“Yes, my dear child. What do you ask?—what do you demand? Speak.”
“Oh, my mother!” said François, almost embarrassed at his own easy victory.
“Listen, my son. You do not wish to drown the kingdom in blood—it is not possible; you are neither a bad Frenchman nor a bad brother.”
“My brother insulted me, madame, and I owe him nothing, either as my brother or king.”
“But I, François—you cannot complain of me?”
“Yes, madame, you abandoned me.”
“Ah! you wish to kill me. Well, a mother does not care to live to see her children murder each other!” cried Catherine, who wished very much to live.
“Oh, do not say that, madame, you tear my heart!” cried François, whose heart was not torn at all.
Catherine burst into tears. The duke took her hands, and tried to reassure her, not without uneasy glances towards the tapestry.
“But what do you want or ask for, mother? I will listen,” said he.