THE Queen-mother sits alone; a look of care overshadows her face; her prominent eyes are fixed and glassy. From her window she can gaze at an old familiar scene, the terrace and parterre bordered by lime walks, planted by Francis I., where she has romped in many a game of cache-cache with him.

Presently she rises and summons an attendant from the antechamber.

“Call hither to me MaÎtre Avenelle,” says she to the dainty page who waits her command.

Avenelle, a lawyer and a Huguenot, is the friend of Barri, Seigneur de la Renaudie, the nominal leader of the Huguenot plot; of which the Duc de Guise has been warned by the Catholics of England. Avenelle has, for a heavy bribe, been gained over in Paris by the Duke’s secretary, Marmagne; he has come to Amboise to betray his friends “of the religion” by revealing to the Queen-mother all he knows of this vast Huguenot conspiracy, secretly headed by the Prince de CondÉ and by Admiral Coligni.

Avenelle enters and bows low before the Queen who is seated opposite to him at a writing-table. He is sallow and wasted-looking, with a grave face and an anxious eye; a tremor passes over him as he suddenly encounters the dark eyes of Catherine fixed upon him.

“Have you seen the Duc de Guise?” says she haughtily, shading her face with her hand the better to observe him, as he stands before her, motionless, and pale with fear.

“Yes, madame,” replies he, again humbly bowing; “I come now from his chamber, whither I was conducted by M. Marmagne, his secretary.”

“And you have confided to him all you know of this plot?”

“I have, madame, all.”

“Is it entirely composed of Huguenots?”

“It is, madame.”

“What are the numbers?”

“Perhaps two thousand, your Majesty.”

Catherine starts, the lines on her face deepen, and her eyes glitter with astonishment and rage.

“Who is at the head of these rebels?” she asks suddenly, after pausing a few moments.

Avenelle trembles violently; the savage tone of her voice and her imperious manner show him his danger. His teeth chatter, and drops of moisture trickle down his forehead. So great is his alarm that, in spite of his efforts to reply, his voice fails him. Catherine, her eyes riveted on his, waves her hand with an impatient gesture.

“Why do not you answer me, MaÎtre Avenelle? If you are waiting to invent a lie with which to deceive me, believe me, such deceit is useless. The torture-chamber is at hand; the screw will make you speak.”

“Oh, madame,” gasps Avenelle, making a successful effort to recover his voice, “I had no intention to deceive your Majesty; I am come to tell you all I know. It was a passing weakness that overcame me.”

“Who, then, I again ask,” says the Queen, taking a pen in her hand in order to note his reply, “who is at the head of this plot?”

“Madame, it is secretly headed by that heretic, the Prince de CondÉ. Coligni knows of it, as does also his brother d’Andelot, and the Cardinal de ChÂtillon. The nominal leader, Barri de la Renaudie, is but a subordinate acting under their orders.”

“Heretics do you call them; are not you, then, yourself a Huguenot?”

“Madame, I was,” replies Avenelle, obsequiously, with an effort to look fearless, for Catherine’s glittering eyes are still upon him; “but his Highness, the Duc de Guise, has induced me to recant my errors.”

“Ah!” says Catherine, smiling sarcastically; “I did not know our cousin of Guise troubled himself with the souls of his enemies. But this La Renaudie, was he not your friend? Did he not lodge with you in Paris?”

“He did lodge, for a brief space, in my house in Paris, madame; but I have no friend that is not a loyal subject to your Majesty.” Avenelle now speaks more boldly.

Catherine eyes him from head to foot with a glance of infinite contempt. “I am glad to hear this for your own sake, MaÎtre Avenelle,” she replies drily. “What is the precise purpose of this plot?”

“Madame, it is said by the Huguenots that your Majesty, not your son, his Majesty Francis II., governs, and that under your rule no justice will ever be done to those of ‘the religion’; that your Majesty seeks counsel of the Duc de Guise and of his brother, the Cardinal de Lorraine, who are even more bitterly opposed than yourself to their interests. Therefore they have addressed themselves to the Prince de CondÉ, who is believed to share their opinions both political and religious, for present redress. The conspirators propose, madame, to place his Highness the Prince de CondÉ on the throne as Regent, until such measures are taken as will insure their independence; imprison your Majesty; send the young King and Queen to some unfortified place—such as Blois or Chenonceau—and banish the noble Duke and his brother the Cardinal from France.”

While Avenelle, speaking rapidly, gives these details, Catherine sits unmoved. As he proceeds her eyes never leave him, and her hands, singularly small and delicate, are clenched upon her velvet robe. When he has done speaking a look of absolute fury passes over her face. There is a lengthened silence, during which her head sinks on her breast and she remains lost in thought. When she looks up all passion has faded out of her face. She appears as impassible as a statue, and speaks in a clear metallic voice which betrays no vestige of emotion.

“Have these conspirators many adherents, MaÎtre Avenelle?”

“I fear so, madame. Nearly two thousand are gathering together, from various points, at Nantes. On the 15th of the present month of March they would have attacked Blois. Had your Majesty not received timely warning and retreated to this fortified castle, these rebellious gentlemen would have captured your sacred person and that of our Sovereign and the young Queen. They would have kept you imprisoned until you had consented to abdicate the throne or to dismiss our great Catholic Princes of Lorraine, to whom and to your Majesty all evil influence is attributed.”

“Influence? Yes, influence enough to punish traitors, heretics, and spies!” exclaims Catherine, and she darts a fierce look at Avenelle, who, though still pale as death, is now more composed, and meets her glance without flinching. He knows his life is in the balance, and he thinks he reads the Queen-mother rightly, that he may best ensure it by showing no cowardice.

“Is this all you know, MaÎtre Avenelle?” says the Queen, coldly.

“Yes, madame; and I trust you will remember that I have been the means of saving your Majesty and the young King from imprisonment, perhaps from death.”

Catherine turns her terrible eyes full upon Avenelle. “MaÎtre Avenelle, I appreciate both your disinterestedness and your loyalty,” replies she, with a bitter sneer. “You, sir, will be kept a prisoner in this castle until his Majesty’s council have tested the truth of what you say. We may use such as you, but we mistrust them and we despise them. If you have spoken the truth, your life shall be spared, but you will leave France for ever. If you have lied, you will die.” As these words fall from her lips and are echoed through the lofty chamber, she strikes on a sharp metal placed before her. Two guards immediately enter and remove Avenelle in custody.

Catherine again strikes on the metal instrument, summons her attendant, and desires that Francis,

Duc de Guise, and the Cardinal de Lorraine shall attend her.

In this interview between the heads of the Catholic party their plan of action is decided. A council of state is to be at once called at Amboise, to which the Huguenot chiefs, the Prince of CondÉ, the Admiral Coligni, his brother d’Andelot, the Cardinal de ChÂtillon, and others are to be invited to attend; and a conciliatory edict in favour of the Calvinists, signed by the King, is to be proclaimed.

Thus the Reformed party will be thrown completely off their guard, and La Renaudie and the conspirators, emboldened by the apparent security and ignorance of the government, will gather about Amboise, the better to carry out their designs of capturing the King, the Queen, and the Queen-mother, and banishing or killing the Guises, her supposed evil counsellors. But another and secret condition is appended to this edict which would at once, if known, have awakened the suspicions and driven back from any approach to Amboise both the conspirators and the great chiefs of the Huguenot party.

This secret condition is that Francis, Duc de Guise, shall be forthwith nominated Lieutenant-General of the kingdom, and be invested with almost absolute power.