"If that were the King's purpose, you would not be attended by a Prince of the Church and by me," replied the Chancellor. The two functionaries led the Prince to an apartment where a guard--of honor so called--was allotted to him, and where he remained for several hours without seeing any one. From his window he looked out on the Loire, the rich country which makes such a beautiful valley between Amboise and Tours, and he was meditating on his situation, wondering what the Guises might dare to do to his person, when he heard the door of his room open, and saw the King's fool come in, Chicot, who had once been in his service. "I heard you were in disgrace," said the Prince. "You cannot think how sober the Court has become since the death of Henri II." "And yet the King loves to laugh, surely." "Which King? Francis II. or Francis of Lorraine?" "Are you so fearless of the Duke that you speak so?" "He will not punish me for that, sir," replied Chicot, smiling. "And to what do I owe the honor of this visit?" "Was it not due to you after your coming here? I have brought you my cap and bauble." "I cannot get out then?" "Try!" "And if I do get out?" "I will confess that you have won the game by playing against the rules." "Chicot, you frighten me.--Have you been sent by some one who is interested in my fate?" Chicot nodded "Yes." He went nearer to the Prince, and conveyed to him that they were watched and overheard. "What have you to say to me?" asked Monsieur de Condé. "That nothing but daring can get you out of the scrape," said the fool, whispering the words into his ear. "And this is from the Queen-mother." "Tell those who have sent you," replied the Prince, "that I should never have come to this château if I had anything to blame myself for, or to fear." "I fly to carry your bold reply," said the fool. Two hours later, at one in the afternoon, before the King's dinner, the Chancellor and Cardinal de Tournon came to fetch the Prince to conduct him to Francis II. in the great hall where the Council had sat. There, before all the Court, the Prince de Condé affected surprise at the cool reception the King had given him, and he asked the reason. "You are accused, cousin," said the Queen-mother sternly, "of having meddled with the plots of the Reformers, and you must prove yourself a faithful subject and a good Catholic if you wish to avert the King's anger from your House." On hearing this speech, spoken by Catherine in the midst of hushed silence, as she stood with her hand in the King's arm and with the Duc d'Orléans on her left hand, the Prince de Condé drew back three steps, and with an impulse of dignified pride laid his hand on his sword, looking at the persons present. "Those who say so, madame, lie in their throat!" he exclaimed in angry tones. He flung his glove at the King's feet, saying: "Let the man who will maintain his calumny stand forth!"