheers as I came in this morning
than have met your ears for many a month. You have a great name for
prudence, M. de Mayenne; I believe you will not molest me."

I hardly thought my duke was making a great name for prudence. But then,
as he said, he had to work in his own way. Mayenne returned, with
chilling calm:

"You may find me, St. Quentin, less timid than you suppose."

"Impossible. Mayenne's courage is unquestioned. I rely not on his
timidity, but on his judgment."

"You take a great deal upon yourself in supposing that I wanted your
death on Tuesday and do not want it on Friday."

"The king is three days nearer the true faith than on Tuesday. His party
is three days stronger. On Tuesday it would have been a blunder to kill
me; on Friday it is three days worse a blunder."

"But not less a pleasure. I have had something of the kind in mind ever
since your master killed my brother."

"You should profit by that murderer's experience before you take a leaf
from his book, M. de Mayenne. Henry of Valois gained singularly little
when he slew Guise to make you head of the League."

Mayenne started, and then laughed to show his scorn of the flattery. But
I think he was, all the same, half pleased, none the less because he
knew it to be flattery. He said unexpectedly:

"Your son comes ho