Cosmo opened a door in the wall which had been so cleverly made that it had not appeared to be a door at all.

‘You may wait in there,’ he said. ‘I will show you the shutter which will enable you to see and hear what is said in this room.’

They stepped into the cupboard and he shut the door on them. He touched one of the panels to open the shutter. Henriette was giggling with excited pleasure; and she and Margot whispered together during the twenty minutes they had to wait for the arrival of La Mole.

Cosmo had meanwhile sought out his brother Lorenzo.

‘The Queen of Navarre and the Duchess of Nevers are here,’ he said. ‘They are waiting in the cupboard in the small laboratory for a young man, who I gather is a lover of the Queen’s. It may be just another of her love affairs, but the Queen Mother will expect to be informed. As soon as the interview is over, I will go to the Louvre and tell her all that has taken place.’


* * *

Cosmo was smiling as he brought Boniface de la Mole into his laboratory. Margot watched him with delight. He was more handsome than she remembered; and how elegant he looked against the gruesome background of the alchemist’s workshop.

Cosmo said: ‘You wish to consult me about the future, Monsieur?’

‘I wish you to work some magic for me,’ said the Count.

‘Ah! First I must know your name.’

‘Is that necessary?’

‘It is indeed, Monsieur. We are secluded here within four walls, and you will be telling none who would bring it against you that you dabbled in magic for the sake of love. It is for love, Monsieur?’

‘It is for love,’ said the young man mournfully.

‘Do not be so sad. I have no doubt that we shall be able to ensure your success. Your name, Monsieur?’

‘Comte Boniface de la Mole.’

‘And the name of the lady whom you wish to influence?’ ‘That I cannot tell you.’

‘Very well, sir. We will see what can be done without her name. Your wishes?’

‘I wish you to use your magic to ensure that I see her tonight. There is some entertainment at which I wish her to be present.’

Cosmo stirred what was in the cauldron and, looking into the rising smoke, said: ‘You will see her tonight. She will be at the entertainment.’

The Comte’s melancholy lifted. ‘That is wonderful. That is delightful.’ But he was soon sad again. ‘She is of high rank. She will never look my way.’

‘You give up too easily, Monsieur. There are ways of touching the heart of the hardest female.’

‘You mean? . . .’

‘Let us make an image of your loved one. You may pierce her heart, and then I think you may be sure of success.’

‘I beg of you to make this image quickly.’

‘It is easily done, Monsieur le Comte. Pray be seated.’ Cosmo took a piece of wax, melted it in a pot he kept for this purpose, and moulded it into a human shape.

‘Now, Monsieur le Comte, that is not really like your lady, is it? May we add some distinguishing feature? We must be sure that you pierce the heart of the right woman. Tell me, how shall I distinguish her from other ladies?’

‘There is no one so beautiful.’

‘Beauty is not sufficient, I am afraid. In the eyes of the lover the one he loves is always the most beautiful in the world.’

‘But there is no mistaking this lady’s beauty. She is . .

‘Words seem to elude you, Monsieur. Perhaps I could distinguish her by some garment. . . some ornament. Look. I will put a royal cloak about her. I will put a crown on her head.’

‘Monsieur,’ cried the Count, ‘you are truly a man of magic.’

Cosmo laughed whilst he moulded the cloak and crown.

‘Now we have our lady. I will take this pin.’ Cosmo took the pin and gripping it in a pair of tweezers, thrust it into the fire. ‘It will take very little time to become red hot. Now. Yes, it is ready. Take it, thrust it into the lady’s heart and whisper your wish to yourself.’

La Mole took the pin and thrust it into the waxen figure. ‘There, Monsieur. That is all. Keep the figure. While you have it with you, the pin safe in its heart, you cannot fail.’

La Mole wrapped the figure in a silk kerchief and slipped it reverently inside his jacket.

‘I am deeply indebted to you,’ he said.

‘Then let us go to my sitting-room and discuss payment,’ said Cosmo. ‘I am a poor man and cannot give my skill for nothing.’

Five minutes later Henriette, led by Margot, slipped into the street; and shortly after that Cosmo went to the Louvre and asked for an audience with the Queen Mother. It appeared to be a matter of little importance, he told her when he was alone with her, but as she liked to be informed of what went on about her, he had thought it wise to let her know who had come to his house this day. The Comte de la Mole was deeply enamoured of Queen Margot and had been given a waxen image of her which he had pierced to the heart.

