“What is behind?” he growled. “Say, man, what is it? What is behind?”
“If there be aught behind, I do not know it,” Tavannes answered steadfastly.
M. de Biron relaxed the fixity of his gaze. “But you said that you had an object?” he returned.
“I had—in being the bearer of the message.”
“What was it?”
“My object? To learn two things.”
“The first, if it please you?” The Grand Master’s chin stuck out a little, as he spoke.
“Have you in the Arsenal a M. de Tignonville, a gentleman of Poitou?”
“I have not,” Biron answered curtly. “The second?”
“Have you here a Huguenot minister?”
“I have not. And if I had I should not give him up,” he added firmly.
Tavannes shrugged his shoulders. “I have a use for one,” he said carelessly. “But it need not harm him.”
“For what, then, do you need him?”
“To marry me.”
The other stared. “But you are a Catholic,” he said.
“But she is a Huguenot,” Tavannes answered.
The Grand Master did not attempt to hide his astonishment.
“And she sticks on that?” he exclaimed. “To-day?”
“She sticks on that. To-day.”
“To-day? Nom de Dieu! To-day! Well,” brushing the matter aside after a pause of bewilderment, “any way, I cannot help her. I have no minister here. If there be aught else I can do for her”
“Nothing, I thank you,” Tavannes answered. “Then it only remains for me to take your answer to the King?” And he rose politely, and taking his mask from the table prepared to assume it.
