"Aye, ever shame—ever blood—ever remorse!" murmured Charles, turning his head upon his pillow.
"Would you refuse the last request of her who is, after all, your mother?" exclaimed Catherine, with the well acted accent of extreme despair.
The king uttered not a word.
"Leave us, sir," said the Queen-mother, with an imperious sign of her hand to Henry of Navarre, upon seeing these symptoms of the wavering resolution of her son.
The young prince remained unmoved, to await the will of the dying king.
"Leave us, Henry," said the Monarch; "you will return to me anon. This is her last request—these are her last words. When she is gone, let me see you instantly."
Henry of Navarre shook his head with a look of mournful resignation, and then bowed and left the apartment.
"Now speak, madam," said the king, "and quickly. What would you reveal to me?"
"That Henry of Navarre conspires against your throne," commenced Catherine, rapidly; "that he has been proved to be in connexion with that sorcerer who has aimed at your life; that the chiefs of the accursed Huguenot party are concealed in Paris, awaiting but your death to place the crown upon his brow; that he also looks to this event to abjure once more the true Catholic faith, and return into the bosom of heresy; that by giving power into his hands, you endanger the safety of the state; that by committing the rule of the country to a Heretic and a Seceder, you endanger the safety of your own soul; that, by such a step, the honour of our House will be eternally lost; that in all the countries of Catholic Christendom, we shall be pointed at with the finger of scorn and shame."
"Madam, you have deceived me with words of equivocation to gain my ear," replied the king, mustering all the strength that still remained to him, "and you deceive me now."