Count Hannibal

"Softly, sire," Tavannes answered; for Charles had gradually raised his

voice. "You will be observed."

For the first time the young King--he was but twenty-two years old, God

pity him!--looked at his companion.

"To be sure," he whispered; and his eyes grew cunning. "Besides, and

after all, there's another way, if I choose. Oh, I've thought and

thought, I'd have you know." And shrugging his shoulders, almost to his

ears, he raised and lowered his open hands alternately, while his back

hid the movement from the Chamber. "See-saw! See-saw!" he muttered.

"And the King between the two, you see. That's Madame's king-craft.

She's shown me that a hundred times. But look you, it is as easy to

lower the one as the other," with a cunning glance at Tavannes' face, "or

to cut off the right as the left. And--and the Admiral's an old man and

will pass; and for the matter of that I like to hear him talk. He talks

well. While the others, Guise and his kind, are young, and I've thought,

oh, yes, I've thought--but there," with a sudden harsh laugh, "my lady

mother will have it her own way. And for this time she shall, but, All!

All! Even Foucauld, there! Do you mark him. He's sorting the cards. Do

you see him--as he will be to-morrow, with the slit in his throat and his

teeth showing? Why, God!" his voice rising almost to a scream, "the

candles by him are burning blue!" And with a shaking hand, his face

convulsed, the young King clutched his companion's arm, and pinched it.

Count Hannibal shrugged his shoulders, but answered nothing.

"D'you think we shall see them afterwards?" Charles resumed, in a sharp,

eager whisper. "In our dreams, man? Or when the watchman cries, and we

awake, and the monks are singing lauds at St. Germain, and--and the taper

is low?"

Tavannes' lip curled. "I don't dream, sire," he answered coldly, "and I

seldom wake. For the rest, I fear my enemies neither alive nor dead."

"Don't you? By G-d, I wish I didn't," the young man exclaimed. His brow

was wet with sweat. "I wish I didn't. But there, it's settled. They've

settled it, and I would it were done! What do you think of--of it, man?

What do you think of it, yourself?"

Count Hannibal's face was inscrutable. "I think nothing, sire," he said

dryly. "It is for your Majesty and your council to think. It is enough

for me that it is the King's will."

"But you'll not flinch?" Charles muttered, with a quick look of

suspicion. "But there," with a monstrous oath, "I know you'll not! I

believe you'd as soon kill a monk--though, thank God," and he crossed

himself devoutly, "there is no question of that--as a man. And sooner

than a maiden."