"Your reign is over, then, Monsieur," she could not forbear remarking to Le Balafré.
François II. at that moment suddenly raised himself in bed, opened his great staring eyes, moved his lips as if struggling to pronounce a name, then fell heavily back upon his pillow.
He was dead.
Ambroise Paré, with a sorrowful gesture, made the fact known to those present.
"Ah, Madame, Madame! you have killed your son!" cried Mary Stuart to Catherine, leaping toward her in a frenzy of despair.
The queen-mother bestowed upon her daughter-in-law a venomous, icy glance, in which shone all the hatred she had concealed for eighteen months.
"You, my dear," she sneered, "have no longer the right to speak thus, remember; for you are no longer queen. Ah, I beg your pardon!—queen of Scotland. And we will send you over as soon as possible to reign in your land of fogs."
Mary, with the reaction inevitable after her first burst of grief, fell on her knees, exhausted and sobbing bitterly, at the foot of the bed where the king was lying.
"Madame de Fiesque," continued Catherine, calmly, "go at once and bring the Duc d'Orléans."
"Messieurs," she resumed, glancing at the Duc de Guise and the cardinal, "the States-General, which were devoted to you, it may be, an hour since, are now at our service, be assured. It is understood between Monsieur de Bourbon and myself that I shall be queen-regent, and he lieutenant-general of the kingdom; but you are still grand master, Monsieur de Guise. Therefore perform the functions of your office, and announce the demise of King François II."