'Never mind of whom. I'll wager that within a few days he will be deeply enamoured of Charlotte de Sauves if that lady intends to make him so. I expect to hear in a very short time that the King of Navarre and the Duke of Alencon have fallen out because they have both fallen into love with the same lady, and she is distributing her favours equally between them to keep the quarrel warm.'

'Madame, this is a difficult task . . .'

'Nonsense! It will be easy for you. You already have Navarre at your feet. Alencon . . . that one is a simple matter. I expect results, and I know that you are too wise a woman to disappoint me. Go now.'

When she was alone Catherine smiled to herself. Intrigue, as well as being stimulating. was often amusing if one had the right sort of humour to appreciate that fact. Monsieur de Guise had rather arrogantly suggested that she should have a wedge driven between Alencon and Navarre; he had almost dared to give an order to the Queen Mother. She had found it necessary to follow that suggestion, but Monsieur de Guise should not be allowed to come out of this matter without some discomfiture. As soon as Alencon began to hanker after Charlotte, and when he and Navarre began to regard each other with jealousy and suspicion, Guise would realize that she had used his mistress as that 'wedge'. It was very amusing, but she doubted whether Guise would enjoy the joke; he had not the humour of young Navarre.

But she did not laugh long. There were other matters which were not so amusing. Her beloved son was far away in Poland and she yearned for him. Charles was becoming more obstinate, more suspicious of his mother every day. So that situation gave her little to laugh at.

Charles must die. She had promised herself and Henry that. But the death of the King would have to be a slow one. Heaven knew she had everything on her side. His physical state was such that, when speaking of it, Monsieur Pare was very grave. He coughed incessantly and spat blood. His violent moods would often end with those fits of coughing, When she watched him, writhing on the floor, his jacket stained with blood, she would assure herself that it could not now be long.

His wife had given birth to a girl. That was a blessing. Surely he would never have the strength to give the Queen another child. But one could not be sure, and while Charles lived there was great cause for anxiety.

Why should he live? In her private closet she had many powders and potions which had solved such problems for her before and would do so again. But slow deaths were not so easy to achieve as quick ones. If it had just been a matter of giving one dose, that could have been achieved . . . if not at one time, then at another. But when there must be continual doses, it was not so easy.

Neither Rene, nor Cosmo, nor Lorenzo would be anxious to assist at the death of a King. Moreover Charles was surrounded by certain women, and, ironical as it was, each of these women, while being in herself quite insignificant, unimportant and altogether meek, seemed to stand by the side of the King like an angel with a flaming sword. There was his mistress, the mild Marie Touchet, his wife, the milder Elisabeth, and Madeleine, his nurse. All suspected the King's mother of trying to shorten his life, and all were prepared to die to save him from her.

And, always hovering close to the King, was Monsieur Pare, the Huguenot, who should have been dispatched during that fateful August and who, owing his life to the King, was determined to pay his debt of gratitude by prolonging the King's life.

But it was those three women who were the worst obstacles. They were more effective than an armed guard. And what could one do? Remove them? She had not the power to do that, for the King would not allow it; he was the master now. They had succeeded in turning him away from his mother.

And so the King grew weaker, and there were rumours throughout Paris that his mother was responsible for his low state of health. But he continued to live, to the delight of those three women who loved him and to the chagrin of his unnatural mother.

Margot's friend, the flighty little Duchesse de Nevers, had a new lover. Little Henriette was so much in love that Margot was inclined to be envious.

Henriette whispered to Margot of her experiences. 'He is so charming . . . so different. So handsome! So bold! And he is in the service of your brother, Monsieur d'Alencon.'

Margot was alert. 'Indeed! I would hear more of this.'

'He has a fair complexion and the most splendid white teeth. You should see them flash when he smiles . . . and he smiles continually.'

'His name?' demanded Margot.

'Annibale. Le Comte Annibale de Coconnas.'

Margot sighed with relief.

'I like the sound of him. So he is in the service of my brother. How odd that Poor Alencon, who is so unprepossessing himself, should have such handsome men in his service! Tell me more.'

'He is very quick to anger, Madame, and his hair is reddish rather than brown. His eyes seem golden. I am asking him to my apartments to supper. Would Your Majesty honour us by coming tonight?'

Margot's eyes sparkled. 'What if you were discovered? Monsieur le Duc de Nevers . .

