vannes, one of the friends of the king's youth, in a low voice.

The king rose again and led this companion of his youthful pleasures
apart into the embrasure of the window at the corner of the room,
saying, when they were out of hearing:--

"I want you. Remain here when the others go. I shall know to-night
whether you are for me or against me. Don't look astonished. I am about
to burst my bonds. My mother is the cause of all the evil about me.
Three months hence I shall be king indeed, or dead. Silence, if you
value your life! You will have my secret, you and Solern and Villeroy
only. If it is betrayed, it will be by one of you three. Don't keep near
me; go and pay your court to my mother. Tell her I am dying, and that
you don't regret it, for I am only a poor creature."

The king was leaning on the shoulder of his old favorite, and pretending
to tell him of his ailments, in order to mislead the inquisitive eyes
about him; then, not wishing to make his aversion too visible, he went
up to his wife and mother and talked with them, calling Birago to their
side.

Just then Pinard, one of the secretaries of State, glided like an eel
through the door and along the wall until he reached the queen-mother,
in whose ear he said a few words, to which she replied by an affirmative
sign. The king did not ask his mother the meaning of this conference,
but he returned to his seat and kept silence, darting terrible looks of
anger and suspicion all about him.

This little circumstance seemed of enormous consequence in the eyes
of the courtiers; and, in truth, so marked an exercise of power by the
queen-mother, without reference to the king, was like a drop of water
overflowing the cup. Queen Elizabeth and the Comtesse de Fiesque now
retired, but the king paid no attention to their movements, though the
queen-mother rose and attended her daughter-in-law to the door; after
which the courtiers, understanding that their presence was unwelcome,
took their leave. By ten o'clock no one remained in the hall but a few
intimates,--the two Gondis, Tavannes, Solern, Birago, the king, and the
queen-mother.

The king sat plunged in the blackest melancholy. The silence was
oppressive. Catherine seemed embarrassed. She wished to leave the
room, and waited for the king to escort her to the door; but he still
continued obstinately lost in thought. At last she rose to bid him
good-night, and Charles IX. was forced to do likewise. As she took
his a