‘But be careful,’ Henry added eagerly, ‘to make no mention, even to her, of the King of Navarre. You mark me, M. de Marsac! If you have at any time occasion to speak of me, you may have the honour of calling me YOUR FRIEND, and referring to me always in the same manner.’ This he said with so gracious an air that I was charmed, and thought myself happy indeed to be addressed in this wise by a prince whose name was already so glorious. Nor was my satisfaction diminished when his companion drew out a bag containing, as he told me, three hundred crowns in gold, and placed it in my hands, bidding me defray therefrom the cost of the journey. ‘Be careful, however,’ he added earnestly, ‘to avoid, in hiring your men, any appearance of wealth, lest the adventure seem to be suggested by some outside person; instead of being dictated by the desperate state of your own fortunes. Promise rather than give, so far as that will avail. And for what you must give, let each livre seem to be the last in your pouch.’ Henry nodded assent. ‘Excellent advice!’ he muttered, rising and drawing on his cloak, ‘such as you ever give me, Mornay, and I as seldom take--more’s the pity! But, after all, of little avail without this.’ He lifted my sword from the table as he spoke, and weighed it in his hand. ‘A pretty tool,’ he continued, turning suddenly and looking me very closely in the face. ‘A very pretty tool. Were I in your place, M. de Marsac, I would see that it hung loose in the scabbard. Ay, and more, man, use it!’ he added, sinking his voice and sticking out his chin, while his grey eyes, looking ever closer into mine, seemed to grow cold and hard as steel. ‘Use it to the last, for if you fall into Turenne’s hands, God help you! I cannot!’ ‘If I am taken, sire,’ I answered, trembling, but not with fear, ‘my fate be on my own head.’ I saw the king’s eyes soften, at that, and his face change so swiftly that I scarce knew him for the same man. He let the weapon drop with a clash on the table. ‘Ventre Saint Gris!’ he exclaimed with a strange thrill of yearning in his tone. ‘I swear by God, I would I were in your shoes, sir. To strike a blow or two with no care what came of it. To take the road with a good horse and a good sword, and see what fortune would send. To be rid of all this statecraft and protocolling, and never to issue another declaration in this world, but just to be for once a Gentleman of France, with all to win and nothing to lose save the love of my lady! Ah! Mornay, would it not be sweet to leave all this fret and fume, and ride away to the green woods by Coarraze?’