And so the time was ripe for the law to claim its prey, for the shameless three to gather in their spoil, and for an evil, vindictive woman to accomplish her revenge. The King was at Fontainebleau, whither he had gone, accompanied by La Valentinois and the Court. The Queen was at St. Germain-en-Laye, and the Louvre—except for its guards—was deserted. On the morning of the fifth day, however, the Queen returned, and although she knew what had happened she summoned me before her to hear the story from my lips. I found her in her study with three or four of her ladies. Catherine looked pale and heavy-eyed, and there were hard lines about her mouth. It was said she had never smiled since the day of the masque. I for one am certain it was from that day her secretive nature took the dark and devious course that led her to be what she became; but now it was only the beginning.
I said what I had to say briefly, and when I was done the Queen looked up at me.
"Is this all?"
I bowed in silent response, and after a pause she continued:
"I know what you would ask. I have done my best. I have written to the King to pardon Mademoiselle de Paradis, as he forgave Madame de Rentigny. I wrote at once, four days ago." And then she flushed to her temples as she added: "Up to now there has been no answer. It is useless to go myself——"
Her voice almost broke, and I looked aside, only to meet Mademoiselle
Davila's eyes. They were swimming with tears.
It was now there arose an unusual bustle in the anteroom. The doors were thrown back, and in a loud voice the ushers announced the Duchess de Valentinois. For a moment Diane stood in the doorway, a little crowd behind her, and then, tall and stately, walked slowly up to the Queen and courtesied profoundly. Catherine remained frigidly still, as though oblivious of her presence, and amidst a dead silence Diane stood before the Queen, a faint smile playing on her lips, her eyelids drooped to cover the defiant fire of her glance. One might have counted ten as the two faced each other, and then Diane spoke:
"I have come, your Majesty, from the King."
Catherine's eyebrows arched, and a swift, lightning glance of hatred passed between the two. Then Diane's lids drooped again, and her soft, flute-like voice continued:
"The King kisses your Majesty's hands, and says there is much wind and rain at Fontainebleau, but that he has slain three boars and five stags."