This state of repose was not of long continuance. Warthy, who had been provided with relays of the fleetest horses, was back again in an incredibly short time, and Bourbon, to his infinite annoyance, was obliged to resume his couch. He received the spy in a very ill humour, but Warthy did not appear to heed his displeasure. “Highness,” he said, “the king is much offended. He will not believe you are so ill as you represent. And he commands you, on your allegiance, to join him without delay.” “That is wholly impossible, sir,” interposed Jean de l'Hôpital. “The Lord Constable is far too ill to travel. I fear you have not explained fully his dangerous condition to the king.” “I have reported all I have seen,” replied Warthy. “But his majesty will take no more excuses.” “Excuses, sir!” cried Bourbon, fiercely. “Dare you insinuate----” “I but repeat the king's message to your highness,” replied Warthy. “His majesty, as I have said, is highly offended, and declares he will no longer be trifled with. He peremptorily orders you to join him at Lyons without delay. If you fail to do so----” And he hesitated to proceed. “Well, sir--what if I fail?” demanded Bourbon, slightly raising himself, and fixing a stern glance on the messenger, “His majesty will send the Grand-Master and Marshal de Chabannes with three thousand lansquenets to fetch you,” rejoined Warthy. “Mort-Dieu! am I to be told this?” cried Bourbon. And he would have sprung from the couch, if the two physicians had not thrown themselves upon him, and held him forcibly down. “You will betray yourself if you give way thus,” whispered Jean do l'Hôpital. “I pray your highness to be calm.” Yielding to the advice, the Constable controlled himself by a great effort. There was a pause, during which the spy remained intently watching the Constable. “What answer shall I return to his majesty?” asked Warthy, at length. “Say I will come,” replied Bourbon. “Highness, it is not possible that you can travel,” said Jean de l'Hôpital. “His majesty cannot desire your death.” “It would seem as though he did,” rejoined Bourbon. “But, be the consequences what they may, I will set out to-morrow. Tell his majesty so,” he added to Warthy. “When do you return to Lyons?” “Within an hour,” was the reply. “I am charged to come back instantly, and, as I have relays of horses, I shall not be long on the road. His majesty will be well content with your highness's determination.” And, with a profound bow, he quitted the room. “May the devil go with him!” exclaimed Bourbon, as he sprang from his couch. “If I detain this spy,” he thought, “the king will execute his threat, and send the Grand-Master and Chabannes to take me. Here, in this château, I can offer no resistance, but in Chantelle I may stand a siege, and hold up till I can obtain reinforcements. I must proceed thither without delay.”