“I have been informed,” replied François, “that, forgetful of your allegiance to me, you have entered into a treasonable league with my enemies the Emperor and Henry VIII. This is what I have been told, cousin, but, as I have said, I am unwilling to believe it.” “Sire,” replied Bourbon, “you have not been misinformed. Overtures have been made me by the Emperor and the King of England, who thought, not unnaturally, that the treatment I have experienced from your majesty must have deeply dissatisfied me.” “They thought you were prepared to become a traitor,” cried François. “Foi de gentilhomme! I scarcely expected you to make so frank an avowal. They knew you to be ready to revolt--ha!” “They knew I had endured wrongs enough to make me a rebel,” rejoined Bourbon. “But they were mistaken, sire--they were mistaken.” “Then you rejected the offers?” said the king. “I still indulged hopes that your majesty would render me justice.” “Justice you shall have, cousin--strict justice,” rejoined the king. “Now listen to me. I suspect--nay, I am certain--that you are engaged in a conspiracy against me, and against the state. The two young Norman seigneurs, Matignon and D'Argouges, have disclosed the treasonable proposition made to them on your part by Lurcy. You look confounded, as well you may. You see I have ample proof of your guilt, but I can obtain plenty more by arresting all your principal adherents who are now assembled in this château. Not one of them can escape me.” “Be not too sure of that, sire,” said Bourbon. “You fancy you can protect them,” rejoined the king. “Learn that I am master of your castle. Its courts are filled with my archers--its walls are surrounded by my troops--its keys are in my possession. I have only to give the word to cause your arrest.” “Your majesty will never give that word,” rejoined Bourbon, calmly. “Wherefore not?” cried François, striding towards the door, as if with the design of putting his threat into execution. “What ho, there!--who waits?” But the door was shut, and no one answered the summons, though the king repeated it still more lustily. “What means this?” he cried, glancing furiously at Bourbon, who had risen from his couch, and thrown off his loose robe, showing that he was armed.. “It means, sire,” replied the Constable, “that the door will not be opened save at my order. Your majesty may be assured,” he added, with stern significance, “that those who enter this chamber will not arrest _me_.” “Ha, traitor! do you mean me mischief?” exclaimed the king. “Your majesty has come hither alone. I did not invite you. But you are perfectly safe, provided you pledge your royal word that no arrests shall be made.” François hesitated for a moment, and then returned his half-drawn sword to the scabbard.