Part 17 (2/2)
”Eh! what say you, Claude?” inquired Catharine, turning round.
”Nothing, mother.”
”You were whispering to Marguerite.”
”Simply to wish her good-night, and convey a greeting to her from the d.u.c.h.esse de Nevers.”
”And where is that fair d.u.c.h.ess?”
”At her brother-in-law's, M. de Guise's.”
Catharine looked suspiciously at the women and frowning:
”Come here, Claude,” said the queen mother.
Claude obeyed, and the queen seized her hand.
”What did you say to her, indiscreet girl that you are?” she murmured, squeezing her daughter's wrist until she nearly shrieked with pain.
”Madame,” said Henry to his wife, having lost nothing of the movements of the queen, Claude, or Marguerite,--”madame, will you allow me the honor of kissing your hand?”
Marguerite extended her trembling hand.
”What did she say to you?” whispered Henry, as he stooped to imprint a kiss on her hand.
”Not to go out. In the name of Heaven, do not you go out either!”
This was like a flash; but by its light, swift as it was, Henry at once detected a complete plot.
”This is not all,” added Marguerite; ”here is a letter, which a country gentleman brought.”
”Monsieur de la Mole?”
”Yes.”
”Thank you,” he said, taking the letter and putting it under his doublet; and, pa.s.sing in front of his bewildered wife, he placed his hand on the shoulder of the Florentine.
”Well, Maitre Rene!” he said, ”and how go commercial affairs?”
”Pretty well, monseigneur,--pretty well,” replied the poisoner, with his perfidious smile.
”I should think so,” said Henry, ”with men who, like you, supply all the crowned heads at home and abroad.”
”Except the King of Navarre,” replied the Florentine, impudently.
”_Ventre saint gris_, Maitre Rene,” replied the king, ”you are right; and yet my poor mother, who also bought of you, recommended you to me with her dying breath. Come to me to-morrow, Maitre Rene, or day after to-morrow, and bring your best perfumes.”
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