urmured Charles, "always hidden plots, always conspiracies around
the King. And yet, the devil! mother, I am grown up, and big enough to
look out for myself. I need neither leading-strings nor padded caps. Go
to Poland with your son Henry if you wish to reign; I tell you you are
wrong to play this kind of game here."

"My son," said Catharine, "this is the last time I shall meddle with
your affairs. But the enterprise in which you have always thwarted me
was begun long ago, and I have earnestly endeavored to prove to your
Majesty that I am right."

At that moment several men stopped in the outer hall and the butt-ends
of muskets were heard on the pavement. Almost at the same instant
Monsieur de Nancey begged an audience of the King.

"Let him enter," said Charles, hastily.

Monsieur de Nancey appeared, saluted the King, and turning to Catharine
said:

"Madame, your majesty's orders are executed; he is captured."

"What _he_?" cried Catharine, greatly troubled. "Have you arrested only
one?"

"He was alone, madame."

"Did he defend himself?"

"No, he was supping quietly in a room, and gave up his sword the moment
it was demanded."

"Who?" asked the King.

"You shall see," said Catharine. "Bring in the prisoner, Monsieur de
Nancey."

Five minutes later De Mouy was there.

"De Mouy!" cried the King; "what is the matter now, monsieur?"

"Well, sire," said De Mouy, with perfect composure, "if your Majesty
will allow me the liberty, I will ask the same of you."

"Instead of asking this question of the King," said Catharine, "have the
kindness, Monsieur de Mouy, to tell my son who was the man found in the
chamber of the King of Navarre a certain night, and who on that night
resisted the orders of his Majesty like the rebel that he is, killed two
guards, and wounded Monsieur de Maurevel?"

"Yes," said Charles, frowning, "do you know the name of that man,
Monsieur de Mouy?"

"Yes, sire; does your Majesty wish to hear it?"

"That will please me, I admit."

"Well, sire, he is called De Mouy de Saint Phale."

"It was you?"

"It was I."

Catharine, astonished at this audacity, recoiled a step.

"How did you dare resist the orders of the King?" asked Charles.

"In the first place, sire, I did not know that there was an order from
your Majesty; then I saw only one thing, or rather one man, Monsieur de
Maurevel, the assassin of my father and of the admiral. I remembered
that a year and a half ago, in the