‘Yes; she has aged much since I first set eyes on her.’ He had come close and she moved slightly.

‘A thousand pardons, Madame,’ he said. ‘For one blessed moment, I forgot you were the Queen.’

She looked away with a hint of impatience, but he knew that she was not displeased. The Vidame began to wonder seriously about the possibility of a love-affair with the Queen. He was sure it would be a most profitable love affair, and the poor Bourbons with the King’s four sons standing between them and the throne, could not afford to ignore any opportunity.

Catherine, too astute not to read his thoughts and to suspect his motive, was wondering how she might use the Vidame. Diane was ageing. The King was inclined to simplicity. He had never thought of his wife as an attractive woman.

Would it be possible to gain his attention by letting him think that one of the handsomest men at court was interested in her?

It was a thought worth considering. Therefore she allowed the Vidame to stay at her side, and listened with apparent lightheartedness to his veiled compliments which he knew so well how to phrase.

She was watching the two lovers― Francis and Mary― on the window-seat.

Francis de Guise and the Cardinal of Lorraine were still with them; the wily pair were talking merrily, and the children were going off into fits of laughter at their presumably witty conversation. Young Francis was staring up at the scarred face of Francis de Guise with adoration. Of what was the Duc de Guise speaking? Of Metz, where he had routed Spaniards? Of his entry into Paris, where the people adore him even as young Francis was preparing to do? Even that terrible scar on his right cheek which had earned for him the name of le Balafé― hideous though it was― he had turned to advantage. The terrible Duc de Guise, the greatest soldier in France, the idol of Paris, the most scheming of a scheming family, the uncle of her who might one day be Queen! In that event it would be the Guise brothers who would become the power behind the throne. Now, as he talked, he was drawing others to him; and his brother, the Cardinal of Lorraine, was there to help him.

The Cardinal was the cruellest of men, the most cunning, the most witty, the most ambitious and immoral man who ever strove for his own ends under the sanctifying robes of the Church. He was as ready with a quotation from the Bible or the classics as he was with a risqué story; he was completely unscrupulous. And this man, with Francis de Guise, stood behind the Scots Queen and the boy Francis awaiting the death of the King, that they, through these children, might rule France. And on whom did these men turn their flattery― on the pale-faced, delicate boy Dauphin or the girl with that shining mass of hair and the most charming smile in France? The wily uncles would direct their niece, for she adored them, and the girl in turn would rule the Dauphin since he was passionately in love with her.

Catherine stood up suddenly; she was determined to break-up the conference by the window.

‘Let us play a game,’ she said. ‘Let it be Pall-Mall.’

The ladies and gentlemen could all join in this, and better to have them playing than engaging in dangerous conversation.

Mary Stuart’s eyes met those of the woman who was to be her mother-in- law, and the girl’s mouth hardened. She knew that the merry conversation she was enjoying had been deliberately broken up.

So! thought Mary. She is jealous. I and the Dauphin surround ourselves with all the most important people in the land, and that makes her angry. The daughter of tradesmen is afraid that she will lose what little dignity she has! Catherine noted the girl’s pout, and laughed inwardly. Silly little Mary Stuart! She thought it was for her charming beauty that those uncles of hers flattered her. She did not realize that even to such rakes as the Guise brothers there were more important matters than beautiful women.

The King joined in the game of Pall-Mall, playing with enthusiasm which he gave to all games, and with that fine sportsmanship which made a game he played in as informal as any played without him.

How noble he looked at play! thought the Queen, and wondered when and if old age would ever ease her longing for him.

She passed among the players, and in doing so could not help but hear an ill-timed remark of Mary Stuart’s:

‘She likes not to see you gentlemen more interested in Francis and me than in herself. Is not that what one would expect from a daughter of tradesmen?’

Catherine’s face was impassive. Let the insult pass for the moment; it would not be forgotten.

But, watching the King, she had little thought to spare for the girl. She could not live without the hope of one day luring him from Diane.

