CHAPTER XVI.

LA REINE MARGOT

The Bearnais was too wise to venture so near the wolf's den as Loches or
Tours. The conference, therefore, took place in the little town of
Argenton, perched along either side of the Creuse, a huddle of
wooden-fronted houses cascading down to a clear blue river, every
balcony filled with flowers and fluttering that day with banners.

Catherine, the Queen-Mother, was to travel from Chartres to represent
her son King Henry III. of Valois, of Poland, and of France. Henry the
Bearnais rode over from his entrenched camp at Beauregard with a retinue
of Huguenot gentlemen, whose plain dark armour and weather-beaten
features showed more acquaintance with camp than with court.

The Bearnais, as usual, proved himself gay, kindly, debonnaire. The
Queen-Mother (also as usual) was ambassador for her slothful son,
conscious that her last summer was waning, mostly doing her travelling
in a litter. Catherine de Medici never forgot for a moment that she was
the centre round which forty years of intrigue had revolved. The wife of
one king of France, the mother of three others, she played her part as
in her youngest days. With death grappling at her heart, she surrounded
herself with the flower of the youth and beauty of Italy and France,
laughing with the gayest and ready with smile and gracious word for
king or knave.

The deportment of the Bearnais was in strong contrast with that of his
Huguenot suite. The King of Navarre made merry with all the world. He
was ever the centre of a bright and changeful group of maids-of-honour
to the Queen-Mother, with whom he jested and laughed freely, till Rosny
whispered behind his hand to D'Aubigne, "If this goes on, we shall make
but a poor treaty of it!"

And to him D'Aubigne replied grimly, "I will wager that my Lord Duke
d'Epernon looks well to that."

"No," said Rosny shortly, "the old vixen is the sly renard."

Soon the festival ran its blithest. The Queen-Mother had withdrawn
herself, possibly to repose, certainly to plot. With D'Epernon and the
maids-of-honour the Bearnais remained, our Abbe John by his side,
laughing with the merriest. Turenne and the other Huguenot veterans
brooded sullenly in the background, seeing matters go badly, but not
able to help it. Afterwards--well, they had a way all their own of
speaking their minds. And the brave, good-humoured king would heed them
too, in nowise growing angry with their freedoms. But, alas! by that
t