The advent of the Secretary of State, though he was exactly as important as a Cabinet Minister in these days, made no sensation whatever. "If you think that, monsieur, do lend me the epigram against Messieurs de Guise; I know you have it," said Mademoiselle Davila to Robertet. "I have it no longer," replied the Secretary, going across to speak to Madame de Guise. "I have it," said the Comte de Grammont to Mademoiselle Davila; "but I will lend it you on only one condition." "On condition----? For shame!" said Madame Fieschi. "You do not know what I want," replied Grammont. "Oh, that is easy to guess," said la Limeuil. The Italian custom of calling ladies, as French peasants call their wives, la Such-an-one, was at that time the fashion at the Court of France. "You are mistaken," the Count replied eagerly; "what I ask is, that a letter should be delivered to Mademoiselle de Matha, one of the maids on the other side--a letter from my cousin de Jarnac." "Do not compromise my maids; I will give it her myself," said the Countess Fieschi. "Have you heard any news of what is going on in Flanders?" she asked Cardinal de Tournon. "Monsieur d'Egmont is at some new pranks, it would seem." "He and the Prince of Orange," said Cypierre, with a highly expressive shrug. "The Duke of Alva and Cardinal de Granvelle are going there, are they not, monsieur?" asked Amyot of Cardinal de Tournon, who stood, uneasy and gloomy, between the two groups after his conversation with the Chancellor. "We, happily, are quiet, and have to defy heresy only on the stage," said the young Duke, alluding to the part he had played the day before, that of a Knight subduing a Hydra with the word "Reformation" on its brow. Catherine de' Medici, agreeing on this point with her daughter-in-law, had allowed a theatre to be constructed in the great hall, which was subsequently used for the meetings of the States at Blois, the hall between the buildings of Louis XII. and those of Francis I.