“It was customary, in the hotel de Foix, for Gaston and his bastard brother Evan to sleep in the same chamber. They mutually loved each other, and were dressed alike, for they were nearly of the same size and age. It fell out, that their clothes were once mixed together; and, the coat of Gaston being on the bed, Evan, who was malicious enough, noticing the powder in the bag, said to Gaston, ‘What is this that you wear every day on your breast?’ Gaston was not pleased at the question, and replied, ‘Give me back my coat, Evan: you have nothing to do with it.’ Evan flung him his coat, which Gaston put on, but was very pensive the whole day. Three days after, as if God was desirous of saving the life of the Count de Foix, Gaston quarrelled with Evan at tennis, and gave him a box on the ear. The boy was vexed at this, and ran crying to the apartment of the count, who had just heard mass. The count, an seeing him in tears, asked what was the matter. ‘In God’s name, my lord,’ replied Evan, ‘Gaston has beaten me; but he deserves beating much more than I do.’--‘For what reason?’ said the count, who began to have some suspicions. ‘On my faith,’ said Evan, ‘ever since his return from Navarre, he wears on his breast a bag of powder: I know not what use it can be of, nor what he intends to do with it; except that he has once or twice told me, his mother would soon return hither, and be more in your good graces than ever she was.’--‘Ho!’ said the count, ‘hold thy tongue, and be sure thou do not mention what thou hast just told me to any man breathing.’--‘My lord,’ replied the youth, ‘I will obey you.’ The Count de Foix was very thoughtful on this subject, and remained alone until dinner-time, when he rose up, and seated himself as usual at his table in the hall. His son Gaston always placed the dishes before him, and tasted the meats.[33] As soon as he had served the first dish, and done what was usual, the count cast his eyes on him, having formed his plan, and saw the strings of the bag hanging from his pourpoint. This sight made his blood boil, and he said, ‘Gaston, come hither: I want to whisper you something.’ The youth advanced to the table, when the count, opening his bosom, undid his pourpoint, and with his knife cut away the bag. The young man was thunderstruck, and said not a word, but turned pale with fear, and began to tremble exceedingly, for he was conscious he had done wrong. The count opened the bag, took some of the powder, which he strewed over a slice of bread, and, calling a dog to him, gave it him to eat. The instant the dog had eaten a morsel, his eyes rolled round in his head, and he died. The count on this was very wroth, and indeed had reason. Rising from table, he would have struck his son with a knife; but the knights and squires rushed in between them, saying, ‘For God’s sake, my lord, do not be too hasty, but make further inquiries before you do any ill to your son.’ The first words the count