"The other troublesome affair that I have to tell you of will be of no less serious moment, because it concerns our family's private matters; but there is no doubt still time to avert it, and so I make haste to give you notice of it. It is necessary that you should know that since your departure Monsieur le Connétable de Montmorency has shown, and quite naturally, the same ugly and bitter spirit toward us, and has never ceased to be envious of us, and to fume and swear, as has always been his custom whenever the king showed any favor to our family. The approaching celebration of our dear niece Mary's nuptials with the dauphin is not calculated to put him in a good humor. The balance which it is to the king's interest to preserve between the two houses of Guise and Montmorency is depressed considerably in our favor by this event; and the old constable is making a terrible clamor and outcry for something to counterbalance it. He has found this counterpoise, my dear brother, in a match between his son François, the prisoner of Thérouanne, and--" The young count did not finish the sentence. His voice faltered, and every drop of blood left his face. "Well, what's the matter, Gabriel?" asked the duke. "How pale you are and how discomposed! Did you have a sudden attack of pain?" "Nothing, Monseigneur, absolutely nothing, except possibly a little over-fatigue and a slight dizziness; but I am all right again now, and will go on if you please. Let me see, where was I? The cardinal was saying, I think, that there was a remedy. Oh, no, farther along. Here's the place:--"