he had with the Venetian ambassador,
Giustinian, on his return from England. But
he thought it prudent to dissemble his real
feelings, and to profess much friendship. For
various reasons, it seems tbat he could not afford
to fall out with his brother of England. So, the
language of diplomacy between the two courts
continued as sweet as honey; nor was the project
of a meeting one whit the less genuinely
entertained, because the professions of cordiality on
both sides were empty wind. When it was
deferred for a year, Sir Thomas Boleyn, who
was ambassador at the French court, was
instructed to tell Francis, that the King of England
had resolved to wear his beard till the interview
should take place, as a proof of his desire for it.
The response to this was a matter of course.
Francis at once laid his hand upon his own
beard and said, "Surely he would never put it
off till he had seen the king of England."

Alas, for the promises of princes! These
mutual pledges were given in August, and
Henry had shaved by the following November!
The fact was most unquestionably ominous,
and it was not long, before the shaving of King
Henry the Eighth was known at the court of
France, where it seems to have had a more
depressing influence than any one cared to avow.
Francis himself, indeed, does not appear to have
taken any notice of it, but he betrayed some
anxiety to learn news from Sir Thomas Boleyn,
and when Sir Thomas replied that he had none,
''By the faith of a gentleman," he said, laying
his hand upon his bosom, "but for my
confident expectation of this interview, I would at
this moment have been at Milan." But Louise
of Savoy, the French king's mother, ventured
to speak more plainly, and to press the English
ambassador for an explanation. She told him that
she had been distinctly informed by Montpesat,
a French nobleman who had just returned from
England (where he had been kept as a hostage
for the fulfilment of the last treaties) that the
King of England had been shaving, and asked
if Boleyn knew what he meant by it. The
ambassador's ingenuity seems to have been taxed
for an excuse, but he managed tolerably well.
"I said," he wrote to Wolsey, "that Montpesat
had been with me at my lodging and told
me likewise; and further said that, as I supposed,
it hath been by the queen's desire; for
I told my lady that I have here afore time
known when the king's grace hath worn long
his beard, that the queen hath daily made him
great instance, and desired him to put it off, for
her sake."

French politeness could not but be satisfied
with such an explanation. It was impossible
to hold the King of England to his promise
when the queen wanted his chin smooth. And,
very likely, the excuse offered was the true
one; for there is no doubt at all, that if Catherine
of Arragon was not against the English
beard movement, she was against the
immediate cause of it, and did not greatly conceal
her dislike to the proposed interview of Henry
the Eighth and Francis. Indeed, little more
than two months before it actually took place,
she had a conference about it, with some of the
English nobles who were strong against a
French alliance. For Catherine was anxious
that her husband should rather cultivate the
friendship of her nephew, Charles the Fifth,
then newly made emperor, who also talked of
a meeting with Henry; but a really cordial
union with France would have prevented any
cordiality with Charles. And, in truth, Henry's
own wishes were not very different from hers.
He, too, wished for an alliance with the
emperor, only he wished the emperor to seek it
of him. But the emperor's proposals for an
interview with Henry were as cool, as those of
Francis were warm and eager; so, under the
knowing policy of Wolsey, all encouragement
was given to the French advances.

Under these circumstances, however, Boleyn's
answer to Madame Louise had just one
fault. The excuse was a little too probable.
Louise asked Boleyn, significantly, if the Queen
of England were not Charles's aunt. "Madam,"
he replied, "he is her sister's son; but the
King of England has greater affection for your
son than for any king living." It was impossible
to press the ambassador further. Madame
expressed the greatest satisfaction and said:
"Their love is not in the beards, but in the
hearts." But it was not there either. When
Henry the Eighth appeared without a beard at
the Field of the Cloth of Gold, the love was on
his lips and nowhere else. His lips were lying
while he told truth with his chin.

DUEL FIGHTING.

IN TWO CHAPTERS. SECOND CHAPTER.

WE resume the adventures of the Marquis
de Lignano and his most particular and intimate
friend, Lucien Claveaux.

One summer's evening, towards seven o'clock,
and at the moment when the inhabitants of
Bordeaux turn out of doors to breathe the cool
refreshing air, at the close of some sultry day,
the Marquis de Lignano, accompanied by a
couple of his creatures, took up a position in
the Rue Sainte Catherine, at the comer of the
gallery. The marquis was elegantly dressed
and delicately gloved, according to his habit,
and carried in his hand a thin flexible switch,
with which he played like a man who is happy
and contented with himself. From time to
time, however, he showed signs of impatience,
and, eventually, abruptly quitted his position at
the angle of two streets, and going into the
middle of the road, gazed for a minute or two
in the direction of the Place de la Comédie.
Evidently disappointed in his expectations, he
returned to his two comrades, exchanged a few
words with them, and resumed his scrutiny.
After a few turns backwards and forwards, the
marquis again approached his acolytes, and said
to them in an undertone:

"Now, pay particular attention; here comes
my man."