“Those who said that, madame,” he cried in an angry voice, “lied in their throats!”

Then he flung his glove at the king’s feet, saying:  “Let him who believes that calumny come forward!”

The whole court trembled as the Duc de Guise was seen to leave his place; but instead of picking up the glove, he advanced to the intrepid hunchback.

“If you desire a second in that duel, monseigneur, do me the honor to accept my services,” he said.  “I will answer for you; I know that you will show the Reformers how mistaken they are if they think to have you for their leader.”

The prince was forced to take the hand of the lieutenant-general of the kingdom.  Chicot picked up the glove and returned it to Monsieur de Conde.

“Cousin,” said the little king, “you must draw your sword only for the defence of the kingdom.  Come and dine.”

The Cardinal de Lorraine, surprised at his brother’s action, drew him away to his own apartments.  The Prince de Conde, having escaped his apparent danger, offered his hand to Mary Stuart to lead her to the dining hall; but all the while that he made her flattering speeches he pondered in his mind what trap the astute Balafre was setting for him.  In vain he worked his brains, for it was not until Queen Mary herself betrayed it that he guessed the intention of the Guises.

“’Twould have been a great pity,” she said laughing, “if so clever a head had fallen; you must admit that my uncle has been generous.”

“Yes, madame; for my head is only useful on my shoulders, though one of them is notoriously higher than the other.  But is this really your uncle’s generosity?  Is he not getting the credit of it rather cheaply?  Do you think it would be so easy to take off the head of a prince of the blood?”

“All is not over yet,” she said.  “We shall see what your conduct will be at the execution of the noblemen, your friends, at which the Council has decided to make a great public display of severity.”

“I shall do,” said the prince, “whatever the king does.”

“The king, the queen-mother, and myself will be present at the execution, together with the whole court and the ambassadors—­”

“A fete!” said the prince, sarcastically.

“Better than that,” said the young queen, “an act of faith, an act of the highest policy.  ’Tis a question of forcing the noblemen of France to submit themselves to the Crown, and compelling them to give up their tastes for plots and factions—­”

“You will not break their belligerent tempers by the show of danger, madame; you will risk the Crown itself in the attempt,” replied the prince.

At the end of the dinner, which was gloomy enough, Queen Mary had the cruel boldness to turn the conversation openly upon the trial of the noblemen on the charge of being seized with arms in their hands, and to speak of the necessity of making a great public show of their execution.