La Ramee knelt down and made a hole in the floor; meanwhile the duke hung the crawfish up by a thread. Then he placed the gibbet in the middle of the room, bursting with laughter. La Ramee laughed also and the guards laughed in chorus; Grimaud, however, did not even smile. He approached La Ramee and showing him the crawfish hung up by the thread: “Cardinal,” he said. “Hung by order of his Highness the Duc de Beaufort!” cried the prisoner, laughing violently, “and by Master Jacques Chrysostom La Ramee, the king’s commissioner.” La Ramee uttered a cry of horror and rushed toward the gibbet, which he broke at once and threw the pieces out of the window. He was going to throw the crawfish out also, when Grimaud snatched it from his hands. “Good to eat!” he said, and put it in his pocket. This scene so enchanted the duke that at the moment he forgave Grimaud for his part in it; but on reflection he hated him more and more, being convinced he had some evil motive for his conduct. But the story of the crab made a great noise through the interior of the donjon and even outside. Monsieur de Chavigny, who at heart detested the cardinal, took pains to tell the story to two or three friends, who put it into immediate circulation. The prisoner happened to remark among the guards one man with a very good countenance; and he favored this man the more as Grimaud became the more and more odious to him. One morning he took this man on one side and had succeeded in speaking to him, when Grimaud entered and seeing what was going on approached the duke respectfully, but took the guard by the arm. “Go away,” he said. The guard obeyed. “You are insupportable!” cried the duke; “I shall beat you.” Grimaud bowed. “I will break every bone in your body!” cried the duke. Grimaud bowed, but stepped back. “Mr. Spy,” cried the duke, more and more enraged, “I will strangle you with my own hands.” And he extended his hands toward Grimaud, who merely thrust the guard out and shut the door behind him. At the same time he felt the duke’s arms on his shoulders like two iron claws; but instead either of calling out or defending himself, he placed his forefinger on his lips and said in a low tone: “Hush!” smiling as he uttered the word. A gesture, a smile and a word from Grimaud, all at once, were so unusual that his highness stopped short, astounded. Grimaud took advantage of that instant to draw from his vest a charming little note with an aristocratic seal, and presented it to the duke without a word. The duke, more and more bewildered, let Grimaud loose and took the note. “From Madame de Montbazon?” he cried. Grimaud nodded assent. The duke tore open the note, passed his hands over his eyes, for he was dazzled and confused, and read: