“What have you been saying to Foucauld, M. de Tavannes?” he muttered.

“I?”

“Yes,” with a jealous glance, “you, M. le Comte.”

Count Hannibal looked at him with the sudden ferocity that made the man a proverb at Court.

“What I chose, M. le Capitaine des Suisses!” he hissed.  And his hand closed like a vice on the other’s wrist.  “What I chose, look you!  And remember, another time, that I am not a Huguenot, and say what I please.”

“But there is great need of care,” Nancay protested, stammering and flinching.  “And—­and I have orders, M. le Comte.”

“Your orders are not for me,” Tavannes answered, releasing his arm with a contemptuous gesture.  “And look you, man, do not cross my path to-night.  You know our motto?  Who touches my brother, touches Tavannes!  Be warned by it.”

Nancay scowled.  “But the priests say, ’If your hand offend you, cut it off!’” he muttered.

Tavannes laughed, a sinister laugh.  “If you offend me I’ll cut your throat,” he said; and with no ceremony he went out, and dropped the curtain behind him.

Nancay looked after him, his face pale with rage.  “Curse him!” he whispered, rubbing his wrist.  “If he were any one else I would teach him!  But he would as soon run you through in the presence as in the Pre aux Clercs!  And his brother, the Marshal, has the King’s ear!  And Madame Catherine’s too, which is worse!”

He was still fuming, when an officer in the colours of Monsieur, the King’s brother, entered hurriedly, and keeping his hand on the curtain, looked anxiously round the Chamber.  As soon as his eye found Nancay, his face cleared.

“Have you the reckoning?” he muttered.

“There are seventeen Huguenots in the palace besides their Highnesses,” Nancay replied, in the same cautious tone.  “Not counting two or three who are neither the one thing nor the other.  In addition, there are the two Montmorencies; but they are to go safe for fear of their brother, who is not in the trap.  He is too like his father, the old Bench-burner, to be lightly wronged!  And, besides, there is Pare, who is to go to his Majesty’s closet as soon as the gates are shut.  If the King decides to save any one else, he will send him to his closet.  So ’tis all clear and arranged here.  If you are forward outside, it will be well!  Who deals with the gentleman with the tooth-pick?”

“The Admiral?  Monsieur, Guise, and the Grand Prior; Cosseins and Besme have charge.  ’Tis to be done first.  Then the Provost will raise the town.  He will have a body of stout fellows ready at three or four rendezvous, so that the fire may blaze up everywhere at once.  Marcel, the ex-provost, has the same commission south of the river.  Orders to light the town as for a frolic have been given, and the Halles will be ready.”

Nancay nodded, reflected a moment, and then with an involuntary shudder—­