'Has his own affairs to attend to, as Your Majesty well knows.'

'I do not think that I should come,' said Margot, deciding at once that she would not miss this for anything, and that it was just what she needed to relieve the monotony of her days. Any gentleman of Alencon's suite was of interest to her as she might be able to talk to him of that most fascinating La Mole.

'If you do not come, there will be no supper . . . for it is to be arranged solely on Your Majesty's account.'

'What does this mean?' demanded Margot.

'I suppose I must tell you, although it is supposed to be a secret. A friend of Monsieur de Coconnas is so enamoured of you that he is plunged in deepest melancholy and can neither eat nor sleep until he speaks with you. My Annibale is a most warm-hearted man, a most compassionate man and he . .

'Enough of your Annibale, Henriette. We know he is charming. Tell me of the melancholy gentleman.'

'He is very handsome, and it seems that he saw you and spoke to you, and you to him. You seemed so gracious that he has imagined that his wildest dreams may not be without some hope of fulfilment, and his name is . . .'

'Le Comte Boniface de la Mole!' said Margot.

'You knew then, Madame?'

'As you said, Henriette, we met. He is charming and your Annibale is coarse compared with him. That melancholy of which you speak . . . it is very deep. One feels he must be a poet, a dreamer. One longs to chase away his gloom. His eyes are startlingly blue. He is like a beautiful Greek statue. Already I think of him as my Hyacinth.'

'If you will but attend our supper party, Madame, you will make your Hyacinth very happy.'

'I will consider it.'

'He intends to go to Cosmo Ruggieri this very afternoon to ask, first for some charm which will make you decide to attend the party, and then for another which will make you regard him favourably.'

'But this is insolence!' cried Margot delightedly.

'You must forgive him, Madame. He is so much in love. And when a man cannot eat or sleep, Your Majesty must understand that he cannot go on like that.'

'These are the tales they tell us, Henriette.'

'But, Madame, this is true. Annibale swears it. La Mole has seen you often. He never misses a chance of seeing you. But he loved from afar . . . and then . . . when you spoke to him . . .'

'Henriette, this afternoon, we will go to Ruggieri, and we will make him hide us, so that we may look at this young man and hear what he says.'

The two frivolous young women could not stop laughing-Margot embraced her dear friend, Henriette. Margot was delighted by the prospect of a love affair which she was sure would be one of the most charming she had ever experienced. It was just what she needed to keep intact her pride and annoyance with the Duke of Guise.

Heavy cloaks concealing them, Margot and Henriette de Nevers left the Louvre for the house of the Ruggieri brothers.

Margot allowed Henriette to lead the way into the shop, as she felt that she was more likely to be recognized by the apprentice than was Henriette.

The shop was small and dark and it smelt of the perfumes and cosmetics which were sold to any who cared to buy them. The secret business of these sinister brothers was carried on beyond the shop.

The apprentice came forward, bowing, for in spite of their cloaks, it was obvious that these ladies were of the quality.

'My mistress wishes to see your master,' said Henriette, at which the young man, nodding gravely, announced that he would carry the news of the ladies' arrival to his master. In a few moments he returned with Cosmo Ruggieri.

Margot threw back her cloak and Cosmo said at once,: 'Please come this way.'

When the two young women were with him on the other side of that door which led from the shop, he locked it, and asked them to follow him, which they did. He led the way up a staircase and unlocking a door in a corridor ushered them into a small room, the walls of which were hung with tapestry of a not very elaborate kind.

'What can I do for Your Majesty?' asked Cosmo.

The two of them were laughing so much that they could scarcely tell him. At length Margot said: 'There is a young Count coming here this afternoon to ask you for a charm. He is in love, and we want to overhear what he says to you. You can put us somewhere where we can look on without being seen. I know you often hide my mother here. I know there are numerous secret hiding-places and holes in the wall through which it is possible to watch what goes on in some of your chambers. You must take this young man to a room which is fitted with one of these secret places, and the Duchess and I will look on. If you refuse I shall know that you do not wish to please me.'

As Cosmo certainly did wish to please the young Queen of Navarre, who was too important a person to be flouted, he smiled deprecatingly and said: 'It is possible, if you two young ladies do not mind waiting in rather cramped quarters, perhaps for some time, as I shall have to secrete you in your hiding-place before the gentleman arrives.'

'Conduct us to the hiding-place at once,' said Margot.

