that he was forever excluded
from the throne of France.

Instead of following the King he retired to his mother's apartments.

He found her no less gloomy and preoccupied than himself, for she was
thinking of that fine mocking face she had not lost sight of during the
ceremony, of the Bearnais for whom destiny had seemed to make way,
sweeping aside kings, royal assassins, enemies, and obstacles.

Seeing her beloved son pale beneath his crown, and bent under his royal
mantle, clasping his beautiful hands in silence, and holding them out to
her piteously, Catharine rose and went to him.

"Oh, mother," cried the King of Poland, "I am condemned to die in
exile!"

"My son," said Catharine, "have you so soon forgotten Rene's prediction?
Do not worry, you will not have to stay there long."

"Mother, I entreat you," said the Duc d'Anjou, "if there is the
slightest hint, or the least suspicion, that the throne of France is to
be vacant, send me word."

"Do not worry, my son," said Catharine. "Until the day for which both of
us are waiting, there shall always be a horse saddled in my stable, and
in my antechamber a courier ready to set out for Poland."

CHAPTER XLIV.

ORESTES AND PYLADES.

Henry of Anjou having departed, peace and happiness seemed to have
returned to the Louvre, among this family of the Atrides.

Charles, forgetting his melancholy, recovered his vigorous health,
hunting with Henry, and on days when this was not possible discussing
hunting affairs with him, and reproaching him for only one thing, his
indifference to hawking, declaring that he would be faultless if he knew
how to snare falcons, gerfalcons, and hawks as well as he knew how to
hunt brocks and hounds.

Catharine had become a good mother again. Gentle to Charles and
D'Alencon, affectionate to Henry and Marguerite, gracious to Madame de
Nevers and Madame de Sauve; and under the pretext that it was in
obedience to an order from her that he had been wounded, she carried her
amiabilities so far as to visit Maurevel twice during his convalescence,
in his house in the Rue de la Cerisaie.

Marguerite continued to carry on her love affair after the Spanish
fashion.

Every evening she opened her window and by gestures and notes kept up
her correspondence with La Mole, while in each of his letters the young
man reminded his lovely queen of her promise of a few moments in the Rue
Cloche Percee as a reward for his exile.

Only one pe