At the moment when Mary Stuart laid her hand on the somewhat complicated lock of the door of this oratory, the queen-mother, who had just become convinced of the greatness of the Prince de Conde’s plans, had touched the spring hidden beneath the foot-board, and one of the mysterious panels had turned over on its hinges. Catherine was in the act of lifting the papers from the table to hide them, intending after that to secure the safety of the devoted messenger who had brought them to her, when, hearing the sudden opening of the door, she at once knew that none but Queen Mary herself would dare thus to enter without announcement. “You are lost!” she said to Christophe, perceiving that she could no longer put away the papers, nor close with sufficient rapidity the open panel, the secret of which was now betrayed. Christophe answered her with a glance that was sublime. “_Povero mio_!” said Catherine, before she looked at her daughter-in-law. “Treason, madame! I hold the traitors at last,” she cried. “Send for the duke and the cardinal; and see that that man,” pointing to Christophe, “does not escape.” In an instant the able woman had seen the necessity of sacrificing the poor youth. She could not hide him; it was impossible to save him. Eight days earlier it might have been done; but the Guises now knew of the plot; they must already possess the lists she held in her hand, and were evidently drawing the Reformers into a trap. Thus, rejoiced to find in these adversaries the very spirit she desired them to have, her policy now led her to make a merit of the discovery of their plot. These horrible calculations were made during the rapid moment while the young queen was opening the door. Mary Stuart stood dumb for an instant; the gay look left her eyes, which took on the acuteness that suspicion gives to the eyes of all, and which, in hers, became terrible from the suddenness of the change. She glanced from Christophe to the queen-mother and from the queen-mother back to Christophe,--her face expressing malignant doubt. Then she seized a bell, at the sound of which one of the queen-mother’s maids of honor came running in. “Mademoiselle du Rouet, send for the captain of the guard,” said Mary Stuart to the maid of honor, contrary to all etiquette, which was necessarily violated under the circumstances. While the young queen gave this order, Catherine looked intently at Christophe, as if saying to him, “Courage!” The Reformer understood, and replied by another glance, which seemed to say, “Sacrifice me, as _they_ have sacrificed me!” “Rely on me,” said Catherine by a gesture. Then she absorbed herself in the documents as her daughter-in-law turned to him. “You belong to the Reformed religion?” inquired Mary Stuart of Christophe. “Yes, madame,” he answered. “I was not mistaken,” she murmured as she again noticed in the eyes of the young Reformer the same cold glance in which dislike was hidden beneath an expression of humility.