“You are wrong, my son,” said Catherine coldly; “you are my beloved son, but he of whom you complain is also my son.”
“Well, then, madame, I will go to find other counselors capable of feeling for me and of aiding me.”
“Go, my son; and may God guide your counselors, for they will have need of it to aid you in this strait.”
“Adieu, then, madame!”
“Adieu, Henri! I do not pretend to counsel you—you do not need me, I know—but beg your counselors to reflect well before they advise, and still more before they execute.”
“Yes, madame, for the position is difficult.”
“Very grave,” replied she, raising her eyes to heaven.
“Have you any idea who it was that carried him off?” Catherine did not reply.
“I think it was the Angevins,” continued the king.
Catherine smiled scornfully.