Have after Montgomery, if you
please, ride with Nancay to Chatillon--he is mounting now--go where you
please out of Paris, but don't go there! Biron hates us, hates me. And
for the King, if he do not see you for a few days, 'twill blow over in a
week."
Count Hannibal shrugged his shoulders. "No," he said, "I shall go."
The Marshal stared a moment. "Morbleu!" he said, "why? 'Tis not to
please the King, I know. What do you think to find there, brother?"
"A minister," Hannibal answered gently. "I want one with life in him,
and they are scarce in the open. So I must to covert after him." And,
twitching his sword-belt a little nearer to his hand, he passed across
the court to the gate, and to his horses.
The Marshal went back laughing, and, slapping his thigh as he entered the
hall, jostled by accident a gentleman who was passing out.
"What is it?" the Gascon cried hotly; for it was Chicot he had jostled.
"Who touches my brother touches Tavannes!" the Marshal hiccoughed. And,
smiting his thigh anew, he went off into another fit of laughter.
CHAPTER XIII. DIPLOMACY.
Where the old wall of Paris, of which no vestige remains, ran down on the
east to the north bank of the river, the space in the angle between the
Seine and the ramparts beyond the Rue St.
Pages:
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166