Benvenuto sought to learn the secret, but Ascanio would make no other reply to his questions than this:-- "To-day it would be treachery, master. Wait until the day comes when it will be only a legitimate means of defence." Benvenuto understood the delicacy which closed his mouth, and waited. How it was necessary that he should see Ascanio, and his first endeavors should be directed to that end. With Benvenuto the wish led at once to the decision necessarily to gratify it. He had hardly said to himself that he must see Ascanio, before he was knocking at the door of the Châtelet. The wicket opened, and one of the provost's people asked Cellini who he was. Another man was standing behind him in the shadow. "My name is Benvenuto Cellini," replied the goldsmith. "What do you wish?" "To see a prisoner who is confined herein." "What is his name?" "Ascanio." "Ascanio is in secret and can see no one." "Why is he in secret?" "Because he is charged with a crime punishable with death." "An additional reason why I should see him," cried Benvenuto. "Your logic is most extraordinary, Signor Cellini," said the man who was standing in the background, in a jeering tone, "and doesn't pass current at the Châtelet." "Who laughs when I proffer a request? Who jeers when I implore a favor?" cried Benvenuto. "I," said the voice,--"I, Robert d'Estourville, Provost of Paris. To each his turn, Signor Cellini. Every contest consists of a game and revenge. You won the first bout, and the second is mine. You illegally took my property, I legally take your apprentice. You refused to return the one to me, so never fear, I will not return the other to you. You are gallant and enterprising; you have an army of devoted retainers. Come on, my stormer of citadels! Come on, my scaler of walls! Come on, my burster in of doors! Come and take the Châtelet! I am waiting for you." With that the wicket was closed. Benvenuto, with a roar, darted at the massive iron door, but could make no impression upon it with the united efforts of his feet and hands. "Come on, my friend, come on, strike, strike!" cried the provost from the other side of the door; "you will only succeed in making a noise, and if you make too much, beware the watch, beware the archers! Ah! the Châtelet isn't like the Hôtel de Nesle, you'll find; it belongs to our lord the king, and we shall see if you are more powerful in France than the king."