"What do you know about my son?"
"He has been put to the question."
"Poor boy!" said the old man, raising his eyes to heaven.
"His knees and ankles were a bit injured, but he has won a royal
protection which will extend over his whole life," said the Florentine
hastily, seeing the terror of the poor father. "Your little Christophe
has done a service to our great queen, Catherine. If we manage to pull
him out of the claws of the Guises you will see him some day
councillor to the Parliament. Any man would gladly have his bones
cracked three times over to stand so high in the good graces of this
dear sovereign,--a grand and noble genius, who will triumph in the end
over all obstacles. I have drawn the horoscope of the Duc de Guise; he
will be killed within a year. Well, so Christophe saw the Prince de
Conde--"
"You who read the future ought to know the past," said the furrier.
"My good man, I am not questioning you, I am telling you a fact. Now,
if your son, who will to-morrow be placed in the prince's way as he
passes, should recognize him, or if the prince should recognize your
son, the head of Monsieur de Conde will fall.
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