Cosmo bowed and led them along a corridor and up a short staircase to a small apartment. As they entered this room, Henriette gripped Margot's arm and Margot smiled at her scornfully, noting her superstitious fear. Margot herself was merely enchanted with what lay before them.

They were in the laboratory of the Ruggieri brothers. Its walls were panelled and strewn about the room were strange and gruesome objects,. On one bench lay a human skeleton from which Henriette found it difficult to take her eyes. The signs of the Zodiac adorned the ceiling; and on the wooden panels were carefully drawn cabalistic signs. A huge murky mirror hung on one wall and the two young women saw their reflections, grey and ghostlike beneath two human skulls which seemed to be hanging from the ceiling. Over a fire a cauldron was steaming and the smoke swirled about the room, so it appeared to Margot and Henriette, in fantastic shapes. On a large table were pictures of the stars and the planets, a balance, strange instruments, wax figures, several jars in which could be seen the bodies of small animals, or parts of their bodies, in various stages of decomposition. The light from two oil lamps which were fixed on brackets in the wall did not succeed in lighting the corners of the room, so that it seemed to extend farther than their eyes could see. The scented oil in the lamps fought, not quite successfully, with the unpleasantly odorous objects in the room.

Cosmo opened a door in the wall which had been so cleverly made that it had not appeared to be a door at all.

'You may wait in there,' he said. 'I will show you the shutter which will enable you to see and hear what is said in this room.'

They stepped into the cupboard and he shut the door on them. He touched one of the panels to open the shutter. Henriette was giggling with excited pleasure; and she and Margot whispered together during the twenty minutes they had to wait for the arrival of La Mole.

Cosmo had meanwhile sought out his brother Lorenzo.

'The Queen of Navarre and the Duchess of Nevers are here,' he said. 'They are waiting in the cupboard in the small laboratory for a young man, who I gather is a lover of the Queen's. It may be just another of her love affairs, but the Queen Mother will expect to be informed. As soon as the interview is over, I will go to the Louvre and tell her all that has taken place.'

Cosmo was smiling as he brought Boniface de la Mole into his laboratory. Margot watched him with delight. He was more handsome than she remembered; and how elegant he looked against the gruesome background of the alchemist's workshop.

Cosmo said: 'You wish to consult me about the future, Monsieur?'

'I wish you to work some magic for me,' said the Count.

'Ah! First I must know your name.'

'Is that necessary?'

'It is indeed, Monsieur. We are secluded here within four walls, and you will be telling none who would bring it against you that you dabbled in magic for the sake of love. It is for love, Monsieur?'

'It is for love,' said the young man mournfully.

'Do not be so sad. I have no doubt that we shall be able to ensure your success. Your name, Monsieur?'

'Comte Boniface de la Mole.'

'And the name of the lady whom you wish to influence?' 'That I cannot tell you.'

'Very well, sir. We will see what can be done without her name. Your wishes?'

'I wish you to use your magic to ensure that I see her tonight. There is some entertainment at which I wish her to be present.'

Cosmo stirred what was in the cauldron and, looking into the rising smoke, said: 'You will see her tonight. She will be at the entertainment.'

The Comte's melancholy lifted. 'That is wonderful. That is delightful.' But he was soon sad again. 'She is of high rank. She will never look my way.'

'You give up too easily, Monsieur. There are ways of touching the heart of the hardest female.'

'You mean? . . .'

'Let us make an image of your loved one. You may pierce her heart, and then I think you may be sure of success.'

'I beg of you to make this image quickly.'

'It is easily done, Monsieur le Comte. Pray be seated.' Cosmo took a piece of wax, melted it in a pot he kept for this purpose, and moulded it into a human shape.

'Now, Monsieur le Comte, that is not really like your lady, is it? May we add some distinguishing feature? We must be sure that you pierce the heart of the right woman. Tell me, how shall I distinguish her from other ladies?'

'There is no one so beautiful.'

'Beauty is not sufficient, I am afraid. In the eyes of the lover the one he loves is always the most beautiful in the world.'

'But there is no mistaking this lady's beauty. She is . .

'Words seem to elude you, Monsieur. Perhaps I could distinguish her by some garment. . . some ornament. Look. I will put a royal cloak about her. I will put a crown on her head.'

'Monsieur,' cried the Count, 'you are truly a man of magic.'

