‘Catherine,’ he said, ‘this is a sorry state of affairs. All these years married― and no sign of a child. Can you explain it?’

‘I can only say, Sire,’ she answered sadly, ‘that if the Dauphin were with me as much as he is with the Sénéchale―’

The King sighed. ‘That boy angers me,’ he interrupted. ‘How like him this is! He is heir to the throne, and he sets his responsibilities light beside his infatuation for a woman. It is incredible.’

‘Sire, I had hoped his infatuation would not last so long,’

‘With that boy anything is possible. Well, Catherine, something must be done, you know. Seven years is a long time. I should have thought it was impossible for him to get children but for the affair at Piedmont. You must not be outdone your young fellow country-woman, daughter.’

He whipped up and rode away. Catherine was in no mood to amuse him. He left her desolate. So he was turning against her, she felt. His voice had sounded less cordial than usual. You must not be outdone― Undoubtedly he had emphasized must. He meant that if she did not soon become enceinte, she could not remain married to his son.

And if I were not married to Henry, thought Catherine, I should no longer wish to live. The King was moody today; had he already decided on the divorce?

She need not have worried. Francis had not given her another thought. He was feeling too unwell to enjoy the chase; he was thinking wistfully of the days of his youth. He thinking also of Anne, and wondering why she had not accompanied him this afternoon. How did she, who was still young and so beautiful, feel towards this aged man that he was becoming? The love of a mistress could not be counted on as could the love of a mother and a sister.

Marguerite, Queen of Navarre had been ambitious for him; Anne was ambitious for herself. He remembered now, how, in the first years of his love for Anne, she had demanded the jewels which he had given to his former mistress, Madame de Chateaubriand; not, she said, of their value, but because of the beautiful devices engraved on them, which the King’s sister had composed. He had been completely under the spell of Anne, and had asked Madame de Chateaubriand to return the jewels. But Anne had been cheated then, for the Chateaubriand had outwitted her by the jewellery melted down so that the inscriptions written for her should not be passed on to another. He had admired his former mistress for that gesture; but Anne had furious been with him and with her. Anne was always imperious, always sure of herself. She was beautiful still and many admired her; that should be so, for Francis must have of the best; but he often wondered if the admiration of those about her was expressed more actively when he was not present. His thoughts went to Admiral Chabot de Brion, Christian de Nançay, Guy de Chabot and others― even including the poet Marot.

Although he could not trust her, he was unhappy without her. If he accused her of infidelity, she would immediately refer to his own failing in that respect.

The sexes were equal at the court of France. It was not for the most promiscuous man in France to complain of his mistress’s lovers.

He could find no pleasure in the hunt without her, so he decided to cut short the afternoon’s sport and return to her. First thing he did when he reached the palace was to go straight to Anne’s apartments. There he found one of her women, Mademoiselle de Colliers, in a state of great agitation; she stammered and blushed, and even dared to attempt to detain him. He brushed her aside and went into chamber, where Christian de Nançay was hastily struggling into his clothes. Anne, in a wrap of cloth of silver, her fair hair in disorder, was, he saw at once, completely at a loss. Mademoiselle de Colliers came running into the room. The girl was more frightened than the guilty pair.

Francis, the purple blood in his face, his heart pounding, summed up the situation at once; the afternoon was hot oppressive, and the girl was terrified because, having set to watch at one of the windows for the King’s return, she had fallen into a doze and had awakened only when it was too to warn her mistress.

Now this sort of thing was very amusing― when it happened to anyone else.

Anne was guilty; he only had to look at her to see that. Nançay looked like a man who knows his career is ruined; as for the girl, she was so beside herself that she knelt at the King’s feet, embracing his knees, lifting her young imploring eyes He strode to the window and called for his guards. He kept his back on the three people in the room, and stood there looking down on the courtyard. He felt too ill for anger. He suspected something of this. He was seeing himself, old, tired and ill, compared with this vigorous young captain of the Guards. This would not have happened ten years ago― five years ago. He understood perfectly. It was no use blaming Anne because she contrived to amuse herself with the handsome young man while the tiresome old one was out of the way, He would have done the same himself. He saw the situation too clearly for his anger to remain.

