And the jester shrank away, abashed and perplexed by his stare
and his reticence.
Halfway up the staircase to the great gallery or guard-room above, Count
Hannibal found his brother, the Marshal, huddled together in drunken
slumber on a seat in a recess. In the gallery to which he passed on
without awakening him, a crowd of courtiers and ladies, with arquebusiers
and captains of the quarters, walked to and fro, talking in whispers; or
peeped over shoulders towards the inner end of the hall, where the
querulous voice of the King rose now and again above the hum. As
Tavannes moved that way, Nancay, in the act of passing out, booted and
armed for the road, met him and almost jostled him.
"Ah, well met, M. le Comte," he sneered, with as much hostility as he
dared betray. "The King has asked for you twice."
"I am going to him. And you? Whither in such a hurry, M. Nancay?"
"To Chatillon."
"On pleasant business?"
"Enough that it is on the King's!" Nancay replied, with unexpected
temper. "I hope that you may find yours as pleasant!" he added with a
grin. And he went on.
The gleam of malice in the man's eye warned Tavannes to pause. He looked
round for some one who might be in the secret, saw the Provost of the
Merchants, and approached him.
"What's amiss, M.
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