Her countenance was set and inscrutable, and her brooding
eyes were fixed upon the King.
"Ha, Grand Master!" was Henry's greeting, his voice harsh and
strained. "What do you say to this? What is to be done now?"
"Nothing at all, sire," says Sully, as calm as his master was
excited.
"Nothing! What sort of advice is that?"
"The best advice that you can follow, sire. This affair should be
talked of as little as possible, nor should it appear to be of
any consequence to you, or capable of giving you the least
uneasiness."
The Queen cleared her throat huskily. "Good advice, Monsieur le
Duc," she approved him. "He will be wise to follow it." Her voice
strained, almost threatening. "But in this matter I doubt wisdom
and he have long since become strangers."
That put him in a passion, and in a passion he left her to do the
maddest thing he had ever done. In the garb of a courier, and
with a patch over one eye to complete his disguise, he set out in
pursuit of the fugitives. He had learnt that they had taken the
road to Landrecy, which was enough for him. Stage by stage he
followed them in that flight to Flanders, picking up the trail as
he went, and never pausing until he had reached the frontier
without overtaking them.
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