At the moment at which we look in upon them, taking advantage of François's slumber, they were talking in a low voice and in the most friendly way imaginable about their most secret interests and their inmost thoughts.
For the better to conform to that Italian policy of which we have already given specimens, Catherine had sedulously dissembled her underhand proceedings, and Charles de Lorraine had always pretended to know nothing of them.
Thus they had not ceased to converse as allies and as friends. They were like two gamblers, each of whom cheats loyally for his own side, and who openly use cogged dice against each other.
"Yes, Madame," the cardinal was saying,—"yes, that stubborn Chancellor de l'Hôpital obstinately refuses to sign the decree for the prince's death. Ah! you were indeed in the right, Madame, six months ago, to oppose his succession to Olivier so vigorously! If I had only understood you then!"
"What? is it absolutely impossible to overcome his resistance?" asked Catherine, who had in reality instructed the chancellor to resist.
"I have tried flattery and threats," Charles de Lorraine replied, "and have found him inflexible."
"Suppose Monsieur le Duc should try his hand?"
"Nothing will move that Auvergne mule," said the cardinal. "Besides, my brother has declared that he does not propose to meddle in the affair at all."
"It becomes embarrassing," remarked Catherine, secretly delighted beyond expression.
"There is one way, however," said the cardinal, "by resorting to which we can get along without all the chancellors in the world."