had actually dared to parade
the streets, with angry cries at being deprived of the hideous spectacle
of an expiation. "_Au feu, au feu_! Death to the Christaudins!" I
still seem to hear their voices.

And so the time was ripe for the law to claim its prey, for the shameless
three to gather in their spoil, and for an evil, vindictive woman to
accomplish her revenge. The King was at Fontainebleau, whither he had
gone, accompanied by La Valentinois and the Court. The Queen was at St.
Germain-en-Laye, and the Louvre--except for its guards--was deserted. On
the morning of the fifth day, however, the Queen returned, and although
she knew what had happened she summoned me before her to hear the story
from my lips. I found her in her study with three or four of her ladies.
Catherine looked pale and heavy-eyed, and there were hard lines about her
mouth. It was said she had never smiled since the day of the masque. I
for one am certain it was from that day her secretive nature took the
dark and devious course that led her to be what she became; but now it
was only the beginning.

I said what I had to say briefly, and when I was done the Queen looked up
at me.

"Is this all?"

I bowed in silent response, and after a pause she continued:

"I know what you would ask. I have done my best. I have written to the
King to pardon Mademoiselle de Paradis, as he forgave Madame de Rentigny.
I wrote at once, four days ago." And then she flushed to her temples as
she added: "Up to now there has been no answer. It is useless to go
myself----"

Her voice almost broke, and I looked aside, only to meet Mademoiselle
Davila's eyes. They were swimming with tears.

It was now there arose an unusual bustle in the anteroom. The doors were
thrown back, and in a loud voice the ushers announced the Duchess de
Valentinois. For a moment Diane stood in the doorway, a little crowd
behind her, and then, tall and stately, walked slowly up to the Queen and
courtesied profoundly. Catherine remained frigidly still, as though
oblivious of her presence, and amidst a dead silence Diane stood before
the Queen, a faint smile playing on her lips, her eyelids drooped to
cover the defiant fire of her glance. One might have counted ten as the
two faced each other, and then Diane spoke:

"I have come, your Majesty, from the King."

Catherine's eyebrows arched, and a swift, lightning glance of hatred
passed between the two. Then Diane's lids dr