"_Eros, Cupido, Amor._"

CHAPTER XV.

WHAT WOMAN WILLS, GOD WILLS.

Marguerite was not mistaken: the wrath distilled in the depths of
Catharine's heart at sight of this comedy, the intrigue of which she
followed without being in any way able to change its denouement,
required a victim. So instead of going directly to her own room the
queen mother proceeded to that of her lady in waiting.

Madame de Sauve was in expectation of two visits--one she hoped to
receive from Henry, and the other she feared was in store for her from
the queen mother. As she lay in her bed only partially undressed, while
Dariole kept watch in the antechamber, she heard a key turn in the lock,
and then slowly approaching footsteps which would have seemed heavy if
they had not been deadened by thick rugs. She did not recognize Henry's
light, eager step; she suspected that Dariole was prevented from coming
to warn her, and so leaning on her elbow she waited with eye and ear
alert. The portiere was lifted and the trembling young woman saw
Catharine de Medicis appear.

Catharine seemed calm; but Madame de Sauve, accustomed for two years to
study her, well knew what dark designs, and possibly cruel vengeance,
might be concealed beneath that apparent calm.

At sight of Catharine, Madame de Sauve was about to spring from her bed,
but Catharine signed to her to stay where she was; and poor Charlotte
was fixed to the spot, inwardly endeavoring to collect all the forces of
her soul to endure the storm which was silently gathering.

"Did you convey the key to the King of Navarre?" inquired Catharine,
without the tone of her voice betraying any change; and yet as she spoke
her lips grew paler and paler.

"I did, madame," answered Charlotte, in a voice which she vainly tried
to make as firm and assured as Catherine's was.

"And have you seen him?"

"Who?" asked Madame de Sauve.

"The King of Navarre."

"No, madame; but I am expecting him, and when I heard the key turn in
the lock, I firmly believed it was he."

At this answer, which indicated either perfect confidence or deep
dissimulation on Madame de Sauve's part, Catharine could not repress a
slight shiver. She clinched her short plump hand.

"And yet you knew perfectly well," said she with her evil smile, "you
knew perfectly well, Carlotta, that the King of Navarre would not come
to-night."

"I, madame? I knew that?" exclaimed Charlotte, with a tone of surprise
perfectly well