“You are too much of a grand-master, Monsieur de Guise,” said the king, though controlling his anger.
“The devil take lovers,” murmured the cardinal in Catherine’s ear.
“My son,” said the queen-mother, appearing behind the cardinal; “it is a matter concerning your safety and that of your kingdom.”
“Heresy wakes while you have slept, sire,” said the cardinal.
“Withdraw into the hall,” cried the little king, “and then we will hold a council.”
“Madame,” said the grand-master to the young queen; “the son of your furrier has brought some furs, which was just in time for the journey, for it is probable we shall sail down the Loire. But,” he added, turning to the queen-mother, “he also wishes to speak to you, madame. While the king dresses, you and Madame la reine had better see and dismiss him, so that we may not be delayed and harassed by this trifle.”
“Certainly,” said Catherine, thinking to herself, “If he expects to get rid of me by any such trick he little knows me.”
The cardinal and the duke withdrew, leaving the two queens and the king alone together. As they crossed the salle des gardes to enter the council-chamber, the grand-master told the usher to bring the queen’s furrier to him. When Christophe saw the usher approaching from the farther end of the great hall, he took him, on account of his uniform, for some great personage, and his heart sank within him. But that sensation, natural as it was at the approach of the critical moment, grew terrible when the usher, whose movement had attracted the eyes of all that brilliant assembly upon Christophe, his homely face and his bundles, said to him:—
“Messeigneurs the Cardinal de Lorraine and the Grand-master wish to speak to you in the council chamber.”
“Can I have been betrayed?” thought the helpless ambassador of the Reformers.