For the first time the young King--he was but twenty-two years old, God
pity him!--looked at his companion.

"To be sure," he whispered; and his eyes grew cunning. "Besides, and
after all, there's another way, if I choose. Oh, I've thought and
thought, I'd have you know." And shrugging his shoulders, almost to his
ears, he raised and lowered his open hands alternately, while his back
hid the movement from the Chamber. "See-saw! See-saw!" he muttered.
"And the King between the two, you see. That's Madame's king-craft.
She's shown me that a hundred times. But look you, it is as easy to
lower the one as the other," with a cunning glance at Tavannes' face, "or
to cut off the right as the left. And--and the Admiral's an old man and
will pass; and for the matter of that I like to hear him talk. He talks
well. While the others, Guise and his kind, are young, and I've thought,
oh, yes, I've thought--but there," with a sudden harsh laugh, "my lady
mother will have it her own way. And for this time she shall, but, All!
All! Even Foucauld, there! Do you mark him. He's sorting the cards. Do
you see him--as he will be to-morrow, with the slit in his throat and his
teeth showing? Why, God!" his voice rising almost to a scream, "the
candles by him are burning blue!" And with a shaking hand, his face
convulsed, the young King clutched his companion's arm, and pinched it.

Count Hannibal shrugged his shoulders, but answered nothing.

"D'you think we shall see them afterwards?" Charles resumed, in a sharp,
eager whisper. "In our dreams, man? Or when the watchman cries, and we
awake, and the monks are singing lauds at St. Germain, and--and the taper
is low?"