"Then why, why," demanded the Duchess, "why do you hesitate to do so?"
"Sweet lady! it is because I cannot," answered Armandi: "the King's precautions put all my arts at fault. Not a dish is set upon his table, but a portion of it is tasted two hours before; his gloves themselves are made within the circle of the court; his own apothecary prepares the perfumes for his toilet; and the cosmetic mask Which he wears in bed, to keep his countenance from the chill night air, is manufactured by his own royal hands."
Madame de Montpensier and the Prior looked at each other with somewhat sullen and disappointed looks; and Armandi added, "Unless you can get me admitted to his household, I fear my skill can be of no avail."
"We have no such interest with the effeminate tyrant," replied Madame de Montpensier, "and so this scheme is hopeless," she added. "But I fear me, Armandi, that, from some love to this tyrant, or to his minions, your will is less disposed to find the means than the means difficult to be found."
"No, as I live, beautiful princess!" answered the poisoner, with more eagerness than he often displayed. "No, as I live! I had once a daughter, lady, as beautiful as you are; and it was her father's pride that she should be wise and chaste: when one mid-day, in the open streets of Paris, my child was met by the base minion, Saint Maigrin, hot with pride, and vice, and wine. He treated her as if she had been an idle courtesan; and how far he would have carried his brutality, none but the dead can tell, had not a gentleman, whose name I know not, rescued her from his hands: although so hurt and terrified, that, ere long, she died. I called loudly for justice, lady--I called with the voice of a father and a man; but I was heard by this Henry, who has never been a father, and is but half a man. He mocked me openly: but the house of Guise, in revenging their own wrongs, revenged mine; and you may judge whether I would not willingly aid you to remove from the earth one who has cumbered it too long."
"Then you absolutely cannot do it?" demanded the priest.
"I cannot," answered Armandi; "but, if I may say so, reverend father, I think you can."
"Ay, and how so?" asked the Prior, eagerly: "if it rests with me, it is done; for, so help me Heaven! if this right hand could plant a dagger in his heart, I would not pause between the conception and the act: no, not the twinkling of an eye!--no, not the breathing of a prayer! so sure am I that, by so doing, I should better serve the Catholic faith, than had I the eloquence of St. Paul to preach it to the world. How can I do it?"
"Very simply, I think," replied the poisoner. "I have often remarked, standing by the gate of your convent, or kneeling at the shrines at Notre Dame, a dull, heavy-looking man, pale in the face, strong in the body, and having but little meaning in his eye, except that when before some relic, or the image of some favourite saint, a wild and uncertain fire is seen to beam up but for a moment, and go out again as soon. He seems about twenty years of age; and I met him now just going forth as I came hither."
"Oh, yes! I know him well," replied the Prior: "you mean poor Brother Clement; a simple, dull, enthusiastic youth, whose strong animal passions now, most happily for himself, all centre in devotion."