in the Chambre de Diane de Poitiers; but the portrait by Leonardo da
Vinci, which was supposed to best show her charms, has now disappeared
from the Long Gallery at the chateau. This portrait was painted at the
command of Francois, before Diane transferred her affections to his
son.

No one knows when or how Diane de Poitiers first came to fascinate
Francois, or how or why her power waned. At any rate at the time
Francois pardoned her father, the witless Comte de St. Vallier, for
the treacherous part he played in the Bourbon conspiracy, he really
believed her to to be the "brightest ornament of a beauty-loving
court."

Certainly, Diane was a powerful factor in the politics of her time,
tho Francois himself soon tired of her. Undaunted by this, she
forthwith set her cap for his son Henri, the Duc d'Orleans, and won
him, too. Of her beauty the present generation is able to judge for
itself by reason of the three well-known and excellent portraits of
contemporary times.

Diane's influence over the young Henri was absolute. At his death
her power was, of course, at an end and Chenonceaux, and all else
possible, was taken from her by the orders of Catherine, the
long-suffering wife, who had been put aside for the fascinations of
the charming huntress.

It must have been some satisfaction, however, to Diane, to know that,
in his fatal joust with Montgomery, Henri really broke his lance and
met his death in her honor, for the records tell that he bore her
colors on his lance, besides her initials set in gold and gems on his
shield.

Catherine's eagerness to drive Diane from the court was so great, that
no sooner had her spouse fallen--even tho he did not actually die for
some days--than she sent word to Diane "who sat weeping alone," to
quit the court instantly; to give up the crown jewels--which Henri had
somewhat inconsiderately given her; and to "give up Chenonceaux in
Touraine," Catherine's Naboth's vineyard, which she had so long
admired and coveted.

She had known it as a girl, when she often visited it in company with
her father-in-law, the appreciative but dissolute Francois, and had
ever longed to possess it for her own, before even her husband, now
dead, had given it to "that old hag Diane de Poitiers, Duchesse de
Valentinois."

Diane paid no heed to Catherine's command. She simply asked: "Is the
king yet dead?"

"No, madame," said the messenger, "but his wound is mortal; he can not
live the day."

"T