She jerked her head in the direction of Chenonceaux, the chateau she had

just exchanged for Chaumont with Diane de Poitiers. "_Ma_," she said in

Italian, "it would seem that these gentry of the Geneva bands have not wit

enough to apply to me!--On my honor, I cannot go to meet them! And not one

of you would dare to carry them a message." She stamped her foot. "I hoped

you might have met the hunchback at Ecouen," she said to Chiverni. "He has

brains."

"He was there, madame," replied Chiverni, "but he could not induce the

Connetable to join him. Monsieur de Montmorency would be glad enough to

overthrow the Guises, who obtained his dismissal; but he will have nothing

to do with heresy."

"And who, gentlemen, is to crush these private whims that are an offence to

Royalty? By Heaven! these nobles must be made to destroy each other--as

Louis XI. made them, the greatest of your kings. In this kingdom there are

four or five parties, and my son's is the weakest of them all."

"The Reformation is an idea," remarked Charles de Gondi, "and the parties

crushed by Louis the Eleventh were based only on interest."

"There is always an idea to back up interest," replied Chiverni. "In Louis

XI.'s time the idea was called the Great Fief!"

"Use heresy as an axe," said Albert de Gondi. "You will not incur the odium

of executions."

"Ha!" said the Queen, "but I know nothing of the strength or the schemes of

these folks, and I cannot communicate with them through any safe channel.

If I were found out in any such conspiracy, either by the Queen, who

watches me as if I were an infant in arms, or by my two jailers, who let no

one come into the chateau, I should be banished from the country, and taken

back to Florence under a formidable escort captained by some ruffianly

Guisard! Thank you, friends!--Oh, daughter-in-law! I hope you may some day

be a prisoner in your own house; then you will know what you have inflicted

on me!"

"Their schemes!" exclaimed Chiverni. "The Grand Master and the Cardinal

know them; but those two foxes will not tell. If you, madame, can make them

tell, I will devote myself to you, and come to an understanding with the

Prince de Conde."

"Which of their plans have they failed to conceal from you?" asked the

Queen, glancing towards the brothers de Guise.

"Monsieur de Vieilleville and Monsieur de Saint-Andre have just had their

orders, of which we know nothing; but the Grand Master is concentrating his

best troops on the left bank, it would seem. Within a few days you will

find yourself at Amboise. The Grand Master came to this terrace to study

the position, and he does not think Blois favorable to his private schemes.

Well, then, what does he want?" said Chiverni, indicating the steep cliffs

that surround the chateau. "The Court could nowhere be safer from sudden

attack than it is here."

"Abdicate or govern," said Albert de Gondi in the Queen's ear as she stood

thinking.

A fearful expression of suppressed rage flashed across the Queen's handsome

ivory-pale face.--She was not yet forty, and she had lived for twenty-six

years in the French Court, absolutely powerless, she, who ever since she

had come there had longed to play the leading part.

"Never so long as this son lives! His wife has bewitched him!"

After a short pause these terrible words broke from her in the language of

Dante.

Catherine's exclamation had its inspiration in a strange prediction, spoken

a few days before at the Chateau of Chaumont, on the opposite bank of the

Loire, whither she had gone with her astrologer Ruggieri to consult a

famous soothsayer. This woman was brought to meet her by Nostradamus, the

chief of those physicians who in that great sixteenth century believed in

the occult sciences, with Ruggieri, Cardan, Paracelsus, and many more. This

fortune-teller, of whose life history has no record, had fixed the reign of

Francis II. at one year's duration.

"And what is your opinion of all this?" Catherine asked Chiverni.

"There will be fighting," said the cautious gentleman. "The King of

Navarre----"

"Oh! say the Queen!" Catherine put in.

"Very true, the Queen," said Chiverni, smiling, "has made the Prince de

Conde the chief of the reformed party; he, as a younger son, may dare much;

and Monsieur le Cardinal talks of sending for him to come here."

"If only he comes!" cried the Queen, "I am saved!"

So it will be seen that the leaders of the great Reforming movement had

been right in thinking of Catherine as an ally.

"This is the jest of it," said the Queen; "the Bourbons are tricking the

Huguenots, and Master Calvin, de Beze, and the rest are cheating the

Bourbons; but shall we be strong enough to take in the Huguenots, the

Bourbons, and the Guises? In front of three such foes we are justified in

feeling our pulse," said she.

"They have not the King," replied Albert. "You must always win, having the

King on your side."

"_Maladetta Maria!_" said Catherine, between her teeth.

"The Guises are already thinking of diverting the affections of the middle

class," said Birague.

* * * * *

The hope of snatching the Crown had not been premeditated by the two heads

of the refractory House of Guise; there was nothing to justify the project

or the hope; circumstances suggested such audacity. The two Cardinals and

the two _Balafres_ were, as it happened, four ambitious men, superior in

political gifts to any of the men about them. Indeed, the family was only

subdued at last by Henri IV., himself a leader of faction, brought up in

the great school of which Catherine and the Guises were the teachers--and

he had profited by their lessons.

At this time these two brothers were the arbiters of the greatest

revolution attempted in Europe since that carried through in England under

Henry VIII., which had resulted from the invention of printing. They were

the enemies of the Reformation, the power was in their hands, and they

meant to stamp out heresy; but Calvin, their opponent, though less famous

than Luther, was a stronger man. Calvin saw Government where Luther had

only seen Dogma. Where the burly, beer-drinking, uxorious German fought

with the Devil, flinging his inkstand at the fiend, the man of Picardy,

frail and unmarried, dreamed of plans of campaign, of directing battles, of

arming princes, and of raising whole nations by disseminating republican

doctrines in the hearts of the middle classes, so as to make up, by

increased progress in the Spirit of Nations, for his constant defeats on

the battle-field.

The Cardinal de Lorraine and the Duc de Guise knew quite as well as Philip

II. and the Duke of Alva where the Monarchy was aimed at, and how close the

connection was between Catholicism and sovereignty. Charles V., intoxicated

with having drunk too deeply of Charlemagne's cup, and trusting too much in

the strength of his rule, for he believed that he and Soliman might divide

the world between them, was not at first conscious that his front was

attacked; as soon as Cardinal Granvelle showed him the extent of the

festering sore, he abdicated.

The Guises had a startling conception; they would extinguish heresy with a

single blow. They tried to strike that blow for the first time at Amboise,

and they made a second attempt on Saint-Bartholomew's Day; this time they

were in accord with Catherine de' Medici, enlightened as she was by the

flames of twelve years' wars, and yet more by the ominous word "Republic"

spoken and even published at a later date by the writers of the

Reformation, whose ideas Lecamus, the typical citizen of Paris, had already

understood. The two Princes, on the eve of striking a fatal blow to the

heart of the nobility, in order to cut it off from the first from a

religious party whose triumph would be its ruin, were now discussing the

means of announcing their _Coup d'Etat_ to the King, while Catherine was

conversing with her four counselors.

"Jeanne d'Albret knew what she was doing when she proclaimed herself the

protectress of the Huguenots! She has in the Reformation a battering-ram

which she makes good play with!" said the Grand Master, who had measured

the depth of the Queen of Navarre's scheming.

Jeanne d'Albret was, in point of fact, one of the cleverest personages of

her time.

"Theodore de Beze is at Nerac, having taken Calvin's orders."

"What men those common folk can lay their hands on!" cried the Duke.

"Ay, we have not a man on our side to match that fellow la Renaudie," said

the Cardinal. "He is a perfect Catiline."

"Men like him always act on their own account," replied the Duke. "Did not

I see la Renaudie's value? I loaded him with favors, I helped him to get

away when he was condemned by the Bourgogne Parlement, I got him back into

France by obtaining a revision of his trial, and I intended to do all I

could for him, while he was plotting a diabolical conspiracy against us.

The rascal has effected an alliance between the German Protestants and the

heretics in France by smoothing over the discrepancies of dogma between

Luther and Calvin. He has won over the disaffected nobles to the cause of

the Reformation without asking them to abjure Catholicism. So long ago as

last year he had thirty commanders on his side! He was everywhere at once:

at Lyons, in Languedoc, at Nantes. Finally, he drew up the Articles settled

in Council and distributed throughout Germany, in which theologians declare

that it is justifiable to use force to get the King out of our hands, and

this is being disseminated in every town. Look for him where you will, you

will nowhere find him!

"Hitherto I have shown him nothing but kindness! We shall have to kill him

like a dog, or to make a bridge of gold for him to cross and come into our

house."

"Brittany and Languedoc, the whole kingdom indeed, is being worked upon to

give us a deadly shock," said the Cardinal. "After yesterday's festival, I

spent the rest of the night in reading all the information sent me by my

priesthood; but no one is involved but some impoverished gentlemen and

artisans, people who may be either hanged or left alive, it matters not

which. The Colignys and the Condes are not yet visible, though they hold

the threads of the conspiracy."

"Ay," said the Duke; "and as soon as that lawyer Avenelles had let the cat

out of the bag, I told Braguelonne to give the conspirators their head:

they have no suspicions, they think they can surprise us, and then perhaps

the leaders will show themselves. My advice would be that we should allow

ourselves to be beaten for forty-eight hours----"

"That would be half-an-hour too long," said the Cardinal in alarm.

"How brave you are!" retorted la Balafre.

The Cardinal went on with calm indifference:

"Whether the Prince de Conde be implicated or no, if we are assured that he

is the leader, cut off his head. What we want for that business is judges

rather than soldiers, and there will never be any lack of judges! Victory

in the Supreme Court is always more certain than on the field of battle,

and costs less."