He was all-powerful; he could imprison the young man; he could cast off Anne. And what then? How would he replace he who was irreplaceable? Anne would lose her position as first lady in the land and he would be wretched without her.

The guards were coming into the room.

He turned, assuming great anger, and pointed to the captain, ‘Arrest that man!’ he said. ‘Let him reflect in prison on the impropriety of conducting here, in her mistress’s own room, an intrigue with an attendant of Madame d’Etampes. ‘

The guards seized young de Nançay, who was now feeling considerably relieved in his mind.

‘Get up,’ said Francis to the girl, ‘and leave us.’

Thankfully, she scrambled to her feet and hurried off.

Francis turned to Anne. ‘I think you will agree,’ he said, as the door closed, leaving them alone, ‘that my conduct was as restrained as yours has been abandoned.’

Anne was nonplussed, and he was delighted to see her at a loss. He would punish her now by keeping her in doubt as to her fate.


* * *

The story of the King’s discovery of de Nançay with his mistress leaked out.

Poor little Mademoiselle de Colliers had not, as she feared, lost her reputation.

Everyone knew who was the heroine of that little farce. De Nançay had been the favorite’s lover for weeks. Malicious stories were bruited about, not only concerning Christian de Nançay― who was very soon released― but all the young noblemen who circled about Madame d’Etampes; and these stories originated from Diane’s supporters.

Catherine was too deeply concerned with her own troubles to pay much attention to the skirmishes between the mistresses of the King and Dauphin until she sudden realized that that she might turn this state of affairs to her advantage.

Anne was her friend; they were often together; it was not difficult to plant ideas in Anne’s fertile mind.

Catherine said, as they rode together in the Petite Bande: ‘How the King loves the Duc d’Orléans! I think it would need very little make him pass over the Dauphin in favour of Monsieur d‘Orléans. I am sure he wishes young Charles were his elder son and Henry the younger.’

Anne gave her a swift glance. What a stupid little thing the Italian girl was!

She was thinking, as Catherine meant her to. The sill creature― to sow such seeds! Of course it was not possible― but was it? Could Anne, she asked herself, persuade Francis to disinherit his elder son in favour of the younger?

Would the law of France allow even its King to meddle with the line of succession? If it could be done, it must be done. It would make all the difference in the world to Anne d’Etampes if Charles of Orléans became the King of France instead of Dauphin Henry. With Charles on the throne, Madame de Poitiers would be of no consequence whatever. And this Italian child would be of no importance either!

She really was stupid to put such an idea into the mind of one, who, if it were possible to bring it about, alone could do it.

She did not know how violently Catherine’s heart beating; nor did she realize that the Italian had noticed the disturbing effect her words had had.

Catherine’s plan was desperate; but the plan suited her need. Now it was for Madame d’Etampes to start courting Charles of Orléans, and then Diane must realize that it was imperative for Catherine to have a child at once.

Alert herself, she set Madalenna to watch. Catherin. little. She watched Diane and Anne; and she knew that she herself was more clever than either of them. Diane had not yet realized why Anne was making herself so pleasant to Charles― She would soon, though; and then, thought Catherine, Henry will come to me, ready to give me a child.

How stimulating it was, this working in the dark! And foolish were those two women to show so openly their antagonism to one another. Catherine watched their maneuvers and smiled secretly.

Diane successfully brought ruin on the Admiral Chabot de Brion. He had been funding his coffers with State money, but in Diane’s eyes his sin was that he was a secret lover and supporter of Anne. With admirable adroitness, Diane secured his banishment from court before Anne could successfully intervene.

Anne naturally sought immediate retaliation she set herself the task of bringing about the disgrace of none other than the great Montmorency.

She could not have done that, Catherine knew, had not events played right into her hands. Francis had tried to keep out of these women’s quarrels which were dividing his court. When his health improved, he promised himself, they should be stopped. The Catholic party who supported Diane! The Reformed party that clustered round Anne! He would show them that there should be one party and one party only― the King’s party.