Paris was very quiet and the queen mother, really regent since her dear son Henry had been King, resided sometimes at the Louvre, sometimes at the Hôtel de Soissons, which occupied the site to-day covered by the Halle au Blé, of which nothing remains beyond the beautiful column which is still standing.
One evening when she was deeply engaged in studying the stars with Réné, of whose little act of treason she was still ignorant, and who had been reinstated in her favor after the false testimony he had so opportunely given at the trial of Coconnas and La Mole, she was informed that a man waited for her in her oratory with something to tell her of the greatest importance.
Hastily descending, the queen found the Sire de Maurevel.
"He is here!" cried the ancient captain of the guards, not giving Catharine time to address him, according to royal etiquette.
"What he?" demanded Catharine.
"Who but the King of Navarre, madame!"
"Here!" said Catharine, "here! He—Henry—And what has he come for, the madman?"
"If appearances are to be believed, he comes to see Madame de Sauve. That is all. If probabilities are to be considered, he comes to conspire against the King."
"How do you know he is here?"
"Yesterday I saw him enter a house, and an instant later Madame de Sauve joined him there."