"I am quite willing," replied the Duke. "But do you believe that the Prince

de Conde is powerful enough to inspire such audacity in those who are sent

on first to attack us? Is there not----?"

"The King of Navarre," said the Cardinal.

"A gaby who bows low in my presence," replied the Duke. "That Florentine

woman's graces have blinded you, I think----"

"Oh, I have thought of that already," said the prelate. "If I aim at a

gallant intimacy with her, is it not that I may read to the bottom of her

heart?"

"She has no heart," said his brother sharply. "She is even more ambitious

than we are."

"You are a brave commander," said the Cardinal; "but take my word for it,

our skirts are very near touching, and I made Mary Stuart watch her

narrowly before you ever suspected her. Catherine has no more religion in

her than my shoe. If she is not the soul of the conspiracy, it is not for

lack of goodwill; but we will draw her out and see how far she will support

us. Till now I know for certain that she has not held any communication

with the heretics."

"It is time that we should lay everything before the King, and the

Queen-mother, who knows nothing," said the Duke, "and that is the only

proof of her innocence. La Renaudie will understand from my arrangements

that we are warned. Last night Nemours must have been following up the

detachments of the Reformed party, who were coming in by the cross-roads,

and the conspirators will be compelled to attack us at Amboise; I will let

them all in.--Here," and he pointed to the three steep slopes of rock on

which the Chateau de Blois is built, just as Chiverni had done a moment

since, "we should have a fight with no result; the Huguenots could come and

go at will. Blois is a hall with four doors, while Amboise is a sack."

"I will not leave the Florentine Queen," said the Cardinal.

"We have made one mistake," remarked the Duke, playing with his dagger,

tossing it in the air, and catching it again by the handle; "we ought to

have behaved to her as to the Reformers, giving her liberty to move, so as

to take her in the act."

The Cardinal looked at his brother for a minute, shaking his head.

"What does Pardaillan want?" the Duke exclaimed, seeing this young

gentleman coming along the terrace. Pardaillan was to become famous for his

fight with la Renaudie, in which both were killed.

"Monseigneur, a youth sent here by the Queen's furrier is at the gate, and

says that he has a set of ermine to deliver to Her Majesty. Is he to be

admitted?"

"To be sure; an ermine surcoat she spoke of but yesterday," said the

Cardinal. "Let the shop-clerk in. She will need the mantle for her journey

by the Loire."

"Which way did he come, that he was not stopped before reaching the gate?"

asked the Grand Master.

"I do not know," said Pardaillan.

"I will go to see him in the Queen's rooms," said la Balafre. "Tell him to

await her _lever_ in the guardroom. But, Pardaillan, is he young?"

"Yes, Monseigneur; he says he is Lecamus' son."

"Lecamus is a good Catholic," said the Cardinal, who, like the Duke, was

gifted with a memory like Caesar's. "The priest of Saint-Pierre aux Boeufs

trusts him, for he is officer of the peace for the Palace."

"Make this youth chat with the Captain of the Scotch Guard, all the same,"

said the Grand Master, with an emphasis which gave the words a very pointed

meaning. "But Ambroise is at the chateau; through him we shall know at once

if he really is the son of Lecamus, who was formerly his very good friend.

Ask for Ambroise Pare."

At this moment the Queen came towards the brothers, who hurried to meet her

with marks of respect, in which Catherine never failed to discern deep

irony.

"Gentlemen," said she, "will you condescend to inform me of what is going

on? Is the widow of your late sovereign of less account in your esteem than

Messieurs de Vieilleville, Birague, and Chiverni?"

"Madame," said the Cardinal, with an air of gallantry, "our first duty as

men, before all matters of politics, is not to alarm ladies by false

rumors. This morning, indeed, we have had occasion to confer on State

affairs. You will pardon my brother for having in the first instance given

orders on purely military matters which must be indifferent to you--the

really important points remain to be discussed. If you approve, we will all

attend the _lever_ of the King and Queen; it is close on the hour."

"Why, what is happening, Monsieur le Grand Maitre?" asked Catherine,

affecting terror.

"The Reformation, madame, is no longer a mere heresy; it is a party which

is about to take up arms and seize the King."

Catherine, with the Cardinal, the Duke, and the gentlemen, made their way

towards the staircase by the corridor, which was crowded with courtiers who

had not the right of _entree_, and who ranged themselves against the wall.

Gondi, who had been studying the Princes of Lorraine while Catherine was

conversing with them, said in good Tuscan and in Catherine's ear these two

words, which became bywords, and which express one aspect of that royally

powerful nature:

"_Odiate e aspettate!_" Hate and wait.

Pardaillan, who had delivered to the officer on guard at the gatehouse the

order to admit the messenger from the Queen's furrier, found Christophe

standing outside the portico and staring at the facade built by good King

Louis XII., whereon there was at that time an even more numerous array of

sculptured figures of the coarsest buffoonery--if we may judge by what has

survived. The curious will detect, for instance, a figure of a woman carved

on the capital of one of the columns of the gateway holding up her skirts,

and saucily exhibiting "what Brunel displayed to Marphise" to a burly monk

crouching in the capital of the corresponding column at the other jamb of

this gate, above which once stood a statue of Louis XII. Several of the

windows of this front, ornamented in this grotesque taste, and now

unfortunately destroyed, amused, or seemed to amuse, Christophe, whom the

gunners of the Guard were already pelting with their pleasantries.

"He would like to be lodged there, he would," said the sergeant-at-arms,

patting his store of charges for his musket, which hung from his belt in

the sugar-loaf-shaped cartridges.

"Hallo, you from Paris, you never saw so much before!" said a soldier.

"He recognizes good King Louis!" said another.

Christophe affected not to hear them, and tried to look even more

helplessly amazed, so that his look of blank stupidity was an excellent

recommendation to Pardaillan.

"The Queen is not yet risen," said the young officer. "Come and wait in the

guardroom."

Christophe slowly followed Pardaillan. He purposely lingered to admire the

pretty covered balcony with an arched front, where, in the reign of Louis

XII., the courtiers could wait under cover till the hour of reception if

the weather was bad, and where at this moment some of the gentlemen

attached to the Guises were grouped; for the staircase, still so well

preserved, which led to their apartments is at the end of that gallery, in

a tower of which the architecture is greatly admired by the curious.

"Now, then! have you come here to study graven images?" cried Pardaillan,

seeing Lecamus riveted in front of the elegant stonework of the outer

parapet which unites--or, if you will, separates--the columns of each

archway.

Christophe followed the young captain to the grand staircase, not without

glancing at this almost Moorish-looking structure from top to bottom with

an expression of ecstasy. On this fine morning the court was full of

captains-at-arms and of courtiers chatting in groups; and their brilliant

costumes gave life to the scene, in itself so bright, for the marvels of

architecture that decorated the facade were still quite new.

"Come in here," said Pardaillan to Lecamus, signing to him to follow him

through the carved door on the second floor, which was thrown open by a

sentry on his recognizing Pardaillan.

Christophe's amazement may easily be imagined on entering this guardroom,

so vast, that the military genius of our day has cut it across by a

partition to form two rooms. It extends, in fact, both on the second floor,

where the King lived, and on the first, occupied by the Queen-mother, for a

third of the length of the front towards the court, and is lighted by two

windows to the left and two to the right of the famous staircase. The young

captain made his way toward the door leading to the King's room, which

opened out of this hall, and desired one of the pages-in-waiting to tell

Madame Dayelle, one of the Queen's ladies, that the furrier was in the

guardroom with her surcoats.

At a sign from Pardaillan, Christophe went to stand by the side of an

officer seated on a low stool in the corner of a chimney-place as large as

his father's shop, at one end of this vast hall opposite another exactly

like it at the other end. In talking with this gentleman, Christophe

succeeded in interesting him by telling him the trivial details of his

trade; and he seemed so completely the craftsman, that the officer

volunteered this opinion to the captain of the Scotch Guard, who came in to

cross-question the lad while scrutinizing him closely out of the corner of

his eye.

Though Christophe Lecamus had had ample warning, he still did not

understand the cold ferocity of the interested parties between whom

Chaudieu had bid him stand. To an observer who should have mastered the

secrets of the drama, as the historian knows them now, it would have seemed

terrible to see this young fellow, the hope of two families, risking his

life between two such powerful and pitiless machines as Catherine and the

Guises. But how few brave hearts ever know the extent of their danger! From

the way in which the quays of the city and the chateau were guarded,

Christophe had expected to find snares and spies at every step, so he

determined to conceal the importance of his errand and the agitation of his

mind under the stupid tradesman's stare, which he had put on before

Pardaillan, the officer of the Guard, and the captain.

The stir which in a royal residence attends the rising of the King began to

be perceptible. The nobles, leaving their horses with their pages or grooms

in the outer court, for no one but the King and Queen was allowed to enter

the inner court on horseback, were mounting the splendid stairs in twos and

threes and filling the guardroom, a large room with two fireplaces--where

the huge mantels are now bereft of adornment, where squalid red tiles have

taken the place of the fine mosaic flooring, where royal hangings covered

the rough walls now daubed with whitewash, and where every art of an age

unique in its splendor was displayed at its best.

Catholics and Protestants poured in as much to hear the news and study each

other's faces as to pay their court to the King. His passionate affection

for Mary Stuart, which neither the Queen-mother nor the Guises attempted to

check, and Mary's politic submissiveness in yielding to it, deprived the

King of all power; indeed, though he was now seventeen, he knew nothing of

Royalty but its indulgences, and of marriage nothing but the raptures of

first love. In point of fact, everybody tried to ingratiate himself with

Queen Mary and her uncles, the Cardinal de Lorraine and the Grand Master of

the Household.

