'And you pronounced them delicious, M. le Chevalier, and gave all the heads and legs to the aubergiste, with your customary liberality.' 'De Brissac!' I muttered, 'this caterer for the Bastille, is, like De Bitche, my evil genius.' 'Hush!' said Dundrennan; 'any display of hostility will spoil the plan of my intended campaign. I mean you to play a little game with these four commissioners, as the warrant of Louis, "by God's grace, King of France and Navarre," styles them. So, gentlemen, what is the latest news from the vicinity of Notre Dame?' 'The same as ever,' replied the commander of Mont Carmel; 'the star of La Comtesse d'Amboise is still in the ascendant.' 'King Louis still reigns in the bosoms of his subjects--the female portion thereof especially,' said De Brissac. 'For shame, De Brissac; this is "lese Majesty."' 'Nay, 'tis a melancholy truism.' 'And Monseigneur le Cardinal still worships at the shrine of Marion de l'Orme?' said I, with a spiteful glance at De Brissac. 'Oh yes, M. Blane!' said he, with a covert smile; 'and has employed M. Poussin to paint two classic subjects from ancient history for her boudoir.' 'The sorrows of the chaste Lucretia, perhaps?' 'No: Nero, after his first shave, presenting his soapsuds to thundering Jove in the Capitol; and Caligula making love to the moon, and beseeching her to enter his bed.' There was an undefinable something in the jaunty air and jocular tone of De Brissac that irritated me, I scarcely knew why; so I said--'You and I had a little affair left unsettled in Paris, M. de Brissac, if I remember rightly.' 'I was just about to recall it to your memory, and regret that you have but anticipated me. You consider me still your debtor?' 'I do,' was the haughty reply. 'And wish to fight with me?' 'Yes,' I replied, heedless of a twitch Dundrennan gave my cloak. 'Then I regret, M. Blane, that I must decline the honor of crossing swords with you.' 'Zounds!--decline?' 'For a little time yet.' 'Indeed!--wherefore?' 'Pardieu--for two sufficient reasons.' 'Name them.' 'If I killed you, people in Paris would say I had done so because you demurred to let king Louis have the daughter of Duke Charles. If you killed me they would say it was done because I came to demand her, or that you resented being omitted in this pressing invitation to share the hospitality of the Bastille; moreover, they will put unpleasant constructions on the circumstance of the duke d'Alsace being drowned while in your care. They are very provoking, these Parisians, so let our little quarrel remain open until you return to the Louvre, when I will be delighted to afford you an opportunity of going comfortably home upon a door or shutter from the Boulevards or the Bois de Boulogne.'