Power was beckoning her, and she would have to fight for it with all her craft and cunning, in all the devious ways she had learned in a lifetime of humiliation. She would deeply relish such a fight.

Madalenna was knocking at the door.

‘Come in.’

Madalenna’s eyes were wide, her face pale.

‘You have something to tell me, Madalenna?’

‘Terrible news, Madame.’

‘Of whom?’

‘Madame, the Vidame de Chartres was released from the Bastille yesterday―’

‘Is that such terrible news?’

‘Oh, Madame― you have not heard. He died― last night. He had been out in the city― and when he returned, he was ill― violently ill. He died at midnight.’

Madalenna looked fearfully at her mistress, who was holding a kerchief to her eyes.

‘Madame,’ stammered Madalenna, ‘I wish to offer― my― my deep sympathy.’

Catherine answered from the depth of the kerchief: ‘You may go, Madalenna. Leave me― leave me―’

As the door shut on Madalenna, Catherine thrust the kerchief into her mouth to stifle the gusty laughter which was shaking her.

Madalenna’s sympathy! Perhaps others in this palace would be sorry for a woman whom they believed to have lost her lover?

Poor Vidame, she thought. This is the end of your flirtation with a Queen; it is also the end of the brilliant career you planned for yourself. You have been the first to learn that it is unwise to ignore the wishes of Catherine de’ Medici.

She was exultant. Thoughts of murder had haunted her for so long; now she would be their master. She understood much now. The future, brilliant and powerful, stretched out before her; and she was free to take what she wanted.

She had been the victim of her emotions― hot-blooded, impetuous, making so many mistakes. She had been Catherine de’ Medici in love.

But now she was free. It was the end of Catherine de’ Medici in love.

THE END