"Upon no pretext whatever shall any one on earth awaken the king," repeated Mary, firmly. "Ah, but it must be done!" retorted the cardinal, ashamed at last of having been so long delayed by the unaided resistance of a mere child, and she his niece. "The interests of State, Madame, are not consistent with these sentimental considerations. The king's signature is essential to me at once; and I will have it." "You shall not have it, Monsieur le Cardinal," replied Mary. The cardinal took a step toward the king's bedside, but again Mary Stuart faced him and barred his passage. The queen and the minister looked in each other's eyes for an instant, each as excited and angry as the other. "I will pass," said Charles de Lorraine, in a quick, short voice. "Do you dare to lay your hand upon me, Monsieur?" "My niece!" "Your niece no longer, but your queen!" These words were uttered in so firm, and withal dignified and queenly a tone, that the astonished cardinal recoiled. "Yes, your queen," Mary continued; "and if you approach one step nearer, or make another motion, as if to make your way to the king, I will go to that door; I will call those who are on guard there; and though you be my uncle, though you be minister and cardinal, I, your queen, will order your arrest upon the spot, as guilty of _lèse-majesté_." "Such a scandal!" muttered the cardinal, in affright. "Which of us is responsible for it, Monsieur?" The sparkling eye, the inflated nostrils, the heaving bosom of the young queen, and her whole determined bearing were a sufficient guarantee that she would carry out her threat. And then, too, she was so lovely and so haughty, and withal so touching, that even the priest, with his heart of bronze, felt moved and beaten. The man yielded to the child; and the affairs of State obeyed the cry of natural affection. "Well!" said the cardinal, drawing a long breath, "I will wait, then, until the king awakes." "Thanks!" said Mary, resuming the gentle and melancholy demeanor which had become customary to her since the king's illness. "But as soon as he awakes--" continued Charles. "If he is then in condition to hear what you have to say, and do what you wish, I will interpose no further obstacle." The cardinal was perforce contented with this promise. He returned to his seat at the table, and Mary to her _prie-Dieu_,--he waiting, and she hoping. The slow hours of that night of watching dragged themselves along, and François II. did not awake. The promise of Ambroise Paré was not a vain one: not for many nights had the king known such long and peaceful slumber. From time to time he made a slight movement or uttered a feeble moan; sometimes he pronounced a word or a name, generally Mary's. But he would relapse at once into his deep sleep; and the cardinal, who did not once fail to rise in haste at the least sound, would return dejectedly to his seat.