"He may find that he has a shark in the net," replied Madame de Montpensier, "and be glad enough to let it escape ere it devour him." "Well, we shall see," replied D'Aubin--"we shall see. But oh! by the Lord, I had nearly forgot to compliment your Highness on your exploits of this morning. Has none of the Dominican come back to you yet? "None of the Dominican!" exclaimed Madame de Montpensier, with evident astonishment--"none of the Dominican! What do you mean, D'Aubin?" "I simply mean," replied the Count, "that by this time I thought your Highness might at least have got a leg, or an arm, or a foot, or a little finger of your martyr, to make a relic of; for it could scarcely be more than two o'clock when he was torn to pieces by the four horses. No, it could not be more than two; for as soon as ever he attempted to stab the king, La Guesle ran his sword through him, and, almost immediately after, casting him out of the window, they tied him to the horses' heels, and tore him to pieces, in the little square down by the end of the bridge." "_Attempted_ to kill the king!" said Madame de Montpensier, but ill concealing, in her desire to hear more, her previous knowledge of the act that had been perpetrated--"attempted! Then he _did not_ kill him." "Oh, no," replied D'Aubin, gaily, and purposely affecting to laugh at her disappointment. "You do not think Henry is such a fool as to let himself be killed by a bungling Dominican. You should have sent our friend in the next room there, Armandi, or some other skilful, delicate, dexterous personage. Besides, dear lady, when you and Armandi and good father Bourgoin were consulting together, surely three such shrewd heads as yours might have fallen upon some better and more politic plan of getting rid of a bad king than that of trusting the execution of the act to an ignorant, clumsy, timid friar. Good faith! I should have thought that you might have even acted Judith yourself, and have delivered the land of our worthy Holofernes of St. Cloud with your own hand." Madame de Montpensier turned pale, and red, and pale again; and there was a quivering of her fine lip, and a flashing of her proud dark eye, which showed D'Aubin at length that he was urging her too far. As soon as he perceived it, he dropped the sarcastic irony which he had been using; and drawing nearer to her, he took her fair, soft, jewelled hand in his, and raised it to his lips. "Forgive me," he said, "for teasing you. I love not Henry of Valois more than you do--as you well know; and though I will not say that I regret your attempt has failed, yet I do believe that all knowledge of the share you had in it rests with me alone, and, believe me, my lips are and shall ever be sealed by this kiss upon this hand--except towards yourself." Madame de Montpensier gazed on him in no small surprise. "You assume things, sir," she said with some hesitation, "which you have no right to assume."