h the book in her hand.

"Here it is," said she.

D'Alencon looked at the volume with a certain feeling of terror.

"What is this book, madame?" he asked, shuddering.

"I have already told you, my son. It is a treatise on the art of raising
and training falcons, gerfalcons, and hawks, written by a very learned
scholar for Lord Castruccio Castracani, tyrant of Lucca."

"What must I do with it?"

"Take it to your good friend Henriot, who you told me had asked you for
a treatise on the art of hunting. As he is going hawking to-day with the
King he will not fail to read some of it, in order to prove to Charles
that he has followed his advice and taken a lesson or two. The main
thing is to give it into Henry's own hands."

"Oh! I do not dare!" said D'Alencon, shuddering.

"Why not?" asked Catharine; "it is a book like any other except that it
has been packed away for so long that the leaves stick together. Do not
attempt to read it, Francois, for it can be read only by wetting the
finger and turning over each leaf, and this takes time and trouble."

"So that only a man who is very anxious to be instructed in the sport of
hawking would waste his time and go to this trouble?" asked D'Alencon.

"Exactly, my son; you understand."

"Oh!" said D'Alencon; "there is Henriot in the court-yard. Give me the
book, madame. I will take advantage of his absence and go to his room
with it. On his return he will find it."

"I should prefer you to give it to him yourself, Francois, that would be
surer."

"I have already said that I do not dare, madame," replied the duke.

"Very well; but at least put it where he can see it."

"Open? Is there any reason why it should not be open?"

"None."

"Then give it to me."

D'Alencon tremblingly took the book, which Catharine with a firm hand
held out to him.

"Take it," said the queen, "there is no danger--I touch it; besides, you
have gloves on."

This precaution was not enough for D'Alencon, who wrapped the volume in
his cloak.

"Make haste," said Catharine; "Henry may return at any moment."

"You are right, madame. I will go at once."

The duke went out, trembling with fright.

We have often introduced the reader into the apartments of the King of
Navarre, and he has been present at the events which have taken place in
them, events bright or gloomy, according to the smile or frown of the
protecting genius of the future king of France.

But perhaps never had these walls