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"Tavannes!"

"Sire"

Tavannes, we know, had been slow to obey the su, with Retz and Rais, had retired to the farther end of the Chaotten that he had called His head a little bent--he was tall

and had a natural stoop--the King see to a low but

continuous murmur of voices which proceeded from the door of his closet

One voice frequently raised was beyond doubt a won accent,

smooth and silky, marked another; a third, that from time to time broke

in, wilful and i's brother,

Catherine de Medicis' favourite son Tavannes, waiting respectfully two

paces behind the King, could catch little that was said; but Charles,

sohed, a violent,

h And he clapped Rambouillet on the shoulder

"There!" he said, with one of his horrible oaths, "'tis settled! 'Tis

settled! Go, man, and take your orders! And you, M de Retz," he

continued, in a tone of savage ive them!"

"I, sire?" the Italian Marshal answered, in accents of deprecation There

were ti would show his iues, the Strozzis and Gondys, hom his

mother surrounded him

"Yes, you!" Charles answered "You and my lady mother! And in God's