The scene is again at Fontainebleau. Henry’s brow is knit. He is gloomy and sad. With slow steps he quits the palace by the Golden Gate, passes through the parterre garden under the shadow of the lime _berceau_ which borders the long façade of the palace, and reaches a pavilion under a grove of trees overlooking the park and the canal. This pavilion is the house he has built for Sully. The statesman is seated writing in an upper chamber overlooking the avenues leading to the forest. The King enters unannounced; he throws his arms round Sully, then sinks into a chair. Sully looks at him unmoved. He is accustomed to outbreaks of passion and remorse caused by the King’s love affairs, and he mentally ascribes his master’s present trouble to this cause. “Sully,” says Henry, speaking at last, “I am betrayed, betrayed by my dearest friend. _Ventre de ma vie!_ Maréchal Biron has conspired against me, with Spain.” “How, Sire?” cries Sully, bounding from his chair; “have you proofs?” “Ay, Sully, only too complete; his agent and secretary Lafin has confessed everything. Lafin is now at Fontainebleau. I have long doubted the good faith of Biron, but I must now bring myself to hold him as a traitor.” “If your Majesty has sufficient proofs,” said Sully, re-seating himself, “have him at once arrested. Allow him no time to communicate with your enemies.” “No, Sully, no; I cannot do that: I must give my old friend a chance. Of his treason, there is, however, no question. He has intrigued for years with the Duke of Savoy and with Spain, giving out as his excuse that the Catholic faith is endangered by my heresy, and that I am a Calvinist. He has entered into a treasonable alliance with Bouillon and D’Auvergne; and worse, oh, far worse than all, during the campaign in Switzerland he commanded the battery of St. Catherine’s Fort to be pointed against me.--God knows how I was saved.” “Monstrous!” cries Sully, casting up his hands. “And your Majesty dallies with such a miscreant?” “Yes, I can make excuses for him. He has been irritated against me by the base insinuations of the Duke of Savoy. Biron is vain, hot-tempered, and credulous. I know every detail. He shall come here to Fontainebleau: I have summoned him. The sight of his old master will melt his heart. He will confide in me; he will confess, and I shall pardon him.” “I trust it may be as your Majesty wishes,” answers Sully; “but you are playing a dangerous game, Sire. God help you safe out of it.”