The bird was dead, stiff, and the feathers of its wings rough and erect.
Catherine again looked closely and attentively at the torch which she had once before already narrowly inspected, to satisfy herself that, by its having burned out completely, the prince had returned early in the evening.
"The smoke," said Catherine to herself; "the smoke! the wick of that torch was poisoned; my son is a dead man."
She called out immediately, and the chamber was in a minute filled with attendants and officers of the household.
"Miron, Miron!" cried some of them.
"A priest!" exclaimed the others.
But Catherine had, in the meantime, placed to the lips of Francois one of the small bottles which she always carried in her alms-bag, and narrowly watched her son's features to observe the effect of the antidote she applied.
The duke immediately opened his eyes and mouth, but no glance of intelligence gleamed in his eyes, no voice or sound escaped from his lips.
Catherine, in sad and gloomy silence, quitted the apartment, beckoning to the two attendants to follow her, before they had as yet had an opportunity of communicating with any one.
She then led them into another chamber, where she sat down, fixing her eyes closely and watchfully on their faces.