"Come," said she, "young man, confess that you saw the Prince de Condé; you will be well rewarded."
"Oh, madame, what a part you are playing!" cried Christophe, in pity for her.
The Queen started.
"He is insulting me! Is he not to be hanged?" said she to the two brothers, who stood lost in thought.
"What a woman!" cried the Grand Master, who was consulting his brother in the window recess.
"I will stay in France and be revenged," thought the Queen. "Proceed, he must confess or let him die!" she exclaimed, addressing Monsieur de Montrésor.
The provost turned away, the executioners were busy, Catherine had an opportunity of giving the martyr a look, which no one else saw, and which fell like dew on Christophe. The great Queen's eyes seemed to glisten with moisture; they were, in fact, full of tears, two tears at once repressed and dry. The wedge was driven home, one of the boards between which it was inserted split. Christophe uttered a piercing cry; then his face became radiant; he thought he was dying.
"Let him die," said the Cardinal, echoing Queen Catherine's words with a sort of irony. "No, no," he added to the provost, "do not let us lose this clue."
The Duke and the Cardinal held a consultation in a low voice.
"What is to be done with him?" asked the executioner.