All this bustle went on under the eyes of Christophe, who watched each

fresh arrival with very natural excitement. A magnificent curtain, on each

side of it a page and a yeoman of the Scotch Guard then on duty, showed him

the entrance to that royal chamber, destined to be fatal to the son of the

Grand Master, for the younger Balafre fell dead at the foot of the bed now

occupied by Mary Stuart and Francis II. The Queen's ladies occupied the

chimney-place opposite to that where Christophe was still chatting with the

captain of the Guard. This fireplace, by its position, was the seat of

honor, for it is built into the thick wall of the council-room, between the

door into the royal chamber and that into the council-room, so that the

ladies and gentlemen who had a right to sit there were close to where the

King and the Queens must pass. The courtiers were certain to see Catherine;

for her maids of honor, in mourning, like the rest of the Court, came up

from her rooms conducted by the Countess Fieschi, and took their place on

the side next the council-room, facing those of the young Queen, who, led

by the Duchesse de Guise, took the opposite angle next the royal

bedchamber.

Between the courtiers and the young ladies, all belonging to the first

families in the kingdom, a space was kept of some few paces, which none but

the greatest nobles were permitted to cross. The Countess Fieschi and the

Duchesse de Guise were allowed by right of office to be seated in the midst

of their noble charges, who all remained standing.

One of the first to mingle with these dangerous bevies was the Duc de

Orleans, the King's brother, who came down from his rooms above, attended

by his tutor, Monsieur de Cypierre. This young Prince, who was destined to

reign before the end of the year, under the name of Charles IX., at the age

of ten was excessively shy. The Duc d'Anjou and the Duc d'Alencon, his two

brothers, and the infant Princess Marguerite, who became the wife of Henri

IV., were still too young to appear at Court, and remained in their

mother's apartments. The Duc d'Orleans, richly dressed in the fashion of

the time, in silk trunk hose, a doublet of cloth of gold, brocaded with

flowers in black, and a short cloak of embroidered velvet, all black, for

he was still in mourning for the late King his father, bowed to the two

elder ladies, and joined the group of his mother's maids of honor. Strongly

disliking the Guisards (the adherents of the Guises), he replied coldly to

the Duchess' greeting, and went to lean his elbow on the back of the

Countess Fieschi's tall chair.

His tutor, Monsieur de Cypierre, one of the finest characters of that age,

stood behind him as a shield. Amyot, in a simple abbe's gown, also attended

the Prince; he was his instructor as well as being the teacher of the three

other royal children, whose favor was afterwards so advantageous to him.

Between this chimney-place "of honor" and that at the further end of the

hall--where the Guards stood in groups with their captain, a few courtiers,

and Christophe carrying his box--the Chancellor Olivier, l'Hopital's patron

and predecessor, in the costume worn ever since by the Chancellors of

France, was walking to and fro with Cardinal de Tournon, who had just

arrived from Rome, and with whom he exchanged a few phrases in murmurs. On

them was centered the general attention of the gentlemen packed against the

wall dividing the hall from the King's bedroom, standing like a living

tapestry against the rich figured hangings. In spite of the serious state

of affairs, the Court presented the same appearance as every Court must, in

every country, at every time, and in the midst of the greatest perils.

Courtiers always talk of the most trivial subjects while thinking of the

gravest, jesting while watching every physiognomy, and considering

questions of love and marriage with heiresses in the midst of the most

sanguinary catastrophes.

"What did you think of yesterday's fete?" asked Bourdeilles, the Lord of

Brantome, going up to Mademoiselle de Piennes, one of the elder Queen's

maids of honor.

"Monsieur du Baif and Monsieur du Bellay had had the most charming ideas,"

said she, pointing to the two gentlemen who had arranged everything, and

who were standing close at hand. "I thought it in atrocious taste," she

added in a whisper.

"You had no part in it?" said Miss Lewiston from the other side.

"What are you reading, madame?" said Amyot to Madame Fieschi.

"_Amadis de Gaule_, by the Seigneur des Essarts, purveyor-in-ordinary to

the King's Artillery."

"A delightful work," said the handsome girl, who became famous as la

Fosseuse, when she was lady-in-waiting to Queen Margaret of Navarre.

"The style is quite new," remarked Amyot. "Shall you adopt such

barbarisms?" he asked, turning to Brantome.

"The ladies like it! What is to be said?" cried Brantome, going forward to

bow to Madame de Guise, who had in her hand Boccaccio's _Famous Ladies_.

"There must be some ladies of your House there, madame," said he. "But

Master Boccaccio's mistake was that he did not live in these days; he would

have found ample matter to enlarge his volumes."

"How clever Monsieur de Brantome is!" said the beautiful Mademoiselle de

Limeuil to the Countess Fieschi. "He came first to us, but he will stay

with the Guises."

"Hush!" said Madame Fieschi, looking at the fair Limeuil. "Attend to what

concerns you----"

The young lady turned to the door. She was expecting Sardini, an Italian

nobleman, whom, subsequently, she made marry her after a little accident

that overtook her in the Queen's dressing-room, and which procured her the

honor of having a queen for her midwife.

"By Saint Alipantin, Mademoiselle Davila seems to grow prettier every

morning," said Monsieur de Robertet, Secretary of State, as he bowed to the

Queen-mother's ladies.

The advent of the Secretary of State, though he was exactly as important as

a Cabinet Minister in these days, made no sensation whatever.

"If you think that, monsieur, do lend me the epigram against Messieurs de

Guise; I know you have it," said Mademoiselle Davila to Robertet.

"I have it no longer," replied the Secretary, going across to speak to

Madame de Guise.

"I have it," said the Comte de Grammont to Mademoiselle Davila; "but I will

lend it you on only one condition."

"On condition----? For shame!" said Madame Fieschi.

"You do not know what I want," replied Grammont.

"Oh, that is easy to guess," said la Limeuil.

The Italian custom of calling ladies, as French peasants call their wives,

la Such-an-one, was at that time the fashion at the Court of France.

"You are mistaken," the Count replied eagerly; "what I ask is, that a

letter should be delivered to Mademoiselle de Matha, one of the maids on

the other side--a letter from my cousin de Jarnac."

"Do not compromise my maids; I will give it her myself," said the Countess

Fieschi. "Have you heard any news of what is going on in Flanders?" she

asked Cardinal de Tournon. "Monsieur d'Egmont is at some new pranks, it

would seem."

"He and the Prince of Orange," said Cypierre, with a highly expressive

shrug.

"The Duke of Alva and Cardinal de Granvelle are going there, are they not,

monsieur?" asked Amyot of Cardinal de Tournon, who stood, uneasy and

gloomy, between the two groups after his conversation with the Chancellor.

"We, happily, are quiet, and have to defy heresy only on the stage," said

the young Duke, alluding to the part he had played the day before, that of

a Knight subduing a Hydra with the word "Reformation" on its brow.

Catherine de' Medici, agreeing on this point with her daughter-in-law, had

allowed a theatre to be constructed in the great hall, which was

subsequently used for the meetings of the States at Blois, the hall between

the buildings of Louis XII. and those of Francis I.

The Cardinal made no reply, and resumed his walk in the middle of the hall,

talking in a low voice to Monsieur de Robertet and the Chancellor. Many

persons know nothing of the difficulties that Secretaryships of State, now

transformed into Cabinet Ministries, met with in the course of their

establishment, and how hard the Kings of France found it to create them. At

that period a Secretary like Robertet was merely a clerk, of hardly any

account among the princes and magnates who settled the affairs of State.

There were at that time no ministerial functionaries but the Superintendent

of Finance, the Chancellor, and the Keeper of the King's Seals. The King

granted a seat in the Council, by letters patent, to such of his subjects

as might, in his opinion, give useful advice in the conduct of public

affairs. A seat in the Council might be given to a president of a law court

in the Parlement, to a bishop, to an untitled favorite. Once admitted to

the Council, the subject strengthened his position by getting himself

appointed to one of the Crown offices to which a salary was attached--the

government of a province, a constable's sword, a marshal's baton, the

command of the Artillery, the post of High Admiral, the colonelcy of some

military corps, the captaincy of the galleys--or often some function at

Court, such as that of Grand Master of the Household, then held by the Duc

de Guise.

"Do you believe that the Duc de Nemours will marry Francoise?" asked Madame

de Guise of the Duc d'Orleans' instructor.

"Indeed, madame, I know nothing but Latin," was the reply.

This made those smile who were near enough to hear it. Just then the

seduction of Francoise de Rohan by the Duc de Nemours was the theme of

every conversation; but as the Duc de Nemours was cousin to the King, and

also allied to the House of Valois through his mother, the Guises regarded

him as seduced rather than as a seducer. The influence of the House of

Rohan was, however, so great, that after Francis II.'s death the Duc de

Nemours was obliged to quit France in consequence of the lawsuit brought

against him by the Rohans, which was compromised by the offices of the

Guises. His marriage to the Duchesse de Guise, after Poltrot's

assassination, may account for the Duchess' question to Amyot, by

explaining some rivalry, no doubt, between her and Mademoiselle de Rohan.

"Look, pray, at that party of malcontents," said the Comte de Grammont,

pointing to Messieurs de Coligny, Cardinal de Chatillon, Danville, Thore,

Moret, and several other gentlemen suspected of meddling in the

Reformation, who were standing all together between two windows at the

lower end of the hall.

