CHAPTER VI.

THE DEBT PAID.

Now if the reader is curious to know why Monsieur de la Mole was not
received by the King of Navarre, why Monsieur de Coconnas was not
permitted to see Monsieur de Guise, and lastly, why instead of eating
pheasants, partridges, and venison at the Louvre, both supped at the
hotel of the _Belle Etoile_ on an omelet, he must kindly accompany us to
the old palace of kings, and follow the queen, Marguerite of Navarre,
whom La Mole had lost from sight at the entrance of the grand gallery.

While Marguerite was descending the staircase, the duke, Henry de Guise,
whom she had not seen since the night of her marriage, was in the King's
closet. To this staircase which Marguerite was descending there was an
outlet. To the closet in which Monsieur de Guise was there was a door,
and this door and this outlet both led to a corridor, which corridor led
to the apartments of the queen mother, Catharine de Medicis.

Catharine de Medicis was alone, seated near a table, with her elbow
leaning on a prayer-book half open, and her head leaning on a hand still
remarkably beautiful,--by reason of the cosmetics with which she was
supplied by the Florentine Rene, who united the double duty of perfumer
and poisoner to the queen mother.

The widow of Henry II. was clothed in mourning, which she had not thrown
off since her husband's death. At this period she was about fifty-two or
fifty-three years of age, and owing to her stoutness and fair complexion
she preserved much of her early beauty.

Her rooms, like her dress, paraded her widowhood. Everything in them
bore the impress of bereavement: hangings, walls, and furniture were all
in mourning. Only above a kind of dais covering a throne, where at that
moment lay sleeping the little greyhound presented to the queen mother
by her son-in-law, Henry of Navarre, and bearing the mythological name
of Phoebe, was a painted rainbow surrounded by that Greek motto which
King Francois I. had given her: "_Phos pherei e de kai a'ithzen_;" which
may be translated:

"_He brings light and serenity._"

Suddenly, and at a moment when the queen mother appeared deeply plunged
in some thought which brought a half-hesitating smile to her
carmen-painted lips, a man opened the door, raised the tapestry, and
showed his pale face, saying:

"Everything is going badly."

Catharine raised her head and recognized the Duc de Guise.

"Why do you say 'Everything is going badly'?"