Part 135 (1/2)

”Yes, yes,” murmured Francois, ”I have already noticed that Henry is very humble with my brother Charles.”

”Clever in trying to please him in everything.”

”So much so that because of being always rallied by the King as to his ignorance of hawking he has begun to study it; and yesterday, yes, it was only yesterday, he asked me if I had not some books on that sport.”

”Well,” said Catharine, whose eyes sparkled as if an idea had suddenly come to her, ”what did you answer him?”

”That I would look in my library.”

”Good,” said Catharine, ”he must have this book.”

”But I looked, madame, and found nothing.”

”I will find one--and you shall give it to him as though it came from you.”

”And what will come of this?”

”Have you confidence in me, D'Alencon?”

”Yes, mother.”

”Will you obey me blindly so far as Henry is concerned? For whatever you may have said you do not love him.”

D'Alencon smiled.

”And I detest him,” continued Catharine.

”Yes, I will obey you.”

”Well, the day after to-morrow come here for the book; I will give it to you, you shall take it to Henry, and”--

”And?”

”Leave the rest to Providence or to chance.”

Francois knew his mother well enough to realize that she was not in the habit of leaving to Providence or to chance the care of friends.h.i.+ps or hatreds. But he said nothing, and bowing like a man who accepts the commission with which he is charged, he returned to his own apartments.

”What does she mean?” thought the young man as he mounted the stairs. ”I cannot see. But what I do understand in all this is that she acts like our common enemy. Well, let her go ahead.”

Meantime Marguerite, through La Mole, had received a letter from De Mouy to the King of Navarre. As in politics the two ill.u.s.trious allies had no secrets, she opened the letter and read it.

The letter must have interested her, for, taking advantage of the darkness which was beginning to overshadow the walls of the Louvre, Marguerite at once hurried along the secret corridor, ascended the winding stairway, and, having looked carefully about on all sides, glided on like a shadow and disappeared within the antechamber of the King of Navarre.

This room had been unguarded since the disappearance of Orthon.

This circ.u.mstance, of which we have not spoken since the reader learned of the tragic fate of poor Orthon, had greatly troubled Henry. He had spoken of it to Madame de Sauve and to his wife, but neither of them knew any more about it than he did. Madame de Sauve had given him some information from which it was perfectly clear to Henry's mind that the poor boy had been a victim of some machination of the queen mother, and that this was why he himself had been interrupted with De Mouy in the inn of the _Belle etoile_. Any other than Henry would have kept silence, fearing to speak, but Henry calculated everything. He realized that his silence would betray him. One does not as a rule lose one's servitor and confidant thus, without making inquiries about him and looking for him.

So Henry asked and searched even in the presence of the King and the queen mother, and of every one, from the sentinel who walked before the gate of the Louvre to the captain of the guards, keeping watch in the antechamber of the King; but all inquiry and search was in vain, and Henry seemed so affected by the circ.u.mstance and so attached to the poor absent servitor that he said he would not put another in his place until he was perfectly sure that Orthon had disappeared forever.

So the antechamber, as we have said, was empty when Marguerite reached it.