"The Huguenots are on the move," said Cypierre. "We know that Theodore de

Beze is at Nerac to persuade the Queen of Navarre to declare herself on

their side by publicly renouncing the Catholic faith," he added, with a

glance at the Bailli d'Orleans, who was Chancellor to the Queen of Navarre,

and a keen observer of the Court.

"She will do it," said the Bailli d'Orleans drily.

This personage, the Jacques Coeur of his day, and one of the richest

middle-class men of his time, was named Groslot, and was envoy from Jeanne

d'Albret to the French Court.

"Do you think so?" said the Chancellor of France to the Chancellor of

Navarre, quite understanding the full import of Groslot's remark.

"Don't you know," said the rich provincial, "that the Queen of Navarre has

nothing of the woman in her but her sex? She is devoted to none but manly

things; her mind is strong in important matters, and her heart undaunted by

the greatest adversities."

"Monsieur le Cardinal," said the Chancellor Olivier to Monsieur de Tournon,

who had heard Groslot, "what do you think of such boldness?"

"The Queen of Navarre does well to choose for her Chancellor a man from

whom the House of Lorraine will need to borrow, and who offers the King his

house when there is a talk of moving to Orleans," replied the Cardinal.

The Chancellor and the Cardinal looked at each other, not daring to speak

their thoughts; but Robertet expressed them, for he thought it necessary to

make a greater display of devotion to the Guises than these great men,

since he was so far beneath them.

"It is most unfortunate that the House of Navarre, instead of abjuring the

faith of their fathers, do not abjure the spirit of revenge and rebellion

inspired by the Connetable de Bourbon. We shall see a repetition of the

wars of the Armagnacs and the Bourguignons."

"No," said Groslot, "for there is something of Louis XI. in the Cardinal de

Lorraine."

"And in Queen Catherine too," observed Robertet.

At this moment Madame Dayelle, Mary Stuart's favorite waiting-woman,

crossed the room, and went to the Queen's chamber. The appearance of the

waiting-woman made a little stir.

"We shall be admitted directly," said Madame Fieschi.

"I do not think so," said the Duchesse de Guise. "Their Majesties will come

out, for a State Council is to be held."

La Dayelle slipped into the royal chamber after scratching at the door, a

deferential custom introduced by Catherine de' Medici, and adopted by the

French Court.

"What is the weather like, my dear Dayelle?" asked Queen Mary, putting her

fair fresh face out between the curtains.

"Oh! madame----"

"What is the matter, Dayelle? You might have the bowmen at your heels----"

"Oh! madame--is the King still sleeping?"

"Yes."

"We are to leave the castle, and Monsieur le Cardinal desired me to tell

you so, that you might suggest it to the King."

"Do you know why, my good Dayelle?"

"The Reformers mean to carry you off."

"Oh, this new religion leaves me no peace! I dreamed last night that I was

in prison--I who shall wear the united crowns of the three finest kingdoms

in the world."

"Indeed! but, madame, it was only a dream."

"Carried off! That would be rather amusing.--But for the sake of religion,

and by heretics--horrible!"

The Queen sprang out of bed and seated herself in front of the fireplace in

a large chair covered with red velvet, after wrapping herself in a loose

black velvet gown handed to her by Dayelle, which she tied about the waist

with a silken cord. Dayelle lighted the fire, for the early May mornings

are cool on the banks of the Loire.

"Then did my uncles get this news in the course of the night?" the Queen

inquired of Dayelle, with whom she was on familiar terms.

"Early this morning Messieurs de Guise were walking on the terrace to avoid

being overheard, and received there some messengers arriving in hot haste

from various parts of the kingdom where the Reformers are busy. Her

Highness the Queen-mother went out with her Italians hoping to be

consulted, but she was not invited to join the council."

"She must be furious."

"All the more so because she had a little wrath left over from yesterday,"

replied Dayelle. "They say she was far from rejoiced by the sight of your

Majesty in your dress of woven gold and your pretty veil of tan-colored

crape----"

"Leave us now, my good Dayelle; the King is waking. Do not let any one in,

not even those who have the _entree_. There are matters of State in hand,

and my uncles will not disturb us."

"Why, my dear Mary, are you out of bed already? Is it daylight?" said the

young King, rousing himself.

"My dear love, while we were sleeping, malignants have been wide awake, and

compel us to leave this pleasant home."

"What do you mean by malignants, my sweetheart? Did we not have the most

delightful festival last evening but for the Latin which those gentlemen

insisted on dropping into our good French?"

"Oh!" said Mary, "that is in the best taste, and Rabelais brought Latin

into fashion."

"Ah! you are so learned, and I am only sorry not to be able to do you honor

in verse. If I were not King, I would take back Master Amyot from my

brother, who is being made so wise----"

"You have nothing to envy your brother for; he writes verses and shows them

to me, begging me to show him mine. Be content, you are by far the best of

the four, and will be as good a king as you are a charming lover. Indeed,

that perhaps is the reason your mother loves you so little. But be easy; I,

dear heart, will love you for all the world."

"It is no great merit in me to love such a perfect Queen," said the young

King. "I do not know what hindered me from embracing you before the whole

Court last night, when you danced the _branle_ with tapers. I could see how

all the women looked serving-wenches by you, my sweet Marie!"

"For plain prose your language is charming, my dear heart: it is love that

speaks, to be sure. And, you know, my dear, that if you were but a poor

little page, I should still love you just as much as I now do, and yet it

is a good thing to be able to say, 'My sweetheart is a King!'"

"Such a pretty arm! Why must we get dressed? I like to push my fingers

through your soft hair and tangle your golden curls. Listen, pretty one; I

will not allow you to let your women kiss your fair neck and your pretty

shoulders any more! I am jealous of the Scotch mists for having touched

them."

"Will you not come to see my beloved country? The Scotch would love you,

and there would be no rebellions, as there are here."

"Who rebels in our kingdom?" said Francois de Valois, wrapping himself in

his gown, and drawing his wife on to his knee.

"Yes, this is very pretty play," said she, withdrawing her cheek from his

kiss. "But you have to reign, if you please, my liege."

"Who talks of reigning?--This morning I want to----"

"Need you say 'I want to,' when you can do what you will?--That is the

language of neither king nor lover. However, that is not the matter on

hand--we have important business to attend to."

"Oh!" said the King, "it is a long time since we have had any business to

do.--Is it amusing?"

"Not at all," said Mary; "we must make a move."

"I will wager, my pretty one, that you have seen one of your uncles, who

manage matters so well that, at seventeen, I am a King only in name. I

really know not why, since the first Council, I have ever sat at one; they

could do everything quite as well by setting a crown on my chair; I see

everything through their eyes, and settle matters blindfold."

"Indeed, monsieur," said the Queen, standing up and assuming an air of

annoyance, "you had agreed never again to give me the smallest trouble on

that score, but to leave my uncles to exercise your royal power for the

happiness of your people. A nice people they are! Why, if you tried to

govern them unaided, they would swallow you whole like a strawberry. They

need warriors to rule them--a stern master gloved with iron; while you--you

are a charmer whom I love just as you are, and should not love if you were

different--do you hear, my lord?" she added, bending down to kiss the boy,

who seemed inclined to rebel against this speech, but who was mollified by

the caress.

"Oh, if only they were not your uncles!" cried Francis. "I cannot endure

that Cardinal; and when he puts on his insinuating air and his submissive

ways, and says to me with a bow, 'Sire, the honor of the Crown and the

faith of your fathers is at stake, your Majesty will never allow----' and

this and that--I am certain he toils for nothing but his cursed House of

Lorraine."

"How well you mimic him!" cried the Queen. "But why do you not make these

Guises inform you of what is going forward, so as to govern by and by on

your own account when you are of full age? I am your wife, and your honor

is mine. We will reign, sweetheart--never fear! But all will not be roses

for us till we are free to please ourselves. There is nothing so hard for a

King as to govern!

"Am I the Queen now, I ask you? Do you think that your mother ever fails to

repay me in evil for what good my uncles may do for the glory of your

throne? And mark the difference! My uncles are great princes, descendants

of Charlemagne, full of goodwill, and ready to die for you; while this

daughter of a leech, or a merchant, Queen of France by a mere chance, is as

shrewish as a citizen's wife who is not mistress in her house. The Italian

woman is provoked that she cannot set every one by the ears, and she is

always coming to me with her pale, solemn face, and then with her pinched

lips she begins: 'Daughter, you are the Queen; I am only the second lady in

the kingdom'--she is furious, you see, dear heart--'but if I were in your

place, I would not wear crimson velvet while the Court is in mourning, and

I would appear in public with my hair plainly dressed and with no jewels,

for what is unseemly in any lady is even more so in a queen. Nor would I

dance myself; I would only see others dance!' That is the kind of thing she

says to me."

"Oh, dear Heaven!" cried the King, "I can hear her! Mercy, if she only

knew----"

"Why, you still quake before her. She wearies you--say so? We will send her

away. By my faith, that she should deceive you might be endured, but to be

so tedious----"

"In Heaven's name, be silent, Marie," said the King, at once alarmed and

delighted. "I would not have you lose her favor."

"Never fear that she will quarrel with me, with the three finest crowns in

the world on my head, my little King," said Mary Stuart. "Even though she

hates me for a thousand reasons, she flatters me, to win me from my

uncles."

"Hates you?"

