"No, surely not, my dear uncle," François replied eagerly. "Go on, pray. I know beforehand that whatever you do will be well done."
"And what you say is well said, darling," whispered Mary Stuart, softly, in her husband's ear.
François blushed with pride and pleasure. For a word or a glance of approbation from his adored Mary he would, in very truth, have bartered and abandoned all the kingdoms on earth.
The queen-mother awaited with impatient curiosity the course which the Duc de Guise proposed to adopt.
She thought best, however, to add, as much to break the silence as to better signify her own purpose,—
"She whom you have sent for, Sire, may well, in my opinion, leave the Louvre in the possession of the only legitimate queen of the late king, as well as the charming queen of the present one;" here she bowed graciously to Mary Stuart. "Has not this beautiful and wealthy lady her superb royal Château d'Anet, where she can seek shelter and consolation?—a much more royal and superb establishment, certainly, than my modest dwelling of Chaumont-sur-Loire."
The Duc de Guise said nothing, but did not fail to note down that hint in his mind.
We must avow that he hated Diane de Poitiers no less bitterly than Catherine de Médicis did. For it was Madame de Valentinois who up to that time, to please the constable, had used all her influence to hinder and frustrate Le Balafré's fortune and his schemes; and she doubtless would have succeeded in relegating him forever into obscurity if Gabriel's lance had not shattered the enchantress's power when it struck down Henri II. in the prime of life.
But François de Lorraine's day of vengeance had come at last, and he knew how to hate as well as to love.
At this moment the usher announced in a loud voice,—