"As to smaller men, if, like Luther, they become sovereigns by the power of ideas, by killing them you do not kill their doctrine.--The Queen is a Florentine; she knows that poison can only be the instrument of private vengeance. My brother, who has never left her since she came to France, knows how deeply Madame Diane aggrieved her; she never thought of poisoning her, and she could have done so. What would the King your father have said? No woman would have been more thoroughly justified, or more certain of impunity. But Madame de Valentinois is alive to this day." "And the magic of wax images?" asked the King. "Sire," said Cosmo, "these figures are so entirely innocuous that we lend ourselves to such magic to satisfy blind passions, like physicians who give bread pills to persons who fancy themselves sick. A desperate woman imagines that by stabbing the heart of an image she brings disaster on the faithless lover it represents. What can we say? These are our taxes." "The Pope sells indulgences," said Lorenzo Ruggieri, smiling. "Does my mother make use of such images?" "Of what use would such futile means be to her who can do what she will?" "Could Queen Catherine save you at this moment?" asked Charles ominously. "We are in no danger, Sire," said Lorenzo calmly. "I knew before I entered this house that I should leave it safe and sound, as surely as I know the ill-feeling that the King will bear my brother a few days hence; but, even if he should run some risk, he will triumph. Though the King reigns by the sword, he also reigns by justice," he added, in allusion to the famous motto on a medal struck for Charles IX. "You know everything; I shall die before long, and that is well," returned the King, hiding his wrath under feverish impatience. "But how will my brother die, who, according to you, is to be Henri III.?" "A violent death." "And Monsieur d'Alençon?" "He will never reign." "Then Henri de Bourbon will be King?" "Yes, Sire." "And what death will he die?" "A violent death." "And when I am dead, what will become of madame?" asked the King, turning to Marie Touchet. "Madame de Belleville will marry, Sire." "You are impostors!--Send them away, my Lord," said Marie Touchet. "Dear heart, the Ruggieri have my word as a gentleman," said Charles, smiling. "Will Marie have children?" "Yes--and madame will live to be more than eighty." "Must I have them hanged?" said the King to his mistress.--"And my son, the Comte d'Auvergne?" said Charles, rising to fetch the child. "Why did you tell him that I should marry?" said Marie Touchet to the two brothers during the few moments when they were alone. "Madame," replied Lorenzo with dignity, "the King required us to tell the truth, and we told it." "Then it is true?" said she. "As true as that the Governor of Orleans loves you to distraction." "But I do not love him," cried she.