"Yes, my angel! And if I had not a thousand such proofs as women can give

each other, and such as women only can understand, her persistent

opposition to our happy love-making would be enough. Now, is it my fault if

your father could never endure Mademoiselle de' Medici? In short, she likes

me so little, that you had to be quite in a rage to prevent our having

separate sets of rooms here and at Saint-Germain. She declared that it was

customary for the Kings and Queens of France. Customary!--It was your

father's custom; that is quite intelligible. As to your grandfather,

Francis, the good man established the practice for the convenience of his

love affairs. So be on your guard; if we are obliged to leave this place,

do not let the Grand Master divide us."

"If we leave? But I do not intend to leave this pretty chateau, whence we

see the Loire and all the country around--a town at our feet, the brightest

sky in the world above us, and these lovely gardens. Or if I go, it will be

to travel with you in Italy and see Raphael's pictures and Saint-Peter's at

Rome."

"And the orange-trees. Ah, sweet little King, if you could know how your

Mary longs to walk under orange-trees in flower and fruit! Alas! I may

never see one! Oh! to hear an Italian song under those fragrant groves, on

the shore of a blue sea, under a cloudless sky, and to clasp each other

thus!----"

"Let us be off," said the King.

"Be off!" cried the Grand Master, coming in. "Yes, Sire, you must be off

from Blois. Pardon my boldness; but circumstances overrule etiquette, and I

have come to beg you to call a Council."

Mary and Francis had started apart on being thus taken by surprise, and

they both wore the same expression of offended sovereign Majesty.

"You are too much the Grand Master, Monsieur de Guise," said the young

King, suppressing his wrath.

"Devil take lovers!" muttered the Cardinal in Catherine's ear.

"My son," replied the Queen-mother, appearing behind the Cardinal, "the

safety of your person is at stake as well as of your kingdom."

"Heresy was awake while you slept, Sire," said the Cardinal.

"Withdraw into the hall," said the little King; "we will hold a Council."

"Madame," said the Duke to the Queen, "your furrier's son has come with

some furs which are seasonable for your journey, as we shall probably ride

by the Loire.--But he also wishes to speak with madame," he added, turning

to the Queen-mother. "While the King is dressing, would you and Her Majesty

dismiss him forthwith, so that this trifle may no further trouble us."

"With pleasure," replied Catherine; adding to herself, "If he thinks to be

rid of me by such tricks, he little knows me."

The Cardinal and the Duke retired, leaving the two Queens with the King. As

he went through the guardroom to go to the council-chamber, the Grand

Master desired the usher to bring up the Queen's furrier.

When Christophe saw this official coming towards him from one end of the

room to the other, he took him, from his dress, to be some one of

importance, and his heart sank within him; but this sensation, natural

enough at the approach of a critical moment, became sheer terror when the

usher, whose advance had the effect of directing the eyes of the whole

splendid assembly to Christophe with his bundles and his abject looks, said

to him:

"Their Highnesses the Cardinal de Lorraine and the Grand Master desire to

speak to you in the council-room."

"Has any one betrayed me?" was the thought of this hapless envoy of the

Reformers.

Christophe followed the usher, his eyes bent on the ground, and never

looked up till he found himself in the spacious council-room--as large

almost as the guardroom. The two Guises were alone, standing in front of

the splendid chimney-place that backed against that in the guardroom, where

the maids of honor were grouped.

"You have come from Paris? Which road did you take?" the Cardinal said to

Christophe.

"I came by water, monseigneur," replied the lad.

"And how did you get into Blois?" said the Grand Master.

"By the river port, monseigneur."

"And no one interfered with you?" said the Duke, who was examining the

young man closely.

"No, monseigneur. I told the first soldier, who made as though he would

stop me, that I had come on duty to wait on the two Queens, and that my

father is furrier to their Majesties."

"What is doing in Paris?" asked the Cardinal.

"They are still trying to discover the murderer who killed President

Minard."

"Are not you the son of my surgeon's greatest friend?" asked the Duc de

Guise, deceived by Christophe's expression of candor, now that his fears

were allayed.

"Yes, monseigneur."

The Grand Master went out, hastily lifted the curtain which screened the

double doors of the council-chamber, and showed his face to the crowd,

among whom he looked for the King's surgeon-in-chief. Ambroise Pare,

standing in a corner, was aware of a glance shot at him by the Duke, and

went to him. Ambroise, already inclined to the Reformed religion, ended by

adopting it; but the friendship of the Guises and of the French kings

preserved him from the various disasters that befell the heretics. The

Duke, who felt that he owed his life to Ambroise Pare, had appointed him

surgeon-in-chief to the King within a few days past.

"What is it, monseigneur," said the leech. "Is the King ill? I should not

be surprised."

"Why?"

"The Queen is too fascinating," said the surgeon.

"Ah!" replied the Duke, surprised. "However, that is not the case," he

went on after a pause. "Ambroise, I want you to see a friend of yours," and

he led him on to the threshold of the council-chamber door and pointed to

Christophe.

"Ah, to be sure," cried the surgeon, holding out his hand to the youth.

"How is your father, my boy?"

"Very well, Master Ambroise," Christophe replied.

"And what are you doing at Court?" Pare went on. "It is not your business

to carry parcels; your father wants to make a lawyer of you. Do you want

the protection of these two great Princes to become a pleader?"

"Why, yes, indeed," replied Christophe, "but for my father's sake; and if

you can intercede for us, add your entreaties," he went on, with a piteous

air, "to obtain an order from Monseigneur the Grand Master for the payment

of the moneys due to my father, for he does not know which way to turn----"

The Cardinal and his brother looked at each other, and seemed to be

satisfied.

"Leave us now," said the Grand Master to Ambroise with a nod.--"And you, my

friend," he added to Christophe, "settle your business quickly, and get

back to Paris. My secretary will give you a pass, for, by Heaven, the roads

will not be pleasant to travel on!"

Neither of the brothers had the slightest suspicion of the important

interests that lay in Christophe's hands, being now quite assured that he

was certainly the son of Lecamus, a good Catholic, purveyor to the Court,

and that he had come solely to get his money.

"Take him round to be near the door of the Queen's chamber; she will ask

for him no doubt," said the Cardinal to the surgeon.

* * * * *

While the furrier's son was being thus cross-questioned in the

council-room, the King had left his mother and the Queen together, having

gone into his dressing-room, which was beyond a room adjoining the bedroom.

Catherine, standing in the recess of the deep window, was looking out on

the gardens lost in melancholy thought. She foresaw that one of the

greatest commanders of the age, in the course of that morning, in the very

next hour, would take the place of her son the King, under the terrible

title of Lieutenant-General of the kingdom. In the face of such peril she

was alone, without a plan, without defence. Indeed, as she stood there in

her mourning, which she had not ceased to wear since the death of Henri

II., she might have been compared to a phantom, so still were her pale

features as she stood absorbed in thought. Her black eyes seemed to wander

in the indecision for which great politicians are so often blamed, which in

them is the result of the breadth of sight which enables them to see every

difficulty, and to balance one against the other, adding up the sum-total

of risk before taking a part. There was a ringing in her ears, a turmoil in

her blood; but she stood there, nevertheless, calm and dignified, while

gauging the depths of the political abyss beyond the real gulf that lay at

her feet.

Since the day when the Vidame de Chartres had been arrested, this was the

second of those terrible days of which there were henceforth to be so many

in the course of her royal career; but she never again made a mistake in

the school of power. Though the sceptre seemed always to fly from her

grasp, she meant to seize it, and, in fact, did seize it, by that sheer

force of will which had never given way to the scorn of her father-in-law,

Francis I., and his Court--by whom, though Dauphiness, she had been so

little thought of--nor to the constant denials of Henri II., nor to the

unresting antagonism of her rival, Diane de Poitiers. A man would not have

understood this Queen in check; but Mary Stuart, so fair, so crafty, so

clever, so girlish, and yet so omniscient, watched her out of the corner of

her eye while affecting to warble an Italian air with an indifferent

countenance. Without understanding the tempest of ambition which brought a

cold moisture to the Florentine Queen's brow, the pretty Scotch girl, with

her saucy face, knew that the high position of her uncle the Duc de Guise

was filling Catherine with suppressed fury. Now, nothing amused her so

much as watching her mother-in-law, whom she regarded as an intriguing

adventuress, who, having been humbled, was always prepared for revenge. The

face of the elder was grave and gloomy, a little cadaverous, by reason of

the livid complexion of the Italians, which by daylight looks like yellow

ivory, though by candle-light it is dazzling; while the younger face was

bright and fresh. At sixteen Mary Stuart had that creamy fairness for which

she was so famous. Her bright, rosy face, with clearly-cut features,

sparkled with childish mischief, very frankly expressed in the regular arch

of her brows, the brightness of her eyes, and the pert smile of her pretty

mouth. She had then in perfection that kittenish grace which

nothing--neither captivity nor the sight of the horrible block--ever

completely quelled.

Thus these two Queens, one in the morning, the other in the summer of life,

were at this time a perfect contrast. Catherine was an imposing sovereign,

an impenetrable widow, with no passion but the love of power. Mary was a

feather-brained and light-hearted wife, who thought of her crowns as

playthings. One looked forward to impending misfortunes; she even had a

glimpse of the murder of the Guises, guessing that this would be the only

way to strike down men who were capable of raising themselves above the

throne and the Parlement; she saw rivers of blood in a long struggle--the

other little dreamed that she would herself be murdered by form of law.

A curious reflection brought a little calm to the Italian Queen.

"According to the soothsayer and to Ruggieri's forecast, this reign is soon

to end. My difficulties will not last," thought she.

