"But surely, Monseigneur," said Gabriel, "you have not failed to consider the means of preventing such a disaster?" "I am thinking of nothing else, upon my soul!" said the Duc de Guise. "Well?" asked Gabriel, carelessly. "Well, our only chance,--and a very precarious and hopeless chance it is, alas!--is, in my opinion, to make a desperate assault upon the Old Château to-morrow, under any circumstances. Nothing will be in readiness, I am aware, even though we were to pass the whole night in most assiduous and unremitting labor. But there is no other course for us to take; and it is less foolhardy than it would be for us to await the arrival of reinforcements from England. The 'French fury,' as they call it in Italy, may possibly succeed, by dint of its extraordinary impetuosity, in storming these inaccessible walls." "No, it will be helplessly shattered against them," rejoined Gabriel, coldly. "Pardon me, Monseigneur, but it seems to me that at this moment the French army is neither sufficiently strong nor sufficiently weak thus to attempt the impossible. A fearful responsibility rests upon you, Monseigneur. It is probable that we should be finally beaten back after we had lost half of our force. What does the Duc de Guise mean to do in that event?" "Not to expose himself to total ruin, to a complete overthrow, at all events," said François de Lorraine, gloomily; "but to withdraw from before these cursed walls with such troops as I have left, and save them until better days dawn for our king and country." "What, the victor of Metz and Renty retreat!" cried Gabriel. "That is certainly much better than not knowing when one is beaten, as was the case with the constable on the day of St. Laurent," said the Duc de Guise. "And yet," continued Gabriel, "it would be a disastrous blow to the glory of France, as well as to Monseigneur's reputation." "Alas! who knows that so well as I?" exclaimed the duke. "See upon what slender threads depend success and fortune! If I had succeeded, I should have been a hero, a transcendent genius, a demigod; I fail, and I shall be henceforth only a vain and presumptuous fool, who well deserved the disgrace of his fall. The self-same undertaking which would have been called magnificent and marvellous, had it turned out happily, will draw upon me the ridicule of all Europe, and postpone if it does not destroy in the germ all my plans and hopes. To what do the paltry ambitions of this world lead!" The duke ceased to speak, apparently a prey to bitter chagrin. There was a long silence, which Gabriel was very careful not to break. He desired to give Monsieur de Guise ample opportunity to gauge the terrible difficulties of the crisis with his experienced eye. When he considered that the duke must have probed them to the bottom, he said,--