The bird was dead, stiff, and the feathers of its wings rough and erect.
Catherine again looked closely and attentively at the torch which she had once before already narrowly inspected, to satisfy herself that, by its having burned out completely, the prince had returned early in the evening.
"The smoke," said Catherine to herself; "the smoke! the wick of that torch was poisoned; my son is a dead man."
She called out immediately, and the chamber was in a minute filled with attendants and officers of the household.
"Miron, Miron!" cried some of them.
"A priest!" exclaimed the others.
But Catherine had, in the meantime, placed to the lips of Francois one of the small bottles which she always carried in her alms-bag, and narrowly watched her son"s features to observe the effect of the antidote she applied.
The duke immediately opened his eyes and mouth, but no glance of intelligence gleamed in his eyes, no voice or sound escaped from his lips.
Catherine, in sad and gloomy silence, quitted the apartment, beckoning to the two attendants to follow her, before they had as yet had an opportunity of communicating with any one.
She then led them into another chamber, where she sat down, fixing her eyes closely and watchfully on their faces.
"Monsieur le Duc d"Anjou," she said, "has been poisoned some time during his supper last evening; and it was you who served the supper."
At these words the two men turned as pale as death.
"Torture us, kill us, if you will," they said; "but do not accuse us."
"Fools that you are; do you suppose that if I suspected you, that would have already been done? You have not yourselves, I know, a.s.sa.s.sinated your master, but others have killed him; and I must know who the murderers are. Who has entered the pavilion?"
"An old man, wretchedly clothed, whom monseigneur has seen during the last two days."
"But the woman--"
"We have not seen her--what woman does your majesty mean?"
"A woman has been here, who made a bouquet--"
The two attendants looked at each other with an expression of such simple surprise that Catherine perceived, by this glance alone, how perfectly innocent they were.
"Let the governor of the town and the governor of the chateau be sent for," she said. The two valets hurried to the door.
"One moment!" exclaimed Catherine, fixing them in their places by this single word as they approached the threshold. "You only and myself are aware of what I have just told you; I shall not breathe a word about it; if any one learns it, therefore, it will be from or through one of you; on that very day both your lives shall be forfeited. Now, go!"
Catherine interrogated the two governors with more reserve. She told them that the duke had received from some person or persons a distressing intelligence which had deeply affected him; that that alone was the cause of his illness, and that if the duke had an opportunity of putting a few further questions to the persons again, he would in all probability soon recover from the alarm into which he had been thrown.
The governors inst.i.tuted the minutest search in the town, the park, the environs, but no one knew what had become of Remy and Diana.
Henri alone knew the secret, and there was no danger of his betraying it.
Throughout the whole day, the terrible news, commented upon, exaggerated, and mutilated, circulated through Chateau-Thierry and the province; every one explained, according to his own individual character and disposition, the accident which had befallen the duke.
But no one, except Catherine and Du Bouchage, ventured to acknowledge that the chance of saving the duke"s life was hopeless.
The unhappy prince did not recover either his voice or his senses, or rather, he ceased to give any sign of intelligence.
The king, who was immediately beset with the gloomiest fancies, which he dreaded more than anything, would very willingly have returned to Paris; but the queen-mother opposed his departure, and the court was obliged to remain at the chateau.
Physicians arrived in crowds; Miron alone guessed the cause of the illness, and formed an opinion upon its serious nature and extent; but he was too good a courtier to confess the truth, especially after he had consulted Catherine"s looks.
He was questioned on all sides, and he replied that Monsieur le Duc d"Anjou must certainly have suffered from some seriously-disturbing cause, and had been subjected to some violent mental shock.
In this way he avoided compromising himself, therefore, which is a very difficult matter in such a case.
When Henri III. required him to answer affirmatively or negatively to his question, "Whether the duke would live?" he replied,
"I will answer your majesty in three days."
"And when will you tell me?" said Catherine, in a low voice.
"You, madame, are very different; I answer you unhesitatingly."--"Well?"
"Your majesty has but to interrogate me."
"On what day will my son die, Miron?"
"To-morrow evening, madame."
"So soon?"
"Ah! madame," murmured the physician, "the dose was by no means a slight one."
Catherine placed one of her fingers on her lips, looked at the dying man, and repeated in an undertone this sinister word, "Fatality!"
CHAPTER Lx.x.xIX.
LES HOSPITALIERES.
The count had pa.s.sed a terrible night, in a state bordering on delirium and verging on death.
Faithful, however, to his duty, as soon as he had heard the king"s arrival announced, he rose and received him at the gate, as we have described; but no sooner had he presented his homage to his majesty, saluted respectfully the queen-mother, and pressed the admiral"s hand, than he shut himself up in his own room, not to die, but to carry determinedly into execution his long cherished project, which nothing could any longer interfere with.
Toward eleven o"clock in the morning, therefore--that is to say, as soon as, immediately after the terrible news had circulated that the Duc d"Anjou"s life was in imminent danger, every one had dispersed, leaving the king completely bewildered by this fresh event--Henri went and knocked at his brother"s door, who, having pa.s.sed a part of the previous night traveling, had just retired to his own room.
"Ah! is that you?" asked Joyeuse, half asleep; "what is the matter?"
"I have come to bid you farewell, my brother," replied Henri.