"Ay, it is indeed time--and high time," said Raincy, "if these letters speak true. Let us mount and ride to Soissons--only Your Grace and I, if so it please you. But in an hour it may be too late." The Duke of Guise laughed, and clapped his major-domo on the shoulder. "Do not you also become a croaker," he cried; "leave me at least Raincy, who sees that the League holds the King in a cleft stick. My good man, he dare not--this Henry of the Fox's Heart. I have the clergy, the Church, the people, most of the lords. The Parliament itself is filled with our people. Blois, all except the Château, is crammed with our men, as a bladder is with lard!" "Ah, except the Château," groaned Raincy; "but that is the point. You are going to the Château, and the Fox is cunning--he has teeth as well as another!" "But he dares not trap the lion, Raincy," laughed Guise. "Why, you are as bad as Madame de Noirmoutier, who made me promise to ride off to-day like a whipped cur--I, the Guise. There, no more, Raincy! I tell you I will dethrone the King. Then I will beat the Bearnais and take him about the land as a show in a cage, for he will be the only Huguenot left in all the realm of France. Then you, Raincy, shall be my grand almoner. Be my little one now! Quick, give me twelve golden crowns--that my purse, when I go among my foes, be not like that of my cousin of Navarre!" As the major-domo went to seek the gold, Guise stretched his feet out to the blaze and, with a smile on his face, hummed the chorus of the Leaguers' marching-song. "I would I were a little less _balafré_ on such a cold morning," grumbled the Duke; "scars honourable are all very well, but--give me a handkerchief, Raincy. That arquebusier at Château Thierry fetched me a villain thwack on the cheek-bone, and on cold days one eye still weeps in sympathy with my misfortunes!" "Ah, my good lord," said Raincy, "pray that before sundown this day many an eye in France may not have cause to weep!" "Silence there, old croaker," cried the Duke; "my sword--my cloak! What, have you so forgot your business in prating of France, that you will not even do your office? Carry these things downstairs! A villain's day!--a dog's day! The cold the wolf-packs bring when they come down to harry the villages! Hold the stirrup, Raincy! Steady, lass! Wey there! Thou lovest not standing in the rain, eh? Wish me luck, Raincy. I carry the hope of France, you know--King Henry of Guise, and the throats of the Protestant dogs all cut--sleep on that sentiment, good Raincy." And Raincy watched the Duke ride away towards the Castle of Blois. The last echo of his master's voice came back to him on the gusty December wind: "_The Guises are good men, good men, The Cardinal, and Henry, and Mayenne, Mayenne! For we'll fight till all be grey-- The Valois at our feet to-day--_"