Catharine gave a dull moan.
"It was a weakness," continued Charles; "burn it, madame. The weakness of kings and queens must not be known!"
Catharine stepped to the glowing hearth, and dropped the book into the flames.
Then, standing motionless and silent, she watched with haggard eye the bluish light which rose from the poisoned leaves.
As the book burned a strong odor of arsenic spread through the room. Soon the volume was entirely destroyed.
"And now, madame," said Charles, with irresistible majesty, "call my brother."
Catharine, overcome, crushed under a multiple emotion which her profound wisdom could not analyze, and which her almost superhuman strength could not combat, took a step forward as if to speak.
The mother grew remorseful; the queen was afraid; the poisoner felt a return of hatred.
The latter sentiment dominated.
"Curse him!" she cried, rushing from the room, "he triumphs, he gains his end; curse him! curse him!"