"Listen."
"Well?"
"Stoop down."
Henry leaned over Charles. Réné did the same. They were separated by the width of the bed alone, and even this distance was lessened by their positions. Between them, silent and motionless, lay the dying King.
"Listen," said Réné; "placed here by the queen mother to ruin you, I prefer to serve you, for I have faith in your horoscope. By serving you I shall profit both in body and soul."
"Did the queen mother command you to say this also?" asked Henry, full of doubt and pain.
"No," said Réné; "but I will tell you a secret."
He leaned still further over.
Henry did likewise, so that their heads almost touched.
This interview between two men bending over the body of a dying king was so sombre that the hair of the superstitious Florentine rose on end, and Henry's face became covered with perspiration.