CHAPTER XLI.
THE HOROSCOPE.
On leaving the oratory, in which she had just informed Henry all thathad occurred, Catharine found Rene in her chamber. It was the first timethat the queen and the astrologer had seen each other since the visitthe queen had made to his shop at the Pont Saint Michel. But theprevious evening she had written him, and Rene had brought the answer toher note in person.
"Well," said the queen, "have you seen him?"
"Yes."
"How is he?"
"Somewhat better."
"Can he speak?"
"No, the sword traversed his larynx."
"I told you in that case to have him write."
"I tried. He collected all his strength, but his hand could trace onlytwo letters. They are almost illegible. Then he fainted. The jugularvein was cut and the blood he lost has taken away all his strength."
"Have you seen the letters?"
"Here they are."
Rene drew a paper from his pocket and handed it to Catharine, whohastily unfolded it.
"An _m_ and an _o_," said she. "Could it have been La Mole, and was allthat acting of Marguerite done to throw me off the track?"
"Madame," said Rene, "if I dared to express my opinion in a matter aboutwhich your majesty hesitates to give yours I should say that I believeMonsieur de la Mole is too much in love to be seriously interested inpolitics."
"You think so?"
"Yes, and above all too much in love with the Queen of Navarre to servethe King very devotedly; for there is no real love without jealousy."
"You think that he is very much in love, then?"
"I am sure of it."
"Has he been to you?"
"Yes."
"Did he ask you for some potion or philter?"
"No, we kept to the wax figure."
"Pierced to the heart?"
"To the heart."
"And this figure still exists?"
"Yes."
"Have you it?"
"It is in my rooms."
"It would be strange," said Catharine, "if these cabalistic preparationsreally had the power attributed to them."
"Your majesty is a better judge of that than I."
"Is the Queen of Navarre in love with Monsieur de la Mole?"
"She loves him enough to ruin herself for him. Yesterday she saved himfrom death at the risk of her honor and her life. You see, madame, andyet you still doubt."
"Doubt what?"
"Science."
"Science also deceives me," said Catharine, looking steadily at Rene,who bore her gaze without flinching.
"About what?"
"Oh! you know what I mean; unless, of course, it was the scholar and notscience."
"I do not know what you mean, madame," replied the Florentine.
"Rene, have your perfumes lost their odor?"
"No, madame, not when I use them; but it is possible that in passingthrough the hands of others"--
Catharine smiled and shook her head.
"Your opiate has done wonders, Rene," said she; "Madame de Sauve's lipsare fresher and rosier than ever."
"It is not my opiate that is responsible for that, madame. The Baronessde Sauve, using the privilege of every pretty woman to be capricious,has said nothing more to me about this opiate, and after the suggestionfrom your majesty I thought it best to send her no more of it. So thatall the boxes are still in my house just as you left them, with theexception of one which disappeared, I know not how or why."
"That is well, Rene," said Catharine; "perhaps later we may return tothis. In the meantime, let us speak of the other matter."
"I am all attention, madame."
"What is necessary to gain an idea of the length of any one's life?"
"In the first place to know the day of his birth, his age, and underwhat condition he first saw light."
"And then?"
"To have some of his blood and a lock of his hair."
"If I bring you some of his blood and a lock of his hair, if I tell youthe circumstance connected with his birth, the time, and his presentage, will you tell me the probable date of his death?"
"Yes, to within a few days."
"Very well; I have a lock of his hair and will get some of his blood."
"Was he born during the day or night?"
"At twenty-three minutes past five in the afternoon."
"Be at my room at five o'clock to-morrow. The experiment must be made atthe hour of his birth."
"Very well," said Catharine, "_we_ will be there."
Rene bowed, and withdrew without apparently noticing the "_we_ will bethere," which, however, contrary to her usual habit, indicated thatCatharine would not go alone.
The following morning at dawn Catharine went to her son's apartments. Atmidnight she had sent to inquire after him, and had been told thatMaitre Ambroise Pare was with him, ready to bleed him if the nervoustroubles continued.
