It was on the Place de l'Estape that the Guises and the King held a review of the municipal guard, to which Monsieur de Cypierre was nominated captain during the King's visit. At that time, the Cathedral of Sainte-Croix--afterwards finished by Henri IV., who desired to set the seal to his conversion--was being built, and the surrounding ground, strewn with blocks of stone and encumbered with piles of timber, was held by the Guises, who lodged in the Bishop's palace, now destroyed. The town was in military occupation, and the measures adopted by the Guises plainly showed how little liberty they intended to give to the States-General, while the delegates flocked into the town and raised the rents of the most wretched lodgings. The Court, the municipal militia, the nobles, and the citizens all alike expected some _Coup d'État_; and their expectations were fulfilled when the Princes of the Blood arrived. As soon as the two Princes entered the King's room, the Court saw with dismay how insolent was the behavior of the Cardinal de Lorraine, who, to assert his audacious pretensions, kept his head covered, while the King of Navarre before him was bareheaded. Catherine de' Medici stood with downcast eyes, not to betray her indignation. A solemn explanation then took place between the young King and the two heads of the younger branch. It was brief, for at the first words spoken by the Prince de Condé, Francis II. closed the discussion by saying: "My lords and cousins, I fancied the incident of Amboise was at an end; it is not so, and we shall see cause to regret our indulgence!" "It is not the King who speaks thus," said the Prince de Condé, "but Messieurs de Guise." "Good-day, monsieur," said the little King, crimson with rage. As he went through the great hall, the Prince was stopped by the two captains of the Guards. When the officer of the French Guard stepped forward, the Prince took a letter out of the breast of his doublet and said, in the presence of all the Court: "Can you read me this, Monsieur de Maillé-Brézé?" "With pleasure," said the French captain:-- "'Cousin, come in all security; I give you my royal word that you may. If you need a safe conduct, these presents will serve you.'" "And signed----?" said the bold and mischievous hunchback. "Signed 'François,'" said Maillé. "Nay, nay," replied the Prince, "it is signed 'Your good cousin and friend, François!'--Gentlemen," he went on, turning to the Scotch Guard, "I will follow you to the prison whither you are to escort me by the King's orders. There is enough noble spirit in this room to understand that." The utter silence that reigned in the room might have enlightened the Guises, but silence is the last thing that princes listen to.