urage easily aroused even to ferocity; "but I should not amuse myself
killing my subjects; for, after all, the Huguenots are my subjects, as
well as the Catholics."

"Then, sire," said Catharine, "your subjects, the Huguenots, will do
like the wild boar who escapes the spear thrust into his throat: they
will bring down the throne."

"Nonsense! Do you really think so, madame?" said Charles IX., with an
air which denoted that he did not place great faith in his mother's
predictions.

"But have you not seen M. de Mouy and his party to-day?"

"Yes; I have seen them, for I have just left them. But what does he ask
for that is not just? He has requested that his father's murderer and
the admiral's assassin be put to death. Did we not punish M. de
Montgommery for the death of my father and your husband, although that
death was a simple accident?"

"Very well, sire," said Catharine, piqued, "let us say no more. Your
majesty is under the protection of that God who gives you strength,
wisdom, and confidence. But I, a poor woman whom God abandons, no doubt
on account of my sins, fear and yield."

And having said this, Catharine again courteseyed and left the room,
making a sign to the Duc de Guise, who had at that moment entered, to
remain in her place, and try a last effort.

Charles IX. followed his mother with his eye, but this time did not
recall her. He then began to caress his dogs, whistling a hunting-air.

He suddenly paused.

"My mother," said he, "is a royal spirit, and has scruples! Really, now,
it is a cool proposal, to kill off some dozens of Huguenots because they
come to demand justice! Is it not their right?"

"Some dozens!" murmured the Duc de Guise.

"Ah! are you here, sir?" said the King, pretending to see him for the
first time. "Yes, some dozens. A tolerable waste of life! Ah! if any one
came to me and said; 'Sire, you shall be rid of all your enemies at
once, and to-morrow there shall not remain one to reproach you with the
death of the others,' why, then, I do not say"--

"Well, sire?"

"Tavannes," said the King, "you will tire Margot; put her back on her
perch. It is no reason, because she bears the name of my sister, the
Queen of Navarre, that every one should caress her."

Tavannes put the hawk on her perch, and amused himself by curling and
uncurling a greyhound's ears.

"But, sire, if any one should say to your Majesty: 'Sire, your Majesty
shall be delivered from all your enemies to-m