with his great enemy.

For the monarch was in his cabinet that May morning, irresolutely
awaiting the announced visit of the Duke. By his aide stood Alphonse
Corse, attached as a mastiff to his master, and fearing not Guise nor
Leaguer, man nor devil.

"Sire, is the Duke of Guise your friend or enemy?" said Alphonse. The
King answered by an expressive shrug.

"Say the word, Sire," continued Alphonse, "and I pledge myself to bring
his head this instant, and lay it at your feet."

And he would have done it. Even at the side of Catharine's sedan chair,
and in the very teeth of the worshipping mob, the Corsican would have had
the Balafre's life, even though he laid down his own.

But Henry--irresolute and fascinated--said it was not yet time for such a
blow.

Soon afterward; the Duke was announced. The chief of the League and the
last of the Valois met, face to face; but not for the last time. The
interview--was coldly respectful on the part of Mucio, anxious and
embarrassed on that of the King. When the visit, which was merely one
of ceremony, was over, the Duke departed as he came, receiving the
renewed homage of the populace as he walked to his hotel.

That night precautions were taken. All the guards were doubled around
the palace and through the streets. The Hotel de Ville and the Place de
la Greve were made secure, and the whole city was filled with troops.