“We are preparing for the hanging of heretics, as the blood-letting at Amboise didn’t cure them,” said a young Recollet who was superintending the work. “Monseigneur the cardinal is very right,” said Ruggiero, prudently; “but in my country we do better.” “What do you do?” said the young priest. “We burn them.” Lecamus was forced to lean on the astrologer’s arm, for his legs gave way beneath him; he thought it probable that on the morrow his son would hang from one of those gibbets. The poor old man was thrust between two sciences, astrology and surgery, both of which promised him the life of his son, for whom in all probability that scaffold was now erecting. In the trouble and distress of his mind, the Florentine was able to knead him like dough. “Well, my worthy dealer in minever, what do you say now to the Lorraine jokes?” whispered Ruggiero. “Alas! you know I would give my skin if that of my son were safe and sound.” “That is talking like your trade,” said the Italian; “but explain to me the operation which Ambroise means to perform upon the king, and in return I will promise you the life of your son.” “Faithfully?” exclaimed the old furrier. “Shall I swear it to you?” said Ruggiero. Thereupon the poor old man repeated his conversation with Ambroise Pare to the astrologer, who, the moment that the secret of the great surgeon was divulged to him, left the poor father abruptly in the street in utter despair. “What the devil does he mean, that miscreant?” cried Lecamus, as he watched Ruggiero hurrying with rapid steps to the place de l’Estape. Lecamus was ignorant of the terrible scene that was taking place around the royal bed, where the imminent danger of the king’s death and the consequent loss of power to the Guises had caused the hasty erection of the scaffold for the Prince de Conde, whose sentence had been pronounced, as it were by default,--the execution of it being delayed by the king’s illness. Absolutely no one but the persons on duty were in the halls, staircases, and courtyard of the royal residence, Le Bailliage. The crowd of courtiers were flocking to the house of the king of Navarre, on whom the regency would devolve on the death of the king, according to the laws of the kingdom. The French nobility, alarmed by the audacity of the Guises, felt the need of rallying around the chief of the younger branch, when, ignorant of the queen-mother’s Italian policy, they saw her the apparent slave of the duke and cardinal. Antoine de Bourbon, faithful to his secret agreement with Catherine, was bound not to renounce the regency in her favor until the States-general had declared for it.