This woman had become ferocious since her separation from her daughter, of whose fate she was totally ignorant. Every time the queen lavished a caress on Madame Royale, it threw her into an excess of rage almost bordering on frenzy; so much so, that the queen, who so well understood the griefs of a mother, often denied herself this consolation—now, alas! the only one left her—of pressing her daughter to her heart.
Tison came now to seek for his wife, who at first declared she would not leave till Widow Capet was in bed.
Madame Elizabeth then wished the queen good-night, and entered her chamber.
The queen and princess having also retired, Tison's wife took the candle and went out.
The municipals had already thrown themselves upon their beds in the corridor.
The moon, pale visitant of the unhappy princesses, shone through the window of the roof, casting her rays across the foot of the queen's bed.
For an instant everything remained calm and silent in the chamber.
Then a door turned softly on its hinges, a shadow passed across the rays of the moon, and approached the queen,—it was Madame Elizabeth.
"Did you notice?" said she, in a whisper.
"Yes," replied the queen.