y to Catharine, but the
queen had no need of it. She drew from her pocket her own key of the
room, and under its heavy pressure the door yielded.

The room was vacant, Charles's bed was untouched, and his greyhound
Acteon, asleep on the bear-skin that covered the step of the bed, rose
and came forward to lick the ivory hands of Catharine.

"Ah!" said the queen, frowning, "he is out! I will wait for him."

She seated herself, pensive and gloomy, at the window which overlooked
the court of the Louvre, and from which the chief entrance was visible.

For two hours she sat there, as motionless and pale as a marble statue,
when at length she perceived a troop of horsemen returning to the
Louvre, at whose head she recognized Charles and Henry of Navarre.

Then she understood all. Instead of arguing with her in regard to the
arrest of his brother-in-law, Charles had taken him away and so had
saved him.

"Blind, blind, blind!" she murmured. Then she waited. An instant later
footsteps were heard in the adjoining room, which was the armory.

"But, sire," Henry was saying, "now that we have returned to the Louvre,
tell me why you took me away and what is the service you have rendered
me."

"No, no, Henriot," replied Charles, laughing, "some day, perhaps, you
will find out; but for the present it must remain a mystery. Know only
that for the time being you have in all probability brought about a
fierce quarrel between my mother and me."

As he uttered these words, Charles raised the curtain and found himself
face to face with Catharine.

Behind him and above his shoulder rose the pale, anxious countenance of
the Bearnais.

"Ah! you here, madame?" said Charles IX., frowning.

"Yes, my son," said Catharine, "I want to speak to you."

"To me?"

"To you alone."

"Well, well," said Charles, turning to his brother-in-law, "since there
is no escape, the sooner the better."

"I will leave you, sire," said Henry.

"Yes, yes, leave us," replied Charles; "and as you are a Catholic,
Henriot, go and hear a mass for me while I stay for the sermon."

Henry bowed and withdrew.

Charles IX. went directly to the point.

"Well, madame," said he, trying to make a joke of the affair. "By
Heaven! you are waiting to scold me, are you not? I wickedly upset your
little plan. Well, the devil! I could not let the man who had just saved
my life be arrested and taken to the Bastille. Nor did I want to quarrel
with my mother. I am a goo