urderers are. Who has entered the pavilion?"
"An old man, wretchedly clothed, whom monseigneur has seen during the
last two days."
"But the woman--"
"We have not seen her--what woman does your majesty mean?"
"A woman has been here, who made a bouquet--"
The two attendants looked at each other with an expression of such
simple surprise that Catherine perceived, by this glance alone, how
perfectly innocent they were.
"Let the governor of the town and the governor of the chateau be sent
for," she said. The two valets hurried to the door.
"One moment!" exclaimed Catherine, fixing them in their places by this
single word as they approached the threshold. "You only and myself are
aware of what I have just told you; I shall not breathe a word about it;
if any one learns it, therefore, it will be from or through one of you;
on that very day both your lives shall be forfeited. Now, go!"
Catherine interrogated the two governors with more reserve. She told
them that the duke had received from some person or persons a
distressing intelligence which had deeply affected him; that that alone
was the cause of his illness, and that if the duke had an opportunity of
putting a few further questions to the persons again, he would in all
probability soon recover from the alarm into which he had been thrown.
The governors instituted the minutest search in the town, the park, the
environs, but no one knew what had become of Remy and Diana.
Henri alone knew the secret, and there was no danger of his betraying
it.
Throughout the whole day, the terrible news, commented upon,
exaggerated, and mutilated, circulated through Chateau-Thierry and the
province; every one explained, according to his own individual character
and disposition, the accident which had befallen the duke.
But no one, except Catherine and Du Bouchage, ventured to acknowledge
that the chance of saving the duke's life was hopeless.
The unhappy prince did not recover either his voice or his senses, or
rather, he ceased to give any sign of intelligence.
The king, who was immediately beset with the gloomiest fancies, which he
dreaded more than anything, would very willingly have returned to Paris;
but the queen-mother opposed his departure, and the court was obliged to
remain at the chateau.
Physicians arrived in crowds; Miron alone guessed the cause of the
illness, and formed an opinion upon its serious nature and extent; but
he was too good a court
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