“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.