Then having said these words, which were destined to plough a furrow in the heart of the young prince, he passed into the bedroom, where the king was not so much asleep as plunged in a heavy torpor. The Duc de Guise was usually able to correct the sinister aspect of his scarred face by an affable and pleasing manner, but on this occasion, when he saw the instrument of his power breaking in his very hands, he was unable to force a smile. The cardinal, whose civil courage was equal to his brother’s military daring, advanced a few steps to meet him. “Robertet thinks that little Pinard is sold to the queen-mother,” he whispered, leading the duke into the hall; “they are using him to work upon the members of the States-general.” “Well, what does it signify if we are betrayed by a secretary when all else betrays us?” cried the lieutenant-general. “The town is for the Reformation, and we are on the eve of a revolt. Yes! the _Wasps_ are discontented”; he continued, giving the Orleans people their nickname; “and if Pare does not save the king we shall have a terrible uprising. Before long we shall be forced to besiege Orleans, which is nothing but a bog of Huguenots.” “I have been watching that Italian woman,” said the cardinal, “as she sits there with absolute insensibility. She is watching and waiting, God forgive her! for the death of her son; and I ask myself whether we should not do a wise thing to arrest her at once, and also the king of Navarre.” “It is already more than we want upon our hands to have the Prince de Conde in prison,” replied the duke. The sound of a horseman riding in haste to the gate of the Bailliage echoed through the hall. The duke and cardinal went to the window, and by the light of the torches which were in the portico the duke recognized on the rider’s hat the famous Lorraine cross, which the cardinal had lately ordered his partisans to wear. He sent an officer of the guard, who was stationed in the antechamber, to give entrance to the new-comer; and went himself, followed by his brother, to meet him on the landing. “What is it, my dear Simeuse?” asked the duke, with that charm of manner which he always displayed to military men, as soon as he recognized the governor of Gien. “The Connetable has reached Pithiviers; he left Ecouen with two thousand cavalry and one hundred nobles.” “With their suites?” “Yes, monseigneur,” replied Simeuse; “in all, two thousand six hundred men. Some say that Thore is behind them with a body of infantry. If the Connetable delays awhile, expecting his son, you still have time to repulse him.” “Is that all you know? Are the reasons of this sudden call to arms made known?” “Montmorency talks as little as he writes; go you and meet him, brother, while I prepare to welcome him with the head of his nephew,” said the cardinal, giving orders that Robertet be sent to him at once.