"Why, madam," replied the Count, "his eye brightened and his colour rose, and he replied indignantly that it could not be so. 'Oh no,' he said, 'happy had it been for France if, instead of divided power, the Queen-mother had possessed the whole power. It is by petty minds mingling their leven with their great designs that ruin has come upon the land. She has had to deal with great men, great events, and great difficulties, and she was equal to deal with, if not to bow them all down before her, had she but been permitted to deal with them unshackled.'"[[4]]
"Indeed!" exclaimed the Queen; "did he say so?"
"He did, madam, upon my honour," replied the Count.
"I know not whether he was right or wrong," rejoined the Queen thoughtfully; "for though perhaps, Monsieur de Logères, I possessed in some things the powers of a man--say, if you will, greater powers than most men--yet, alas! in others, I had all the weaknesses of a woman--perhaps I should say, to balance other qualities, more weaknesses than most women. But he must have said more. The answer was not pertinent to the remark, and Henry of Guise is not a man either in speech or action ever to forget his object."
"Nor did he in this instance," replied the Count; "but he said that, wearied out with seeing your best and greatest schemes frustrated by the weakness of others, you now contented yourself with warding off evils as far as possible from your son and from the state; that it was evident that such was your policy; and that, like Miron, the King's physician, unable from external circumstances to effect a cure, you treated the diseases of the times with a course of palliatives; that, as the greatest of all evils, you knew and saw the apathy of his Majesty, and did all that you could to rouse him, but that the poisonous counsels of Villequier, the soft indolence of his own nature, and the enfeebling society of Epernon and others, resisted all that you could do, and thwarted you here likewise."
"He spoke wisely, and he spoke truly," replied the Queen; "and I will tell you, Monsieur de Logères, though Henry of Guise and I can never love each other much, yet I felt sure that he knew me too well to say all those things of me that have been reported by his enemies. I am satisfied with what I have heard, Count, and shall ask no further questions. But you have given me pleasure, and I will do my best to serve you. Once more, let us speak of other things. Have you all that you desire and want here?"
"No, madam," replied the young Count. "I want many things--liberty, the familiar voices of my friends, the sight of those I love. Every thing that the body wants I have; and you or some of your attendants have supplied me with books and music; but it is in such a situation as this, your Majesty, that one learns that the heart requires food as well as the body or the mind."
"The heart!" replied Catharine de Medici thoughtfully. "I once knew what the heart was, and I have not quite forgotten it yet. Did you mark my words after you had sung, Monsieur de Logères?"
"You were pleased to praise my poor singing much more than it deserved, madam," replied the young Count.
"Something more than that, my good youth," replied the Queen. "I told you that it had given more pleasure than you knew of. I might have added, that it gave pleasure to more than you knew of, for there was another ear could hear it besides mine."