"Where is this book, madame?"
Catharine went slowly towards the mysterious closet, opened the door, entered, and a moment later appeared with the book in her hand.
"Here it is," said she.
D'Alençon looked at the volume with a certain feeling of terror.
"What is this book, madame?" he asked, shuddering.
"I have already told you, my son. It is a treatise on the art of raising and training falcons, gerfalcons, and hawks, written by a very learned scholar for Lord Castruccio Castracani, tyrant of Lucca."
"What must I do with it?"
"Take it to your good friend Henriot, who you told me had asked you for a treatise on the art of hunting. As he is going hawking to-day with the King he will not fail to read some of it, in order to prove to Charles that he has followed his advice and taken a lesson or two. The main thing is to give it into Henry's own hands."
"Oh! I do not dare!" said D'Alençon, shuddering.
"Why not?" asked Catharine; "it is a book like any other except that it has been packed away for so long that the leaves stick together. Do not attempt to read it, François, for it can be read only by wetting the finger and turning over each leaf, and this takes time and trouble."