“Methinks the Constable is like a wild beast about to fall into a trap,” remarked Triboulet to the astrologer. “Were I the king, if I once caught him, I would not let him go.” “Neither would I,” replied Agrippa, significantly. “But his majesty cannot read the future.” By this time Bourbon had dismounted from his charger, and was received with the ceremony due to his exalted rank by the chamberlain, who descended the stairs to meet him. Pages, esquires and gentlemen bowed as the haughty Constable mounted the steps, and when he readied the summit the Marshal de Montmoreney advanced to meet him, and a very cordial greeting passed between them. “I am right glad to see you here again, prince,” said the marshal. “I hope we shall soon gather fresh laurels together in the Milanese.” “I should rejoice to fight by your side,” replied Bourbon. “But I know not why I have been sent for by the king.” “Have you been sent for?” said Montmoreney, surprised. “I thought you came of your own accord. So much the better. You will be well received. The king is in a very gracious humour--and so is the duchess.” “Ah! the duchess!” exclaimed Bourbon, with an expression of deep disgust. “You do not speak of her highness as she speaks of you, prince,” observed Triboulet. “I have heard her sigh and seen her change colour at the mention of your name.” Bourbon made no reply to this remark, but graciously returned the salutation addressed to him by Cornelius Agrippa. A slight sign from the astrologer, who was standing within the vestibule, drew him towards him. “I would fain have a word with your highness,” said Agrippa, as the Constable approached him. “I have been consulting your horoscope.” “Ha! what have you found therein, good doctor?” asked Bourbon, who was by no means free from superstition. “Much,” replied Agrippa, gravely. “This is a critical hour with you, prince--the most critical hour of your existence, since it forms the turning-point of your career. According as you now act, so will your future destiny be influenced. Comply with certain propositions which will be made you, and which will in no respect affect your honour, and your position will be assured, and you will be elevated to almost supreme power. Decline them--” “What then?” demanded Bourbon, fixing his dark eyes searchingly upon the astrologer. “Decline them, I repeat,” pursued Agrippa, “and you will incur great perils--very great perils--but you will baffle the schemes of your enemies, and obtain brilliant successes.” “You promise this, doctor?” cried Bourbon, eagerly. “The stars promise it you, prince, not I,” returned Agrippa. “But I have more to tell, if you have courage to hear it,” he added, gravely. “Say on!--let me know all,” cried Bourbon. “You will not long enjoy your triumph. You will meet a warrior's death before the walls of a great city.”