man. I know why the King had a will to send you, but I know not why you had the will to come.”
“That I will tell you later,” Count Hannibal answered coolly. “For the King, first. My message is brief, M. de Biron. Have you a mind to hold the scales in France?”
“Between?” Biron asked contemptuously.
“Between the Lorrainers and the Huguenots.”
The Grand Master scowled fiercely. “I have played the go-between once too often,” he growled.
“It is no question of going between, it is a question of holding between,” Tavannes answered coolly. “It is a question—but, in a word, have you a mind, M. de Biron, to be Governor of Rochelle? The King, having dealt the blow that has been struck to-day, looks to follow up severity, as a wise ruler should, with indulgence. And to quiet the minds of the Rochellois he would set over them a ruler at once acceptable to them—or war must come of it—and faithful to his Majesty. Such a man, M. de Biron, will in such a post be Master of the Kingdom; for he will hold the doors of Janus, and as he bridles his sea-dogs, or unchains them, there will be peace or war in France.”
“Is all that from the King’s mouth?” Biron asked with sarcasm. But his passion had died down. He was grown thoughtful, suspicious; he eyed the other intently as if he would read his heart.
“The offer is his, and the reflections are mine,” Tavannes answered dryly. “Let me add one more. The Admiral is dead. The King of Navarre and the Prince of Condé are prisoners. Who is now to balance the Italians and the Guises? The Grand Master—if he be wise and content to give the law to France from the citadel of Rochelle.”
Biron stared at the speaker in astonishment at his frankness.
“You are a bold man,” he cried at last. “But timeo
