e caution of a thief, glided like a shadow over the
carpet, saw no one, and bethought her that she should surely surprise
the queen-mother in that magnificent dressing-room which comes between
the bedroom and the oratory. The arrangement of this oratory, to which
the manners of that period gave a role in private life like that of the
boudoirs of our day, can still be traced.

By an almost inexplicable chance, when we consider the state of
dilapidation into which the Crown has allowed the chateau of Blois to
fall, the admirable woodwork of Catherine's cabinet still exists; and
in those delicately carved panels, persons interested in such things
may still see traces of Italian splendor, and discover the secret
hiding-places employed by the queen-mother. An exact description
of these curious arrangements is necessary in order to give a clear
understanding of what was now to happen. The woodwork of the oratory
then consisted of about a hundred and eighty oblong panels, one hundred
of which still exist, all presenting arabesques of different designs,
evidently suggested by the most beautiful arabesques of Italy. The wood
is live-oak. The red tones, seen through the layer of whitewash put
on to avert cholera (useless precaution!), shows very plainly that the
ground of the panels was formerly gilt. Certain portions of the design,
visible where the wash has fallen away, seem to show that they once
detached themselves from the gilded ground in colors, either blue, or
red, or green. The multitude of these panels shows an evident intention
to foil a search; but even if this could be doubted, the concierge of
the chateau, while devoting the memory of Catherine to the execration of
the humanity of our day, shows at the base of these panels and close to
the floor a rather heavy foot-board, which can be lifted, and beneath
which still remain the ingenious springs which move the panels. By
pressing a knob thus hidden, the queen was able to open certain panels
known to her alone, behind which, sunk in the wall, were hiding-places,
oblong like the panels, and more or less deep. It is difficult, even in
these days of dilapidation, for the best-trained eye to detect which of
those panels is thus hinged; but when the eye was distracted by colors
and gilding, cleverly used to conceal the joints, we can readily
conceive that to find one or two such panels among two hundred was
almost an impossible thing.

At the moment when Mary Stuart laid