‘Another lover,’ said Catherine with a spurt of laughter. ‘Jesus! That daughter of mine astonishes even me. And Boni-face de la Mole! He is, I believe, a gentleman of the Duke of Alençon’s suite. Thank you, Cosmo. A matter of slight importance doubtless, but you are right to assume that these gallant little matters amuse me.’


* * *

Margot was happy. She was in love. The supper party had been a great success, and had been the forerunner of many meetings. She was kept fully occupied; there were so many clandestine meetings to be arranged, so many love letters to be written.

Catherine was less contented. The King continued to live and she was uncertain what to do. It was very unfortunate that Henry should be in Poland; when she thought of that, her anger against Charles, who had insisted on his going, was so great that she felt inclined to diverge from her habitual caution. But that even was difficult while Charles was surrounded by his three meek guardians.

Charlotte de Sauves had not had the great success which Catherine had expected in the Navarre-Alençon affair. The little Duke was enamoured of the woman, as. Catherine had guessed he would be, but the ultimate desired effect had not been realized. Though the two men were both attracted by the same woman, their friendship seemed to remain unimpaired. It might be that there was something in progress, something so vital that it could not be touched by jealousy concerning a love affair.

Guise had been right to be suspicious of Navarre. There were two sides to the latter’s nature. One showed a pleasure-loving young man, lazy and amorous; but there was the other side to be considered. Was it ambition that secretly fermented behind those shrewd eyes? His love affairs were light-hearted. He cared deeply for no one and he had no religion. Catherine fancied that she saw some of her own characteristics in the King of Navarre, and that made him seem formidable. For what did he hope? After Henry and Alençon—if they had no children—Navarre would certainly be King of France. Could even a lazy provincial be indifferent to such a prospect? Was it likely that a son of Jeanne of Navarre could be nothing more than a pleasure-loving fool? What did he plot with Alençon? It was safe to assume that Alençon was up to mischief, for mischief was as necessary to a man of his nature as women were to one of Navarre’s. Catherine was certainly uneasy on account of this friendship.

Margot fortunately was fully occupied with La Mole. Catherine felt that she understood her daughter: give her a lover and she was content. Margot was clever, perhaps the cleverest member of the family; and she could learn quickly; she was sharp-witted, but her sensuality betrayed her with its incessant demands, and she misused her ability by scheming and intriguing with her numerous lovers. Margot was a little wanton—as shameless now with La Mole as she had been with Guise. She exercised no restraint. She should have made some attempt to keep this new love affair secret. Those notes she sent to her lover were very revealing, as everything Margot wrote seemed to be. Margot ought to know by now that her mother liked to see all notes which passed between people of the court, even if they were only the outpourings of lovers.

Catherine had her spies in Alençon’s suite; she had her spies among Margot’s women. She had, as a matter of routine, read all the notes which had passed between them ever since Ruggieri had told her of La Mole’s infatuation for her daughter.

One of her women who had been a mistress of Alençon’s, and was now—since Alençon’s growing infatuation for Madame de Sauves—courting one of Alençon’s men who took messages from La Mole to Margot, came to her and asked if she might have audience with the Queen Mother.

Catherine granted it and when they were alone, the woman put several letters into Catherine’s hands.

‘More letters!’ said Catherine. ‘Our melancholy Hyacinth is as enamoured of his pen as of our daughter.’

‘Madame, my friend was given some of these letters by Monsieur de la Mole and some by Monsieur de Coconnas. There is one for the Queen of Navarre from La Mole, and one for Madame de Nevers from Coconnas. The others are to be taken to people outside Paris.’

‘What! Have our young gallants involved themselves in other love affairs! It will go ill with them when our two young ladies discover their infidelities. I will look through them and return them to you, resealed, in a very short time. You may go now. Let nothing, however seemingly trivial, be allowed to pass without my scrutiny.’

‘Everything shall be brought to Your Majesty.’

Left alone Catherine started on the letters. It was a pleasant pastime—reading letters which were intended for other people. Here was a letter from La Mole to Margot, professing undying devotion and hope for the future. She was to meet him this afternoon at a house on the corner of the Rue de la Vannerie and the Rue Monton. He was all impatience. And here was another letter. This was for Madame de Nevers from Coconnas, expressing his undying devotion, his adoration, his hope for the future; he begged Madame de Nevers to remember that she was meeting him at a house on the corner of Rue de la Vannerie and the Rue Monton this afternoon . . .