"Bah, Monseigneur! it may be that you exaggerate the extent of your disgrace," said Arnauld. "What's that?" said the constable. "Do you know, then, pray, does everybody already know, that I am in disgrace?" "People suspect as much; and so do I, Monseigneur." "Very well, then, Arnauld," Montmorency rejoined bitterly; "you may very well suspect too that it is of no use to me at present that Vicomte d'Exmès and Diane de Castro were separated at St. Quentin, since in all probability the king and the grande sénéchale are no longer willing to give their daughter to my son." "_Mon Dieu_, Monseigneur!" was Arnauld's response. "I imagine that the king would very gladly consent to give her to you if you could give her back to him." "What do you mean?" "I say, Monseigneur, that our sire, Henri II., ought to be very sad at heart at this moment, not only because of the loss of St. Quentin and the battle of St. Laurent, but also because of the loss of his dearly loved daughter Diane de Castro, who disappeared after the siege of St. Quentin without leaving any traces by which it is possible to tell what has become of her; for there have been twenty contradictory and inconsistent reports about her disappearance. Having only returned yesterday, of course you know nothing of all this, Monseigneur; I didn't know it myself until this morning." "I had so many other things to think of," said the constable, "it was quite natural that I should be thinking of my present disgrace rather than of my past favor." "Very true!" said Arnauld; "but would not that favor how back in your direction if you should say to the king something like this, for instance: 'Sire, you are sorrowing for your daughter, and searching for her everywhere, and asking news of her from every one you see; but I alone know where she is, Sire?'" "Do you mean to say that you know, Arnauld?" asked Montmorency, eagerly. "My trade is to know things," said the spy. "I told you that I had news to sell; and you see that my goods are not of poor quality. You should reflect on that, Monseigneur." "I reflect," said the constable, "that kings have a way of remembering the defeats of their servants, but not their merits. When I have restored Henri's daughter to him, he will be beside himself with delight at first; all the wealth and all the honors in his whole realm would not be enough to requite me in the first flush of his gratitude. Then Diane will weep, and say that she would rather die than give her hand to any but her dear Vicomte d'Exmès; and the king, being entirely under her control, and dominated by my bitter foes, will remember the battle that I lost, and forget the child I have restored to him. So all my efforts will be pushed out of sight to accomplish the happiness of Vicomte d'Exmès."