Charles smiled coldly when his aunt came to tell him from the queen that she was about to bring into the world an infant, Andre’s posthumous child.  What importance could a babe yet unborn possibly have—­as a fact, it lived only a few months—­in the eyes of a man who with such admirable coolness got rid of people who stood in his wary, and that moreover by the hand of his own enemies?  He told the empress that the happy news she had condescended to bring him in person, far from diminishing his kindness towards his cousin, inspired him rather with more interest and goodwill; that consequently he reiterated his suggestion, and renewed his promise not to seek vengeance for his dear Andre, since in a certain sense the crime was not complete should a child be destined to survive; but in case of a refusal he declared himself inexorable.  He cleverly gave Catherine to understand that, as she had some interest herself in the prince’s death, she ought for her own sake to persuade the queen to stop legal proceedings.

The empress seemed to be deeply impressed by her nephew’s threatening attitude, and promised to do her best to persuade the queen to grant all he asked, on condition, however, that Charles should allow the necessary time for carrying through so delicate a business.  But Catherine profited by this delay to think out her own plan of revenge, and ensure the means of certain success.  After starting several projects eagerly and then regretfully abandoning them, she fixed upon an infernal and unheard-of scheme, which the mind would refuse to believe but for the unanimous testimony of historians.  Poor Agnes of Duras, Charles’s mother, had for some few days been suffering with an inexplicable weariness, a slow painful malady with which her son’s restlessness and violence may have had not a little to do.  The empress resolved that the first effect of her hatred was to fall upon this unhappy mother.  She summoned the Count of Terlizzi and Dona Cancha, his mistress, who by the queen’s orders had been attending Agnes since her illness began.  Catherine suggested to the young chamberwoman, who was at that time with child, that she should deceive the doctor by representing that certain signs of her own condition really belonged to the sick woman, so that he, deceived by the false indications, should be compelled to admit to Charles of Durazzo that his mother was guilty and dishonoured.  The Count of Terlizzi, who ever since he had taken part in the regicide trembled in fear of discovery, had nothing to oppose to the empress’s desire, and Dona Cancha, whose head was as light as her heart was corrupt, seized with a foolish gaiety on any chance of taking her revenge on the prudery of the only princess of the blood who led a pure life at a court that was renowned for its depravity.  Once assured that her accomplices would be prudent and obedient, Catherine began to spread abroad certain vague and dubious but terribly serious rumours, only needing proof, and soon after the cruel accusation was started it was repeated again and again in confidence, until it reached the ears of Charles.