As the King recrossed the Seine, four o'clock was striking by the Louvre clock.
Queen Catherine was still up.
"My mother is not gone to bed," said Charles to the Comte de Solern.
"She too has her forge," said the German.
"My dear Count, what must you think of a king who is reduced to conspiracy?" said Charles IX. bitterly, after a pause.
"I think, Sire, that if you would only allow me to throw that woman into the river, as our young friend said, France would soon be at peace."
"Parricide!—and after Saint-Bartholomew's!" said the King. "No, no—Exile. Once fallen, my mother would not have an adherent or a partisan."
"Well, then, Sire," the Count went on, "allow me to take her into custody now, at once, and escort her beyond the frontier; for by to-morrow she will have won you round."
"Well," said the King, "come to my forge; no one can hear us there. Besides, I am anxious that my mother should know nothing of the arrest of the Ruggieri. If she knows I am within, the good lady will suspect nothing, and we will concert the measures for arresting her."
When the King, attended by Solern, went into the low room which served as his workshop, he smiled as he pointed to his forge and various tools.