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.”