And thus, strange to say, an occult science, now forgotten--judicial

astrology--was a support to Catherine at this juncture, as it was

throughout her life; for the belief grew constantly from seeing the

predictions of those who practised it realized with the greatest

exactitude.

"You are very serious, madame," said Mary Stuart, taking from Dayelle's

hands her little cap, pinched down over the parting of her hair with two

frilled wings of handsome lace beyond the puffs of wavy yellow hair that

shadowed her temples.

The painters of the time have so amply perpetuated this cap, that it now

belongs essentially to the Queen of Scots, though it was Catherine who

invented it when she went into mourning for Henri II.; but she could not

wear it with such good effect as her daughter-in-law, to whom it was

infinitely more becoming. And this was not the smallest of the grievances

harbored by the Queen-mother against the young Queen.

"Does your Majesty mean that for a reproof?" said Catherine, turning to her

daughter-in-law.

"I owe respect, and should not dare----" said the Scotch-woman meaningly,

with a glance at Dayelle.

Between the two Queens the favorite waiting-woman stood like the

figure-head on a fire-dog; an approving smile might cost her her life.

"How can I be as gay as you after losing the late King, and when I see my

son's kingdom on the eve of a conflagration?"

"Politics do not much concern women," replied Mary Stuart. "Besides, my

uncles are there."

These two sentences, in the circumstances, were two poisoned arrows.

"Let us see our furs then," the Italian replied, "and so turn our minds to

our own business, while your uncles settle that of the kingdom."

"Oh, but we shall attend the Council, madame; we are of more use there than

you suppose."

"We?" said Catherine, with feigned astonishment. "I, for my part, do not

know Latin!"

"You fancy me so learned?" said Mary Stuart, with a laugh. "Nay, madame, I

swear to you that at this moment I am studying in the hope of rivaling the

Medici and of knowing some day how to heal the wounds of the country."

This sharp shaft pierced Catherine to the heart, for it was an allusion to

the origin of the Medici, who were descended, as some said, from a leech,

or, as others had it, from a rich drug merchant. She had no reply ready.

Dayelle colored when her mistress looked to her for the applause which

everybody, and even queens, expect from their inferiors when they have no

better audience.

"Your witticisms, madame, cannot, unfortunately, heal either the maladies

of the State or those of the Church," said Catherine, with calm and

dignified coldness. "My forefathers' knowledge of such matters won them

thrones; while you, if you persist in jesting in the midst of danger, are

like enough to lose yours."

At this juncture Dayelle opened the door to Christophe, shown in by the

chief physician himself after scratching at the door.

The young Reformer wanted to study Catherine's countenance, and affected a

shyness, which was natural enough on finding himself in this place; but he

was surprised by Mary's eagerness. She rushed at the boxes to look at her

surcoat.

"Madame," said Christophe, addressing Catherine.

He turned his back on the other Queen and Dayelle, promptly taking

advantage of the attention the two were devoting to the furs to strike a

bold blow.

"What do you want of me?" asked Catherine, looking keenly at him.

Christophe had placed the agreement proposed by the Prince de Conde, with

the Reformer's plan of action and an account of their forces, over his

heart, between his cloth jerkin and his shirt, wrapped inside the furrier's

bill of what Queen Catherine owed him.

"Madame," said he, "my father is in dreadful want of money, and if you

would condescend to look through the accounts," he added, unfolding the

paper and slipping the agreement under it, "you will see that your Majesty

owes him six thousand crowns. May your goodness have pity on us! See,

madame."

And he held out the document.

"Read it. This dates so far back as the accession of the late King."

Catherine was bewildered by the preamble to the address, but she did not

lose her presence of mind; she hastily rolled up the paper, admiring the

young man's readiness and daring. She saw from these masterly tactics that

he would understand her, so she tapped him on the head with the roll of

paper, and said:--"You are very ill advised, my young friend, in handing

the bill in before the furs. Learn some knowledge of women! You must never

ask for your money till we are perfectly satisfied."

"Is that the tradition?" said the young Queen to her mother-in-law, who

made no reply.

"Ah, mesdames, excuse my father," said Christophe. "If he had not wanted

the money, you would not have your furs. The country is up in arms, and

there is so much danger on the roads, that only our great need induced me

to come. No one else would risk his life."

"This lad is quite fresh," said Mary Stuart, smiling.

It is not superfluous to the better understanding of this important little

scene to remark that a surcoat was, as the name implies, a sort of

close-fitting jacket or spencer which ladies wore over their dress, and

which wrapped them closely, shaped down to the hips. This garment protected

the back, chest, and throat from the cold. Surcoats were lined with fur

which turned up over the stuff, forming a more or less wide border. Mary

Stuart while trying on her surcoat was looking at herself in a large

Venetian mirror, to see the effect of it at the back; thus she had left her

mother-in-law liberty to glance at the packet of papers, of which the

volume might otherwise have excited her suspicions.

"Does a man ever speak to a lady of the dangers he has incurred when he is

safe and sound in her presence?" said she, turning round on Christophe.

"Oh, madame, I have your account too," said he, looking at her with

well-acted simplicity.

The young Queen looked at him from head to foot without taking the paper;

but she observed, without drawing any conclusions at the moment, that he

had taken Queen Catherine's bill out of his breast, and drew hers out of

his pocket. Nor did she see in the lad's eyes the admiration that her

beauty won her from all the world; but she was thinking so much of her

surcoat, that she did not at once wonder what could be the cause of his

indifference.

"Take it, Dayelle," said she to the waiting-woman. "You can give the

account to Monsieur de Versailles (Lomenie), and desire him, from me, to

pay it."

"Indeed, madame, but if you do not give me an order signed by the King, or

by His Highness the Grand Master, who is at hand, your gracious promise

will have no effect."

"You are rather hastier than beseems a subject, my friend," said Mary

Stuart. "So you do not believe in royal promises?"

The King came in dressed in his long silk hose and trunks, the breeches of

the time, but wore neither doublet nor cloak; he had only a rich wrapper of

velvet lined throughout with fur; for wrapper, a word of modern use, can

alone describe the _neglige_ of this apparel.

"Who is the rascal that doubts your word?" said the young King, who, though

at a distance, had heard his wife's speech.

The door of the King's closet was hidden by the bed. This closet was

subsequently called the old closet (_le Cabinet vieux_) to distinguish it

from the splendid painted closet constructed for Henri III. on the other

side of the room adjoining the hall of the States-General. Henri III. hid

the assassins in the old closet, and sent to desire the Duc de Guise to

attend him there; while he, during the murder, remained concealed in the

new closet, whence he emerged only to see this overweening subject die--a

subject for whom there could be no prison, no tribunal, no judges, no laws

in the kingdom. But for these dreadful events, the historian could now

hardly identify the former uses of these rooms and halls filled with

soldiers. A sergeant writes to his sweetheart on the spot where Catherine

gravely considered her struggle with parties.

"Come, my boy," said the Queen-mother; "I will see that you are paid. Trade

must flourish, and money is its main sinew."

"Ay, go, my good youth," said the young Queen, laughing; "my august mother

understands matters of trade better than I do."

Catherine was about to leave the room without replying to this innuendo;

but it struck her that her indifference might arouse suspicions, and she

retorted on her daughter-in-law:

"And you, my dear, trade in love."

Then she went downstairs.

"Put all those things away, Dayelle.--And come to the council-room, Sire,"

said the young Queen to the King, enchanted at having to decide the

important question of the lieutenancy of the kingdom in her mother-in-law's

absence.

Mary Stuart took the King's arm. Dayelle went out first, speaking a word to

the pages, and one of them--young Teligny, fated to perish miserably on the

night of Saint-Bartholomew--shouted out:

"The King."

On hearing the cry, the two musketeers carried arms, and the two pages led

the way towards the council-chamber between the line of courtiers on one

side and the line formed by the maids of honor to the two Queens on the

other. All the members of the Council then gathered round the door of the

hall, which was at no great distance from the staircase. The Grand Master,

the Cardinal, and the Chancellor advanced to meet the two young sovereigns,

who smiled to some of the maids, or answered the inquiries of some of the

Court favorites more intimate than the rest.

The Queen, however, evidently impatient, dragged Francis II. on towards the

vast council-room. As soon as the heavy thud of the arquebuses dropping on

the floor again announced that the royal pair had gone in, the pages put on

their caps, and the conversations in the various groups took their course

again on the gravity of the business about to be discussed.

"Chiverni was sent to fetch the Connetable, and he has not come," said one.

"There is no prince of the blood present," remarked another.

The Chancellor and Monsieur de Tournon looked anxious.

"The Grand Master has sent word to the Keeper of the Seals to be sure not

to fail to attend this Council; a good many letters patent will be issued,

no doubt."

"How is it that the Queen-mother remains below, in her own rooms, at such a

juncture?"

"They are going to make things hot for us," said Groslot to Cardinal de

Chatillon.

In short, every one had something to say. Some were pacing the room from

end to end, others were flitting round the maids of honor, as though it

could be possible to catch a few words through a wall three feet thick, or

two doors and the heavy curtains that screened them.

The King, seated at one end of the long table covered with blue velvet,

which stood in the middle of the room, his young Queen in an armchair at

his side, was waiting for his mother. Robertet was mending his pens. The

two Cardinals, the Grand Master, the Chancellor, the Keeper of the

Seals--in short, the whole assembly, looked at the little King, wondering

why he did not give the word for them all to be seated.

"Are we to sit in council in the absence of the Queen-mother?" the

Chancellor asked, addressing the young King.

