ood he lost has taken away all his strength."

"Have you seen the letters?"

"Here they are."

Rene drew a paper from his pocket and handed it to Catharine, who
hastily unfolded it.

"An _m_ and an _o_," said she. "Could it have been La Mole, and was all
that acting of Marguerite done to throw me off the track?"

"Madame," said Rene, "if I dared to express my opinion in a matter about
which your majesty hesitates to give yours I should say that I believe
Monsieur de la Mole is too much in love to be seriously interested in
politics."

"You think so?"

"Yes, and above all too much in love with the Queen of Navarre to serve
the King very devotedly; for there is no real love without jealousy."

"You think that he is very much in love, then?"

"I am sure of it."

"Has he been to you?"

"Yes."

"Did he ask you for some potion or philter?"

"No, we kept to the wax figure."

"Pierced to the heart?"

"To the heart."

"And this figure still exists?"

"Yes."

"Have you it?"

"It is in my rooms."

"It would be strange," said Catharine, "if these cabalistic preparations
really had the power attributed to them."

"Your majesty is a better judge of that than I."

"Is the Queen of Navarre in love with Monsieur de la Mole?"

"She loves him enough to ruin herself for him. Yesterday she saved him
from death at the risk of her honor and her life. You see, madame, and
yet you still doubt."

"Doubt what?"

"Science."

"Science also deceives me," said Catharine, looking steadily at Rene,
who bore her gaze without flinching.

"About what?"

"Oh! you know what I mean; unless, of course, it was the scholar and not
science."

"I do not know what you mean, madame," replied the Florentine.

"Rene, have your perfumes lost their odor?"

"No, madame, not when I use them; but it is possible that in passing
through the hands of others"--

Catharine smiled and shook her head.

"Your opiate has done wonders, Rene," said she; "Madame de Sauve's lips
are fresher and rosier than ever."

"It is not my opiate that is responsible for that, madame. The Baroness
de Sauve, using the privilege of every pretty woman to be capricious,
has said nothing more to me about this opiate, and after the suggestion
from your majesty I thought it best to send her no more of it. So that
all the boxes are still in my house just as you left them, with the
exception of one which disappeared, I know not how or why."

"That is well,