e
had given the Duc de Guise her counsel to remain firm, she returned to
her rooms, where she found assembled the persons who were usually
present when she went to bed.

Her face was now as full of joy as it had been downcast when she set
out. With her most agreeable manner she dismissed her women one by one
and her courtiers, and there remained only Madame Marguerite, who,
seated on a coffer near the open window, was looking at the sky,
absorbed in thought.

Two or three times, when she thus found herself alone with her daughter,
the queen mother opened her mouth to speak, but each time a gloomy
thought withheld the words ready to escape her lips.

Suddenly the portiere was raised, and Henry of Navarre appeared.

The little greyhound, which was asleep on the throne, leaped up and
bounded towards him.

"You here, my son!" said Catharine, starting. "Do you sup in the Louvre
to-night?"

"No, madame," replied Henry, "we are going into the city to-night, with
Messieurs d'Alencon and De Conde. I almost expected to find them here
paying their court to you."

Catharine smiled.

"Go, gentlemen, go--men are so fortunate in being able to go about as
they please! Are they not, my daughter?"

"Yes," replied Marguerite, "liberty is so glorious, so sweet a thing."

"Does that imply that I restrict yours, madame?" inquired Henry, bowing
to his wife.

"No, sire; I do not complain for myself, but for women in general."

"Are you going to see the admiral, my son?" asked Catharine.

"Yes, possibly."

"Go, that will set a good example, and to-morrow you will give me news
of him."

"Then, madame, I will go, since you approve of this step."

"Oh," said Catharine, "my approval is nothing--But who goes there? Send
him away, send him away."

Henry started to go to the door to carry out Catharine's order; but at
the same instant the portiere was raised and Madame de Sauve showed her
blond head.

"Madame," said she, "it is Rene, the perfumer, whom your majesty sent
for."

Catharine cast a glance as quick as lightning at Henry of Navarre.

The young prince turned slightly red and then fearfully pale. Indeed,
the name of his mother's assassin had been spoken; he felt that his face
betrayed his emotion, and he went and leaned against the bar of the
window.

The little greyhound growled.

At the same moment two persons entered--the one announced, and the other
having no need to be so.

The first was Rene, the perfumer