Queen as one of her instruments of government had darkened the whole understanding.  The most hateful heights of perfidy, effeminacy, and hypocrisy were not reached till poor Charles IX., who only committed crimes on compulsion, was in his grave, and Henry III. on the throne; but Narcisse de Ribaumont was one of the choice companions of the latter, and after the night and day of murder now stood before his sister with scented hair and handkerchief—­the last, laced, delicately held by a hand in an embroidered glove—­emerald pendants in his ears, a moustache twisted into sharp points and turned up like an eternal sardonic smile, and he led a little white poodle by a rose-coloured ribbon.

‘Well, sister,’ he said, as he went, through the motions of kissing her hand, and she embraced her father; ’so you don’t know how to deal with megrims and transports?’

‘Father,’ said Diane, not vouchsafing any attention, ’unless you can send her some assurance of his life, I will not answer for the consequences.’

Narcisse laughed:  ’Take her this dog, with my compliments.  That is the way to deal with such a child as that.’

‘You do not know what you say, brother,’ answered Diane with dignity.  ‘It goes deeper than that.’

‘The deeper it goes, child,’ said the elder Chevalier, ’the better it is that she should be undeceived as soon as possible.  She will recover, and be amenable the sooner.’

‘Then he lives, father?’ exclaimed Diane.  ’He lives, though she is not to hear it—­say——­’

‘What know I?’ said the old man, evasively.  ’On a night of confusion many mischances are sure to occur!  Lurking in the palace at the very moment when there was a search for the conspirators, it would have been a miracle had the poor young man escaped.’

Diane turned still whiter.  ‘Then,’ she said, ’that was why you made Monsieur put Eustacie into the ballet, that they might not go on Wednesday!’

’It was well hinted by you, daughter.  We could not have effectually stopped them on Wednesday without making a scandal.’

‘Once more,’ said Diane, gasping, though still resolute; ’is not the story told by Eustacie’s woman false—­that she saw him—­ pistolled—­by you, brother?’

‘Peste!’ cried Narcisse.  ’Was the prying wench there?  I thought the little one might be satisfied that he had neighbour’s fare.  No matter; what is done for one’s beaux yeux is easily pardoned—­and if not, why, I have her all the same!’

‘Nevertheless, daughter,’ said the Chevalier, gravely, ’the woman must be silenced.  Either she must be sent home, or taught so to swear to having been mistaken, that la petite may acquit your brother!  But what now, my daughter?’

‘She is livid!’ exclaimed Narcisse, with his sneer.  ’What, sir, did not you know she was smitten with the peach on the top of a pole?’

‘Enough, brother,’ said Diane, recovering herself enough to speak hoarsely, but with hard dignity.  ’You have slain—­you need not insult, one whom you have lost the power of understanding!’