ce as hard as steel, Catherine
de Medicis said to her favourite maid-of-honour:

"Mademoiselle La Beauce--my jewel-casket--quick, please."

La Beauce bowed, and slipped away, and we all looked on in wonder at
the strange scene. Presently she returned with a small but heavy
casket in her hands. Catherine opened it with a key she detached from
a chain she wore at her neck, and as the lid fell back the glittering
splendour of the Crown diamonds of France was disclosed to view.

"They have been worn by a line of queens, sire," said Catherine as she
placed the box in Henri's hands; "they ought well to become Madame
Diane de Poitiers, and cure her megrims."

With this she made a profound bow, and withdrew. When she had gone
there was an absolute silence; and then the King laughed, an uneasy,
foolish laugh.

"And all this because I want to borrow a few stones for the masque!" he
exclaimed as he thrust the box into the hands of one of his gentleman.
"Take this, Carnavalet!" And swinging round on his heel he went as he
had come, his suite clattering behind him.

As he went we heard through the open doors the cries of "_Vive le
Roi_!" from those in the gallery outside, and then all was still once
more.

The salon, but a short time before so bright and gay, emptied like
magic. I stood where I was, leaning against a pillar, wondering at the
scene through which I had passed, and hardly realising that I was
alone. No, not alone, for mademoiselle stood before me, her hand
outstretched.

"Oh, monsieur, this is a horrible place! Why did I ever come?"

I could say nothing, for she too had seen and heard all that had passed.

"But it is not this I came to talk about. I waited so as to be able to
congratulate M. Bertrand Broussel, the worthy citizen of Paris." And
she laughed as she added: "I was sure of it from the first; I knew it
could never be."

"May I also say that I was sure that Cujus the furrier never had a
niece?"

She made a little impatient gesture with her hand. "I do not believe
you will ever forget that, monsieur."

"Never."

"And you are not leaving Paris, then?" she asked after a moment's pause.

"I cannot now," I answered.

"Then," she laughed, "the furrier's niece and Monsieur Broussel will
meet again. _Au revoir_, Chevalier!"

And she was gone.

CHAPTER XXI

THE HOUSE IN THE PASSAGE OF PITY

The next day, about the time appointed by La Marmotte, I presented
myself at Maitre B