"But it may dash you against a rock, Duke," replied Schomberg; "and I see one straight before you." He spoke sternly and impressively, and Guise listened to him with more attention. "Speak, Schomberg, he said; speak; you may speak clearly before them. But sit, good friend; pray thee sit. Standing there before me, with your sad aspect and warning voice, you look like a spectre." "Well, my Lord," said Schomberg, seating himself, "I have certain information that there are evil designs against you, ripe, or almost ripe, for execution. Your life is in danger. Guise; I tell you truly, I tell you sincerely, and I beseech you to hear me. Your life is in danger, and you have no time to lose if you would place it in safety." "Why, what would you have me to do, Schomberg?" said the Duke in a tone not exactly indifferent, but still showing no great interest in the subject. "I would have you mount your horse this night," replied Schomberg, "or at day-break tomorrow. I would have you gather your train together, take these two young people with you, and retiring to Paris, inform the King that you had proof your life was not safe at Blois." The Duke of Guise meditated for a moment, and then replied, "Schomberg, I cannot grasp this fear. Brought up to arms from my youth, cradled in the tented field, with death surrounding me at every hour of life, I cannot feel as other men might feel in moments of peril to myself. Neither will I ever have it said of me, that I willingly fled from my post under the apprehension of any personal danger." "By our old friendship. Guise," replied Schomberg, "by our companionship in the fields of other days, I beseech you to consider and to judge wisely. Remember, if the vengeance of a monarch, or the instigation of villanous courtiers, were to have success, and you were to fall beneath the blow of an assassin, what would become of your children, all yet in their youth? what would become of your relations and your friends, placed, as you have placed them, on a high pinnacle, to be aimed at by a crowd of idle minions with their bird-bolts? What would become of your son?" "Joinville must make his own fame," replied the Duke, "and guard his own rights with his own sword. I was left earlier than he is without a parent's care; with a host of enemies around me; with my father's name, giving me a heritage of envy and hatred; and with no support but my own sword. With that sword I have bowed those enemies to the dust, and Joinville must show himself worthy to bear it too."