horse he had given you. This is your history, I believe?"

And as Maurevel remained mute under this accusation, every circumstance
of which was true, Charles IX. began to whistle again, with the same
precision and melody, the same hunting-air.

"Now, then, murderer!" said he after a little, "do you know I have a
great mind to have you hanged?"

"Oh, your Majesty!" cried Maurevel.

"Young De Mouy entreated me to do so only yesterday, and I scarcely knew
what answer to make him, for his demand was perfectly just."

Maurevel clasped his hands.

"All the more just, because I am, as you say, the father of my people;
and because, as I answered you, now that I am reconciled to the
Huguenots, they are as much my children as the Catholics."

"Sire," said Maurevel, in despair, "my life is in your hands; do with it
what you will."

"You are quite right, and I would not give a groat for it."

"But, sire," asked the assassin, "is there no means of redeeming my
crime?"

"None that I know of; only if I were in your place--but thank God I am
not"--

"Well, sire, if you were in my place?" murmured Maurevel, his eyes fixed
on the King's lips.

"I think I could extricate myself," said the King.

Maurevel raised himself on one knee and one hand, fixing his eyes upon
Charles to make certain that he was not jesting.

"I am very fond of young De Mouy," said the King; "but I am equally fond
of my cousin De Guise; and if my cousin asked me to spare a man that the
other wanted me to hang, I confess I should be embarrassed; but for
policy as well as religion's sake I should comply with my cousin De
Guise's request, for De Mouy, brave captain though he be, is but a petty
personage compared with a prince of Lorraine."

During these words, Maurevel slowly rose, like a man whose life is
saved.

"In your critical situation it would be a very important thing to gain
my cousin De Guise's favor. So I am going to tell you what he said to me
last night."

Maurevel drew nearer.

"'Imagine, sire,' said he to me, 'that every morning, at ten o'clock, my
deadliest enemy passes down the Rue Saint Germain l'Auxerrois, on his
return from the Louvre. I see him from a barred window in the room of my
old preceptor, the Canon Pierre Piles, and I pray the devil to open the
earth and swallow him in its abysses.' Now, Maitre Maurevel," continued
the King, "perhaps if you were the devil, or if for an instant you
should take his place, that would pe