When the company in the hall heard these words a smothered murmur rose from their midst; the cardinal allowed the chancellor to enter the bedroom and then he closed the door.

“I am lieutenant-general of the kingdom,” said the Duc de Guise; “and I would have you know, Monsieur le chancelier, that Ambroise, the king’s surgeon, answers for his life.”

“Ah! if this be the turn that things are taking!” exclaimed Ambroise Pare.  “I know my rights and how I should proceed.”  He stretched his arm over the bed.  “This bed and the king are mine.  I claim to be sole master of this case and solely responsible.  I know the duties of my office; I shall operate upon the king without the sanction of the physicians.”

“Save him!” said the cardinal, “and you shall be the richest man in France.”

“Go on!” cried Mary Stuart, pressing the surgeon’s hand.

“I cannot prevent it,” said the chancellor; “but I shall record the protest of the queen-mother.”

“Robertet!” called the Duc de Guise.

When Robertet entered, the lieutenant-general pointed to the chancellor.

“I appoint you chancellor of France in the place of that traitor,” he said.  “Monsieur de Maille, take Monsieur de l’Hopital and put him in the prison of the Prince de Conde.  As for you, madame,” he added, turning to Catherine; “your protest will not be received; you ought to be aware that any such protest must be supported by sufficient force.  I act as the faithful subject and loyal servant of king Francois II., my master.  Go on, Antoine,” he added, looking at the surgeon.

“Monsieur de Guise,” said l’Hopital; “if you employ violence either upon the king or upon the chancellor of France, remember that enough of the nobility of France are in that hall to rise and arrest you as a traitor.”

“Oh! my lords,” cried the great surgeon; “if you continue these arguments you will soon proclaim Charles IX!—­for king Francois is about to die.”

Catherine de’ Medici, absolutely impassive, gazed from the window.

“Well, then, we shall employ force to make ourselves masters of this room,” said the cardinal, advancing to the door.

But when he opened it even he was terrified; the whole house was deserted!  The courtiers, certain now of the death of the king, had gone in a body to the king of Navarre.

“Well, go on, perform your duty,” cried Mary Stuart, vehemently, to Ambroise.  “I—­and you, duchess,” she said to Madame de Guise,—­“will protect you.”

“Madame,” said Ambroise; “my zeal was carrying me away.  The doctors, with the exception of my friend Chapelain, prefer an injection, and it is my duty to submit to their wishes.  If I had been chief surgeon and chief physician, which I am not, the king’s life would probably have been saved.  Give that to me, gentlemen,” he said, stretching out his hand for the syringe, which he proceeded to fill.

“Good God!” cried Mary Start, “but I order you to—­”