Still starting up from his sleep, and still pale from loss of blood,Charles dozed on the shoulder of his faithful nurse, who leaning againstthe bed had not moved for three hours for fear of waking her dear child.
A slight foam appeared from time to time on the lips of the sick man,and the nurse wiped it off with a fine embroidered linen handkerchief.On the bed lay another handkerchief covered with great spots of blood.
For an instant Catharine thought she would take possession of thehandkerchief; but she feared that this blood mixed with the saliva wouldbe weak, and would not be efficacious. She asked the nurse if the doctorhad bled her son as he had said he would do. The nurse answered "Yes"and that the flow of blood had been so great that Charles had faintedtwice. The queen mother, who, like all princesses in those days, hadsome knowledge of medicine, asked to see the blood. Nothing was easierto do, as the physician had ordered that the blood be kept in order thathe might examine it. It was in a basin in an adjoining closet. Catharinewent in to look at it, poured some into a small bottle which she hadbrought for this purpose; and then came back, hiding in her pocket herfingers, the tips of which otherwise would have betrayed her.
Just as she came back from the closet Charles opened his eyes and sawhis mother. Then remembering as in a dream all his bitter thoughts:
"Ah! is it you, madame?" said he. "Well, say to your well loved son, toyour Henry of Anjou, that it shall be to-morrow."
"My dear Charles," said Catharine, "it shall be just when you please. Bequiet now and go to sleep."
As if yielding to this advice Charles closed his eyes; and Catharine,who had spoken to him as one does to calm a sick person or a child, leftthe room. But when he heard the door close Charles suddenly sat up, andin a voice still weak from suffering, said:
"My chancellor! The seals! the court!--send for them all."
The nurse, with gentle insistence, laid the head of the King back on hershoulder, and in order to put him to sleep strove to rock him as shewould have done a child.
"No, no, nurse, I cannot sleep any more. Call my attendants. I must workthis morning."
When Charles spoke in that way he was obeyed; and even the nurse, inspite of the privileges allowed her by her foster-child, dared notdisobey. She sent for those whom the King wanted, and the council wasplanned, not for the next day, which was out of the question, but forfive days from then.
At the hour agreed on, that is, at five o'clock, the queen mother andthe Duc d'Anjou repaired to the rooms of Rene, who, expecting theirvisit, had everything ready for the mysterious seance. In the room tothe right, that is, in the chamber of sacrifices, a steel blade washeating over a glowing brazier. From its fanciful arabesques this bladewas intended to represent the events of the destiny about which theoracle was to be consulted. On the altar lay the Book of Fate, andduring the night, which had been very clear, Rene had studied the courseand the position of the stars.
Henry of Anjou entered first. He wore a wig, a mask concealed his face,and a long cloak hid his figure. His mother followed. Had she not knownbeforehand that t
he man who had preceded her was her son she never wouldhave recognized him. Catharine removed her mask; the Duc d'Anjou kepthis on.
"Did you make any observations last night?" asked Catharine.
"Yes, madame," said Rene; "and the answer of the stars has already toldme the past. The one you wish to know about, like every one born underthe sign of the Cancer, has a warm heart and great pride. He ispowerful. He has lived nearly a quarter of a century. He has until nowhad glory and wealth. Is this so, madame?"
"Possibly," said Catharine.
"Have you a lock of his hair, and some of his blood?"
"Yes."
Catharine handed to the necromancer a lock of fair hair and a smallbottle filled with blood.
Rene took the flask, shook it thoroughly, so that the fibrine and waterwould mix, and poured a large drop of it on the glowing steel. Theliving liquid boiled for an instant, and then spread out into fantasticfigures.
"Oh, madame," cried Rene, "I see him twisting in awful agony. Hear howhe groans, how he calls for help! Do you see how everything around himbecomes blood? Do you see how about his death-bed great combats aretaking place? See, here are the lances; and look, there are the swords!"
"Will it be long before this happens?" asked Catharine, trembling froman indescribable emotion and laying her hand on that of Henry of Anjou,who in his eager curiosity was leaning over the brazier.
