"Has a prince of the blood so much pity for rebels, pray?" It was again the sneering voice of Charles de Lorraine which asked the question. "I have unlimited pity and sympathy," retorted the prince, "for gallant officers who have always worthily served their king and country." What more could the prince do or say in his position, himself the object of suspicion? The Duc de Nemours understood, and addressed himself next to the queen-mother. "See, Madame, but one remains," said he, without calling Castelnau's name. "Can we not at least save him?" "I can do nothing," replied Catherine, turning her head away. Meanwhile the unfortunate Castelnau was ascending the steps to the scaffold, singing as he went,-- "Dieu _me_ soit doux et favorable, _Me_ bénissant par sa bonté, Et de son visage adorable _Me_ fasse luire sa clarté."[9] The people, deeply affected, forgot the fear inspired by spies and _mouchards_, and cried as with one voice,-- "Mercy, mercy!" The Duc de Nemours was struggling at that moment to soften the heart of the young Duc d'Orléans. "Monseigneur," said he, "have you forgotten that it was Castelnau who, in this same town of Amboise, saved the life of the late Duc d'Orléans, when it was in great danger during an _émeute_?" "I will do whatever my mother decides," replied the Duc d'Orléans. "But," said the Duc de Nemours, imploringly, "if you would but address the king; a single word from you--" "I tell you again," rejoined the young prince, dryly, "that I await my mother's commands." "Ah, Prince!" said the Duc de Nemours, reproachfully. He made a motion to Gabriel expressive of discouragement and despair. Thereupon the clerk read slowly,-- "Michel Jean Louis, Baron de Castelnau-Chalosses, accused and convicted of the crime of _lèse-majesté_, of heresy, and an attack upon the king's person." "I call my judges themselves to witness," cried Castelnau, "that the declaration is false,--unless, indeed, it be _lèse-majesté_ to oppose with all my strength the tyranny of the Guises. If it is to be understood in that way, they should have begun by declaring them kings. Perhaps it will yet come to that; but it will be for those who survive me to deal with that matter." Addressing the executioner, he said in a firm voice,-- "Now do your office." But the headsman, who noticed some commotion in the galleries, pretended to be arranging his axe so as to gain time. "The axe is dull, Monsieur le Baron," he said in a low voice; "and you are surely worthy to die at a single blow. And who knows but that a moment more--It seems to me that something of good omen for you is going on down below there." Again the people cried,-- "Mercy! mercy!" Gabriel, losing all self-control at that supreme moment, ventured to cry aloud to Mary Stuart,-- "Mercy, Madame the Queen!" Mary turned, met Gabriel's heart-rending glance, and understood his despairing cry. Bending her knee before the king, she said,--