Réné the Florentine, the man to whom on the eve of Saint Bartholomew the King of Navarre had given such a diplomatic reception, had just entered her oratory.
"Ah, here you are, Réné," said Catharine, "I was impatiently waiting for you."
Réné bowed.
"Did you receive the note I wrote you yesterday?"
"I had that honor."
"Did you make another trial, as I asked you to do, of the horoscope cast by Ruggieri, and agreeing so well with the prophecy of Nostradamus, which says that all my three sons shall reign? For several days past, affairs have decidedly changed, Réné, and it has occurred to me that possibly fate has become less threatening."
"Madame," replied Réné, shaking his head, "your majesty knows well that affairs do not change fate; on the contrary, fate controls affairs."
"Still, you have tried the sacrifice again, have you not?"
"Yes, madame," replied Réné; "for it is my duty to obey you in all things."
"Well—and the result?"