“I was saying, monsieur le comte,” resumed Buckingham, in a tone of anger more marked than ever, although in some measure moderated by the presence of an equal, “I was saying that it is impossible these tents can remain where they are.” “_Impossible!_” exclaimed De Guiche, “and why?” “Because I object to them.” A movement of impatience escaped De Guiche, but a warning glance from Raoul restrained him. “You should the less object to them, monsieur, on account of the abuse of priority you have permitted yourself to exercise.” “_Abuse!_” “Most assuredly. You commission a messenger, who hires in your name the whole of the town of Le Havre, without considering the members of the French court, who would be sure to arrive here to meet Madame. Your Grace will admit that this is hardly friendly conduct in the representative of a friendly nation.” “The right of possession belongs to him who is first on the ground.” “Not in France, monsieur.” “Why not in France?” “Because France is a country where politeness is observed.” “Which means?” exclaimed Buckingham, in so violent a manner that those who were present drew back, expecting an immediate collision. “Which means, monsieur,” replied De Guiche, now rather pale, “that I caused these tents to be raised as habitations for myself and my friends, as a shelter for the ambassadors of France, as the only place of refuge which your exactions have left us in the town; and that I and those who are with me, shall remain in them, at least, until an authority more powerful, and more supreme, than your own shall dismiss me from them.” “In other words, until we are ejected, as the lawyers say,” observed Manicamp, blandly. “I know an authority, monsieur, which I trust is such as you will respect,” said Buckingham, placing his hand on his sword. At this moment, and as the goddess of Discord, inflaming all minds, was about to direct their swords against each other, Raoul gently placed his hand on Buckingham’s shoulder. “One word, my lord,” he said. “My right, my right, first of all,” exclaimed the fiery young man. “It is precisely upon that point I wish to have the honor of addressing a word to you.” “Very well, monsieur, but let your remarks be brief.” “One question is all I ask; you can hardly expect me to be briefer.” “Speak, monsieur, I am listening.” “Are you, or is the Duke of Orleans, going to marry the granddaughter of Henry IV.?” “What do you mean?” exclaimed Buckingham, retreating a few steps, bewildered. “Have the goodness to answer me,” persisted Raoul tranquilly. “Do you mean to ridicule me, monsieur?” inquired Buckingham. “Your question is a sufficient answer for me. You admit, then, that it is not you who are going to marry the princess?” “You know it perfectly well, monsieur, I should imagine.” “I beg your pardon, but your conduct has been such as to leave it not altogether certain.” “Proceed, monsieur, what do you mean to convey?”