THE VALOIS SAGA: Queen Margot, Chicot de Jester & The Forty-Five Guardsmen (Historical Novels). Alexandre Dumas

the brain to burst like a thunderclap,’” she read on to herself. Then in a low voice:

      “For the fever, six hours; for the general inflammation, twelve hours; for the gangrene, twelve hours; for the suffering, six hours; in all thirty-six hours. Now, suppose that the absorption is slow, and that instead of thirty-six hours we have forty, even forty-eight, yes, forty-eight hours should suffice. But Henry, how is it that he is still up? Because he is a man, because he has a strong constitution, because perhaps he drank after he kissed her, and wiped his lips after drinking.”

      Catharine awaited the dinner hour with impatience.

      Henry dined every day at the king’s table. He came, he in turn complained of pain in his head; he ate nothing, and withdrew immediately after the meal, saying that having been awake a part of the previous night, he felt a pressing need of sleep.

      Catharine listened as his uncertain steps died away. Then she had him followed. She was told that the King of Navarre had gone to Madame de Sauve’s apartments.

      “Henry,” said she to herself, “will this evening complete the work of death which some unfortunate chance has left half finished.”

      The King of Navarre had indeed gone to Madame de Sauve’s room, but it was to tell her to continue playing her rôle.

      The whole of the following morning Henry did not leave his chamber; nor did he appear at dinner. Madame de Sauve, they said, was growing worse and worse, and the report of Henry’s illness, spread abroad by Catharine herself, sped like one of those presentiments which hover in the air, but which no one can explain.

      Catharine was delighted. The previous morning she had sent Ambroise Paré to help one of her favorite servants, who was ill at Saint Germain, so it had to be one of her own men who was called in to see Madame de Sauve and Henry. This man would say only what she wished him to say. If, contrary to all expectation, some other doctor had been summoned, and if some whisper concerning poison had frightened the court, in which so many such reports had already been circulated, she counted greatly on the rumor to arouse the jealousy of Marguerite regarding the various loves of her husband. We remember she had spoken strongly of this jealousy which had been apparent on various occasions; among others, on the hawthorn walk, where, in the presence of several persons, she had said to her daughter:

      “So you are very jealous, Marguerite?” Therefore, with unruffled features she waited for the door to open, when some pale, startled servant would enter, crying:

      “Your majesty, the King of Navarre has been hurt, and Madame de Sauve is dead!” Four o’clock in the afternoon struck. Catharine finished her luncheon in the aviary, where she was crumbling some bread for her rare birds which she herself had raised. Although her face was calm and even gloomy, as usual, her heart throbbed violently at the slightest sound. Suddenly the door opened.

      “Madame,” said the captain of the guards, “the King of Navarre is”—

      “Ill?” hastily interrupted Catharine.

      “No, madame, thank God! His majesty seems to be wonderfully well.”

      “What is it, then?”

      “The King of Navarre is here.”

      “What does he want?”

      “He is bringing your majesty a rare kind of monkey.”

      Just then Henry entered holding in his hand a basket, in which was a little monkey he was petting.

      He entered smiling and seemed wholly absorbed in the dear little animal he brought; but occupied as he appeared to be, he did not fail to give his usual first glance around. This was sufficient for him under trying circumstances. As to Catharine, she was very pale, of a pallor which deepened as she saw that the cheeks of the young man were flushed with the glow of health.

      The queen mother was amazed at this turn of affairs. She accepted Henry’s gift mechanically, appeared agitated, complimented him on looking so well, and added:

      “I am all the more pleased to see you looking so, because I heard that you were ill, and because, if I remember rightly, you yourself complained of not feeling well, in my presence. But I understand now,” she added, trying to smile, “it was an excuse so that you might be free.”

      “No, I have really been very ill, madame,” said Henry, “but a specific used in our mountains, and which comes from my mother, has cured my indisposition.”

      “Ah! you will give me the recipe, will you not, Henry?” said Catharine, really smiling this time, but with an irony she could not disguise.

      “Some counter-poison,” she murmured. “We must look into this; but no, seeing Madame de Sauve ill, it will be suspected. Indeed, I believe that the hand of God is over this man.”

      Catharine waited impatiently for the night. Madame de Sauve did not appear. At play she inquired for her, but was told that she was suffering more and more.

      All the evening she was restless, and everyone anxiously wondered what were the thoughts which could move this face usually so calm.

      At length everyone retired. Catharine had herself undressed and put to bed by her ladies-inwaiting. Then when everyone had gone to sleep in the Louvre, she rose, slipped on a long black dressing-gown, took a lamp, chose from her keys the one which unlocked the door of Madame de Sauve’s apartments, and ascended the stairs to see her maid-of-honor.

      Had Henry foreseen this visit? Was he busy in his own rooms? Was he hiding somewhere? However this may have been, the young woman was alone. Catharine opened the door cautiously, crossed the antechamber, entered the reception-room, set her lamp on a table, for a night lamp was burning near the sick woman, and glided like a shadow into the sleeping-room. Dariole in a deep armchair was sleeping near the bed of her mistress.

      This bed was entirely shut in by curtains.

      The respiration of the young woman was so light that for an instant Catharine thought she was not breathing at all.

      At length she heard a slight sigh, and with an evil joy she raised the curtain in order to see for herself the effect of the terrible poison. She trembled in advance at the sight of the livid pallor or the devouring purple of the mortal fever she hoped for. But instead of this, calm, with eyes hidden under their white lids, her mouth rosy and half open, her moist cheek pressed gently against one of her gracefully rounded arms, while the other arm, fresh and pearly, was thrown across the crimson damask which served as counterpane, the beautiful young woman lay sleeping with a smile still on her lips. No doubt some sweet dream brought the smile to her lips, and to her cheek the flush of health which nothing could disturb. Catharine could not refrain from uttering a cry of surprise which roused Dariole for a moment. The queen mother hastily stepped behind the curtains of the bed.

      Dariole opened her eyes, but overcome with sleep, without even wondering in her drowsy mind why she had wakened, the young girl dropped her heavy lids and slept again.

      Then Catharine came from behind the curtain, and glancing at the other objects in the room, saw on a table a bottle of Spanish wine, some fruit, pastry, and two glasses. Henry must have had supper with the baroness, who apparently was as well as himself. Walking on tiptoe, Catharine took up the small silver box that was partly empty. It was the same or very similar to the one she had sent to Charlotte. She removed from it a piece as large as a pearl on the point of a gold needle, returned to her room, and gave it to the little ape which Henry had brought her that evening. Attracted by the aromatic odor the animal devoured it eagerly, and turning around in his basket, went to sleep. Catharine waited a quarter of an hour.

      “With half of what he has just eaten,” said she, “my dog Brutus died, swelling up instantly. Some one has played me a trick. Is it Réné? Impossible. Then it is Henry. O fatality! It is very evident that since he is to reign he cannot die. But perhaps the poison was not strong enough. We shall see by trying steel.”

      And Catharine went to bed revolving in her mind a fresh idea which no doubt was perfected the following day; for she called her captain of the guards to her, gave him a letter, ordered