sign of adieu. The two men were La Mole and Orthon.

Marguerite pointed them out to Charles.

"Well!" said the King, "what does this mean?"

"It means," replied Marguerite, "that Monsieur le Duc d'Alencon may put
his cord back into his pocket, and that Messieurs d'Anjou and de Guise
may sheathe their swords, for Monsieur de la Mole will not pass through
the corridor again to-night."

CHAPTER XL.

THE ATRIDES.

Since his return to Paris, Henry of Anjou had not seen his mother
Catharine alone, and, as every one knows, he was her favorite son.

This visit was not merely for the sake of etiquette, nor the carrying
out of a painful ceremony, but the accomplishment of a very sweet duty
for this son who, if he did not love his mother, was at least sure of
being tenderly loved by her.

Catharine loved this son best either because of his bravery, his
beauty,--for besides the mother, there was the woman in Catharine,--or
because, according to some scandalous chronicles, Henry of Anjou
reminded the Florentine of a certain happy epoch of secret love.

Catharine alone knew of the return of the Duc d'Anjou to Paris. Charles
IX. would have been ignorant of it had not chance led him to the Hotel
de Conde just as his brother was leaving it. Charles had not expected
him until the following day, and Henry of Anjou had hoped to conceal
from him the two motives which had hastened his arrival by a day,
namely, his visit to the beautiful Marie of Cleves, princess of Conde,
and his conference with the Polish ambassadors.

It was this last reason, of the object of which Charles was uncertain,
which the Duc d'Anjou had to explain to his mother. And the reader,
ignorant on this point as was Henry of Navarre, will profit by the
explanation.

When the Duc d'Anjou, so long expected, entered his mother's rooms,
Catharine, usually so cold and formal, and who since the departure of
her favorite son had embraced with effusion no one but Coligny, who was
to be assassinated the following day, opened her arms to the child of
her love, and pressed him to her heart with a burst of maternal
affection most surprising in a heart already long grown cold.

Then pushing him from her she gazed at him and again drew him into her
arms.

"Ah, madame," said he, "since Heaven grants me the privilege of
embracing my mother in private, console me, for I am the most wretched
man alive."

"Oh, my God! my beloved child," cried Catharine, "what has