“Signed ‘Francois,’” said Maille.

“No, no!” exclaimed the prince, “it is signed:  ’Your good cousin and friend, Francois,’—­Messieurs,” he said to the Scotch guard, “I follow you to the prison to which you are ordered, on behalf of the king, to conduct me.  There is enough nobility in this hall to understand the matter!”

The profound silence which followed these words ought to have enlightened the Guises, but silence is that to which all princes listen least.

“Monseigneur,” said the Cardinal de Tournon, who was following the prince, “you know well that since the affair at Amboise you have made certain attempts both at Lyon and at Mouvans in Dauphine against the royal authority, of which the king had no knowledge when he wrote to you in those terms.”

“Tricksters!” cried the prince, laughing.

“You have made a public declaration against the Mass and in favor of heresy.”

“We are masters in Navarre,” said the prince.

“You mean to say in Bearn.  But you owe homage to the Crown,” replied President de Thou.

“Ha! you here, president?” cried the prince, sarcastically.  “Is the whole Parliament with you?”

So saying, he cast a look of contempt upon the cardinal and left the hall.  He saw plainly enough that they meant to have his head.  The next day, when Messieurs de Thou, de Viole, d’Espesse, the procureur-general Bourdin, and the chief clerk of the court du Tillet, entered his presence, he kept them standing, and expressed his regrets to see them charged with a duty which did not belong to them.  Then he said to the clerk, “Write down what I say,” and dictated as follows:—­

“I, Louis de Bourbon, Prince de Conde, peer of the kingdom, Marquis de Conti, Comte de Soissons, prince of the blood of France, do declare that I formally refuse to recognize any commission appointed to try me, because, in my quality and in virtue of the privilege appertaining to all members of the royal house, I can only be accused, tried, and judged by the Parliament of peers, both Chambers assembled, the king being seated on his bed of justice.”

“You ought to know that, gentlemen, better than others,” he added; “and this reply is all that you will get from me.  For the rest, I trust in God and my right.”

The magistrates continued to address him notwithstanding his obstinate silence.  The king of Navarre was left at liberty, but closely watched; his prison was larger than that of the prince, and this was the only real difference in the position of the two brothers,—­the intention being that their heads should fall together.