The two Guises ascribed Catherine's absence to some cunning trick of their

niece's. Then, spurred by a significant look, the much daring Cardinal said

to the King:

"Is it your Majesty's goodwill that we should proceed without madame your

mother?"

Francis, not daring to have an opinion of his own, replied:

"Gentlemen, be seated."

The Cardinal briefly pointed out the dangers of the situation. This great

politician, who showed astounding skill in this business, broached the

question of the lieutenancy amid utter silence. The young King was, no

doubt, conscious of an awkwardness, and guessed that his mother had a real

sense of the rights of the Crown, and a knowledge of the danger that

threatened his power, for he replied to a direct question on the Cardinal's

part:

"We will wait for my mother."

Enlightened by this inexplicable delay on Queen Catherine's part, Mary

Stuart suddenly recalled in a single flash of thought three incidents which

were clear in her memory. In the first place, the bulk of the packet

presented to her mother-in-law, which she had seen, though so inattentive

at the moment (for a woman who seems to see nothing is still a lynx), then

the place where Christophe had carried them to separate them from hers.

"Why?" she said to herself. And then she remembered the boy's cold look,

which she at once ascribed to the Reformers' hatred of the Guises' niece. A

voice within her cried, "Is he not an envoy from the Huguenots?"

Acting, as all hasty persons do, on the first impulse, she exclaimed:

"I myself will go and fetch my mother."

She rushed away and down the stairs, to the great amazement of the

gentlemen and ladies of the Court. She went down to her mother-in-law's

rooms, crossed the guardroom, opened the door of the bedroom as stealthily

as a thief, crept noiselessly over the carpet as silently as a shadow, and

could see her nowhere. Then she thought she could surprise her in the

splendid private room between the bedroom and the oratory. The arrangement

of this oratory is perfectly recognizable to this day; the fashion of the

time then allowed it to serve all the purposes in private life which are

now served by a boudoir.

By a piece of good-fortune, quite unaccountable when we see in how squalid

a state the Crown has left this chateau, the beautiful paneling of

Catherine's closet exists to this day; in the fine carving the curious may

still discern traces of Italian magnificence, and discover the

hiding-places the Queen-mother had contrived there.

A somewhat exact description of these curiosities is indeed indispensable

to a comprehension of the scene that took place there. The woodwork at that

time consisted of about a hundred and eighty small oblong panels, of which

a hundred or so still remain, each carved with a different design,

obviously suggested by the most elegant Italian arabesques. The wood is

holm-oak; the red ground which is found under the coat of limewash, applied

at the time of the cholera--a quite useless precaution--shows plainly that

these panels were gilt; and in spots where the whitewash has rubbed off we

see that some portions of the design were in color, blue, red, or green

against the gold background. The number of these panels shows an evident

intention to cheat investigation; but if there could be a doubt, the keeper

of the chateau, while holding up Catherine's memory to the execration of

all living men, shows to visitors, at the bottom of the paneling, and on a

level with the floor, a somewhat heavy skirting which can be raised, and

under which there are a number of ingenious springs. By pressing a knob

thus concealed, the Queen could open certain of these panels, known to her

alone, behind which lay a hiding-place of the same oblong shape as the

panels, but of varying depth. To this day a practised hand would find it

difficult to detect which of these panels would open on its invisible

hinges; and when the eye was diverted by the skilfully combined colors and

gilding that covered the cracks, it is easy to imagine that it was

impossible to discover one or two panels among nearly two hundred.

At the moment when Mary Stuart laid her hand on the somewhat elaborate

latch of the door to the closet, the Italian Queen, having convinced

herself already of the importance of the Prince de Conde schemes, had just

pressed the spring hidden by the skirting, one of the panels had fallen

open, and Catherine had turned to the table to take up the papers and hide

them, to turn her attention to the safeguard of the devoted messenger who

had brought them to her. When she heard the door open, she at once guessed

that no one but Queen Mary would venture to come in unannounced.

"You are lost," she said to Christophe, seeing that she could neither hide

the papers nor close the panel promptly enough to preserve the secret of

her hiding-place.

Christophe's only reply was a sublime look.

"_Povero mio!_" said Catherine, before turning to her daughter-in-law.

"Treason, madame!" she exclaimed. "I have them fast! Send for the Cardinal

and the Duke. And be sure," she added, pointing to Christophe, "that this

fellow does not escape!"

Thus in an instant this masterful woman saw that it would be necessary to

give up the hapless young man; she could not hide him, it was impossible to

help him to escape; and besides, though a week ago he might have been

saved, now the Guises had, since that morning, been aware of the

conspiracy, and they too must have the lists which she held in her hand,

and were drawing all the Reformers into a trap. And so, pleased at finding

her adversaries in the mind she had hoped for, now that the plot had become

known, policy required her to assume the merit of discovering it.

These dreadful considerations flashed through her mind in the brief moment

while the young Queen was opening the door. Mary Stuart stood silent for an

instant. Her expression lost its brightness and assumed that keenness which

suspicion always gives the eye, and which in her was terrible by the sudden

contrast. She looked from Christophe to the Queen-mother, and from the

Queen-mother to Christophe, with a glance of malignant doubt. Then she

snatched up a bell, which brought in one of Catherine's maids of honor.

"Mademoiselle du Rouet, send in the captain of the Guard," said Mary

Stuart, in breach of every law of etiquette, necessarily set aside in such

circumstances.

While the young Queen gave her order, Catherine stood looking at

Christophe, as much as to say, "Courage!" The young Reformer understood,

and replied by an expression which conveyed, "Sacrifice me, as they have

sacrificed me!"

"Put your trust in me," Catherine answered by a gesture.

Then when her daughter-in-law turned upon her, she was deeply engaged in

examining the papers.

"You are of the Reformed religion?" said Mary Stuart to Christophe.

"Yes, madame."

"Then I was not mistaken," she muttered to herself, as she read in the

young man's eyes the same expression in which coldness and aversion lurked

behind a look of humility.

Pardaillan appeared at once, sent down by the two Princes of Lorraine and

the King. The captain sent for by Mary Stuart followed this young man--a

most devoted adherent of the Guises.

"Go from me to the King, beg him, with the Cardinal and the Grand Master,

to come here at once, and tell them I would not take such a liberty but

that something of serious importance has occurred.--Go, Pardaillan.--And

you, Lewiston, keep guard over this Reformed traitor," she added to the

Scotchman in their native tongue, pointing to Christophe.

The two Queens did not speak till the King came. It was a terrible pause.

Mary Stuart had shown her mother-in-law the whole extent of the part her

uncles made her play; her unsleeping and habitual distrust stood revealed;

and her youthful conscience felt how disgraceful such a part must be to a

great Queen. Catherine, on her side, had betrayed herself in her alarm, and

feared that she had been understood; she was trembling for the future. The

two women, one ashamed and furious, the other vicious but calm, withdrew

into the window bay, one leaning on the right side, the other on the left;

but their looks were so expressive, that each turned away, and with a

common instinct looked out of the window at the sky. These two women,

clever as they were, at that moment had no more wit than the commonest.

Perhaps it is always so when circumstances overpower men. There is always a

moment when even genius is conscious of its smallness in the presence of a

great catastrophe.

As for Christophe, he felt like a man falling into an abyss. Lewiston, the

Scotch captain, listened to the silence, looking at the furrier's son and

the two Queens with a soldier's curiosity. The King's entrance put an end

to this painful situation.

The Cardinal went straight up to Queen Catherine.

"I have in my hand all the threads of the plot hatched by the heretics;

they sent this boy to me carrying this treaty and these documents," said

Catherine in an undertone.

While Catherine was explaining matters to the Cardinal, Queen Mary was

speaking a few words in the Grand Master's ear.

"What is this all about?" asked the young King, standing alone amid this

conflict of violent interests.

"The proofs of what I was telling your Majesty are already to hand," said

the Cardinal, seizing the papers.

The Duc de Guise, unmindful of the fact that he was interrupting him, drew

his brother aside and said in a whisper:

"This then makes me Lieutenant-General without any opposition."

A keen glance was the Cardinal's only reply, by which he conveyed to his

brother that he had already appreciated the advantages to be derived from

Catherine's false position.

"Who sent you?" asked the Duke of Christophe.

"Chaudieu the preacher," he replied.

"Young man, you lie," said the Duke roughly. "It was the Prince de Conde."

"The Prince de Conde, monseigneur," replied Christophe, with a look of

surprise. "I never saw him. I belong to the Palais. I am working under

Monsieur de Thou. I am his clerk, and he does not know that I have joined

the religion. I only submitted to the preacher's entreaties."

"That will do," said the Cardinal.--"Call Monsieur de Robertet," he added

to Lewiston, "for this young villain is craftier than old politicians. He

has taken us in, my brother and me, when we should have given him the Host

without confession."

"You are no child, by Heaven!" cried the Duke, "and you shall be treated as

a man."

"They hoped to win over your august mother," said the Cardinal, turning to

the King, and trying to lead him aside to bring him to his way of thinking.

"Alas!" replied Catherine, speaking to her son with a reproachful air, and

stopping him just as the Cardinal was taking him into the oratory to

subjugate him with dangerous eloquence, "you here see the effect of the

position I am placed in. I am supposed to rebel against my lack of

influence in public affairs--I, the mother of four princes of the House of

Valois."

The young King prepared to listen. Mary Stuart, seeing his brow knit, led

him off into the window recess, where she cajoled him with gentle speeches

in a low voice; much the same, no doubt, as those she had lavished on him

when he rose.

