Had he done so, he would have been instantly obeyed, and perhaps we should not have had cause to mourn the horrors of the impending tragedy.

Instead of doing so, however, he suddenly exclaimed, "To the palace! We will demand justice from the king; he cannot deny us!" and the Huguenots, suspicious, alarmed and rapidly losing their heads, took up the cry.

"To the palace!" they shouted; "let us see if Charles will give us justice!"

Felix, as pa.s.sionate and headstrong as any of them, exclaimed, "Come along, Edmond; we shall count two more. Let us discover if there is any honour in the man."

Not believing it could effect any good, I had no wish to be drawn into the flighty venture, but as my comrade was resolute in courting danger I was forced to accompany him.

The king was at supper when, flourishing our swords and demanding justice, we burst into the palace. Charles behaved coolly enough, but Anjou, who sat next to him, changed colour and trembled, while beads of sweat stood upon his forehead.

"We demand justice, sire!" cried De Pilles, who cared no more for a monarch than for a peasant. "If the king refuses it we will take the matter into our own hands," and he looked at Anjou, who averted his head.

"You will obtain justice, gentlemen," answered Charles. "My word is pledged, and I will not break it. I have a.s.sured my friend, the n.o.ble Coligny, that the villain who shot him shall be sought out and punished.

I will not spare the guilty parties whoever they are!"

At that we gave him a round of cheers, and marched out, De Pilles and his followers returning straight to the city. L'Estang was not present, but seeing one of Anjou's guards I asked if he could find my friend for me, which he did.

"The palace is not a safe place for you to-night," said L'Estang as he came to meet me.

"As safe as any part of the city," I answered. "It seems I did well in taking your advice and sending my sister away. You have heard of this morning's dastardly crime?"

"All Paris has heard of it," said he; "but pardon me if I say that to-night's folly will not make the king's task any the easier."

"Surely you do not expect us to see our leader murdered without protest!" exclaimed Felix.

"Not at all; but there is such a thing as being over hasty. It would have paid better to show, or to appear to show, some trust in the king."

"Pshaw!" cried my comrade, "for all we know Charles himself is responsible for the deed!"

"At all events," I said, "the plot must have been known beforehand in the palace!"

"If you think that, because I warned you to remove your sister from Paris, you are mistaken. Your surprise this morning was not greater than my own. I believe that scarcely any one inside the palace knew of what was going on."

"But you yourself expected trouble of some kind!"

"True; and now I am sure of it. How can it be avoided? Each side is suspicious of the other: you are angry, and justly angry, at the a.s.sault on your chief, and you threaten vengeance even on the king. I believe he wishes to be your friend, and you are driving him into the arms of your enemies. Do you fancy he will care to trust himself in your hands after to-night's mad freak? But the hour grows late, and the streets are not safe; I will walk a short distance with you."

"The citizens are still abroad!" I remarked after a time. "Listen! they are cheering for Guise!"

"And there lies the trouble," he said. "But, monsieur, I have a private word for you. Etienne Cordel is in Paris; he can read the signs as well as most men, and if there is a disturbance he will take advantage of it.

You are doubly in danger--first as a Huguenot and a friend of Coligny's; next as the owner of Le Blanc. You will have to steer skilfully to avoid both dangers!"

"You speak as if a plot to murder the Huguenots were already afoot."

"I am aware of no plot at present," he said, "but after to-day's unlucky events one can be sure of nothing. Here is the corner of your street; I will bid you good-night, and once more I repeat my warning. Guard yourself, and sleep with your sword at your hand."

CHAPTER XXVI

What will the King do?

The morning of August 23 broke bright and clear, but I rose from my bed with a troubled and unquiet feeling. I had pa.s.sed a restless night, dreaming that all Paris was ablaze, and that the streets of the city were running with blood, and I could not get rid of the thought that some terrible calamity was about to happen.

Directly it was light the house began to fill with Huguenot gentlemen, asking eagerly how it fared with their beloved chief. He was still extremely weak, but Pare spoke hopefully, declaring there was no cause for alarm, and that his ill.u.s.trious patient required only rest and quietness.

"In a few days he will be able to leave Paris," said the famous surgeon, "and his recovery is certain. I have not the slightest anxiety about him."

This was cheering news, but as the day wore on strange and alarming rumours began to reach us from the city. Our spies reported that the streets were thronged with excited people, cheering for Guise and threatening the Huguenots with death.

"There is some one behind all this," said Felix, "some one working in secret to stir up the pa.s.sions of the citizens. Unless the king interferes there will be a terrible outbreak shortly."

About noon--we had not long risen from dinner--a man arrived bearing news that, to our heated imaginations, was startling indeed. A great meeting was taking place at the _Hotel de Guise_, where our bitterest enemies had a.s.sembled. The spy brought a list of the names, and as he recounted them one by one our feeling of uneasiness deepened.

"'Tis a plot against us," said one, "with Guise at the head, and Anjou secretly favouring it."

"Are we to wait to be killed like sheep?" demanded Felix. "Have we not swords of our own? Shall we keep them in their scabbards? Out upon us for timid hares! We deserve to die, if we have not the courage to strike a blow in our own defence!"

"What can we do?" asked Carnaton, who had just come from the sick-room.

"The Admiral is helpless, and Henry of Navarre is being closely watched.

We have no leaders, and it would be folly for us to break the peace."

"Let us wait," laughed Felix mockingly, "till this dog of a Guise has murdered us all! Then, perhaps, it will be time to strike."

"The king has pledged his word to protect us," said La Bonne; "let us ask him to send a guard for our chief."

"A guard for Coligny!" cried Felix in a bitter tone; "a guard for Coligny, and a thousand Huguenot gentlemen in Paris! Let us summon our comrades and guard our chief with our own lives!"

We spoke angrily, and many sharp words pa.s.sed between us, the more fiery of the speakers upholding Felix, the cooler and wiser ones supporting La Bonne, and finally it was agreed to despatch a messenger to the king.

"When the troops arrive," said Felix, "we will give them our weapons to take care of for us!"

I did not hold altogether with my hot-headed comrade, but when in the course of an hour or two the king's soldiers marched into the street I began to think we had committed a serious blunder. There were fifty of them, and at their head marched Cosseins, the Admiral's determined enemy.

"Faith!" exclaimed Felix, as the soldiers posted themselves in two houses close at hand, "I have heard that Charles loves a practical joke, but this must be one of the grimmest that even he has played!"

"He could have bettered it," said Yolet, our beloved chief's trusty esquire, "only by sending Guise himself!"

Presently a man, threading his way through the crowd in front of the courtyard, ran up to Carnaton, and whispered something in his ear.

"More bad news?" said I, noticing his look of surprise.

"I fear it is not good at any rate," he replied slowly. "Charles has sent for Guise to the Louvre."

"Guise at the Louvre!" cried Felix, "and we stay here with our arms folded! Now this is downright madness!"