This prologue to the drama took place at the Louvre, in the royal apartment where François II. had been installed the day before; and the only dramatis personæ were the queen-mother, Le Balafré, the young king, and Mary Stuart.
François and his youthful queen contrasted with the cold and selfish ambitions of Catherine and the Duc de Guise were like two fascinating children, frankly and ingenuously in love with each other, and ready to bestow their confidence upon the first passer-by who should be adroit enough to win their hearts.
They were in sincere affliction for the death of the king their father; and Catherine found them very sad and cast down.
"My son," said she to François, "it is well for you to shed these tears to the memory of him whom you, above all others, should regret. You know that I share your bitter grief. However, you must remember that you have other duties than those of a son to fulfil. You are also a father,—the father of your people. After you have paid this fitting tribute of sorrow to the past, turn your face to the future. Remember that you are king, my son,—I should say your Majesty, to use a form of address which will remind you of your duties and your rights at the same time."
"Alas!" said François, shaking his head, "it is a very heavy burden, Madame, this sceptre of France, for the hands of sixteen years to carry; and nothing warned me to expect that my inexperienced and light-minded youth would so soon be overwhelmed with such a weighty responsibility."
"Sire," Catherine replied, "accept with resignation and gratitude the office which God lays upon you; it will be for those who surround and love you to lighten your burden to the best of their ability, and to add their efforts to your own to assist you to bear it worthily."
"Madame, I thank you," murmured the young king, much embarrassed to know what reply to make to these advances.
Mechanically he glanced toward the Duc de Guise, as if to ask the advice of his wife's uncle.
At his very first step as king, even in his mother's presence, the poor youth, with the crown on his head, seemed instinctively to appreciate the pitfalls which lay in his path.
But the Duc de Guise said, with no sign of hesitation,—