I dressed, and so timed my movements as to reach the Louvre at the hour when De Quelus would be about to officiate at the King's rising. De Rilly left me at the gate, wishing me good fortune. He had to go to oversee the labors of some grooms in the King's stables. One of the guards of the gate sent De Quelus my message. I stood, in great suspense, awaiting the answer, fearing at every moment to see the Duke of Guise ride into the Place du Louvre on his way to crave an interview with the King. At last a page came across the court with orders that I be admitted, and I was soon waiting in a gallery outside the apartments of the chamberlains. After a time that seemed very long, De Quelus came out to me, with a look of inquiry on his face. Ignoring the speech I had prepared for the occasion, I broke abruptly into the matter. "M. de Quelus," I said, "last night, in a sudden quarrel which arose out of a mistake, I was so unfortunate as to kill M. de Noyard. It was neither a duel nor a murder,--each of us seemed justified in attacking the other." De Quelus did not seem displeased to hear of De Noyard's death. "What evidence is there against you?" he asked. "That of M. de Noyard's servant, to whom I acknowledged that I had killed his master. Other evidence may come up. What I have come to beg is your intercession with the King--" "I understand," he said, without much interest. "I shall bring up the matter before the King leaves his bed." "When may I expect to know?" I asked, not knowing whether to be reassured or alarmed at his indifference. "Wait outside the King's apartments. I am going there now," he replied. I followed him, saw him pass into the King's suite, and had another season of waiting. This was the longest and the most trying. I stood, now tapping the floor with my foot, now watching the halberdiers at the curtained door, while they glanced indifferently at me. Various officers of the court, whose duty or privilege it was to attend the King's rising, passed in, none heeding me or guessing that I waited there for the word on which my life depended. I examined the tapestry over and over again, noticing, particularly, the redoubtable expression of a horseman with lance in rest, and wondering how he had ever emerged from the tower behind him, of which the gateway was half his size. A page came out of the doorway through which De Quelus had disappeared. Did he bring word to me? No. He glanced at me casually, and passed on, leaving the gallery at the other end. Presently he returned, preceding Marguerite, the Queen of Navarre, whom he had gone to summon. "More trouble in the royal family," I said to myself. The King must have scented another plot, to have summoned his sister before the time for the _petite levee_. I feared that this would hinder his consideration of my case.