The Constable De Bourbon. William Harrison Ainsworth

will go now!” cried Saint-Vallier.

      “That may not be,” replied the other. “As I have just said, no one must quit the château to-day, on any pretext whatever.”

      “The keys of the château have been entrusted to me,” said Maulévrier, “To-morrow I shall return them to the Seigneur des Ecures, your highness's chamberlain. If you have aught to say to me,” he added to Saint-Vallier, “you will find me in the great hall.”

      So saying, he quitted the chamber.

      “Why do you not go too, sir?” cried Bourbon, fiercely, to Warthy, finding that the latter remained.

      “His majesty's injunctions to me were——”

      “Leave me,” interrupted Bourbon.

      “I cannot disobey the king,” cried the pertinacious Warthy.

      But his remonstrances were cut short by Pomperant and the others, who forced him out of the room.

      “Will no one deliver me from this plague?” exclaimed the Constable, springing from his couch.

      “We will,” replied several voices.

      “Be advised by me, cousin, and do him no mischief, endure—but bear it. By skilful management, aided by your physicians, you may lead this spy to give such reports to the king as may cause him to set out for Italy without you. Hitherto, as you know, I have strenuously opposed the plot, but my opinion is now changed. I would have it succeed. Be prudent, cousin, and our wrongs shall be avenged.”

      “I will follow your counsel,” rejoined Bourbon. “But do you intend to obey the king's order, and proceed to Lyons?”

      “'Tis needful I should do so,” replied Saint-Vallier. “My first business must be to deliver Diane. It is idle to hope for aid from her base-souled husband; but I will talk to him. Be content to play the sick man a little longer, cousin. It is of the last importance to your cause that the king should set out for Italy without you.”

      So saying, he left the room, and sought Maulévrier in the great hall. But he produced no impression on his cold-hearted son-in-law.

VIII. HOW BOURBON QUITTED THE CHATEAU DE MOULINS,

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      Next morning, Maulévrier delivered up the keys of the château to the chamberlain, and, without seeking any further interview with the Constable, set off for Normandy.

      By noon both the Grand-Master and the Duke de Longueville had quitted Moulins with their men, and were marching towards La Palisse. Saint-Vallier accompanied them. Warthy, however, remained, and Bourbon submitted to the annoyance of his frequent visits. If Jean de l'Hôpital could be believed, no improvement had taken place in the Constable's health.

      Three days passed in this manner, but, on the morning of the fourth, Warthy made his appearance in a riding-dress, booted and spurred, and informed the Constable, who was lying on his couch as usual, and attended by his physicians, that he was about to set out for Lyons to make a report in person to the king.

      “Express my profound regrets to his majesty that I am not able to join him,” said Bourbon, secretly overjoyed by the anticipated departure of his tormentor, “As you yourself must have perceived, I am rather worse than better, and my physicians tell me—and indeed I myself perceive—that there is no prospect of immediate improvement, I would pray the king, therefore, not to wait for me longer, but to set out on his expedition.”

      “I will convey your highness's message,” replied Warthy. “But I know the king will be grievously disappointed.”

      “My own disappointment is greater than his majesty's can be, sir. I pray you assure him so,” rejoined Bourbon.

      A slightly incredulous smile passed over Warthy's shrewd features at this observation. However, he made no remark, but, taking leave of the Constable, set out on his journey, mounted on a fleet steed, which soon carried him several leagues on his way.

      No sooner was Bourbon freed from the restraint imposed upon him by the importunate spy, than he commenced preparations, and despatched a body of men with arms and ammunition, under the command of Captain Saint-Saphorin, to his château of Chantelle, instructing them to put that fortress at once into a state of complete defence.

      “I shall be there myself in a few days,” he said to Saint-Saphorin. “Moulins, I find, is quite untenable.”

      This state of repose was not of long continuance. Warthy, who had been provided with relays of the fleetest horses, was back again in an incredibly short time, and Bourbon, to his infinite annoyance, was obliged to resume his couch. He received the spy in a very ill humour, but Warthy did not appear to heed his displeasure.

      “Highness,” he said, “the king is much offended. He will not believe you are so ill as you represent. And he commands you, on your allegiance, to join him without delay.”

      “That is wholly impossible, sir,” interposed Jean de l'Hôpital. “The Lord Constable is far too ill to travel. I fear you have not explained fully his dangerous condition to the king.”

      “I have reported all I have seen,” replied Warthy. “But his majesty will take no more excuses.”

      “Excuses, sir!” cried Bourbon, fiercely. “Dare you insinuate——”

      “I but repeat the king's message to your highness,” replied Warthy. “His majesty, as I have said, is highly offended, and declares he will no longer be trifled with. He peremptorily orders you to join him at Lyons without delay. If you fail to do so——” And he hesitated to proceed.

      “Well, sir—what if I fail?” demanded Bourbon, slightly raising himself, and fixing a stern glance on the messenger, “His majesty will send the Grand-Master and Marshal de Chabannes with three thousand lansquenets to fetch you,” rejoined Warthy.

      “Mort-Dieu! am I to be told this?” cried Bourbon.

      And he would have sprung from the couch, if the two physicians had not thrown themselves upon him, and held him forcibly down.

      “You will betray yourself if you give way thus,” whispered Jean do l'Hôpital. “I pray your highness to be calm.”

      Yielding to the advice, the Constable controlled himself by a great effort.

      There was a pause, during which the spy remained intently watching the Constable.

      “What answer shall I return to his majesty?” asked Warthy, at length.

      “Say I will come,” replied Bourbon.

      “Highness, it is not possible that you can travel,” said Jean de l'Hôpital. “His majesty cannot desire your death.”

      “It would seem as though he did,” rejoined Bourbon. “But, be the consequences what they may, I will set out to-morrow. Tell his majesty so,” he added to Warthy. “When do you return to Lyons?”

      “Within an hour,” was the reply. “I am charged to come back instantly, and, as I have relays of horses, I shall not be long on the road. His majesty will be well content with your highness's determination.”

      And, with a profound bow, he quitted the room.

      “May the devil go with him!” exclaimed Bourbon, as he sprang from his couch. “If I detain this spy,” he thought, “the king will execute his threat, and send the Grand-Master and Chabannes to take me. Here, in this château, I can offer no resistance, but in Chantelle I may stand a siege, and hold up till I can obtain reinforcements. I must proceed thither without delay.”

      As soon as Warthy had departed, a conference