ven by me to the queen-mother, Catherine de Medici.--Rene,"
and then dismissed him.

Henry, at his own prayer and for his personal safety, was confined in
the prison of Vincennes by the king's order. Charles grew worse, and the
physicians discussed his malady without daring to guess at the truth.

Then Catherine came one day and explained to the king the cause of his
disease.

"Listen, my son; you believe in magic?"

"Oh, fully," said Charles, repressing his smile of incredulity.

"Well," continued Catherine, "all your sufferings proceed from magic. An
enemy afraid to attack you openly has done so in secret; a terrible
conspiracy has been directed against your majesty. You doubt it,
perhaps, but I know it for a certainty."

"I never doubt what you tell me," replied the king sarcastically. "I am
curious to know how they have sought to kill me."

"By magic. Look here." The queen drew from under her mantle a figure of
yellow wax about ten inches high, wearing a robe covered with golden
stars, and over this a royal mantle.

"See, it has on its head a crown," said Catherine, "and there is a
needle in its heart. Now do you recognise yourself?"

"Myself?"

"Yes, in your royal robes, with the crown on your head."

"And who made this figure?" asked-the king, weary of the wretched farce.
"The King of Navarre, of course!"

"No, sire; he did not actually make it, but it was found in the rooms of
M. de la Mole, who serves the King of Navarre."

"So, then, the person who seeks to kill me is M. de la Mole?" said
Charles.

"He is only the instrument, and behind the instrument is the hand that
directs it," replied Catherine.

"This, then, is the cause of my illness. And now what must I do--for I
know nothing of sorcery?"

"The death of the conspirator destroys the charm. Its power ends with
his life. You are convinced now, are you not, of the cause of your
illness?"

"Oh, certainly," Charles answered ironically. "And I am to punish M. de
la Mole, as you say he is the guilty party?"

"I say he is the instrument, and," muttered Catherine, "we have
infallible means for making him confess the name of his principal."

Catherine left hurriedly without understanding the sardonic laughter of
the king, and as she went out Marguerite appeared.

"Oh, sire--sire," cried Marguerite, "you know what _she_ says is false.
It is terrible to accuse anyone's own mother, but she only lives to
persecute the man who is devoted to you