seditious persons? Is it I, monsieur,
who am responsible for such failures? If you had an heir, would the Duc
d'Alencon be now conspiring?"

As she ended these words, Catherine fixed upon her son the magnetic
glance of a bird of prey upon its victim. The daughter of the Medici
became magnificent; her real self shone upon her face, which, like
that of a gambler over the green table, glittered with vast cupidities.
Charles IX. saw no longer the mother of one man, but (as was said of
her) the mother of armies and of empires,--_mater castrorum_. Catherine
had now spread wide the wings of her genius, and boldly flown to the
heights of the Medici and Valois policy, tracing once more the mighty
plans which terrified in earlier days her husband Henri II., and which,
transmitted by the genius of the Medici to Richelieu, remain in writing
among the papers of the house of Bourbon. But Charles IX., hearing the
unusual persuasions his mother was using, thought that there must be
some necessity for them, and he began to ask himself what could be her
motive. He dropped his eyes; he hesitated; his distrust was not lessened
by her studied phrases. Catherine was amazed at the depths of suspicion
she now beheld in her son's heart.

"Well, monsieur," she said, "do you not understand me? What are we, you
and I, in comparison with the eternity of royal crowns? Do you suppose
me to have other designs than those that ought to actuate all royal
persons who inhabit the sphere where empires are ruled?"

"Madame, I will follow you to your cabinet; we must act--"

"Act!" cried Catherine; "let our enemies alone; let _them_ act; take
them red-handed, and law and justice will deliver you from their
assaults. For God's sake, monsieur, show them good-will."

The queen withdrew; the king remained alone for a few moments, for he
was utterly overwhelmed.

"On which side is the trap?" thought he. "Which of the two--she or
they--deceive me? What is my best policy? _Deus, discerne causam meam_!"
he muttered with tears in his eyes. "Life is a burden to me! I prefer
death, natural or violent, to these perpetual torments!" he cried
presently, bringing down his hammer upon the anvil with such force that
the vaults of the palace trembled.

"My God!" he said, as he went outside and looked up at the sky, "thou
for whose holy religion I struggle, give me the light of thy countenance
that I may penetrate the secrets of my mother's heart while I question
the R