"It must be so," returned Charles de Lorraine; "I recognize the queen-mother's hand in this," he muttered, "for she is deeply interested that her son should not be saved. But will she thus corrupt all those upon whose devotion we rely? This is a counterpart of the appointment of her friend L'Hôpital! How she does make sport of us!" Mary Stuart, meanwhile, leaving the cardinal to his reflections upon what had taken place, and his anxiety as to what was to come, was saying to Gabriel,-- "Monsieur Paré did finally come with you, did he not?" "At my first request," replied the young count. "And he is here?" "Awaiting only your gracious permission to enter, Madame." "Pray let him come in at once!" cried Mary Stuart. Gabriel de Montgommery went for a moment to the door at which he had entered, and returned with the surgeon. Sheltered behind her door, Catherine de Médicis was still watching, more engrossed than ever. Mary Stuart ran forward to meet Ambroise, took his hand, led him herself to the cherished patient's bedside, and said on the way, as if to cut short all complimentary salutations,-- "Thanks to you for coming, Master Paré. I relied upon your zeal to do good, even as I now rely upon your skill. Come quickly; come to the king!" Ambroise Paré, yielding to the queen's restless impatience, without having time to utter a word, was soon standing by the bed where François II., vanquished by suffering, so to speak, had only sufficient strength to breathe, almost imperceptibly and with a feeble, moaning sound. The great physician stood a moment gazing at the young face, drawn and emaciated by suffering. Then he stooped over the king, who was to him only a patient, and felt and probed the terrible swelling of the right ear with a touch as light and gentle as Mary's own. The king instinctively recognized the touch of a physician, and yielded to it without opening his heavy eyes. "Oh, such agony!" he moaned piteously; "such agony! Can you do nothing to relieve me?" The light was too far away for Ambroise's purpose, and he made a sign to Gabriel to bring it nearer; but Mary seized it first, and herself held it for the surgeon while he made a long and careful examination of the seat of pain. This silent, minute study lasted perhaps ten minutes; at the end of which Ambroise Paré rose to an erect posture again, and let the bed-curtain fall, apparently deeply absorbed in meditating upon his diagnosis. Mary Stuart, waiting breathlessly, did not dare to ask him a question, lest she might disturb the current of his thoughts; but she scanned his features in an anguish of suspense. What would be his decision? The famous physician sadly shook his head; and the movement seemed to the distracted queen like a sentence of death. "Oh!" she exclaimed at last, unable to control her anxiety any longer; "pray tell me, is there no chance of saving him?" "There is but one, Madame," replied Ambroise Paré. "Is there even one?" cried the queen.