"
"Sire!" It was a cry of protest from Sully.
Henry laughed grimly at his minister's incredulity, and plucked
forth the letter from Vaucelas.
"Read that."
Sully read, and, aghast at what the letter told him, ejaculated:
"They must be mad!"
"Oh, no," said the King. "They are not mad. They are most wickedly
sane, which is why their designs fill me with apprehension. What
do you infer, Grand-Master, from such deliberate plots against
resolutions from which they know that nothing can turn me while
I have life?"
"What can I infer?" quoth Sully, aghast.
"In acting thus--in daring to act thus," the King expounded,
"they proceed as if they knew that I can have but a short time to
live."
"Sire!"
"What else? They plan events which cannot take place until I am
dead."
Sully stared at his master for a long moment, in stupefied
silence, his loyal Huguenot soul refusing to discount by flattery
the truth that he perceived.
"Sire," he said at last, bowing his fine head, "you must take
your measures."
"Ay, but against whom? Who are these that Vaucelas says he dare
not name? Can you suggest another than . . ." He paused,
shrinking in horror from completing the utterance of his thought.
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