“I will answer your majesty in three days.”

“And when will you tell me?” said Catherine, in a low voice.

“You, madame, are very different; I answer you unhesitatingly.”—­“Well?”

“Your majesty has but to interrogate me.”

“On what day will my son die, Miron?”

“To-morrow evening, madame.”

“So soon?”

“Ah! madame,” murmured the physician, “the dose was by no means a slight one.”

Catherine placed one of her fingers on her lips, looked at the dying man, and repeated in an undertone this sinister word, “Fatality!”

CHAPTER LXXXIX.

LES HOSPITALIERES.

The count had passed a terrible night, in a state bordering on delirium and verging on death.

Faithful, however, to his duty, as soon as he had heard the king’s arrival announced, he rose and received him at the gate, as we have described; but no sooner had he presented his homage to his majesty, saluted respectfully the queen-mother, and pressed the admiral’s hand, than he shut himself up in his own room, not to die, but to carry determinedly into execution his long cherished project, which nothing could any longer interfere with.

Toward eleven o’clock in the morning, therefore—­that is to say, as soon as, immediately after the terrible news had circulated that the Duc d’Anjou’s life was in imminent danger, every one had dispersed, leaving the king completely bewildered by this fresh event—­Henri went and knocked at his brother’s door, who, having passed a part of the previous night traveling, had just retired to his own room.

“Ah! is that you?” asked Joyeuse, half asleep; “what is the matter?”

“I have come to bid you farewell, my brother,” replied Henri.

“Farewell!  What do you mean?  Are you going away?”

“Yes, I am going away, brother, and nothing need keep me here any longer, I presume.”

“Why nothing?”

“Of course, since the fetes at which you wished me to be present will not take place, I may now consider myself as freed from my promise.”

“You are mistaken, Henri,” replied the grand-admiral; “I have no greater reason for permitting you to leave to-day than I had yesterday.”

“I regret that it is so; but in that case, for the first time in my life, I shall have the misfortune to disobey your orders, and to fail in the respect I owe you; for from this very moment I declare to you, Anne, that nothing shall restrain me any longer from taking religious vows.”

“But the dispensation which is expected from Rome?”

“I can await it in a convent.”

“You must positively be mad to think of such a thing.” exclaimed Joyeuse, as he rose, with stupefaction depicted on his countenance.

“On the contrary, my dear and honored brother, I am the wisest of you all, for I alone know what I am about."’