The two brothers meanwhile read the papers handed over to them by the

Queen-mother. Finding in them much information of which their spies and

Monsieur de Braguelonne, the governor of the Chatelet, knew nothing, they

were inclined to believe in Catherine's good faith. Robertet came in and

had private instructions with regard to Christophe. The hapless tool of the

leaders of the Reformation was led away by four men of the Scotch Guard,

who took him downstairs and handed him over to Monsieur de Montresor, the

Provost of the chateau. This terrible personage himself escorted Christophe

with five or six sergeants to the prison situated in the vaulted cellars of

the now ruined tower, which the verger of the chateau of Blois shows the

visitor, and says that these were the _oubliettes_.

After such an event the Council could only be an empty form: the King, the

young Queen, the Grand Master, and the Cardinal de Lorraine went back to

the council-room, taking with them Catherine, quite conquered, who only

spoke to approve of the measures demanded by the Guises. In spite of some

slight opposition on the part of the Chancellor Olivier, the only person

to utter a word suggesting the independence needful to the exercise of his

functions, the Duc de Guise was appointed Lieutenant-General of the

kingdom. Robertet carried the motions with a promptitude arguing such

devotion as might be well called complicity.

The King, with his mother on his arm, once more crossed the guardroom, and

announced to the Court that he proposed to move to Amboise on the following

day. This royal residence had been unused since Charles VIII. had very

involuntarily killed himself there by striking his head against the

pediment of a door that was being carved for him, believing that he could

pass under the scaffolding without bending his head. Catherine, to mask the

schemes of the Guises, had announced her intention of finishing the chateau

of Amboise on behalf of the Crown at the same time as her own chateau of

Chenonceaux. But no one was deceived by this pretence, and the Court

anticipated strange events.

* * * * *

After spending about two hours in accustoming himself to the darkness of

his dungeon, Christophe found that it was lined with boards, clumsy indeed,

but thick enough to make the square box healthy and habitable. The door,

like that into a pig-sty, had compelled him to bend double to get into it.

On one side of this trap a strong iron grating admitted a little air and

light from the passage. This arrangement, exactly like that of the crypts

at Venice, showed very plainly that the architect of the chateau of Blois

belonged to the Venetian school, which gave so many builders to Europe in

the Middle Ages. By sounding the walls above the woodwork, Christophe

discovered that the two walls which divided this cell from two others, to

the right and left, were built of brick; and as he knocked, to estimate the

thickness of the wall, he was not a little surprised to hear some one

knocking on the other side.

"Who are you?" asked his neighbor, speaking into the corridor.

"I am Christophe Lecamus."

"And I," said the other voice, "am Captain Chaudieu. I was caught this

evening at Beaugency; but, happily, there is nothing against me."

"Everything is discovered," said Christophe; "so you are saved from the

worst of it."

"We have three thousand men at this present time in the forests of

Vendomois, all men determined enough to seize the Queen-mother and the King

on their journey. Happily, la Renaudie was cleverer than I; he escaped. You

had just set out when the Guisards caught us."

"But I know nothing of la Renaudie."

"Pooh! my brother told me everything," replied the captain.

On hearing this, Christophe went back to his bench and made no further

reply to anything the so-called captain could say to him, for he had had

enough experience of the law to know how necessary it was to be cautious in

prison.

In the middle of the night he saw the pale gleam of a lantern in the

passage, after hearing the unlocking of the ponderous bolts that closed the

iron door of the cellar. The provost himself had come to fetch Christophe.

This attention to a man who had been left in the dungeon without food

struck Christophe as strange; but the upset at Court had, no doubt, led to

his being forgotten. One of the provost's sergeants bound his hands with a

cord, which he held till they had reached one of the low rooms in Louis

XII.'s part of the chateau, which evidently was the ante-room to the

apartments of some person of importance. The sergeant and the provost bid

him be seated on a bench, where the sergeant tied his feet as he had

already tied his hands. At a sign from Monsieur de Montresor, the sergeant

then left them.

"Now listen to me, my young friend," said the provost to Christophe, and

the lad observed that he was in full dress at that hour of the night, for

his fingers fidgeted with the collar of his Order. This circumstance made

the furrier's son thoughtful; he saw that there was more to come. At this

moment, certainly, they could not be going either to try him or to hang

him.

"My young friend, you may spare yourself much suffering by telling me here

and now all you know of the communications between Queen Catherine and

Monsieur de Conde. Not only will you not be hurt, but you will be taken

into the service of Monseigneur, the Lieutenant-General of the kingdom, who

likes intelligent people, and who was favorably impressed by your looks.

The Queen-mother is to be packed off to Florence, and Monsieur de Conde

will no doubt stand his trial. So, take my word for it, small men will do

well to attach themselves to the great men in power.--Tell me everything,

and it will be to your advantage."

"Alas, monsieur," replied Christophe, "I have nothing to say. I have

confessed all I know to Messieurs de Guise in the Queen's room. Chaudieu

persuaded me to place those papers in the hands of the Queen-mother, by

making me believe that the peace of the country was involved."

"You never saw the Prince de Conde?"

"Never," said Christophe.

Thereupon Monsieur de Montresor left Christophe and went into an adjoining

room.

Christophe was not long left to himself. The door by which he had entered

soon opened for several men to pass in, who did not shut it, letting

various far from pleasant sounds come in from the courtyard. Blocks of wood

and instruments were brought in, evidently intended to torture the

Reformers' messenger. Christophe's curiosity soon found matter for

reflection in the preparations the newcomers were making under his very

eyes. Two coarse and poorly-clad varlets obeyed the orders of a powerful

and thick-set man, who, on coming in, had a look at Christophe like that of

a cannibal at his victim; he had scrutinized him from head to foot, taking

stock of his sinews, of their strength and power of resistance, with the

calculating eye of a connoisseur. This man was the Blois executioner.

Backwards and forwards several times, his men brought in a mattress, wooden

wedges, planks, and other objects, of which the use seemed neither obvious

nor hopeful to the unhappy boy for whom the preparations were being made,

and whose blood ran cold in his veins with apprehension, which though vague

was appalling. Two other men came in when Monsieur de Montresor reappeared.

"What, is nothing ready yet?" said the chief provost, to whom the two

newcomers bowed respectfully. "Do you know," he went on to the big man and

his two satellites, "that Monsieur le Cardinal supposes you to be getting

on with your work?--Doctor," he added, turning to one of the newcomers,

"here is your man," and he pointed to Christophe.

The doctor went up to the prisoner, untied his hands, and sounded his back

and chest. Science quite seriously repeated the torturer's investigation.

Meanwhile, a servant in the livery of the House of Guise brought in several

chairs, a table, and all the materials for writing.

"Begin your report," said Monsieur de Montresor to the second person who

had come in, dressed in black, who was a clerk.

Then he came back to stand by Christophe, to whom he said very mildly:

"My boy, the Chancellor, having learned that you refuse to give

satisfactory replies to my questions, has decided that you must be put to

the torture--ordinary and extraordinary."

"Is he in good health, and can he bear it?" the clerk asked of the doctor.

"Yes," said the man of medicine, a physician attached to the House of

Lorraine.

"Well, then, retire to the adjoining room; we will send for you if it is

necessary to consult you."

The physician left the room.

His first panic past, Christophe collected all his courage. The hour of his

martyrdom was come. He now looked on with cold curiosity at the

arrangements made by the executioner and his varlets. After hastily making

up a bed, they proceeded to prepare a machine called the boot, consisting

of boards, between which each leg of the victim was placed, surrounded with

pads. The machinery used by bookbinders to press the volumes between two

boards, which they tighten with cords, will give a very exact idea of the

way in which each leg was encased. It is easy, then, to imagine the effect

of a wedge driven home by a mallet between the two cases in which the legs

were confined, and which, being tightly bound with rope, could not yield.

The wedges were driven in at the knees and ankles, as if to split a log of

wood. The choice of these two spots where there is least flesh, and where,

in consequence, the wedge found room at the expense of the bones, made this

form of torture horribly painful. In ordinary torture four wedges were

driven in--two at the knees and two at the ankles; in extraordinary torture

as many as eight were employed, if the physician pronounced that the

victim's powers of endurance were not exhausted.

At this period the boots were also applied to the hands; but as time

pressed, the Cardinal, the Lieutenant-General of the kingdom, and the

Chancellor spared Christophe this.

The preamble to the examination was written; the provost himself had

dictated a few sentences, walking about the room with a meditative air, and

requiring Christophe to tell him his name--Christian name--age, and

profession; then he asked him from whom he had received the papers he had

delivered to the Queen.

"From Chaudieu the minister," said he.

"Where did he give them to you?"

"At my own home in Paris."

"When he handed them to you, he must have told you whether the Queen-mother

would receive you well."

"He told me nothing of the kind," replied Christophe. "He only desired me

to give them secretly to Queen Catherine."

"Then have you often seen Chaudieu, that he knew that you were coming

here?"

"It was not from me that he heard that I was to carry the furs to the two

Queens, and at the same time to ask in my father's behalf for the money

owed him by the Queen-mother; nor had I time to ask him who had told him."

"But those papers, given to you without any wrapper or seal, contain a

treaty between the rebels and Queen Catherine. You must have known that

they exposed you to the risk of suffering the punishment dealt out to those

who are implicated in a rebellion."

"Yes."

"The persons who induced you to commit an act of high treason must have

promised you some reward and the Queen-mother's patronage."

"I did it out of attachment to Chaudieu, the only person I saw."

"Then you persist in declaring that you did not see the Prince de Conde?"

"Yes."