"In the lily?" cried the king, snatching the flower from the hands of Diane de Poitiers, and examining it with a careful scrutiny, in which love of art had no share. "In this lily?"
"Yes, Sire, in the lily," Benvenuto repeated. "You know that it is so, madame," he continued in a meaning tone, toward the gasping duchess.
"Let us come to terms," she whispered; "Colombe shall not marry D'Orbec."
"That is not enough," returned Cellini; "Ascanio must marry Colombe."
"Never!" exclaimed Madame d'Etampes.
Meanwhile the king was turning the fatal lily over and over in his fingers, his suspense and wrath being the more poignant in that he dared not express them openly.
"The proofs are in the lily! in the lily!" he repeated; "but I can see nothing in the lily."
"Because your Majesty does not know the secret of opening it."
"There is a secret. Show it me, messire, on the instant, or rather—"
François made a movement as if to crush the flower, but both women cried out, and he checked himself.