One of those light smiles passed quick across her countenance, and she said in a low voice, as if speaking to herself, "Who ever did know me?" She then added, "Who then do you suppose I am?" "I conclude, madam," replied the young Count, "that I stand in the presence of her Majesty the Queen-mother." "Such is the case," replied the Queen, "and I have come to visit you, Monsieur de Logères, with views and purposes which, were I to tell them to any person at my son's court, would hardly be believed." The Queen paused, as if waiting for an answer; and the young Count replied, "I trust, madam, that if I am detained here by the directions, and in the power of your Majesty, that you have come to give me liberty, which would, I suppose," he added with somewhat of a smile, "be rather marvellous to the courtiers of the King." Catharine de Medici smiled also, but at the same time shook her head. "I fear I must not give you liberty," she said, "for I have promised not: but I have come with no bad intent towards you. I knew your mother, Monsieur de Logères, and a virtuous and beautiful woman she was. God help us! it shows that I am growing old, my praising any woman for her virtue. However, she was what I have said, and as unlike myself as possible. Perhaps that was the reason that I liked her, for we like not things that are too near ourselves. However, I have come hither to see her son, and to do him a pleasure. You play upon the lute?" she continued. "Come, 'tis a long time since I have heard the lute well played. Take up the instrument, and add your voice to it." "Alas, madam," replied the young Count, "I am but in an ill mood for music. If I sang you a melancholy lay it would find such stirring harmonies in my own heart, that I fear I should drown the song in tears; and if I sang you a gay one, it would be all discord. I would much rather open that door which you have left unlocked behind you, and go out." The Queen did not stir in the slightest degree, but gazed upon him attentively with a look of compassion, answering, "Alas! poor bird, you would find that your cage has a double door. But come, do as I bid you; sit down there, take up the lute and sing. Let your song be neither gay nor sad! Let it be a song of love. I doubt not that such a youth as you are, will easily find a love ditty in your heart, though the present inspiration be no better than an old woman. Come, Monsieur de Logères, come: sit down and sing. I am a judge of music, I can tell you."