"He has just passed into the court, seigneur," replied one of the young officers who was standing near the window; "he and some others are mounting their horses now. Shall I call him?" "No, let him go," answered the leader; "he is always prompt and always wise. We can trust it all to him. As for these fellows, take them and put them in an upper room where they cannot jump out. Set a guard at the door. You, signors, best know whether your consciences are quite clear; but if they be not, I advise you to make your peace with Heaven as best you may during the night, for I strongly suspect, from what you yourselves admit, that I shall have to raise you a little above earthly things about dawn to-morrow. There, take them away. I do not want to hear any more. Our good King Louis, eleventh of the name, had a way of decorating trees after such a sort. I have seen as many as a dozen all pendent at once when I was a young boy, and I do not know why it should go against my stomach to do this same with a pack of murderous wolves, who seem made by Heaven for the purpose of giving a warning to their countrymen." CHAPTER IX. When Lorenzo awoke--and his sleep was not of such long duration as fully to outlive the darkness--he found more than one person watching him. Close by his side sat Ramiro d'Orco, and near the foot of his bed the lamplight fell upon the well-known face of his faithful follower, Antonio. He felt faint and somewhat confused, and he had a throbbing of the brow and temples, which told him he was ill; but for some moments he remembered nothing of the events which had taken place the night before. "How feel you, my young friend?" asked Ramiro, in a far more gracious tone than he commonly used; "yet speak low and carefully, for, though the antidote has overwrought the poison, you must long be watchful of your health, and make no exertion." "You are very kind, Signor Ramiro," replied the young man. "I believe I was wounded last night, and that the blade was poisoned--yes, it was so, and I owe you my life."