As De Mouchy stepped forward to meet his visitors with a cringing air, the cat, less of a hypocrite than its master, retreated to the far end of the table, and began to hiss like a boiling kettle.
"I did not expect you yet, madame," began De Mouchy; but Diane de
Poitiers broke in upon his speech:
"It does not matter; let us to business. But away with that hideous cat first!" And she pointed with her fan at Titi, who stood glaring at her with his sightless eyes.
"He is a good adviser, madame," grinned De Mouchy; but she stamped her foot.
"It looks like a devil. Away with it! else I shall ask Orrain to fling it through the window."
Simon smiled grimly, and stretched out a long, thin arm; but with a sullen look on his face De Mouchy lifted his pet in his arms, and, opening the door of the adjoining room, thrust it therein, shutting the door upon it. It was, indeed, a lucky change of plan I had made. Had I been behind that door discovery was certain.
The Duchess had seated herself in De Mouchy's chair, and coolly lifting up the tablets ran her eyes over them. Simon flung himself upon the coffer, his sword between his knees, and began gnawing at his long moustache, whilst De Mouchy stood between the two, his deep-set eyes shifting from one to the other.
Suddenly Diane's red lips curved into a smile.
"Eh bien, De Mouchy! But you are building fine castles in Spain here! See this, Orrain; he thinks to net Châtillon, the Admiral, and the First Prince of the Blood!" And she broke into merry laughter.
"And why not, madame?" scowled De Mouchy.