"Myself?"
"Yes, in your royal robes, with the crown on your head."
"And who made this figure?" asked-the king, weary of the wretched farce. "The King of Navarre, of course!"
"No, sire; he did not actually make it, but it was found in the rooms of M. de la Mole, who serves the King of Navarre."
"So, then, the person who seeks to kill me is M. de la Mole?" said Charles.
"He is only the instrument, and behind the instrument is the hand that directs it," replied Catherine.
"This, then, is the cause of my illness. And now what must I do--for I know nothing of sorcery?"
"The death of the conspirator destroys the charm. Its power ends with his life. You are convinced now, are you not, of the cause of your illness?"
"Oh, certainly," Charles answered ironically. "And I am to punish M. de la Mole, as you say he is the guilty party?"
"I say he is the instrument, and," muttered Catherine, "we have infallible means for making him confess the name of his principal."