The Duke of Guise concluded his supper as lightly and gaily as if nothing had happened, for his mind had become so accustomed to deal with and to contemplate things of great moment, that they made not that impression upon him which they do upon those whose course is laid in a smoother and evener path. Charles of Montsoreau, however, could not feel in the same way. "War and pestilence!" he thought, "bloodshed and death! These are the common every-day ideas of men in this unhappy country, now. Perhaps famine may be added some day soon, and yet there will be light laughter, and merriment, and jest. Well, let it be so. Why should we cast away enjoyment because it can but be small? Life is at best but made up of chequered visions: let us enjoy the bright ones while we may, and make the dark ones short if we can." While he thus thought, the Duke of Guise whispered a word or two to the Count of Brissac, and that gentleman nodded to Laval. Shortly after, both rose; and, with an air of affected unwillingness, the Chevalier d'Aumale followed their example. The two or three other gentlemen who had partaken of the meal, but who either from inferior situation or natural taciturnity had mingled but little in the conversation, left the table at the same time, and accompanied the others out of the room, so that the Duke of Guise and the young Count were left alone. CHAP. II. The weak-minded and the vulgar are cowed by the aspect of high station; the humble in mind, and the moderate in talent, are subdued by high genius, and bend lowly to the majesty of mind; the powerful, the firm, and the elevated spring up to meet their like, and with them there is nothing earthly that can overawe but a consciousness of evil in themselves, or a sensation of abasement for those they love. Such was the case with Charles of Montsoreau, who undoubtedly was a man of high and powerful mind. He was in his first youth, it is true; he had no great or intimate knowledge of the world, except that knowledge of the world which, in a few rare instances, comes as it were by intuition. He had been bred up from his youth in love and admiration for the princes of the House of Lorraine, and especially of Henry, Duke of Guise; and yet, when he had met him for the first time, and recognised him at once in the inn at Mareuil, he felt no diffidence--no alarm. Nor had this confidence in himself any thing whatsoever to do with conceit: he thought not of himself for a moment; he thought only of the Duke of Guise and his situation, and impulse guided by habit did the rest. Seeing that the Duke had assumed an inferior character, he treated him accordingly; and acting as nature dictated to him, he acted right.