Cosmo laughed whilst he moulded the cloak and crown.

'Now we have our lady. I will take this pin.' Cosmo took the pin and gripping it in a pair of tweezers, thrust it into the fire. 'It will take very little time to become red hot. Now. Yes, it is ready. Take it, thrust it into the lady's heart and whisper your wish to yourself.'

La Mole took the pin and thrust it into the waxen figure. 'There, Monsieur. That is all. Keep the figure. While you have it with you, the pin safe in its heart, you cannot fail.'

La Mole wrapped the figure in a silk kerchief and slipped it reverently inside his jacket.

'I am deeply indebted to you,' he said.

'Then let us go to my sitting-room and discuss payment,' said Cosmo. 'I am a poor man and cannot give my skill for nothing.'

Five minutes later Henriette, led by Margot, slipped into the street; and shortly after that Cosmo went to the Louvre and asked for an audience with the Queen Mother. It appeared to be a matter of little importance, he told her when he was alone with her, but as she liked to be informed of what went on about her, he had thought it wise to let her know who had come to his house this day. The Comte de la Mole was deeply enamoured of Queen Margot and had been given a waxen image of her which he had pierced to the heart.

'Another lover,' said Catherine with a spurt of laughter. 'Jesus! That daughter of mine astonishes even me. And Boni-face de la Mole! He is, I believe, a gentleman of the Duke of Alencon's suite. Thank you, Cosmo. A matter of slight importance doubtless, but you are right to assume that these gallant little matters amuse me.'

Margot was happy. She was in love. The supper party had been a great success, and had been the forerunner of many meetings. She was kept fully occupied; there were so many clandestine meetings to be arranged, so many love letters to be written.

Catherine was less contented. The King continued to live and she was uncertain what to do. It was very unfortunate that Henry should be in Poland; when she thought of that, her anger against Charles, who had insisted on his going, was so great that she felt inclined to diverge from her habitual caution. But that even was difficult while Charles was surrounded by his three meek guardians.

Charlotte de Sauves had not had the great success which Catherine had expected in the Navarre-Alencon affair. The little Duke was enamoured of the woman, as. Catherine had guessed he would be, but the ultimate desired effect had not been realized. Though the two men were both attracted by the same woman, their friendship seemed to remain unimpaired. It might be that there was something in progress, something so vital that it could not be touched by jealousy concerning a love affair.

Guise had been right to be suspicious of Navarre. There were two sides to the latter's nature. One showed a pleasure-loving young man, lazy and amorous; but there was the other side to be considered. Was it ambition that secretly fermented behind those shrewd eyes? His love affairs were light-hearted. He cared deeply for no one and he had no religion. Catherine fancied that she saw some of her own characteristics in the King of Navarre, and that made him seem formidable. For what did he hope? After Henry and Alencon-if they had no children-Navarre would certainly be King of France. Could even a lazy provincial be indifferent to such a prospect? Was it likely that a son of Jeanne of Navarre could be nothing more than a pleasure-loving fool? What did he plot with Alencon? It was safe to assume that Alencon was up to mischief, for mischief was as necessary to a man of his nature as women were to one of Navarre's. Catherine was certainly uneasy on account of this friendship.

Margot fortunately was fully occupied with La Mole. Catherine felt that she understood her daughter: give her a lover and she was content. Margot was clever, perhaps the cleverest member of the family; and she could learn quickly; she was sharp-witted, but her sensuality betrayed her with its incessant demands, and she misused her ability by scheming and intriguing with her numerous lovers. Margot was a little wanton-as shameless now with La Mole as she had been with Guise. She exercised no restraint. She should have made some attempt to keep this new love affair secret. Those notes she sent to her lover were very revealing, as everything Margot wrote seemed to be. Margot ought to know by now that her mother liked to see all notes which passed between people of the court, even if they were only the outpourings of lovers.

Catherine had her spies in Alencon's suite; she had her spies among Margot's women. She had, as a matter of routine, read all the notes which had passed between them ever since Ruggieri had told her of La Mole's infatuation for her daughter.

One of her women who had been a mistress of Alencon's, and was now-since Alencon's growing infatuation for Madame de Sauves-courting one of Alencon's men who took messages from La Mole to Margot, came to her and asked if she might have audience with the Queen Mother.

Catherine granted it and when they were alone, the woman put several letters into Catherine's hands.