Catherine placed one of her fingers on her lips, looked at the dying man, and repeated in an undertone this sinister word, "Fatality!"
CHAPTER LXXXIX.
LES HOSPITALIERES.
The count had passed a terrible night, in a state bordering on delirium and verging on death.
Faithful, however, to his duty, as soon as he had heard the king's arrival announced, he rose and received him at the gate, as we have described; but no sooner had he presented his homage to his majesty, saluted respectfully the queen-mother, and pressed the admiral's hand, than he shut himself up in his own room, not to die, but to carry determinedly into execution his long cherished project, which nothing could any longer interfere with.
Toward eleven o'clock in the morning, therefore—that is to say, as soon as, immediately after the terrible news had circulated that the Duc d'Anjou's life was in imminent danger, every one had dispersed, leaving the king completely bewildered by this fresh event—Henri went and knocked at his brother's door, who, having passed a part of the previous night traveling, had just retired to his own room.
"Ah! is that you?" asked Joyeuse, half asleep; "what is the matter?"
"I have come to bid you farewell, my brother," replied Henri.