Well, Maitre Rene!" he said, "and how go commercial affairs?"

"Pretty well, monseigneur,--pretty well," replied the poisoner, with his
perfidious smile.

"I should think so," said Henry, "with men who, like you, supply all the
crowned heads at home and abroad."

"Except the King of Navarre," replied the Florentine, impudently.

"_Ventre saint gris_, Maitre Rene," replied the king, "you are right;
and yet my poor mother, who also bought of you, recommended you to me
with her dying breath. Come to me to-morrow, Maitre Rene, or day after
to-morrow, and bring your best perfumes."

"That would not be a bad notion," said Catharine, smiling; "for it is
said"--

"That I need some perfumery," interrupted Henry, laughing; "who told you
that, mother? Was it Margot?"

"No, my son," replied Catharine, "it was Madame de Sauve."

At this moment the Duchesse de Lorraine, who in spite of all her efforts
could no longer contain herself, burst into loud sobs.

Henry did not even turn toward her.

"Sister, what is the matter?" cried Marguerite, darting toward Claude.

"Nothing," said Catharine, passing between the two young women,
"nothing; she has those nervous attacks, for which Mazille prescribes
aromatic preparations."

And again, and with still more force than before, she pressed her eldest
daughter's arm; then, turning toward the youngest:

"There, Margot," she said, "did you not hear me request you to retire to
your room? If that is not sufficient, I command you."

"Excuse me, madame," replied Marguerite, trembling and pale; "I wish
your majesty good-night."

"I hope your wishes may be heard. Good-night--good-night!"

Marguerite withdrew, staggering, and in vain seeking to meet her
husband's eyes, but he did not even turn toward her.

There was a moment's silence, during which Catharine remained with her
eyes fastened on the Duchess of Lorraine, who, without speaking, looked
at her mother with clasped hands.

Henry's back was still turned, but he was watching the scene in a
mirror, while seeming to curl his mustache with a pomade which Rene had
just given to him.

"And you, Henry," said Catharine, "are you still intending to go out?"

"Yes, that's true," exclaimed the king. "Faith, I was forgetting that
the Duc d'Alencon and the Prince de Conde are waiting for me! These are
admirable perfumes; they quite overpower one, and destroy one's memory.
Good evening, madame."

"Good evening! To-morrow you will perh