Rene approached the altar and repeated a cabalistic prayer, putting suchenergy and conviction into the act that the veins of his templesswelled, and caused the prophetic convulsions and nervous twinges fromwhich the ancient priestesses suffered before their tripods, and even ontheir death-beds.
At length he rose and announced that everything was ready, took theflask, still three-quarters full, in one hand, and in the other the lockof hair. Then telling Catharine to open the book at random, and to readthe first words she looked at, he poured the rest of the blood on thesteel blade, and threw the hair into the brazier, pronouncing acabalistic sentence composed of Hebrew words which he himself did notunderstand.
Instantly the Duc d'Anjou and Catharine saw a white figure appear on thesword like that of a corpse wrapped in his shroud. Another figure, whichseemed that of a woman, was leaning over the first.
At the same time the hair caught fire and threw out a single flame,clear, swift, and barbed like a fiery tongue.
"One year," cried Rene, "scarcely one year, and this man shall die. Awoman alone shall weep for him. But no, there at the end of the sword isanother woman, with a child in her arms."
Catharine looked at her son, and, mother though she was, seemed to askhim who these two women were.
But Rene had scarcely finished speaking before the steel became whiteand everything gradually disappeared from its surface. Then Catharineopened the book and read the following lines in a voice which, in spiteof her effort at control, she could not keep from shaking:
"_'Ains a peri cil que l'on redoutoit,_ _Plus tot, trop tot, si prudence n'etoit.'_"[14]
A deep silence reigned for some moments.
"For the one whom you know," asked Catharine, "what are the signs forthis month?"
"As favorable as ever, madame; unless Providence interferes with hisdestiny he will be fortunate. And yet"--
"And yet what?"
"One of the stars in his pleiad was covered with a black cloud while Imade my observations."
"Ah!" exclaimed Catharine, "a black cloud--there is some hope, then?"
"Of whom are you speaking, madame?" asked the Duc d'Anjou.
Catharine drew her son away from the light of the brazier and spoke tohim in a low tone.
Meanwhile Rene knelt down, and in the glow of the flame poured into hishand the last drop of blood which had remained in the bottom of theflask.
"Strange contradiction," said he, "which proves how little to bedepended on is the evidence of simple science practised by ordinary men!To any one but myself, a physician, a scholar, even for Maitre AmbroisePare, this blood would seem so pure, so healthy, so full of life andanimal spirits, that it would promise long years of life; and yet allthis vigor will soon disappear, all this life will be extinct within ayear!"
Catharine and Henry of Anjou had turned round and were listening.
The eyes of the prince glowed through his mask.
"Ah!" continued Rene, "the present alone is known to ordinary mortals;while to us the past and the future are known."
"So," continued Catharine, "you still think he will die within theyear?"
"As surely as we are three living persons who some day will rest in ourcoffins."
"Yet you said that the blood was pure and healthy, and that it indicateda long life."
"Yes, if things followed their natural course. But might not anaccident"--
"Ah, yes, do you hear?" said Catharine to Henry, "an accident"--
"Alas!" said the latter, "all the more reason for my staying."
"Oh, think no more about that: it is not possible."
Then turning to Rene:
"Thanks," said the young man, disguising his voice, "thanks; take thispurse."
"Come, _count_," said Catharine, intentionally giving her son this titleto throw Rene off the track.
They left.
"Oh, mother, you see," said Henry, "an accident--and if an accidentshould happen, I shall not be on hand; I shall be four hundred leaguesfrom you"--
"Four hundred leagues are accomplished in eight days, my son."
"Yes; but how do I know whether those Poles will let me come back? If Icould only wait, mother!"
"Who knows?" said Catharine; "might not this accident of which Renespeaks be the one which since yesterday has laid the King on a bed ofpain? Listen, return by yourself, my child. I shall go back by theprivate door of the monastery of the Augustines. My suite is waiting forme in this convent. Go, now, Henry, go, and keep from irritating yourbrother in case you see him."