"Absolutely nothing." "What!" rejoined Catherine; "you confess, then? You avow that--" "I neither avow nor confess anything, Madame." "Oho! then you deny?" "Nor do I deny anything. I simply say nothing." Mary Stuart could not restrain a movement of approbation. François II. listened and looked on with eager curiosity; and the Duc de Guise remained mute and motionless. Catherine began again in a tone which became momentarily more and more biting,-- "Monsieur, be careful! You would do better, perhaps, to try to defend or justify your action. Understand one thing: Monsieur de Montmorency, who can, in case of need, be heard as a witness, declares that to his certain knowledge you might well have certain grievances against the king, some grounds for personal enmity." "What were they, Madame? Did Monsieur de Montmorency say what they were?" "Not yet, but doubtless he will tell." "Very well! let him tell them, if he dares!" retorted Gabriel, with a proud but quiet smile. "So you refuse altogether to speak, do you?" Catherine persisted. "I refuse." "Do you know that the torture may bring your disdainful silence to terms?" "I do not think it, Madame." "By proceeding in this way, you risk your life, I warn you." "I will not defend it, Madame. It is no longer worth the trouble." "You are fully determined, then, Monsieur? Not a word?" "Not one single word, Madame," said Gabriel, shaking his head. "And quite right, too!" cried Mary Stuart, as if carried away by an irresistible impulse. "Noble and grand this silence is! It is the course of a gentleman who does not even choose to repel suspicion for fear that suspicion may fall upon him. I say, for my part, that this very refusal to speak is the most eloquent and convincing of justifications!" During this outburst the old queen was gazing at the younger one with a stern and angry expression. "Yes, I may be wrong to speak thus," continued Mary; "but I care not! I speak as I feel and as I think. My heart will never allow my lips to remain closed. My impressions and my emotions must find vent. My instinct is the only policy that I recognize, and it cries out to me now that Monsieur d'Exmès never conceived and executed such a crime in cold blood, but that he was only the blind instrument of fate, and believes himself to be above any other supposition, and therefore scorns to justify himself. My instinct tells me this, and I give it voice. Why not?" The young king gazed joyfully and affectionately at his _mignonne_, as he called her, while she expressed herself with an eloquence and animation which made her twenty times more fascinating than usual. Gabriel cried in a touched and penetrating voice,-- "Oh, thanks, Madame! I thank you! And you have done well; not on my account, but your own, you have done well to act thus." "Indeed, I know it," replied Mary, with the most gracious accent that one could dream of.