Would it be possible to kindle a spark of jealousy? And if so, not might not slumbering passion be awakened?

Her speculative eyes sought the tall, handsome figure of the Vidame of Chartres.


* * *

In Catherine’s apartments her women were robing her for the wedding of her eldest son. She could hear the bells ringing out the city and the people were already shouting in the streets.

As they slipped her jewel-studded gown over her head, she thought of the events which had befallen this land thick and fast in the last few months — events which had culminated in marriage which neither she nor Diane and the King had wished to take place so soon. Francis and Mary were children only fourteen and fifteen. They were madly in love― at least Francis was, and Mary was ready to pet him and love him because of the eagerness with which he did everything she of asked him.

In these last months, those uncles of Mary Stuart had grown in importance.

The idol of Paris had become almost the King of Paris. Even Diane, who had once worked steadily to advance them, was appalled by their rising power, and had even sunk her differences with Montmorency to work against their further rise.

Whatever happened at court, it seemed that wars must come and go, and this time the enemies of France had been both the Spaniards and the English― allies because the King of Spain was the husband of the Queen of England. The Spaniards had reached Saint-Quentin, surrounded it, besieged it, and the town had fallen to King Philip’s men while Montmorency himself had been taken prisoner. Paris was threatened, and the country was in despair. The terrified Parisians were showing signs of panic, and there had been a few outbreaks of rioting.

Catherine could smile now as the jewels winked back at her, for out of this disaster had she achieved great triumph. She had been Regent in Henry’s absence; and this time, sweeping aside all those who would hamper her, she gave the citizens of France a glimpse of the real woman behind that submissive façade. She had seen clearly that Paris must be lifted from its apathy and fear unless the whole of France was to be lost; and she had made her way to the Parliament and there demanded money for the armies, and had commanded that the people should not be told that the war was lost. So eloquently did she speak, so skilful were her arguments, so courageous her manner, and above all so calm was she, that she won the admiration those who had previously regarded her as a nonentity. Paris became hopeful. Funds were raised for the armies. Catherine was proved right. The war was not lost.

Then Francis de Guise― le Balafré― saw an opportunity of saving his country and winning fresh honour for himself. He took Calais from the English.

It was an unimportant little town but the moral effect was tremendous, for the English, after two hundred years, were at last expelled from Franc; and the humiliation of having foreigners on French soil was at last removed. What mattered it that the Constable de Montmorency was a prisoner when there was Francis de Guise to fight the battles of France.

The Spaniards could not extend their lines of communication beyond Saint- Quentin; their armies were disbanded and withdrawn, and it became obvious that the Queen’s bold action in demanding money to continue the fight had saved France from ignoble and unnecessary surrender.

Thinking back, Catherine could smile with more than elation, with hope of achieving her heart’s desire. It was longer possible to regard the Queen with indifference. The King showed in his manner a new respect for his wife. And there was the young Vidame de Chartres waiting to pay her his respectful admiration, which, at a sign from the Queen, could kindle into something deeper. Catherine thanked the saints nightly for the miracle of Saint-Quentin.

But the hero of the day was Francis de Guise, and to him must go great honour. Henry began by giving an Oriental masque for him in the Rue Saint-Antoine. It was lavish, colourful, expensive; worthy, said the Parisians, of their beloved le Balafré. But the cunning Duke was after more glory than the Oriental masque could give him. He and his brother the Cardinal pressed for the marriage of their niece to the Dauphin; and, being well aware of the immense popularity― swollen now by the gain of Calais― of the impudent Guises, the King, with Diane, agreed that the marriage should take place at once.

‘Bring me my pearls,’ said Catherine; and they were brought placed about her neck.

‘Now, send in my children, that I may inspect them,’ she ordered.

They came― all except the bridegroom, who was being prepared for his wedding in his own establishment.

Catherine embraced first Elizabeth and Claude and complimented them on their charming appearance. ‘My dears, you are excited, I can see, to witness your brother’s marriage. Well, we shall soon be finding husbands for you, eh?’